Ghost Stories!

Am as good a skeptic as anyone, but I like me a good ghost story, so in the spirit of Halloween, share your own “true-life” ghost stories.

For mine, it’s not much, but here it is. My aunt owns a plantation home along the Mississippi, along with several homes also on its land. One of these homes is called “Rosaria”. When I was younger, my aunt lived in the main plantation home, and my cousin lived in Rosaria. My cousin told of hearing someone coming up the stairs in Rosaria one night, and when she shouted for it to go away, the steps just stopped, but I have no idea if she was messing with us kids or not.

Rosaria had an odd, split-level layout. On the top floor was the master bedroom and on the bottom floor were two bedrooms, one of which was decorated all in blue (rugs, wallpaper, bedspread) and one in kind of a gold or rust color. I had to spend the night in the blue bedroom one night and was really creeped out in it for some reason. Also, there was a stairway that went directly from the blue bedroom to the master bedroom. I had been in it once and had felt so scared (for no reason I can think of) that I never went in it again.

However, I didn’t really mention any of this to anyone.

Years later my sister was getting married and having the reception at the plantation home. Rosaria by this time was empty, mostly used for storage. My cousin Trey and I were sent over there to get some chairs. As we entered the house, I felt uncomfortable, but before I could say anything, Trey said, “Man, I hate this place.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Yeah, it always gave me the creeps,” he said. “Especially those bedrooms downstairs. And that stair going up to the main bedroom? I won’t go in that place at all.”

When I told him I felt the same way, we grabbed the first chairs we saw and took off.

Anyone got a better story?

no, i don’t have a better story. dang.

my mum told me as a wee tyke, that i didn’t have to worry about things that go bump. 'cause our house was blessed by the priest every year.

however when i stayed at houses that aren’t blessed i do keep one eye open.

did you ever find out what went on in rosaria? i’ll bet there is quite some story that house is hiding.

Well, I’ve never experienced much, but my great-grandmother owns a haunted house in Maine:

Her niece(methinks) was staying with her over this past summer to keep her company. She slept in one room, My g-gran in the room across the hall (both rooms up creaky stairs). The first night she stayed there, she felt someoen pressing on her bed. She said “Hazel?” (g-gran’s name), but there was no response. Then, a few minutes later, she heard someone breathing in her ear. Again, there was no response when she called out. In the morning, she asked my g-gran if she had been in her room during the night. Surprise, surprise, she had slept soundly throughout the night, not waking up, much less moving to other rooms.

The next day, my mom and I spent the night over there also. Mom slept upstairs, and I had the fold-out couch in the living room downstairs. My mother had no experiences that night, but from the time the lights went out to the time I fell asleep, all I heard was the loud creaking of the floorboardoutside the kitchen. (The house has two doors that can be closed to block off the kitchen. That night, the cat was kept in the kitchen and both doors were shut. The floorboard that was creaking is located on the living-room side of the door, not accessible by the cat, and no one had gotten up during the night.)

That morning, I was eating breakfast, my g-gran and mom were in the family room (connected to the kitchen) and g-gran’s niece was on the phone in the living room. The cat was on the floor sleeping. Suddenly, my mother heard this really loud noise, simillar to the one heard when a cat leaps from one piece of furniture to another. She looked up, and the cat was still sleeping. G-gran had heard it too apparently, because she thought it was me, but I had done nothing.

Whenever I am alone in that house, whether reading or watching TV, I have an uneasy feeling like I’m being watched. But maybe it just comes from hearing all these ghost stories.

:eek: You’re alone in that house? What the heck is wrong with you!?!?
The house I live in now is … um… well, let’s just say that one of the previous owners stayed after his widow moved out. He’s gone now (I think). He left shortly after my son was born.

I have always had an interest in things like this. While I maintain a reasonable level of skepticism, I’m also willing to admit when I really can’t come up with a mundane explanation that ties up all the loose ends of an incident. The following fits into that category:

In late 1999, my friend Skip found out about a road in West Milford, NJ that is supposedly haunted, or frequented by cultists, or some other such bizarre thing depending on whose story you’re listening to. He told me about this, and we agreed it was worth a visit. We rounded up about eight people, and took two cars. Skip drove his trusty 1987 Jeep Cherokee, and another friend took his Toyota Tercel. We brought portable CB radios in the cars, so as to be able to communicate between them. The intent was to drive out to this road at around 11PM, make several passes along its approximately 12-mile length, and just generally observe and see if anything unusual took place.

So, we drove out to Clinton Road, and took one drive along it. It was definitely a foreboding place; the road was very narrow, and appeared to have been last paved in about 1970. There were no street lights and only a few houses, at the far ends of the road.

I was a passenger in Skip’s car, with the Toyota following behind us. As we were driving along slowly, another guy in Skip’s car insisted that he had seen a wallet lying in the snow along the road. We didn’t really buy the story, but he was absolutely certain that what he had seen was a wallet.

We got to the end of the road, and turned around and went back. Skip’s car remained in front. When we got near the “wallet”, the guy who had seen it talked Skip into stopping. So, he pulled over, and the Toyota passed us. The Toyota’s driver then decided to stop and wait for us, about 100 yards down the road.

Charlie, the guy who had seen the alleged wallet, got out of the Jeep and began looking for it. While we were waiting, I noticed a vehicle coming the other direction, toward us. I am quite knowledgeable about cars, and I tend to notice every detail. As the vehicle passed by, I saw that it was a circa-1985 Dodge Ram full-size passenger van. It looked a bit odd to me, as it was in excellent condition, and it was painted in what appeared to be flat bright white…that is, the paint was pure white and very clean, but not glossy. I did not notice any people inside the van. I don’t mean that there was no one in it (that would be quite a ghost story!), but simply that I was looking at the car and not the passengers, and I have no recollection of who was inside.

Strangely, the “wallet” was nowhere to be found. Not only was it not a wallet, but Charlie couldn’t find anything at all that looked like what he had seen. As he was getting back in the Jeep, I noticed a flash of light behind us. I turned around, and saw the Ram Van making a U-turn in the road, a decent distance behind us. To my consternation, it then accelerated right at us. I yelled something, Skip checked his mirror and realized what was about to happen, and stomped on the gas. We went off at about 45 mph on this tiny, twisting road, with this van tailing us as closely as it possibly could.

We passed the Toyota, which was still parked by the side of the road. We radioed them and told them to follow us quick. So, we now had the Jeep in front, the Ram in the middle and the Toyota in the back, all headed down the road at high speed. Skip was trying to keep the speed reasonable, but the Ram was behaving as though he wanted to run us off the road, so we had to keep some distance.

This kept up for several miles. I was looking back at the Ram the entire time. Suddenly, something resembling steam began billowing from underneath our car, blocking my view out the back. I thought the radiator had boiled over, or we had blown a head gasket, but the engine continued running fine and the temperature gauge stayed at normal. The steam was so thick that I could only see the Ram’s headlights barely piercing it. If this was our engine coolant boiling away, we would have been about out of it.

At this point, we came upon a tight curve, marked by the typical >>> signs. Skip braked hard and pulled the Jeep around the curve. Suddenly, the steam dissipated, and I could see headlights clearly again. The problem was, they were the Toyota’s headlights. As we went around the curve, the Ram had apparently vanished.

We drove the rest of the way back to the highway (Rt 23) , and parked in a lot at the intersection. The Toyota pulled in behind us, and we compared notes. They reported that they had seen us blow by them with the Ram following closely, so they pulled out and tailed the Ram for several miles. Suddenly a stream of of “thick gray smoke” (it looked more like regular steam to me) blocked their view, and they were driving basically by following the Ram’s taillights. The taillights gradually dimmed and then faded away altogether. Just then, the smoke vanished, they came around the curve, and saw Skip’s Jeep on the road ahead.

We drove by that curve many times afterward, including in daylight. There were no intersecting streets or roadways in the area. The only things we could find were a few narrow, rutted dirt paths that looked more suited for an ATV than a van, and none seemed to be in right spot to be a possible escape route for the Ram. At any rate, at that speed, a vehicle of that size would almost certainly have become stuck or hit a tree if it had abruptly turned down one of these paths. And no one in any of the cars had seen the van’s lights on in the woods, or seen anything that indicated it was making a turn. All parties agreed that it appeared to have vanished with the cloud of vapor. By the way, I gave the Jeep a thorough going-over, and I found no coolant leaks or coolant in the oil. It never produced smoke like that again.

I know this story sounds ridiculous, but that’s why I’m posting it here. I enjoy pursuing weirdness of all types, so I have seen a variety of things that were unusual or unexpected, but few that were as truly inexplicable as this one.

-Andrew L

njufoic you might find this interesting, I found it on

My parents told me the first house they had together was haunted.

The house was in west Texas near ___AFB (I can’t recall which one) It was an old place (old in 1952) and had a tin roof. At night they heard what sounded like a lizard being dropped on the roof and then scrambling off the tin roof. There were no trees near the house. You might think some sort of bird of prey dropped it’s dinner on them but it happend fairly often. Of course my mom had the creepy ‘I’m being watched’ feeling especially while in the bathroom doing her makeup. The old mirror had a good sized chip in it up in the corner.

As they lived there for a while (about 8 months) things happened. Things moved around the house while they were out or asleep. Things like the couch. One day they came home and everything in the place had been moved/overturned. Nothing was broken or missing but every picture was crooked or off the wall, all the dishes and silverware was on the floor and all of the furniture was moved and or overturned. There wasn’t any earthquake and it didn’t seem likely that if someone was looking for some hidden treasure that might have been left there would have scattered the dishes without any breakage. (the dishes were in everyroom, some in the tub)

Anyway one day while applying lipstick my mother looked at that chip in the mirror and felt sure that is where she was being watched from was so she covered it up with lipstick. She says she instantly felt better and all the occurances stopped after that. She told dad not to clean the mirror under any circumstances. The last couple of months went by normally in the house with no noises or stuff moving.

I love these stories, I hope more post theirs.

I grew up in a house in the suburbs of Baltimore, MD. When I was 17 (in 1979), my aunt died in that house. Then, in 1998, my mother died there, too. When my hubby and I decided to sell the house, and move to western MD, my niece, nephew and their 4 kids bought it from us. I should mention that one of the reasons we moved was that the road the house was on was very busy, and it worried us having our kids playing out there. 2 years after we sold the house, my younges great-neice, then 5, got hit by a car on that road. For about 2 weeks, no one was even sure she would live. After she came out of her coma, she told her mom the following: “I knew I wasn’t going to die, because a little red-haired girl who was an angel told me I wouldn’t. She said the two old ladies in the house would watch out for me. One old lady has white hair and used to live in my bedroom. Sometimes she still lives there. The other old lady has gray hair, and she lives in the whole house. I talked to them while I was dead, and they said they’ll take care of us”.
Do I need to tell you that the two old ladies she talked about were my mom and my aunt? And my aunt (the white-haired one) died in what became the little girl’s bedroom. Also, since the relatives that bought the house are on my husband’s side of the family, none of them ever knew my aunt or my mom.
FWIW, we still haven’t figured out who the “red-headed little angel” was. Since my family was the first to ever live in that house, it’s unlikely someone died there without my knowledge.

I was exposed to a lot of “ghost stories” while growing up. Our house in North Berkeley was situated between the TV transmitter towers and some high hills. (This was back before cable TV caught on, you see.) Part of the TV signal would be received by our antenna, and then the rest of the signal would bounce off the hills and be received by our antenna again a fraction of a millisecond later.

The result was, we’d see the main picture on the TV screen, with a faint “echo” of the picture off to the right a little bit. And this effect is what people in the broadcasting community referred to as … GHOSTS!

(Thank you, thank you, I’ll be here all week. Tip your waitstaff!)

This is tame compared to njufoic’s but I’ll post it anyways…

My family moved into this ranch-style house way up on a hill surrounded by farms right after I was born and we lived there til I turned 11. Sometime before we moved there (I forget how many years), a woman and her two children were pretty brutally murdered there (I forget by whom or why). I’m pretty sure now that the place had some pretty weird stuff going on, but the only thing I remember witnessing… my big sister and I shared a room, and we had a bunch of cousins our age and we used to have slumber parties all the time. Our room had two windows,both probably about 6 feet off the ground on the outside. One had a small brick ledge underneath it, the other didn’t, just straight down aluminum siding. One night my sister and I and four of our cousins were in the room, it was raining and lightning-ing outside, we were probably telling ghost stories or something anyways, and then there was a big crack of lightning, during which we all clearly saw a cat outside the window… except it was the window without the ledge underneath it… ooo, scary. Don’t know what the cat might have had to do with the triple murder, but… oh well.
My other story is about my grandmother’s house in Baltimore. My grandfather died in that house of a heart attack in the dining room (before I was born). And he’s still hanging around. My aunt remembers when she was younger she’d be in bed and she’d hear footsteps and feel someone sit down on her bed. She thought it was her brother, and she’d tell him to go away, but it wasn’t him, it was my grandpa. Also, lots of times, when you’re the only one in the house, I mean, no one else there, if you’re downstairs in the basement, you can hear footsteps upstairs. My sister, my mother and I all experienced it.

So, not amazingly spooky, but hey, it’s what I got.

Heh, I’ve got a creepy one of my own, that requires a little background. I grew up in a decently large house on the farm, in the middle of Manitoba, built about 10 years before my birth.

I had a sister (well, would have had, but she’s my sister regardless) who had been sick with cancer for 5 years. About 3 months before I was born, she became very sick one night. My family asked her if she wanted to go to the hospital for more treatments, and she said no. She passed away in my parents bed that night. I never really knew about this until my teens, which is when some really freaky things started to happen. I moved into one of the basement bedrooms, right below my sisters old room. For the 6 years I stayed in that room, on some nights I could hear girlish laughter, or footsteps above my head. Anytime I ever got up in the middle of the night to use the washroom (located just across the hall and down a couple of feet from my room) the light was always on. I ~always~ turned it off before I went to bed, but whenever I got up in the middle of the night, it would turn on just before I opened my bedroom door. Not a horror story, but I know my sisters still there, watching over our family.

My only ghost story comes courtesy of the dorm where I used to work. My first year working there, my friend Midge (one of the hall directors) told me the story of Karen. Karen was the area coordinator of this dorm about ten years ago or so. Since her job was a live-in position, she had an apartment on the first floor of the building. One day, a couple housing officials keyed into her apartment since she hadn’t been in the office for a couple days and her family was unable to get in touch with her. After entering her apartment, the officials found her dead in the bedroom. She was only in her thirties.

Midge was convinced that Karen continued to live in the apartment after her death. Part of it came from the youngest child of the area coordinator who worked there when I started. She was only about five, but she claimed to always see a thin dark-haired woman walking around the apartment. This description matched Karen. The little child was never fearful or anything; in fact, she often held conversations with Karen. Her parents, the area coordinator and her husband, also said that things had a tendency to disappear from the apartment and turn up days later on the bed or sofa perfectly folded. What really cinched the story for Midge was what happened one night when she was talking to the little girl. Midge was wearing a ring that was her grandmother’s (who had passed away the month before). The little girl asked about it, and Midge told her it was her grandmother’s. She didn’t say anything about her grandmother being dead. The little girl replied, “She misses you.”

All of this plus other minor things convinced her that the apartment was haunted. I wasn’t convinced and just passed it off as an overactive imagination. When winter break came, Midge volunteered to watch over the apartment while the area coordinator and her family went on vacation. Since that dorm completely shut down for the break, I moved into another dorm for the break. However, I wound up spending part of my time with Midge since she was almost all alone in a twin tower high-rise dorm that resembled a prison. It was especially creepy since people were busy installing new elevators in the dorm (and they were working 24 hours a day).

I spent a few nights in the apartment, and it was very creepy. I felt like I was being watched, and I was always got this odd uncomfortable feeling when I was in the middle bedroom. For no reason at all, I would get goose bumps and chills. Because of that, Midge and I always slept on the sofas in the living room. The back of the apartment was just too eery. Then my stuff started disappearing. My watch (which I never took off) disappeared for a couple days one night while I was sleeping. My tennis shoes also disappeared for a night. I started thinking that maybe my imagination was getting the best of me as well. Then came the night when I realized that I wasn’t imagining it.

The way the apartment was set up was odd. The master bedroom connected to the rest of the apartment via a walk-through closet. To get to it, you walked to the middle bedroom and through the closet. I think that there used to be two apartments that were recently converted into one but knocking out the wall between the closet and the middle bedroom. The only light switch for that walk-through closet was in the closet at the door to the master bedroom.

One night, Midge and I went into the master bedroom to check email (since that’s where the only computer in the apartment was). As we left, I flipped off the light for the walk-through closet and closed the door behind me. We were standing in the middle bedroom talking. I had my door to the closet, and Midge was facing me. All of a sudden, I got goose bumps and chills. I immediately noticed Midge’s eyes got huge and her jaw dropped. I looked behind me and could see, through the cracks between the door and jamb, that the closet light had just turned back on. By itself. I gasped and then took off running to the living room with Midge hot on my heels. We cowered for a few minutes before we decided to go back and look. The light in the closet was off again.

Like fools, Midge and I decided to stay there that night. I don’t think anything else happened that night, but odd things continued to happen around the dorm. Sometimes, I would work a shift in the main office. From the manager’s desk, you could look straight through a door into the area coordinator’s office. I swear that sometimes I would see woman sitting in that office that looked like how Karen had been described to me. During training, my friend Valerie told me that she was standing in the bathroom on her floor and say someone run past the door who also fit the description.

Then came the kicker. I was bored on night and started looking through the archives of our campus newspaper. I don’t know why, but I was looking up stories dealing with the dorm I worked in. That’s when I found an article that reported the area coordinator’s death. It described the circumstances surrounding her being found. She had died in the middle bedroom of that apartment (the one that creeped me out). Later on that day, I stumbled upon her picture in an old yearbook that always sat on a shelf in the office. The picture of Karen matched the woman that Valerie and I had seen.

It creeps me out just thinking about all of that.

What school was it may I ask?

It’s the University of Houston. The dorm this all took place at are the Moody Towers. And, I have two other ghost stories courtesy of my friend Shaun.

The first one has to do with the religion center on campus. Shaun had a way of getting into buildings in the wee hours of morning (mainly because the housekeeping staff forgot to look up). A few times when he would go into the religion center to study or hang out in solitude, he could here the organ in the main chapel being played. However, this was always around two in the morning or so, and he was always sure that he was the only one in the building. Plus, the doors to the chapel were always locked. He says that someone told him its the ghost of bride who killed herself after her lover stood her up at the alter. I haven’t been able to find anything else about that.

The other story has to do with the administration building. Apparently, some people working in that building late at night will hear footsteps of people walking up and down the hallways. When they check to see if anyone is there, the hallway is always empty. I haven’t heard of any story to shed some background on this tale.

Oh goodie. I have one that didn’t actually happened to me but a good fiend of our family. He (Sven) has inherited his old family home and it is haunted since quite a while back. It is believed that the ghost is the former owner Öhman. Back in the day (1800ish) he was so active that the desperate family living in the house requested for a reburying of him and that seems to have calmed him down quite a bit. Sven has a bunch of stories. He remains a sceptic but has a few stories he cannot explain and I’m going to tell you my favourite.

Around 1980 something Sven could not afford to live in this house, it is big old and far from his job. What to do, you let it out for rent so you do not have to sell it! So this guy rents the house and Sven calls him every fortnight or so to check up on things. So one morning Sven calls the house and after a while he senses that the guy is troubled by something so he asks if anything is wrong with the house (It’s an OLD house so Sven lives in the constant fear of it collapsing all of the sudden). The guy answers that he likes the house just fine he just troubled by a weird dream he just had. “Oh, yeah”, goes Sven sensing Öhman’s behind this somehow, “what was it?"

Answers the guy, "Well, I dreamt that I was sleeping as usual. All of the sudden I was awaken by something and when I looked down towards the foot of my bed there was a man standing there looking at me. He didn’t say anything and after a second or so he sort of sighed or shrouded and went out of the room. It all went kind of fast and I don’t remember the rest. It’s just that I seemed so very real now that I think about it”.

So Sven asks him what the man looked like and the guy described Öhman (DUMDUMDUM)! Sven knew very well what he looked like but also knew that there were no pictures in the house of Öhman.

“Aw, that’s nothing”, replied Sven, “that’s just Öhman checking up on you to see who has come to live in his house”. The guy of course replies “WHAT?!” and Sven had some explaining to do.

Öhman rarely shows up in person but as far as I know he is still active in the house. Never seemed to scare or disturb anyone one though. Except for that dog but that’s an other story

I grew up in rural upstate New York, in a small town about an hour’s drive away from Troy. We lived in a trailer that my parents bought used, and they placed the trailer over the site of an old house. I guess they choose that spot because the foundation, although very rough, was still there. They thought it would keep the trailer from settling. The house had burned down sometime in the 1920s, and supposedly the whole family had died in the fire.

I first saw the gray man when I was about six or seven. He wore a dark gray suit, with an old style gray hat. (I’m not sure what kind of hat it was, but it was definitely not something one would wear in the early 80s.) He would silently walk down the hall, and turn the corner into my brother’s bedroom and disappear. I’d see him maybe once or twice a month on average. The first time I saw him, he scared the crap out of me. But eventually, I got used to him. I’d be watching TV in my parents’ bedroom at night, and I’d see him walk down the hall. I never told my mom or dad about it. I didn’t think they could handle it.

This went on for about two years or so, when one day, I was sitting with my mom in the kitchen and we were discussing ghosts. And she says to me, “Well yeah, we have a ghost here. The Grey Man walks down the hall and goes into your brother’s room. He wears a gray suit, gray hat. You’ve never seen him?” Apparently she could see him from her bed, when the door to the bedroom was open. She admitted she would often notice him walk down the hall, enter my brother’s room, and vanish. He never did anything remotely aggressive or scary.

We sold the trailer when I was twelve, and moved into a house. My brother never saw him, and to this day, he remains extremely disappointed.

Oh, where to start? My family has so many ghost stories and weird occurrences. Normally I’m pretty skeptical about these kinds of things, but these stories come from people I trust. Here’s a couple I’ve picked from the many:

One night my grandma was staying up late watching T.V. at her old house. My grandpa and my uncle were the only other two people in the house, and they had long since gone to bed. She had a curtain up separating the front room (where she was watching TV) from the rest of the house. At one point my grandma looked at the curtain, and all by itself, it slowly pulled back. It didn’t just blow back or move, but actually slided sideways along the rod–something air currents couldn’t make it do. Needless to say, she was pretty freaked out, esp. since she needed to go right through that curtained doorway before going to bed. It wasn’t my uncle or grandpa either–they had been asleep the whole time, could not have been hiding anywhere because the way the curtain and house were set up, and aren’t the kind of people to play jokes like that anyway.

For the second story, I was actually there but didn’t see anything myself. We were on a long road trip, to Disney World, actually, when I was younger, my siblings, a cousin, my grandpa, and my Dad, trekking cross-country in a van with a camper-trailer in tow. It was nighttime and we were trying to get some road hours in. My dad was driving, and we were all talking and generally having a good time, when all of the sudden my Dad starts freaking out and yelling.
“Omigod!” he says. “I just looked in the side mirror, and there was this women in a white dress sitting on the trailer! Then she just disappeared!” She apparently looked rather ghost-like or even angelic rather than like a flesh-and-blood women. Nobody else saw her, although we all looked (I couldn’t really see the trailer anyway from where I was sitting), and my Dad saw her for just a split second. He was pretty freaked out. He decided to pull over to calm down and such, and went around to look at the trailer. The tire on the trailer–the one just under where he had seen the woman sitting–was rapidly losing air and nearly completely flat. Whether the “ghost” was malevolent or trying to warn us, or it was all just a creepy coincidence, we don’t know.

August, 1987.
My cousin Pedro was gunned down outside a bar after an argument. He had been dead for a few days and we had just come back from a prayer service. My mother, my niece and I were sitting in the living room of our house quietly talking about everything that had happened in the last few days when my niece asked my mom if she thought Pedro knew that what was going on… lighting candles and praying for him. My mom told her that she was sure Pedro knew how much we all loved and cared for him, that he could see how many people were praying for him and that if he could get a message to us, he would. At that same moment, his picture fell off the mantle with a loud crash and scared us all half to death.

All the windows and doors were closed it couldn’t have been the wind. Not only that but, his picture was on the mantle surrounded by other pictures, and nothing else was disturbed. It would have to have been lifted and dropped in order for his picture to have been the only one to fall. I think it was my cousins way of letting us know, the prayers were appreciated.

We used to have a dog named Cha-Cha. She’d been part of the family since before I was born, and lived to be 19 (in human years). Well, her old age got to her and she had to be put to sleep. We got her cremated, and her ashes were put into a little heart-shaped tin. We intended to bury the tin in our little garden, and had even put in a little angel statue where the tin was going to be. It snowed that night, being winter time. In the morning we looked out the window, and in the fresh snow were little paw prints, exactly her size, coming up the garden walkway and leading to the statue, and then stopping. They didn’t turn around, they didn’t go anywhere else, and they certainly didn’t jump into the bushes. They just stopped, right there in front of the statue. We weren’t able to find where the prints started from; the light snow had already started melting on the stone steps on the path, and we couldn’t find more of the prints elsewhere. It’s been several years now and we still didn’t bury her. Her ashes are sitting up on a shelf next to those of one of our other, more recent, dogs. We’ve never had any more strange occurences though.