Fangirl Friday: Tell me a creepy story and win books!


So…Halloween and Día de los Muertos are right around the corner, and they are my fave times of the year.

So with that in mind, I’m gonna tell you a ghost story and then turn it over to all of you.

Tell me a creepy story that happened to you or someone you know or maybe it’s local lore where you’re from or where you are now. Like that. That story will be your entry in a drawing to win BOTH OF THESE BOOKS! OMG! HALLOWEEN TWO-FER!

We’ll draw a winner WEDNESDAY OCTOBER 31 at 9 PM EST US!

An ebook copy of Andi Marquette’s (that would be MOI) The Secret of Sleepy Hollow, a reboot (WITH LADY GAY-TYPES!) of the classic American ghost story, “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow” (1820), by Washington Irving (novella available at Project Gutenburg).

An ebook copy of R.G. Emanuelle’s gothic thriller (WITH MORE LADY GAY-TYPES!) The Potion. A secret formula. A mysterious blue potion. A determined woman. And some unscrupulous men.

All rightie.

I’ll start us off.

Here’s one of MY ghost stories. This happened to me when I was in high school. At the time, my family was living within the town (about 3,000 people) where I grew up. I spent most of my years until then on a farm about 5 miles outside of town, so actually being in town was different for me.

At any rate, we had rented a house that had been built during the 1930s, in kind of an art deco style, which was different than a lot of the Queen Anne-style houses of this town, like, for example, the mansion right next door. Regardless, this house had that art deco kind of curviness to its interior and exterior, as it looked like something out of the Southwest but with those cool deco touches.

Over the years, owners had updated it with new wiring and plumbing (including an addition off the back with an indoor hot tub off the master bedroom), but it had left a lot of the cool historical touches inside, like the trim and the cool arched entryways on the original part of the house, which encompassed the front room (living room), and two bedrooms off it with a shared bathroom between them, a dining nook, and then a re-done kitchen.

Here’s the thing. I never liked that house. Bad ju-ju, icky feelings, and the sense that I was being watched (in a bad way), especially if I was home alone. As an aside, the family dog NEVER came into my bedroom. She’d lie right on the threshold if I had my door open, but she would not go in.


One night, my mom had a friend over (let’s call her Anne) and they were chatting in the front room/living room, seated on the couch. The bedroom I was in was right off the front room, close to the front door. I was still awake and I came out of my bedroom into the front room/living room (my bedroom door opened directly into that room).

At that point, Anne stopped talking to my mom and leaned forward and looked past her into the dining nook (which we didn’t eat in; we used it as a nook for our stereo equipment). I was on the opposite side of the front room, away from the nook. Anne was facing away from me. And then she said to my mom, “Do you always let your neighbors come in this late?”

And both my mom and I looked at each other and if I was a cartoon, my hair would’ve been standing straight up. We both looked toward the dining nook, but I didn’t see anything. And then Anne said, “That’s weird.” And she stood up and looked around. “Where’d she go?”

And then my mom said, “You saw her, too?”


Anne got this look like, oh, shit. My mom asked her to describe “the neighbor,” and Anne said she was an older heavyset woman wearing kind of an old-style dress, like a woman in the 40s might wear. “She was standing right there,” Anne said, pointing at the dining nook. “I thought she came in through the back door.”

Which was locked. We went and checked again just to make sure.

And at that point my mom told us she’d seen this woman, too, in the house in that same area, but she hadn’t said anything because she didn’t want to freak us all out. I hadn’t seen her, I said, but I sure had felt like she was watching me, all disapproving. You know that feeling. The kind of disapproval that older, not-so-nice people directed at you when you were a ‘tween or teen. They didn’t say anything, but the look in their eyes was pretty clear that they thought you were some asshole punk kid and you’d better stay off their lawns, dammit, or they’d make your day hell.

Regardless, my mom was pretty relieved that Anne saw the woman, too (validation!), and after that, my mom and I commiserated about how we both thought the house had bad ju-ju and my mom had been trying to convince my dad to move, but we both knew ghost stories wouldn’t do it.

Well, a few months later, the sewer backed up, messing up part of the back yard. And then a few weeks after that, a pipe blew in the hot tub room, spewing water everywhere. Soon after, there was a major leak in the roof in the bathroom just off the hot tub room and because the ceiling had latex paint on it, the water built up behind it and the paint somehow managed to stretch and not leak so that there was this huge weird alien-looking bubble hanging from the ceiling. My dad pierced it with a nail so we could empty it into buckets before it burst all over the bathroom.

After that, my dad was over it, and we did move.

I still wonder if the woman my mom and Anne had seen had anything to do with all that cray with the plumbing and bad ju-ju (I’m leaning yes). We did find out later that the people who moved in after us — an older straight couple with no kids/teens living with them — had absolutely no problems.

No accounting for a ghost’s tastes, I guess. I was just glad to be gone from that house and I never went back.

All right! Post your creepy encounters/stories/anecdotes in the comments to get in on the drawing for this two-fer Halloween/Día de los Muertos book goodness! Join in the Halloween vibe! Have some fun! 🙂

Happy Friday and if a ghost doesn’t like you, it’s probably a good idea to move.


  1. My creepy ghost story takes place in a haunted house my cousin lived in. She lived by herself in an old train way station in west central Ohio. My Mom and I were visiting her one evening, with my Aunt, just sitting around chatting at the kitchen table. Now I don’t know if any of you believe in ghosts or the ability to see them or hear them, but I do! You see, my Mom always told me I have been blessed with the sixth sense and there have been several occasions that prove I have an unusual sense of things around me. Somehow, I brought up the feeling of sadness I felt as we sat at the table. My cousin then started telling stories about the history of the location.
    She took us through the house showing us the places she had seen odd things. Like the rocker in the parlor that rocks on it’s own, the laundry room where she said the wet clothes that had been put in the dryer would appear on top the washer and the window where she would occasionally see a hand splayed like someone was leaning on it. Then there was the stairway door. I got really bad feelings at this point. She said on occasion she would try to open it, but it was like someone was trying to hold it closed from the other side. She said she had learned to just step back and say “Ok you win!” The door would then swing open on it’s own.
    She took my Aunt and Mom up the stairs, but I only made it halfway. I felt a wave of sadness the higher I went and had to turn back. I could hear her telling them about a room up there, someone had been shot and killed there! The stains on the steps were actually blood drops that had fallen as his body was carried downstairs.
    Now to the part that still gives me goosebumps. We finished the tour and sat back down in the kitchen to chat some more. It was going on 11 pm and my Mom said we had to be going soon. As she was making that comment, the mud room screen door opened, closed and we heard footsteps going down the root cellar steps! My Aunt asked “I thought you lived here alone?”
    My cousin laughed and said “Oh it’s just him!” We all looked at each other and this is the part where I got goosebumps. She added “He comes in at this time every night and goes to the cellar.” My “spidey” sense was on overload at this point and I had to see for myself.
    I got up with my cousin and we went through the side door into the mud room. The screen door across from us lead out to the long porch where the trains used to pull in for a stop. The tracks were long gone, but she said sometimes she would find the big nails they used to hold the rails down. Anyway, I digress. We turned and went down the cellar stairs where I saw a gravel floor, som boxes and a water heater. There was no one down there! We only heard the footsteps going down and not up! So where had this guy gone? Why was he visiting every night at this time? Se said she was still researching that part of the history. She thought maybe he was one of the track workers that had been killed, but she wasn’t sure.
    We finally decided we had enough of the haunted way station and started to leave. My cousin looked at us and said “Oh, by the way, you can read more about the house in The Haunted Ohio book!” Holy shit! If I would’ve known that I don’t know if I would’ve gone to visit! My goosebumps are still showing and I still shiver thinking about that visit!!! Thanks for reading!

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