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Part 3

So now we're at the point where my friend has become literally obsessed with ghosts and demons. There are two types of people in the world - people who run away from the fire and people who run towards it. My friend is the latter. He's getting those light up motion detector balls, he's buying EMF detectors...all sorts of crazy sh*t. And we're going out to various cemeteries trying to have these paranormal experiences.

Now, if you're attuned to the spirit world, you'll know that a cemetery can be one of the most peaceful places you can go (when most of the people who have been laid to rest are restful spirits - kind of like going to a nursery where babies are asleep) or the worst place you can go when the people buried there are restless spirits who were wronged in someway and seeking vengeance.

The cemetery on the outskirts of Kapunda is most assuredly the latter. I've never felt such a feeling of dread as I have walking into that place. You know those scenes in old western movies where the guy walks into the saloon and the music stops playing and everyone turns and looks at him because they are expecting something bad to happen? Just like that.

But that's not where the freaky sh*t happened. No, the freaky sh*t happened back at my friends house. A girl was with us during these little adventures - at the time we would go on ghost tours and everything - and we were sitting in my friend's room trying to talk to whatever spirit was in his house through a spirit box. My friend asks a question 'Where are you?'

'On the couch'

Now I'm sitting on the couch at this point in time. We pull out the EMF reader, and next to me on the couch it's going off the charts. Then I sh*t you not, I felt something poke me in the side with what felt like a finger. I don't say anything, cause I wonder if anyone else will feel it. Sure enough, the girl gets up from where she was sitting and goes to stand in the kitchen.

"I felt something poke me before," I say.

"No way," says the girl. "I felt something like that too - that's why I went to stand in the kitchen!"
More more more
 
A11dAtP0w3R better have read this thread by now

I don't have anything to share apart from the sleep paralysis visions. Nothing I've witnessed with my own eyes thats not explainable, not one to make things up when I haven't.

I never saw it but I had a girl I was seeing for casual sex tell me she saw a ghost at the end of my bed once holding a suitcase, she was pretty nuts tho, which made her an excellent root.
 
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Update on your son?

Ahhh He's 5 now. Tbh I'm not really sure how he's going. He's got really bad self confidence issues etc. and a verrrry negative outlook on things. His teacher joked and said "sometimes it's like he's held a horcrux". He's seeing a psychologist but they aren't really getting anywhere.

He rarely sleeps through the night and has a lot of nightmares. Both him and his little brother (3) mainly just talk about "that old man" in the corner of their room that they can only see when the heater is on, and both have unexplained bruises on their shins some mornings. But it's hard to tell now at their age if it's imagination/school stories etc. I've slept in the room, and again, not sure if I'm feeding into it, but you certainly feel a certain dread in that room. My partner/her sister grew up there and said they always had trouble in that room growing up; lots of weird vibes, seeing things in the corner of your eyes, and plenty of bad dreams.

Obviously, we are trying to move, but it's not a good rental market right now and we're a while off having a deposit for a home. Usually just ends up with both kids running and screaming into our room at night and sleeping on a little fold out we put in the corner. Have tried sage etc. but I think best option is just to get out of the house.

He hasn't mentioned grandma in a while though. He tends to make imaginary friends whenever we go somewhere. Took him up to Darwin, went swimming at Berry Springs, and then he started telling us about a boy called Michael he met under the water, whom apparently died there, and followed us home on the plane back to Adelaide. He still talks to "Michael" every now and then; but uses Michael as an excuse when he doesn't listen etc. (eg. we'll ask why he isn't listening to us and he'll say "Michael is distracting me"). Not sure if it's his cop out for being slack or not haha

TLDR: He's still saying weird stuff; he isn't sleeping; I've never really seen any evidence of anything besides a few unexplained bruises and a bad feeling in his room; he has a very vivid imagination so not sure what to make of it
 
The cemetery on the outskirts of Kapunda is most assuredly the latter. I've never felt such a feeling of dread as I have walking into that place. You know those scenes in old western movies where the guy walks into the saloon and the music stops playing and everyone turns and looks at him because they are expecting something bad to happen? Just like that.

I went to that cemetery recently and can 100% back this up. We got out of the car, walked in the gate, the clouds suddenly covered the moon and it got a lot darker. I just hightailed right back to my car and drove all the way home haha
 
These stories are two of my favourite I've found in another thread. Too bad it seems Grizz doesn't post anymore. I live in the same suburb and have been scouring google maps the last 2 nights trying to figure out which house he's talking about. Incredible stories

Ok, I have one story I can contribute from when I was about 15.

I grew up in a big, old Edwardian house in Canterbury. It was one of the original homesteads in the area, and, until my parents bought the joint, had been in the same family for 3 generations.

The house was massive with like 3 bedrooms downstairs and 3 upstairs in the attics. Plus a kind of wing in the house where my grandmother lived (4 rooms) before having a stroke and going to a nursing home. There were like 3 rooms that were so massive we actually played cricket in one of them.

My parents divorced when I was 14-15, and Dad quickly played the scene again and was often 'staying with friends'. And around the same time Gran had her stroke, so me and my brother spent quite a few nights in this huge house all alone. It was never overly spooky, sure it had a presence about it but almost all old houses do.

With that background in mind, this story starts on a Friday night. I was sitting in the downstairs kitchen with my brother and friend from school. We were sitting around listening to music. I went to bed about 11, as I was going to Wilson's Prom the next day with my girlfriend and her dad, so I left my brother and Jeff talking.

I was woken a few hours later, hard to tell as I was sleeping pretty soundly, by two things: one, the family Labrador trying to get into my bed in a panic; and two, the sound of what I thought I was Jeff and my brother being rowdy in the kitchen, more specifically dragging the wooden kitchen chairs across the lino. So I got up, pissed off if the truth be known, and the dog dived under the doona. I headed out into the hall to see my ashen face brother standing silently and pointing at the ceiling. And there was a very loud noise of furniture being dragged across the attic floorboards.

"What's going on, " I asked, "I've got to be up early tomorrow and I don't need you and Jeff playing stupid games while I'm sleeping."

My brother finally stammered out a reply, "Jeff left hours ago. I've been watching tv in the front room when i heard that noise, and I came to investigate."

We both looked at each other petrified, because we knew we were the only people in the house. And that noise was the sound of Dad's heavy Aero wooden chairs being dragged around his upstairs study by someone, something. and lit was really freakin' loud by now.

So for some stupid reason I started heading up the stairs, i rounded the landing and cautiously went up about 4 or 5 stairs until I could see through the little gate at the top of the stairs (which my dad had installed when we were small kids) and I could see these chairs crashing around all by themselves like dodgems. I could only see a small bit, but enough to know what was going on and enough to know I was getting out of there fast. I jumped down to the landing screaming, and almost took my brother out who had climbed the stairs holding our terrified dog. He went past me to the top of the stairs, opened the gate and pushed the dog in the direction of the room, quickly shutting the gate after himself.

The next moment the dog vaults the gate and comes tearing back down the stairs, we both run down the stairs screaming, leave the house without looking back and go and stay at our neighbor's house.

The next morning we went back into our home, ventured up the stairs and, finally, into Dad's study. The 3 aero chairs were haphazardly stacked on top of one another in a corner and the floor was scratched up like an ice-skating rink from the chairs. We just looked at each other.

Every word of that is true. It gives me shivers to write it down years later.

Some odd things happened at that house after that experience, not as violent and as weird as that but very creepy. We also found out about a bunch of stuff from my mother many years later too.

Excuse the mangled syntax and sloppy writing. I just wrote it quickly and have no desire to read back over what I've written.

So I told you about the significant supernatural event last night. That was the one that seemed to set things in motion, both new events and my mother telling me about stuff that happened over the years.

But first, I'll fast forward 7 years from the incident I posted about earlier. My (finally) divorced parents had long since sold the family home. My brother was living overseas, I was studying at Uni and working in a bottleshop to keep my social life afloat. And my beloved grandmother was close to death in a nursing home just around the corner from where we all used to live.

We all came together one night with my grandmother on her death bed. My brother had flown in from the UK. I got a call just as I was closing the shop, "better come over, your gran won't last the night". So I jumped in a cab (probably nursing a few travellers) and headed off from Caulfield to Canterbury.

The driver was a bloke in his early thirties. Quite friendly and we soon got chatting. I told him about my gran dying and, in the process, the conversation somehow got onto where I used to live. He was quite interested because he said he worked as a part-time gardener at a school in Canterbury.

"That's funny," I said, "my old family home was opposite a school and it was eventually sold to the school."

A small astonished smile appeared on his face and he quietly said, "the haunted house".

It was an amazing moment. The odds of it happening, on that night in particular, must have been astronomical. That was freaky enough and then he told me about the house and the troubled couple of years the school had when they bought it.

"So they found out about that did they?" I replied.

"Sure did. Almost right away. That home was creepy. They bought it for the preps because they wanted a more informal, relaxing type of environment. How wrong they where."

I was freakin' transfixed and urged him to continue, "go on, what happened?"

"Well, they tried to make the attics into teacher's offices and the like. The workmen would hear things being flung around upstairs, including timber and tools. There was never anyone upstairs when it happened, but would often greet them in the morning. One of the blokes swore he saw a woman watching him work in the front room. Stuff like that. Weird noises, a feeling of cold etc. Everyone was talking about it.

"When finally finished the renovations to accommodate the kids and erected the board out the front, the builders were looking at the house, and this is where it gets it really creepy," I distinctly remembering him pausing here, "I think one of the senior teachers was with these couple of builders. Anyway, one of the builders turns to the teacher and says something like be careful in there.

"With that, the light in the front attic turns on and they can clearly see a shadowy figure behind the drawn blind. They all looked on astonished as the figure moves away, everyone knew the house was empty, and one of the builders just says 'good luck' turns and goes."

I was shell shocked. I'd actually seen the figure he was talking about, in that very room too.

"Anyway," the guy continued, "they opened up the prep school and it was a disaster. The kids were terrified, one teacher refused to work in there after hearing furniture being dragged around, random stuff like that happened all the time. But mostly it was just a really bad feeling. I used to do the gardening there and I couldn't stand it.

"By mid year they'd moved all the kids back into the main campus across the road and put the house back onto the market."

And with that he pulled into the nursing home, where I sat next to my gran and watched her die. It was around 5am I think. Later that morning I told my brother about the cab ride and the story. He was aghast. We went around and looked at the old house that morning and, sure enough, there was clear evidence a new family had moved in. And that window, where the builders had seen the figure, as I had years before, looked out onto the street but a large air conditioning obscured much of the surface area.

It was a very strange and sad night where a haunting, a death and our family history all collided. I still get the shivers to write about it today. Just now the fridge turned over and I just about jumped out of my chair.

For part 3 I'm going to go back and tell you about a bunch of random weird events, including the shadowy figure, that occurred after the initial haunting and the cab ride I just wrote about. Stay tuned it will be fun.

The usual disclaimer about spelling and lucidity applies as I have no desire to go back and read what I've read.
 
These stories are two of my favourite I've found in another thread. Too bad it seems Grizz doesn't post anymore. I live in the same suburb and have been scouring google maps the last 2 nights trying to figure out which house he's talking about. Incredible stories
Ill try and find it for you tonight. Key words ...edwardian style homestead, one of original ones in canterbury, school across the road, canterbury suburb.
 
Check out 92 mont albert road GG.exe. It's ******* huge I've walked past it many times and fawned over it. Possibly?
Dont think it's that...the property was sold back away by the school and was no longer a school looking property...92 has basketball ring etc.
 

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What do you mean by no longer a school looking property?
he said....his parents sold the house to the school across the road, and they did it all up to be a boarding home for school kids, but after all the ghostly events, the school also sold it away to a family, so it no longer resembled a boarding school, but a home again.....all the work the builders did to it to make it look like a boarding school would probably have been un-done by the new family. Eg, no high brick walls like those camberwell schools have.
 
I
he said....his parents sold the house to the school across the road, and they did it all up to be a boarding home for school kids, but after all the ghostly events, the school also sold it away to a family, so it no longer resembled a boarding school, but a home again.....all the work the builders did to it to make it look like a boarding school would probably have been un-done by the new family. Eg, no high brick walls like those camberwell schools have.
I don't think it was a boarding school, just a place to go study etc.

I also don't think he meant prep students (i.e. 5 years olds). I think he meant prep students as in prep school, like year 7-12.
 

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