Horror Stories

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I get them...

So do I

I'm sorry, Taylor, I haven't forgotten about this thread. I just haven't found much good creepypasta lately. Today I did though. At least I liked this one:

What we call Mäkkylä poltergeist is a well-documented case in Finland. It was witnessed by three policemen in duty. Unfortunately, there seems to be no English translation.

I found one link in English: http://c5isiark.c5.suncomet.fi/english.html
a picture of the house: http://pinsta.me/tag/karvaselk%C3%A4
and a Swedish link: https://www.flashback.org/t1381966

Thanks for sharing that, Krabo, I've never heard of that case.

edit: kinda reminds me of the case of Välgunaho.

Välgunaho was the name of small farm in Röjden, located on the Swedish side of the border in the middle of Finnskogen. Välgunaho was perched on a hillside some distance from the other farms. Now only the foundation is left of the haunted farm. It started in the spring of 1901. At the time only an old man, a blind old woman and a maid lived there. Utensils started flying about the house, plates were destroyed and china was smashed. The beds were turned so they lay on their side, and other furniture also moved about. Even the chimney was apparently thrown over the barn.
A man used to work as a farm boy on that farm before the events started happening. When he returned there later he didn’t notice anything strange when he was inside the cottage, but when he had just gone out and closed the door behind him, he heard a loud bang. He went back in and saw that a bench that had been attached to the wall was lying on the floor, cracked. It had flown up in the ceiling, then been thrown to the floor so it cracked.
One witness saw the water trough be carried across the room but the person carrying it wasn’t visible.
A teacher decided to spend the night there, thinking he could end the troubles there. As he went to bed he folded his hands to pray for protection. A coffee roaster came hurtling towards him and hit his fingers.
A customs officer tells of a visit to the cottage - a large three-legged coffee maker came out on the floor, so that coffee and coffee grounds spilled. He put it back with the command "Stand still!", but then he got a slap on his fingers by a fire poker. He swore, and then heard a terrible noise - it was a large bed, which came at high speed and stood up on end.
They were so frightened by the events that they brought in a priest to bless the place. When the priest came, a coffee pot that stood on the stove, flew right into his hands and closed the Bible that bounced up in the face of the priest.
Even the livestock was released and lead out of the farm by invisible hands. On the farms in Rikenberget some kilometers away the same thing happened about 20 years later, no matter how hard they tied the cows to the barn in the evening. It didn’t help to place things in front of the door either. A heavy chopping block was removed several times, and not even a solid and steady prop against the door could hold against the forces.
The scholars of the time came to Välungaho and tried everything they could think of, prayers, rites, firing gunshots and incantations, but the haunting continued. It was a mess and it didn’t stop until the house was torn down and the residents abandoned the place.

A man named Nitaho-Jussi once headed towards Välungaho with a crowd. He asked them to be quiet in order to not disturb “the small greys”. One of the party kicked a rock and it was said that his house burned down the very moment.

According to one source the trouble started with the woman on the farm, who was called Blind Marit. It was said she was a witch and that she fed invisible beings with food she put into cracks in the walls and floor. Marit was blind and claimed she ‘saw’ a white buck on the living room floor that no-one else could see. It is said the haunting started when she could no longer control the forces.

Some people going there today claim to feel unwelcome and report a strange atmosphere there, while others say it feels peaceful there. It is said that bad luck comes to those who touch the foundation. One story mentions two little girls broke their nose and leg respectively the same day they had been there. One of them had walked on the foundation, the other was just there. Of course the story says nothing about what happened to them.
Once a bus leaving the farm experienced a lot of trouble. It turned out that one of the tourists onboard had brought with them a rock, and when the rock had been removed from the bus, it could continue without difficulties.
Some alleged mediums going there claimed they got neck pain as they approached the abandoned farm. While they were there they felt they weren’t wanted there, and they also sensed that there was something they weren’t supposed to learn of. They felt it so eerie they left soon, and they were afraid of touching anything. The pain disappeared when they reached the same place on the path where it had come on their way up to Välgunaho.

That's ok I'm sorry for the late response.

Here's a horror story from Ramapo, New York.

Lavender
Two boys wanted to go to a high school dance. So they borrowed a car and drove off toward the high school. Along the road they came across a young girl who was hitch hiking. She told them her name was Lavender. She was wearing a lavender colored dress. She was on her way to the dance as well so they offered her a ride. They arrived at the dance, and one of the boys was especially taken with Lavender and they danced the night away. His friend, however, did not remember his friend dancing at all.

It was getting late and it was time to leave. When Lavender got into the car, one of the boys noticed that she was cold to the touch. He put his jacket around her to keep her warm. She told them where she lived and as they approached the bridge to cross into the village where she lived, she suddenly told them to stop and let her out at the bridge. They did so and they drove off. The next day, the boys realized that Lavender still had the boy’s jacket. They decided to drive to her village to find her and get it back. They started through the town stopping at each home asking if they knew Lavender. Each home told them they could not help them. Until, finally, they knocked on the door of an old lady’s house. She answered and told them that, yes, she knew Lavender. Lavender was her daughter. They told her she must have been mistaken because Lavender was much too young to be her daughter. She said “No, that sounds like her”. And she showed them a picture of her and, sure enough, it was her. However, she said Lavender died years ago when she was hit by a truck on the bridge on her way to the school dance. She told them that she was buried in the Ramapo cemetery. The boys did not believe her as they saw Lavender just the night before.

On the way home they decided to stop by the cemetery and see for themselves if her grave was really there. As they walked into the cemetery, they saw the boy’s jacket hanging over a tombstone. It was the grave of Lavender.

That is a classic American ghost story, from the Midwest.

It has been repeated for almost a hundred years.

I didn't know that the sources I found claimed it was from Ramapo.

^ It's a good story wherever it's from

Thanks I liked "Resort Connection"

Thanks

I too like urban legends.

No stories today, but two videos with creepy photos.

Here's another urban legend I've heard.

The Killer in the Backseat
One night a woman went out for drinks with her girlfriends. She left the bar fairly late at night, got in her car and onto the deserted highway. After a few minutes she noticed a lone pair of headlights in her rear-view mirror, approaching at a pace just slightly quicker than hers. As the car pulled up behind her she glanced and saw the turn signal on — the car was going to pass — when suddenly it swerved back behind her, pulled up dangerously close to her tailgate and the brights flashed.

Now she was getting nervous. The lights dimmed for a moment and then the brights came back on and the car behind her surged forward. The frightened woman struggled to keep her eyes on the road and fought the urge to look at the car behind her. Finally, her exit approached but the car continued to follow, flashing the brights periodically.

Through every stoplight and turn, it followed her until she pulled into her driveway. She figured her only hope was to make a mad dash into the house and call the police. As she flew from the car, so did the driver of the car behind her — and he screamed, "Lock the door and call the police! Call 911!"

When the police arrived the horrible truth was finally revealed to the woman. The man in the car had been trying to save her. As he pulled up behind her and his headlights illuminated her car, he saw the silhouette of a man with a butcher knife rising up from the back seat to stab her, so he flashed his brights and the figure crouched back down.

This is one of my fave urban legends:

The cursed mummy

In the late 1890s a party of four well-to-do young English men made an extended tour of archaeological excavations in Egypt. One evening in the bar of their hotel in Luxor, they met an antiquities dealer who engaged them in a lively conversation about archaeology and some of the artifacts he had acquired over the years.
“In fact,” said the dealer, “I’ve just purchased an exquisite sarcophagus that contains the intact mummy of a princess of the Thirteenth Dynasty. It is the crown jewel of my collection. Would you like to see it?”
The young men said they were very eager to see the sarcophagus.

At nine o’clock the next morning, the dealer met the four travelers on the narrow street outside his warehouse. The dealer unlocked the door and led the men through a labyrinth of wooden crates to a room at the rear of the building. Inside, standing upright in the middle of the small room, was the princess’s sarcophagus. It was eight feet tall and inlaid with gold and semiprecious stones. On the lid was a portrait of the princess herself, her face serene and lovely, and her eyes wide open as if she were still alive.
For the next hour, the five men examined the sarcophagus closely. The dealer read the inscriptions for them and even opened the lid so his visitors could examine the mummy.
Then one of the Englishmen cleared his throat and said, “Would you...have you...considered selling it?”
The dealer seemed taken aback by the suggestion. But now all four of the young men pressed him to sell them the treasure. After some negotiation, the men settled on a price of ten thousand pounds sterling. They each wrote the dealer a check for £ 2,500 and asked him to have the sarcophagus packed up and sent to their hotel that evening as they were planning to begin their journey home to England the next day.
“Before we conclude our arrangement I should warn you that the mummy is said to be cursed. If you’re having second thoughts, I will tear up the checks now without any hard feelings,” the dealer said.
The men smiled, and one said, “Thank you. But none of us is superstitious.”

Late in the day, the packing crate containing the sarcophagus arrived at the hotel. As three of the men met in the bar for drinks before dinner, they saw the fourth member of their party walking out toward the desert. They waited for him all that evening and looked for him the next morning. At last they went to the British consulate to report their friend missing. They notified the Luxor police, but a thorough investigation turned up no trace of him. He was never seen again.
From that moment, trouble seemed to haunt the young travelers. One was shot accidentally in the right arm as his servant packed his hunting rifles. Although a surgeon from the British embassy in Cairo came to Luxor to treat the man, his arm was so severely wounded it had to be amputated.
The third man in the foursome found on his return home that bad investments had destroyed his family’s fortune.
The fourth man was struck down by an illness which no doctor in England could diagnose or cure. He lost his job and was reduced to selling matches in the street.
The coffin reached England (causing other misfortunes along the way), and remembering the dealer’s warning of a curse, the surviving travelers put the sarcophagus up for sale. They found a buyer almost immediately, a London businessman with a passion for Egyptian antiquities.

No sooner had the sarcophagus been installed in the businessman’s home than the curse struck again. His wife and two of his children were severely injured when their carriage overturned. Then the family’s home caught fire, destroying every Egyptian artifact in their collection – except the sarcophagus.
Some days later, the Times reported that the British Museum had received a superb sarcophagus from an anonymous donor. As the coffin was being unloaded from a truck in the museum courtyard, the truck suddenly went into reverse and trapped a passer-by. Then as the casket was being lifted up the stairs by two workmen, one fell and broke his leg. The other, apparently in perfect health, died unaccountably two days later.

Now the princess’s curse fell upon the British Museum. Night watchmen heard the sound of frantic hammering and sobbing from the coffin. Other artifacts displayed in the same gallery as the sarcophagus were hurled about by some unseen hand. A guard died on duty causing the other watchmen wanting to quit. Cleaners refused to go near the Princess too. A charwoman who scoffed at the curse and flicked her dust cloth derisively at the mummy’s face, lost her only child to a deadly case of the measles soon after.

By now, the newspapers had heard of the strange occurrences surrounding the princess’s sarcophagus. A photographer who took a picture of the sarcophagus for his newspaper found when developed the film that the serene image of the princess was replaced by a grotesque, horrifying face. The photographer hurried home, locked himself in his room and shot himself in the head.
The museum’s curators ordered the sarcophagus to be kept in storage in the basement, figuring it could not do any harm down there. Within a week, one of the helpers was seriously ill, and the supervisor of the move was found dead on his desk.

Soon afterwards, the museum sold the mummy to a private collector with an interest in the occult. After continual misfortune (and deaths), the owner banished it to the attic. A well known authority on the occult, Madame Helena Blavatsky, visited the premises. Upon entry, she was seized with a shivering fit and searched the house for the source of "an evil influence of incredible intensity". She finally came to the attic and found the sarcophagus.
"Can you exorcise this evil spirit?" asked the owner.
"There is no such thing as exorcism. Evil remains evil forever. Nothing can be done about it. I implore you to get rid of this evil as soon as possible."
But no British museum would take the mummy; the fact that almost 20 people had met with misfortune, disaster or death from handling the casket, in barely 10 yrs, was now well known.

For 12 years, the sarcophagus passed from one owner to the next, leaving behind a trail of disasters and tragedies. Then an American archaeologist purchased the sarcophagus. The curse did not frighten him; he attributed all the misfortunes of the previous owners to the quirks of circumstance. In early April 1912, he arranged for the sarcophagus to be shipped to America and booked a stateroom for himself aboard the same ship – a luxurious new cruise ship of the White Star Line about to make its maiden voyage to New York.
The name of the ship transporting the sarcophagus was Titanic.

I liked "the cursed mummy"

The pill is a good story

Thanks I think "White Eyes" would be a good campfire story.