Pennington, Are You There?
In 1975 in London, we moved into an old flat. While putting my
possessions in a cupboard, I noticed an old picture frame turned face down
resting at the back of the top shelf. It was the wedding photograph of the
previous tenants. I asked a neighbor if she knew where they went so that I could
send them the photo they had left behind. She said that the previous tenant,
Mrs. Pennington, was a widow who had departed quickly and she didn't give her a
forwarding address. I gave the photo to the landlord. The neighbor visited and
remarked how I had arranged the living room furniture the same way the
Penningtons had. I thought little of it as the size and shape of the room gave
one little choice. The neighbor also mentioned that Mr. Pennington had died the
previous year while lying on the sofa watching soccer on television. We noticed
that the television would somehow turn on and tune to the channel showing soccer
games, believe it or not. It never happened while we were in the room, and for a
while we each believed the other was doing it, but neither of us watches soccer.
Then we started feeling a mysterious presence in the bedroom. One night while I
was asleep, my husband came home late, opened the door to the dark bedroom and
screamed so that I woke up. I put the lights on and asked what happened. He said
he thought he saw an old man sitting at the foot of the bed removing his shoes.
But no one was there. Also, during the three years we lived there, every few
weeks, always late at night, the phone would ring. When we would answer, an old
man's voice would say over and over, "Mr. Pennington... Mr. Pennington... Mr.
Pennington." When we'd reply that the Penningtons no longer lived there and
ask who was calling, he would hang up. All the man ever said was, "Mr.
Pennington" and we did not take over the Penningtons' old phone number. We
bought a house and left the flat to Mr. Pennington. I don't know if he was as
much of a nuisance to the next tenants.
Ghost by Mark G.
I want to relate an experience I had around Halloween, 1993. I'm from
Ripon, Wisconsin. At the time of this story, I was also a student at the
University of Wisconsin-Platteville. To get to my school, I would travel from
Ripon to Madison, get on highway 151, and go there to Platteville, which is in
Grant County. On the way there, I would pass an old, abandoned farmhouse on 151.
It was a very old building, completely isolated, and with no driveway. When
going by, I would look through the windows. The interior of the dwelling was
completely gutted, as if there had been a fire inside at one point. It looked as
if a strong wind could knock the whole building over. Anyway, it was Halloween
weekend. I was going back to Ripon with my roommate. By the time we left it was
around 9:00 p.m. When we drove by the old house, I noticed that the building's
interior was brightly lit, as if someone had been inside and turned on all the
lights. That was what confused me. I saw what it looked like inside. There was
no wiring of any sort in the building. I couldn't understand where the light was
coming from. It wasn't lantern light; it looked like electricity, but it didn't
seem possible. When we came back a couple days later, we noticed that the house
looked like it had before - gutted. Strange! Several years later, I bought a
book called Haunted Wisconsin. I read a chapter about the legendary "Ridgeway Ghost." In the chapter, there was a photo of the house where the
ghost supposedly "lived." It was the same house! I got out a map and
double-checked it with the book to make sure they were the same - and they
matched. Apparently, when we drove by, the Ridgeway Ghost was "home."
by Kristin H.
I live in Kansas City, Missouri. I used to work at the American Heartland
Theatre, which is located in Crown Center, a large hotel/mall/tourist attraction
in K.C. The theater has been open for about 12 years now. It's only about 20
years old and, to the best of my knowledge, there have been any tragedies inside
the theater itself. However, the place has an eerie tradition. The founder was a
man named Jim Assad. He poured his life savings into making the theater a
commercial success. In 1992, he died from cancer. Not long after, strange things
began happening. In 1994, four women were rehearsing for a musical called "The
Taffetas." Suddenly, one of the actresses ran offstage and up into the
audience. She began searching the rows, looking for something. When they asked
her what was wrong, she insisted that a man had been sitting in the seat and
then suddenly disappeared. She was trying to figure out just where he had gone.
My own personal experience happened during the run of a musical called "Forbidden Hollywood" in the late Spring of 1996. I was working backstage on
the show as a dresser. At the same time, my grandmother was in the hospital in
Wichita, Kan., which meant my mother was spending weekends away from home. At
the time, we only had one working car, so it created a problem. I needed to be
at the performances. The first time, the theater put me up at the Westin Crown
Center Hotel. The second time, the hotel was booked up, so I had to spend the
night in the theater practice hall. The show ended at 10 p.m. and by 11 o'clock
everyone had packed up and left. The theater is on the fourth floor of the mall
and there are no other shops or offices on that level. At night, after the
custodian leaves, the elevator and stairwell are locked and the escalator is
blocked off. Mall security does not even have access to this level at night. I
was in the greenroom (a room backstage where actors wait for their entrances)
watching TV. It was around midnight and I had just gotten off the phone with my
brother. The backstage area is an L shape. There is a door at one end that opens
onto the lobby. If you enter through that door, you walk back through a scene
shop, then you turn left, pass the greenroom door and walk up a few stairs to
the actual backstage area. To see the TV, I had to sit with my back to the door.
The TV was rather loud, because it was on top of a refrigerator and I couldn't
reach the controls to turn it down. Suddenly, the distinct sound of heavy
footsteps moved through the scene shop, past the greenroom door, and walked up
the first few steps before disappearing. When I turned to look out the door, I
didn't see anyone, but there was a faint afterimage, like when you catch a
person moving out of the corner of your eye. I know for a fact that I was alone
in this theater. I also know for a fact that these footsteps were not my
imagination. They were evenly paced, deliberate, and loud enough to make me turn
around. I spent many hours in that theater and I never heard any other sound
that would be similar to this. My theory is that Jim Assad still makes his
rounds of the theater to be sure that everything is in order.
This story happened to my mom, and I don't know all the details. I guess she
started playing with the Ouija and it spelled out something dealing with a card
table. So she put it on a card table and it spelled out some other stuff and
then it started walking - the table starting walking on four legs. It
walked somehow down to the basement and she had to keep her fingers barely on
it, and once it got to the basement, it started shaking a lot. They ran back
upstairs. My mom said her friend was into all that and she used to try to talk
to ghosts - and the curtains would be on a 180 angle straight. So she said she
would never touch a Ouija board.
Dad is Still
by Laila Z.
My father suffered a massive stroke seven years ago. My husband and I were out
of the country and unable to get home for more than 24 hours. Dad was hanging on
in the hospital and was still alive when we finally made it home at midnight. A
couple of hours later he died. It was as though he waited to make sure we got
home. The evening of the funeral, we had close friends and relatives for dinner.
As we made a toast in his memory, the ceiling fan suddenly reversed
direction, spun around crazily, and then burned out in a puff of smoke. I'm sure
that was him telling us he was okay.
by Rigmor G. G.
I usually hear my three-year-old son if he wakes up during the night to get into
my bed, but this time something amazing happened. I woke up because I heard some
feet tossing in the hallway. Believing it was my son who was on his way into my
bed, as usual, I glanced up and saw his astral body standing in the hallway. He
had pajamas on and I could see that he was kind of transparent. When I had put
him to bed for the night, he had only had a t-shirt and his nappies on, because
it was summer and warm. He was just standing there wrapping his arms around
himself as if he was cold and he was not looking straight at me. My instant
thought was: Am I dreaming? Then I tried to reach the night lamp to turn it on,
but had to turn my head to find it for a split second. When I looked back, he
was gone and I jumped out of bed and into his room. There he was, in the same
t-shirt and nappy, lying on his stomach, deep in sleep, but with his covers off.
I felt that his arms and legs were cold so I tucked him in. I believe he wanted
to tell me in one way or another that I had to come tuck him in! So he did it in
I was lying on my mother's bed when I had this strong feeling of a presence
that was above me. It felt like it just laid on top of me, weightless, and in a
instant entered my body from head to toe. My eyes were open, but I saw nothing.
I felt paralyzed. It felt like I was being made love to, but not in the physical
sense of lovemaking. I felt weightless and warm. Every nerve in my body felt
pleasantly tingly. To this day I do not know when this took place or if I was
actually in my mother's room. Maybe I had blocked this experience for a long
time. Visually, all I can remember was my mother's white bed and feeling
I drive a taxi in a small town. A friend of mine died a few years back. His
death was rather unexpected and sudden. The town being as small as it is, I
often pick up fares at the apartment building where he was living when he died.
When I pick up there, it is impossible to pull into the lot without parking
directly under the window of his apartment. The first time I had to pick up a
fare there after his death, I pulled up to see a small group of riders coming my
way. As I approached, all five of them turned away from me, and looked directly
into his apartment window. Getting into my cab, one of the young women asked: "Is your name _______?" and gave my nickname (not my real name, which
appears on my taxi permit) that everyone - friends and family alike - calls
me by. I said yes, and asked her if I knew her from somewhere. She replied, "No, I don't know you, but I think one of your friends lives in the apartment
next to mine. Didn't you hear him yelling at you out the window as you pulled
up?" I asked her exactly what he'd been saying. That was my last fare that
night. I took the rest of the night off, and went home and cried. What she
repeated was almost word-for-word the message my friend had left on my answering
machine the night he died.
Several years ago, I worked at an antique store that was in an old house. My
boss and her daughter said they thought it was haunted. Her daughter would not
work in the store if she was there alone. One summer day, I was alone in the
store, and for a change we had actually had a few customers. The house had an
upstairs and two rooms up there had merchandise, but the other room was closed
off. I had lost track of how many customers were in the store and I thought all
the customers had left but one and that she was upstairs. As I was downstairs
reading a book, I very distinctly heard a door shut, followed by footsteps
walking away. I was kind of annoyed that the customer had either shut the door
to a room with merchandise, or had snuck into the closed off room, and I went
upstairs to see what she was doing. When I got up there, I looked in all the
rooms and didn't see anyone - everything was just as I'd left it that morning.
I went back downstairs and looked out the window to see that my car was the only
one in the parking lot and I was the only person in the store. I was so freaked
out that I took my book and the telephone outside and stayed there for the rest
of the day. I still get the chills writing about it right now.
Recently, a friend of mine has been working in a place that used to be a
hospital for dangerous, demented patients. In his office, he looked to his desk
while alone one afternoon and - lo and behold - he saw a man of dark
complexion that was sitting with his legs crossed and his butt to the door and
laughing like he was mocking anyone entering the room. The next time, he saw him
standing like a transparent reflection near the door of an ignominious boss that
liked to shout to his secretary. He told the secretary about this and she joked
that perhaps that was why the boss loses his mind so much there. The attitude of
the ghost was as before, but standing and with his back to the boss office and
laughing and with a wide grin. He has a gold tooth! And has freckles!
The Lady in
by Stacie F.
We live in Lexington, Massachusetts in a Victorian house that was built in 1902.
It's a four-bedroom house with separate quarters for the servants. The third
floor was supposedly where one of the maids had her room. I was four years old
when we moved into the house, and the story that my brother told me, presumably
to scare me, was that the maid was murdered on the third floor. I used to play
up on the third floor when we first moved in, and I started talking about the
nice lady in white who lived upstairs. This frightened my mother because she was
often alone in the house, as my father traveled frequently. It got to the point
where my mother would sleep in the hallway between my bedroom and my brother's
because she was so spooked. However, as time went on, I stopped seeing the lady
in white. As soon as I stopped seeing the lady in white, other people started
having some strange experiences. One of our house guests said that they saw a
woman in a wedding dress. My uncle was home alone with my bed-ridden grandmother
one day. He said that he distinctly heard women's footsteps on the third floor.
My mother is now the one who sees the lady in white walking around on the second
floor. She says that she sees the train of her dress flash by as she walks the
length of the hall. My mom says that a very comforting feeling washes over her
whenever she sees the woman. My mother thinks that she protects the house.
In the mid 1950s, I was working as a parking meter collector for the city of
Houston. I rode a three-wheel motorcycle for two out of every three months. My
wife Nellie woke me to go to work one pretty summer morning asking if I was
driving the motorcycle that day. "Yep," I answered. "I'm running the
downtown pickup this month." "I want you to swap jobs with someone on a
walking route today," she said, looking me in the eye. "You're nuts,
it's hot summer time out there and you want me to walk the streets," I
answered. After we argued for a while, she finally told me the reason. She had
had a dream during the night that I was riding the motorcycle when I got hit in
the head with a brick and killed. I'm not a superstitious person, but when I
got to work that day I told the boss that my wife wanted me to swap jobs and
walk a route that day. They all looked at me like I was crazy, so I had to tell
them the truth. Arthur Romick handed me his route book and said he'd swap jobs
with me for that day. After I finished walking a six-mile route in the hot sun
and made it back to the City Hall, I didn't see Romick in the office and ask
if he had come in yet. The boss said yes he had finished, but he had to go over
to the hospital because he got hit on the shoulder with a brick.
by Theresa R.
The first time I ever saw my grandmother, I was probably four years old. She was
in her bed, she was very sick, and my mother wanted me to sit with her, but she
looked very scary because she was just skin and bones. So I started crying and
asked my mother if we could leave I didn't want to stay there. Anyway, I am not
sure how long after she passed away, I had a visit from her. It scared the hell
out of me. I was lying in my bed when I suddenly woke up and she was right there
beside me looking at me then she tried to tell me something, but it was in
French, so I didn't understand what she was trying to tell me. Then she just
disappeared. I was so scared I ran to my mother's room and woke her up. After
she calmed me and I fell asleep in her bed, she brought me back to my room. But
the next morning my mother was the one to wake up first, and she said that every
door and every window in the house was wide open. I wish I knew what my
grandmother was trying to tell me and I think it is somewhere in my subconscious
and one day when I am ready I will remember what she said - and yes I do know
by Pat C.
About five years ago, I was traveling to a work site some 200 miles from where I
lived. I was traveling down I-25 at about 8:00 a.m. on a Monday morning, when I
went to pass a car with three elderly persons as passengers. This was in Wyoming
where traffic is usually pretty light. When I got around the car, I looked back
in the rear view mirror to see if it was safe to change lanes, and the car was
gone. I immediately hit my brakes, stopped the vehicle, and backed up a ways to
see where the car might have gone off the road. I couldn't see any sign of the
vehicle, so I crossed over the median, went back up the other side of the
highway, crossed over again, and came back through where I had passed the
vehicle. Still there was no sign of the vehicle. (This stretch of highway was
fairly flat with no hills to obscure the view). I never did find any sign of the
car, and the only thing that seemed out of the ordinary was when I went to pass
the vehicle that there was no acknowledgement from the driver or the passengers
when I went around them, they all just kept looking straight ahead.
The Man in
When I was about 11, my parents, my sister, and I lived out in the country
about 15 miles from the nearest town. I woke up early, and there was a man
standing in my bedroom door. I thought it was my father, and being half asleep,
asked what he wanted. He told me he had just come to see if I was okay. I told
him I was, and for him to go back to sleep. He then proceeded to turn and go
down the stairs. I asked my father the next morning what he had wanted, and he
told me that it was not him. I don't know if my visitor was a guardian angel
what, but I do know he was not there to harm me.
Comfort from Coma
Approximately three years ago, my dad had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Within one week, he had been admitted to the hospital for surgery. All
went well with the surgery until the day he was supposed to be released. He had
taken a turn for the worse, and my siblings called me to fly home to California.
My dad wasn't expected to live much longer. When we arrived, my dad had already
slipped into a coma state. I spent countless hours by his side, talking with
him, etc. One day at my parents' home, I had taken a nap in my dad's bed. When
I awoke, I started to fix the bed. When I tossed the sheet up in the air over
the bed, I looked at the doorway, and there stood the image of my dad in his
hospital gown. He said, "I'm going to be okay. Don't worry so much." By
the time the sheet fell down, my dad's image was gone. It was so weird, but I
felt such a peaceful feeling come over me. Shortly after that experience, the
hospital called; my dad had awakened. I honestly think my dad had come to visit
me to let me know all was going to be fine.
UFOs on the
by Demetrius F.
Back in the spring of 1976, when I was a student in college, I had a hobby of
looking up in space through my 4.5-inch reflector telescope. I would sit and
look at the moon for hours without a pause. Generally, every night I would see
ten or more UFOs while using the moon as a backdrop. What was strange about them
is that they differ in appearance. They would remind me of the different
automobiles that we drive here. In fact, I would tell my friends that there
should be a traffic cop up there because of the huge traffic flow. But that wasn't as strange as the object I saw on the moon that rose up from the surface
and flew a short distance and land again. It gave me the impression that it was
mining or something like that. In 1993, I think it was in June or July of that
year, the TV program "Sightings" showed where a Japanese amateur astronomer
had recorded exactly the same sighting that I had in 1976 of the object on the
moon. I knew from that point onward that our government had been lying all the
time. I know for a fact that somebody is on the moon doing something and they
have been there a long time.
Evil Lurks in
the House of Man
When my first husband and I bought our first house, my dog refused to enter. I
had to pick her up and take her in. She ran to the back door and whined to go
out (she never did this usually). My mom visited and said she felt uneasy
there, and not to buy it. I bought the house anyway. After we closed on the
house, I went to clean it. I sprayed the carpet with a cleaning foam, then went
back later to vacuum. On the second trip, in the master closet, in huge red
letters, a child's scrawl appeared, spelling out a name with a backward "R."
I swear it wasn't there when I first sprayed. After moving in, my mom and I were
ironing then hanging curtains in the bedroom. We had bought eight. After hanging
the seventh, we couldn't find the eighth. We knew there was one more as we'd
bought four packages of curtains with a pair in each. We looked around the
bedroom, then walked out to see if we'd left it elsewhere. No luck. When we
returned to the bedroom, the missing curtain was lying on the bed, neatly
folded. My mom practically jumped across the several feet that separated us, it
frightened her so badly. I swear we would have seen that curtain had it been
lying on the bed before. After we lived in that home for a few months, my
usually sweet, happy-go-lucky husband began to drink too much. One night, he
became violent and I ended our marriage immediately. I put the house up for
sale. During the process of selling, I learned that the couple who had built the
home had a series of misfortunes. Their young son had been killed on his bike in
the street outside (same first name I'd seen scrawled in the closet). They
divorced. The husband committed suicide in that house, alone. I have always
thought my husband acted out of character when we lived there. After this
information, I wondered if he had been "possessed" by something evil that
lurked there - the same evil that had frightened my little dog. I sold the
house to a realtor but always wondered what the next owners experienced.
with the Suitcase
by Tina K.
My experiences started when I was about 11, right after we moved into a pretty
old house in Mantua, Ohio. I have been told that the house was at least 65 years
old when we moved in. Furniture in my bedroom got moved around all the time; one
of my brothers can attest to that. Several of my family members went through
drastic personality changes while we lived there. I think everyone but my father
saw the "ghost," a figure of a man in a hat, carrying a suitcase. There were
spots in the house that were always really cold, no matter what time of year it
was. I, too, have felt someone on top of me and/or someone sitting on my bed. It scares me to death to talk about it, one reason being that I don't
want people to deem me as crazy or delusional. I know what I have seen, heard,
and felt. We have since moved to Arizona, where my brother and I both believe we
have seen and felt almost the exact same experiences.
Yoga by Barney
About ten years ago I got into yoga. I practiced pretty regularly for about
seven years. In the first two weeks, I had some experiences with telepathy,
innocuous as they were. I had a conversation with a young girl of about 15. I
was living in the Los Angeles area at the time and her voice had an accent like
some of the kids do in East L.A., the kind where they speak English first, but
where the accent has its own identifying ring. It was like we were talking on
the phone except it was with our minds. We spoke twice, within a week of each
other. Each was short in duration. I asked her name and she said Sylvia. She
said she did not like the name because it sounded like Noriega, who was in the
news at the time. Oddly, I have never experienced telepathy again.
Through a Cyclone Fence by Falcon
When assigned to attend an electronic school in Memphis Tenn., I had been out on
liberty. But students couldn't have liberty during the week. I, having been
overseas, missed such freedoms, so I forged a liberty card and used an alias to
be able to go off base and have a good time. This time I had gotten drunk and in
trouble with the law. They released me early in the morning without my liberty
card, so I would get into trouble trying to get back on base. I was walking
along a cyclone fence in desperate need of a way to get onto the base without
having to go through the gate. I can remember praying for a way to be opened for
me. Suddenly, there, right before my eyes, was a big hole in the fence. All I
had to do was stoop down a bit and walk through it. I recall noting exactly
where it was for future reference or need. Later, when again I was out on
liberty during the week, I had borrowed a friend's liberty card. He had a real
long last name and mine is just four letters. I thought just in case I will use
my hole in the fence route back onto the base. To my surprise, there wasn't a
hole there anymore. There wasn't even a spot that looked repaired. I went to the
corner where it jogged to check and see if they replaced the fence material in
repairing it. There wasn't a sign of any repair of any kind in either direction.
I walked the length of a section and could not see any new wire or repair signs
whatsoever. Now I believe I walked through the material fence. How? Just like we
do when dowsing: We do not know how our minds know and communicate to us what it
knows when we ask the pendulum in dowsing. So, I feel on that day of great need,
it somehow caused the fence or my body - or both - to vibrate in sync and
then allowed me to see this event as a hole in the fence.
When I was growing up, there was a weird, invisible "line" in my parents'
house that extended about 12 ft. across the kitchen into the bar. It was about
two feet in width. For no apparent reason, glass would just shatter there
mysteriously. The kitchen table was glass, and there was an unexplained chunk
out if it. Once after dinner, my sister's clear glass soup bowl just shattered
into a million little pieces. We all saw it happen - she didn't bump it, and
it was empty. Another time, my cousin was holding a clear glass plate, about to
serve himself a piece of pie, and the dish just crumbled in his hand - and,
unfortunately, into the pie! Another time, no one was inside at all, but when we
returned from the yard, a glass had not just broken, but exploded. Shards turned
up all over the kitchen, including (weeks later) in a copper pot that was
hanging high, almost flat, against the wall. A coke bottle exploded, too (which
probably could be explained by a weird build-up of pressure, but it was still
within the boundaries of "the line"). There were several other instances
that were just as mysterious. It went on for about 10 years or so, but then it
just seemed to cease.
by Duke P.
I was lying back about a year ago, maybe in trance, when suddenly I was
paralyzed with what felt like electricity flowing through me. It would be like
sticking your finger in an electrical outlet. It was just as strong. I wasn't
afraid of what was happening though. I couldn't move, but was fully alert and
oriented. I found it a fascinating experience. I then tried to open one eyelid.
After about 11 seconds of trying I finally succeeded. Then, shortly thereafter,
it stopped. There was a previous time when I was in bed sound asleep when a
gentle flow of waves flowed through me from foot to head (it seems). I again was
fully alert and oriented and remember wondering if this is what death felt like.
It lasted about 15 seconds too. But, again, I was unable to move. I feel a
strong flow of vibrations in my forehead daily, usually now only while
A Touch on
by Sam M.
My dad had just passed away a few days prior to this incident. My mom and I were
in the car on our way to a family gathering in his honor. It was one we didn't
feel up to attending, but felt we should for him. We were so sad and felt that
we were at our lowest point ever in our lives. On the way to the gathering, we
were in my car, I was driving, and it was very quiet. We were feeling extremely
lost and down. While I was driving, my mom turned her head to look in the back
seat and she stared for a bit to the back. I asked her what she was looking at
and she said that she had felt a hand on her shoulder touching her as if to say
it was okay. I said to her that maybe it was daddy. But to top it off, the car
immediately in front of us had a personalized license plate and it read my dad's
name, Eric, exactly how he spelled it with a #1 beside it, so that it read
Eric#1. We both felt very certain that this was a sign from my dad telling us he