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one time i was camming cause i had to make rent and someone who never participated in chat donated $200 post ur most spooky computer stories itt
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Oct 31, 2015 05:21
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pity bump
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Oct 31, 2015 05:34
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pram posted:pity bump you're not even my ex fiancé
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Oct 31, 2015 05:43
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one time while i was cumming inside my computer my mom walked in on me and spooked me out
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Oct 31, 2015 05:46
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remember split screen gaming days and sometimes you get mixed up and thought you were controlling the other screen and in general you made the same moves, you thought you were controlling it but you weren't? spoofy
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Oct 31, 2015 08:18
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It was sometime around june in 2005, when I was in grade six. I was sitting at home on this very same computer, playing dress ups on a online dress up doll site. It was normal temperature that day, and all of a sudden, next to my right shoulder blade, it turned icy cold. Everywhere else was warm. I reached out into the cold area but my hand was stopped by something solid. Petrified, I stayed sitting in my chair. The next thing I knew, the mouse was moving around on the mouse pad. It was dragging the items of clothing onto the doll. It then logged itself into the chat room as, Kit_Kat221. I remember that well. The chat room came up on the screen, and the "ghost" began typing frantically to all the people in the chat room. I screamed and ran out of the room. A few days later I walked into the lounge room to find the computer on. It was on a search engine, displaying pictures of cartoons. I walked closer to the computer and the computer turned off. The next day my mum got on the computer to find a picture of me with a cartoon cemetery and grim reaper standing next to me. No one had used the computer since that morning, and no one had changed the background. I became scared and one day I freaked myself out so badly that I refused to go to school. I was waiting at the bus stop an became very nervous and panicky. I walked back into my front yard, and turned around just in time to see a four wheel drive crash into the power pole I was leaning on at my bus stop, in the same spot I was standing. If I had have stayed there I would have been very badly injured. Maybe the picture on my computer was telling me something. I became very shaken after that and spent the rest of the day in my bedroom. At about five o'clock in the afternoon my room turned icy cold. I went to run to the door but someone stopped my, firmly grabbing my shoulder. I looked but no one was there. Then a transparent light in the shape of a girl my age appeared in front of me. Then I heard a whisper saying "goodbye...". The light then disappeared and the temperature returned to normal. I haven't seen the ghost since.
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Oct 31, 2015 14:42
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Definitely the spook-of-the-moment, Herobrine must also be the most popular example of a game haunting ever. Minecraft's own resident ghost is now effectively a meme that endlessly re-circulates and reappears across forums, messageboards and in YouTube videos. It seems that no amount of denial can dispel the rumours that Minecraft's single-player game isn't really a solo experience. Herobrine began as a single, foggy screenshot of a distant figure posted on the Minecraft forums. The picture was accompanied by the story of a Minecraft player finding strange, unexplained constructions in their world, apparently the sign of someone or something else being present. The poster claimed that other players contacted him to say they had also seen the figure, but that any attempts to discuss it on Minecraft forums resulted in their posts being deleted and a succinct message from an account under the name of "Herobrine" that simply said "Stop." After some searching, the poster claimed that Herobrine was the username of a Swedish gamer who was actually the brother of Minecraft's designer, Notch. Apparently, Notch confirmed this with a brief message that he did indeed have a brother, but "He is no longer with us." This story remained largely unnoticed until a Minecraft livestream known as Brocast (now renamed to Ghost in the Stream) briefly broadcast an image of a similar figure, before the stream disconnected. This gave the legend of Herobrine much more exposure. In reality, Notch has a half-brother whom he rarely sees and, while he's said that Herobrine does not exist and he has no plans to include such a ghostly character, he has enjoyed the endless speculation and has only fuelled it further by adding the occasional cryptic Removed Herobrine update with many game improvements. As with all urban legends, the truth behind Herobrine, and the total lack of evidence for this character, matters a lot less than the excitement surrounding the discussion, which rolls on and on.
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Oct 31, 2015 14:44
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The story goes that, without any announcement, black game cabinets called POLYBIUS began appearing in arcades in Portland, Oregon in 1981. They featured a game similar to the arcade shooter Tempest and, while the game itself might have been unremarkable, the events surrounding it certainly were not. Players reported that the game made them feel unwell, even that they suffered amnesia, insomnia and even terrible nightmares. Polybius had some sort of psychoactive effect upon its players and drove some to madness, even suicide, possibly by flashing subliminal messages that included "Be normal", "Obey" and "Surrender". It was also said that Men in Black would shadow arcades where the game was being played, noting down details of those who racked up high scores or keeping frequent players under observation. The game was either some kind of experiment or possibly even a recruiting tool. Though no arcades retained these mysterious cabinets and nobody even managed to photograph one, this didn't stop ambitious hoaxers making their own cabinets, even developing their own versions of this mystery game. The legend was given new life in 2006, when a man named Steven Roach posted on the website coinop.org a claim that he had worked for the Polybius developer Sinnesloschen (German for "loss of senses"). The game was supposed to be revolutionary, he claimed, but was instead dangerous, even deadly.
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Oct 31, 2015 14:46
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Okay, I realize this sounds completely ridiculous. Go ahead and laugh, as most of my friends did, but if you had been there, you would have been as scared as I was. As usual, I didn't have any plans for another Friday night since all of my friends live about fifty miles away or more, and I was sitting like a vegetable in front of the computer chatting on AIM and talking on the phone with my best friend, Matt. He's really into computer stuff, and he was all excited about this new program he had. It was a voice activated program that actually interacted and talked back to you. Something he created, having WAY too much time on his hands. He entered a vocabulary and certain catch phrases into it, and the computer was able to make sentences out of the words as well. It was actually pretty cool because you could insert the phone into this cradle and the computer could directly talk to whoever was on the phone. Alright, so he wanted me to check it out and put the phone in the cradle so I could talk to it. As soon as I heard the voice, it scared me to death. I got this really really bad feeling. Okay, so it WAS a really creepy voice and maybe I'm just exaggerating but the thing seriously scared the bejeezus out of me. So I tried talking to it but I was really freaked out and told it it scared me. Then it said "Please Maggie, like me". Alright now whether or not the computer was programmed to say that, it definitely scared me. I started calling out to Matt to pick up the phone and suddenly I heard the raspy creepy voice say "NO you can't have her!". At this point, I hung up the phone. Matt called back a minute later to see why I hung up and I told him that his computer seriously scared me and I didn't think it was safe. He said he'd heard the voice too and it was a little weird for it to say that, but thought I was just being stupid. He really wanted me to look at the program again so he offered to have me talk to the other voice his computer has, the one we were calling "the female half". This voice didn't really scare me so much. It sounded creepy but I didn't get a bad feeling or anything. Then the voice said something a little weird, it said "my friend is creepy". At first I thought I was hearing things and I said "your friend is what?" "Creepy". Now I knew I was hearing it correctly but I was wondering why the hell a computer would be saying that. It was just weird. So I asked who it's friend was, and then it cut off and I heard this different voice saying "default voice" or something and after that I couldn't talk to the computer because it kept making these weird gibbering sounds. This is when Matt picked up the phone and I kept trying to convince him to turn off his computer because I had a bad feeling. Okay so I was scared at the time and I believe my exact words were "Turn off your computer before it eats you". This didn't exactly make him take me seriously. Meanwhile we called each other about ten times each, it seemed because the phones kept breaking off like every three to five minutes. That was a little weird too but we just blew it off. I wouldn't leave him alone about turning off the computer and there was something nagging at the back of my mind. Something didn't quite seem right. Then I realized what it was. This was our conversation exactly. "Matt, how did the computer know I was a female?" "what?" "When the computer said 'no you can't have her' how did it know I was a female?" At this point Matt was quiet and then just got freaked out. He said he had never programmed the computer to say anything like that and there way no way it could have known I was a girl. After this he immediately deleted the program while I was on the phone with him. I'll admit this sounds pretty far-fetched and ridiculous. I wouldn't believe a word of it if I was reading this probably, and none of my friends did, but I'm writing it down anyways becuase I don't want this story to just be pushed aside and forgotten like Matt inevitably will. All I can say is I'm definitely never going near his computer.
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Oct 31, 2015 14:58
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Okay, goons, I need your help with this. This is not copypasta, this is a long read, but I feel like my safety or well-being could very well depend on this. This is video game related, specifically Majora's Mask, and this is the creepiest poo poo that has ever happened to me in my entire life. Having said that, I recently moved into my dorm room starting as a Sophomore in college and a friend of mine gave me his old Nintendo 64 to play. I was stoked, to say the least, I could finally play all of those old games of my youth that I hadn't touched in at least a decade. His Nintendo 64 came with one yellow controller and a rather shoddy copy of Super Smash Brothers, and while beggars can't be choosers, needless to say it didn't take long until I became bored of beating up LVL 9 CPUs. That weekend I decided to drive around a few neighborhoods about twenty minutes or so off campus, hitting up the local garage sales, hoping to score on some good deals from ignorant parents). I ended up picking up a copy of Pokemon Stadium, Goldeneye (gently caress yeah), F-Zero, and two other controllers for two dollars. Satisfied, I began to drive out of the neighborhood when one last house caught my attention. I still have no idea why it did, there were no cars there and only one table was set up with random junk on it, but something sort of drew me there. I usually trust my gut on these things so I got out of the car and I was greeted by an old man. His outward appearance was, for lack of a better word, displeasing. It was odd, if you asked me to tell you why I thought he was displeasing, I couldn't really pinpoint anything - there was just something about him that put me on edge, I can't explain it. All I can tell you is that if it wasn't in the middle of the afternoon and there were other people within shouting distance, I would not have even thought of approaching this man. He flashed a crooked smiled at me and asked what I was looking for, and immediately I noticed that he must be blind in one of his eyes; his right eye had that "glazed over" look about it. I forced myself to look to his left eye instead, trying not to offend, and asked him if he had any old video games. I was already wondering how I could politely excuse myself from the situation when he would tell me he had no idea what a video game was, but to my surprise he said he had a few ones in an old box. He assured me he'd be back in a "jiffy" and turned to head back into the garage. As I watched him hobble away, I couldn't help but notice what he was selling on his table. Littered across his table were rather… peculiar paintings; various artworks that looked like ink blots that a psychiatrist might show you. Curious, I looked through them - it was obvious why no one was visiting this guy's garage sale, these weren't exactly aesthetically pleasing. As I came to the last one, for some reason it looked almost like Majora's Mask - the same heart-shaped body with little spikes protruding outward. Initially I just thought that since I was secretly hoping to find that game at these garage sales, some Freudian bullshit was projecting itself into the ink blots, but given the events that happened afterward I'm not so sure now. I should have asked the man about it. I wish I would have asked the man about it. After staring at the Majora-shaped blot, I looked up and the old man was suddenly there again, arms-length in front of me, smiling at me. I'll admit I jumped out of reflex and I laughed nervously as he handed me a Nintendo 64 cartridge. It was the standard grey color, except that someone had written Majora on it in black permanent marker. I got butterflies in my stomach as I realized what a coincidence this was and asked him how much he wanted for it. The old man smiled at me and told me that I could have it for free, that it used to belong to a kid who was about my age that didn't live here anymore. There was something weird about how the man phrased that, but I didn't really pay any attention to then, I was too caught up in not only finding this game but getting it for free. I reminded myself to be a bit skeptical since this looked like a pretty shady cartridge and there's no guarantee it would work, but then the optimist inside me interjected that maybe it was some kind of beta version or pirated version of the game and that was all I needed to be back on cloud nine. I thanked the man and the man smiled at me and wished me well, saying "Goodbye then!" - at least that's what it sounded like to me. All the way in the car-ride home, I had a nagging doubt that the man had said something else. My fears were confirmed when I booted up the game (to my surprise it worked just fine) and there was one save file named simply "BEN". "Goodbye Ben", he was saying "Goodbye Ben". I felt bad for the man, obviously a grandparent and obviously going senile, and I - for some reason or another - reminded him of his grandson "Ben". Out of curiosity I looked at the save file. Eyeballing it, I could tell that he was pretty far in the game - he had almost all of the masks and 3/4 remains of the bosses. I noticed that he had used an owl statue to save his game, he was on Day 3 and by the Stone Tower Temple with hardly an hour left before the moon would crash. I remember thinking that it was a shame that he had come so close to beating the game but he never finished it. I made a new file named "Link" out of tradition and started the game, ready to relive my childhood. For such a shady looking game cartridge, I was impressed at how smoothly it ran - literally just like a retail copy of the game save for a few minor hiccups here and there (like textures being where they shouldn't be, random flashes of cutscenes at odd intervals, but nothing too bad). However the only thing that was a little unnerving was that at times the NPCs would call me "Link" and at other times they would call me "BEN". I figured it was just a bug - a fluke in the programming causing our files to get mixed up or something. It did kind of creep me out though after a while, and it was around after I had beaten the Woodfall Temple that I regrettably went into the save files and deleted "BEN" (I had intended to preserve the file just out of respect of the game's original owner, it's not like I needed two files anyway), hoping that that would solve the problem. It did and it didn't, now NPCs wouldn't call me anything, where my name should be in the dialogue there was just a blank space (my save file name was still called "Link", though). Frustrated, and with homework to do, I put the game down for a day. I started playing the game again last night, getting the Lens of Truth and working my way towards completing the Snowhead Temple. Now, some of you more hardcore Majora's Mask players know about the "4th Day" glitch - for those who don't you can Google it but the gist of it is that right as the clock is about to hit 00:00:00 on the final day, you talk to the astronomer and look through the telescope. If you time it right the countdown disappears and you essentially have another day to finish whatever you were doing. Deciding to do the glitch to try and finish the Snowhead Temple, I happened to get it right on the first try and the time counter at the bottom disappeared. However, when I pressed B to exit the telescope, instead of being greeted by the astronomer I found myself in the Majora boss fight room at the end of the game (the trippy boxed in arena) staring at Skull Kid hovering above me. There was no sound, just him floating in the air above me, and the background music which was regular for the area (but still creepy). Immediately my palms began to sweat - this was definitely not normal. Skull Kid NEVER appeared here. I tried moving around the area, and no matter where I went, Skull Kid would always be facing me, looking at me, not saying anything. Nothing would happen though, and this kept up for around sixty seconds. I thought the game had bugged or something - but I was beginning to doubt that very much. I was about to reach for the reset button when text appeared on my screen: "You're not sure why, but you apparently had a reservation…" I instantly recognized that text - you get that message when you get the Room Key from Anju at the Stock Pot Inn, but why was it playing here? I refused to entertain the notion that it was almost as if the game was trying to communicate with me. I started navigate the room again, testing to see if that was some sort of trigger that enabled me to interact with something here, then I realized how stupid I was - to even think that someone could reprogram the game like this was absurd. Sure enough, fifteen seconds later another message appeared on the screen, and again like the first one it was already a pre-existing phrase "Go to the lair of the temple's boss? Yes/No". I paused for a second, contemplating what I should press and how the game would react, when I realized that I couldn't select no. Taking a deep breath, I pressed Yes and the screen faded to white, with the words "Dawn of a New Day" with the subtext "||||||||" beneath it. Where I was ported to filled me with the most intense sense of dread and impending fear I had ever experienced The only way I can describe the way I felt here is having this feeling of inexplicable depression on a profound scale. I am normally not a depressed person, but the way I felt here was a feeling that I didn't even knew existed - it was such a twisted, powerful presence that seemed to wash over me. I appeared in some kind of weird twilight-zone version of Clock Town. I walked out of the Clock Tower (as you normally do when you start from Day 1) only to find that all of the inhabitants were gone. Usually with the 4th Day glitch you can still find the guards and the dog that runs around outside the tower - this time they were all gone. What replaced them was the ominous feeling that there was something out there, in the same area as me and that it was watching me. I had four hearts to my name and the Hero's Bow, but at this point I wasn't even considered for my avatar, I felt that I personally was in some kind of danger. Perhaps the most chilling thing was the music - it was the Song of Healing, ripped straight from the game itself, but played in reverse. The music would get louder, building up so as if you should expect something to pop out at you, but nothing ever did, and the constant loop began to wear on my mental state. Every now and then I would hear the faint laugh of the Happy Mask Salesman in the background, just quiet enough so that I wasn't sure if I just hearing things but just loud enough to keep me determined to find him. I looked in all four zones of Clock Town, only to find nothing.... No one. Textures were missing, West Clock Town had me walking on air, the entire area felt... broken. Hopelessly broken. As the reverse Song of Healing repeated for what must have been the 50th time, I just remember standing in the middle of South Clock Town realizing that I had never felt so alone in a video game before. As I walked through the ghost town, I don't know whether it was the combination of the out of place textures and the atmosphere and the haunting melody of the once peaceful and soothing song being butchered and distorted, but I was literally on the verge of tears and I had no idea why. I hardly ever cry, something had gripped me here and this powerful sense of depression that was both foreign and crippling. I tried leaving Clock Town, but every time I attempted to zone out, the screen would fade to black and I would just zone in to another part of Clock Town. I tried playing my Ocarina, I wanted to escape, and I did NOT want to be here, but every time I played the Song of Time or Song of Soaring it would only say "Your notes echo far, but nothing happens". By this point, it was obvious the game didn't want me to leave, but I had no idea why it was keeping me here. I didn't want to go inside the buildings, I felt that I would be too vulnerable there to whatever I was terrified of. I don't know why, but I came up with the idea that maybe if I drowned myself at the Laundry Pool I could spawn somewhere else and leave this place. As I zoned in and ran towards the pool, that's when it happened. Link grabbed his head, and the screen flashed for a brief moment of the Happy Mask Salesman smiling at me - not Link - me with Skull Kid's scream playing in the background and when the screen returned I was staring at the Link Statue from playing the song Elegy of Emptiness. I screamed as the thing just stared back at me with that haunting facial expression. I turned around and ran out and back into South Clock Town, and to my horror the loving statue followed me in the only way I can compare this is like the Weeping Angels from Doctor Who. Every so often, at random intervals, the animation would play of the statue appearing behind me. It was like the thing was chasing me, or - I don't even want to loving say it - haunting me. By this point, I was on the verge of hysterics, but not even once did the thought of turning off the console occur to me, I don't know why, I was so wrapped up in it - the terror felt all so real. I tried to shake the statue, but it would literally appear right behind me every single time. Link started to begin to make weird animations I had never even seen him do before, he would flail his arms around or spasm randomly and the screen would cut to the Happy Mask Salesman smiling again for a brief moment before I was face to face with that loving statue again. I ended up running into the Swordmaster's Dojo and ran to the back, I don't know why, but in my panic I just wanted some kind of assurance that I'm not alone here. To my dismay I found no one, but as I turned to leave the statue cornered me in the cubby in the back. I tried attacking the statue with my sword but to no avail. Confused, and backed into a corner, I just stared at the statue waiting for it to kill me. Suddenly, the screen flashed again to the Happy Mask Salesman and Link turned to face my screen, standing upright mirroring the statue, looking at me along with his copy. Literally staring at me. Whatever was left of the 4th wall was completely shattered while I ran out of the dojo terrified. Suddenly the game warped me to an underground tunnel and the reverse Song of Healing queued up again as I was given a brief moment of rest before the statue started appearing behind me again... this time aggressively - I could only take a few steps before it would summon behind me again. I hurriedly made my way out of the tunnel and appeared in Southern Clock Town. As I ran aimlessly - in a sheer panic - suddenly a redead screamed and the screen faded to black as "Dawn of a New Day" and "|||||||||" appeared again. The screen faded in and I was standing on top of Clock Tower with Skull Kid hovering over me again, silent. I looked up and the moon was back, looming just meters above my head, but the Skull Kid just stared at me hauntingly with that loving mask. A new song was playing - the Stone Tower Temple theme played in reverse. In some sort of desperate attempt, I equipped my bow and fired off a shot at the Skull Kid - and it actually hit him and he played an animation of him reeling back. I fired again and on the third arrow, a text box appeared saying "That won't do you any good. Hee, hee." and I was picked up off the ground, levitated upwards on my back, and then Link screamed as he burst into flames, instantly killing him. I jumped when this happened - I had never seen this move used by ANYONE in the game and Skull Kid himself didn't HAVE any moves. As the death screen played, my lifeless body still burning, the Skull Kid laughed and the screen faded to black, only to have me reappear in the same place. I decided to charge him, but the same thing happened, Link's body was lifted off the ground by some unknown force and he immediately burst into flames again killing him. This time during the death screen the faint sounds of the reverse Song of Healing could be heard. On my third (and final try), I noticed that there was no music playing this time, that all there was was eerie silence. I remembered that in the original encounter with the Skull Kid you were supposed to use the Ocarina to either travel back in time or summon the giants. I attempted to play the Song of Time but before I could hit the last note Links body once again horrifically exploded into flames and he died. As the death screen neared its end, it began to chug, as if the cartridge was trying to process a lot of something.... When the screen came to, it was the same scene as the first three times, except this time Link was lying on the ground dead in a position I had never seen in the game before, his head tilted towards the camera, with the Skull Kid floating above him. I couldn't move, I couldn't press any buttons, all I could do is just stare at Link's dead body. After around thirty seconds of this, the game simply fades out with the message "You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?" before kicking you out to the title screen. Upon getting back to the title screen and starting again, I noticed my save file was no longer there. Instead of "Link", it was replaced with "YOUR TURN". "YOUR TURN" had 3 hearts, 0 masks, and no items. I selected "YOUR TURN" and immediately when I did I was returned to the Clock Tower Rooftop scene of my Link dead and the Skull Kid hovering over, with the Skull Kid's laughing looping again and again. I quickly hit the reset button and when the game booted up again there was one more save file added, below "YOUR TURN", entitled "BEN". "BEN"'s save file is right back where it was before I deleted it, at the Stone Tower Temple with the moon almost crashing. I turned the game off at that point, I'm not superstitious but this is WAY too hosed up even for me. I haven't played it at all today, hell, I didn't even get any sleep last night, I kept hearing the reverse Song of Healing music in my head and just remembering the sense of dread I felt exploring Clock Town. I drove back to the old man's house today to ask him some questions with a buddy of mine (no way I was going there alone), only to find that there's a For Sale sign in the front yard and when I rang the door no one was home. So now I'm back here writing down the rest of my thoughts and recording what happened, sorry if some of this has grammatical errors and whatnot, I'm running on no sleep here. I'm terrified of this game, even more so now that I relived it a second time writing this all down, but I feel like there's still more to it than meets the eye, and that there's something calling to me to investigate this further. I think "BEN" is something in this equation, but I don't know what, and if I could get a hold of the old man then I would be able to find some answers. I need another day or so to recuperate before tackling this game again, its already taken a toll on my sanity I feel like, but next time I do this I'm going to be recording my footage all the way through. The idea to record only came to me towards the end, so you see the last few minutes of what I saw (including Skull Kid and the Elegy statue), but it's on YouTube here. I'm going to stay in this thread for a little while longer before I fall asleep to answer any questions you guys might have or hopefully listen to your ideas or theories to help me shed some light into this or maybe things I should try to do, I think I'm going to play BEN's file tomorrow to see what happens, maybe I was supposed to do that all along. I don't believe in paranormal poo poo, but this is a little hosed up, but maybe this BEN guy is just a really good hacker/programmer, I don't want to think about the alternatives if he isn't. That's the end of the copy/paste, I'm hoping that maybe this is some kind of running gag the developers had and that other people have gotten "gag" or "hacked" copies of the game like this. This just really scares me.
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Oct 31, 2015 14:58
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A Pinball Wizard posted:Okay, goons, I need your help with this. This is not copypasta, this is a long read, but I feel like my safety or well-being could very well depend on this. This is video game related, specifically Majora's Mask, and this is the creepiest poo poo that has ever happened to me in my entire life. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X6D2XCJUJHY
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Oct 31, 2015 15:20
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so spooky I didn't even read
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Oct 31, 2015 15:25
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yospos, i have a confession to make i'm a ghost that has been living in db3 for the past 10 years.... i loved db3, it was dilapidated and dark, and it had lots of creaky old posts to play in. i was a happy, friendly ghost, like casper but then db3 started to fail... i asked you, begged you to donate to save it, but so many of you did nothing and now it's dead i'm angry. i'm furious. my home has been destroyed, and now i'll destroy you at midnight tonight, my face will appear on your computer screen  it will be the last thing you see. you'll be found dead in your aeron chair with your eyes gouged out and black ichor oozing from the empty sockets you have one last chance to quell my rage post 5 spooky stories in this thread before midnight and you will be spared if you don't, i'll kill you and consume your soul. then i'll do the same to your family and friends, one by one... you've been warned...
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Oct 31, 2015 15:37
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W724mb8xQXw&hd=1&t=28s
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Oct 31, 2015 15:46
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"dude...you're getting a dell"
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Oct 31, 2015 16:01
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“So where did you see this ghost?” I asked, mildly amused by the tale being told by the old porter. The other man grunted, clearly relishing the opportunity to spin a yarn. He must have noticed, but seemed prepared to ignore, the scepticism visible on my face. “It always shows up in that stairwell behind the lecture theatres, at the upper ground level,” he replied laconically. The man I knew only as George was a wizened old gnome, wiry and bandy-legged. He struck me as surprisingly hairy about the ears and on the backs of his hands, which contrasted with the compact and polished dome of his head. He was apparently one of that group of men known as porters, who delivered the mail, moved the furniture and acted as general factotums to the academic staff at the University. Old George had told me that he had worked in the Computer Science building ever since it opened, back in the 1970s. In this day and age, the porters act as the security staff, and are on duty twenty-four hours a day. While any member of the faculty could come and go as they please, they rarely did and there were usually not very many people in the building in the middle of the night. It was two in the morning, and we were standing in the otherwise empty foyer. For some reason, I only ever encountered George in the middle of the night. Perhaps it was his preference for the night shift. Tonight, the porter seemed to be in a garrulous mood. I fully admit that I was incredulous, entirely disbelieving, but the old man seemed to be utterly serious. “It’s always been there, as I recall. There were occasional sightings when I first came here,” he continued, with a slight shake of his head at my youthful intransigence. “Mind you, in those days, months or even years would go by with a visitation,” he continued, “The apparition’s appearances seem to be getting more frequent.” I shook my head but, before I could make any intelligible response, old George straightened from the slouch he had adopted. “Well, I can’t stand around here nattering all night,” he muttered, “I’ve me rounds to do.” And with that, he stalked off down one of the darkened corridors, soon to be lost to sight. I suppose I am still a student of sorts, now undertaking post-doctoral work in the School of Computer Science. The Computer building at the red-brick university I have hung around for more than a decade is itself a monument to 1970’s structural design. The architectural vernacular of the time was for steel-reinforced concrete framework clad in – yes – red bricks with tall narrow windows fitted with darkened glass, arranged in serried rows on all four sides. The building has several floors above ground level where lecture theatres, classrooms and laboratories for practical work can be found, as well as rooms full of personal computers for use by students. The latter seem to be always in use, even in the middle of the night. It always amused me to see just one or two hunched figures, widely separated amongst the rows of quietly humming PCs. The need for a large number of rooms must have given the building designers a headache, since much of the interior is a warren of corridors and staircases. The uppermost floors are occupied by spacious individual offices for the academic staff, close to their secretarial and administrative supporters, as well as much more cramped shared accommodation for the post-docs and research students. Further down, there are extensive basements housing the airconditioning machinery and various workshops and storerooms, as well as several large machine rooms. These house rows of metal cabinets, these days usually painted in fashionable shades of black, containing the central computers and peripheral machines which are even nowadays adorned with green and blue blinking lights. I have always been something of a night-owl, preferring to stay up until the wee hours whether I am working or socialising. I always rise late in the morning, even then unable to function even then without at least one large mug of the poisonously strong black coffee I favour. I am not sure just why this is. Maybe I am naturally not a morning person, or perhaps this is just a legacy of years of being a university student. My nocturnal working habits are by now familiar to the portering and security staff. I can frequently be found working late at night. It would not be unusual for me to stay in the building all night, finally emerging in the morning, blinking in the light. Then I would stumble to the bus stop for the short journey back to the terraced house I share with three other post-grads, all of whom are attached to other parts of the Faculty of Science and Engineering. These night-shift hours had allowed me to acquire a nodding acquaintance with George the porter, who always seemed to be on night duty. It was not uncommon for me to come across him patrolling the darkened corridors and public spaces of the School. I occasionally found myself wondering about the story he had told and, out of sheer curiosity, took to passing by the location George had described. The stairwell was quiet and out-of-the-way corner of the building. The complicated interior design meant that there was almost always no direct route between any two points, and it was generally not much out of my way to pass by regularly on my way to my office. “My office” sounds rather grand, especially as this is actually just a desk and a couple of filing cabinet drawers in a shared room in that far corner of the building. With hindsight, it must have been unsurprising that I did finally see the ghost. One evening, not even particularly late – certainly well before midnight – I was making my way downstairs to the machine room, picking the route through the haunted stairwell quite automatically. It was astonishing. The whole experience was exactly what I would have expected from folklore and children’s tales. The first indication was a sudden chill, a drop in temperature which somehow did not quite feel like a malfunction in the air-conditioning. Then I caught sight of a vague shape, hanging in the air, as if a humanoid figure have been draped head-to-foot in a badly-washed white sheet. Whatever it was, it was hovering in the stairwell in such a position that taking the steps downwards would have brought me level with the spectre. The figure had its back towards me, as far as I could tell. As I watched, I thought it made to turn in my direction but, before the movement had barely begun, the apparition faded into nothingness. The chill in the air dissipated just as rapidly, and I found myself standing mouth open and wondering whether I had imagined the whole thing. The only thing that jarred with the bedtime storybook was that I did not feel in the slightest bit frightened. The ghost just was not scary. I was curious, intrigued even, and I resolved immediately to investigate further. That turned out to be easier than I expected. After that first sighting, the spectre always seemed to be there, sometimes plainly visible and at other times just the mere suggestion of a presence. Strangely, it was only apparent when I was on my own; on the rare occasions when I was in company, I always found the stairwell entirely uninhabited. I made opportunities to talk with some of the other postgrads, and even some of the younger members of staff. But, having asked around a few times whether anyone sensed anything unusual or spooky in that stairwell, but mostly gave up after the number of strange looks I received. I had heard that theory that ghosts are somehow representations – echoes projected through time – of a moment in a person’s life, especially an intensely emotional moment close to death. Logically, this means that graveyards are the last place you should expect to find ghosts, since people almost never die there except under the – I hope! – rare circumstances of being buried alive. From its beginnings in Victorian philanthropy and mock-gothic majesty, the University buildings had grown organically over ground previously occupied by rows of back-to-back terraced houses – a classic Coronation Street scene now bulldozed flat. The Computer Science building was in fact squatting on a foundation of broken bricks and tornup cobblestones – the remains of homes for thousands of workers in the early ages of industrialisation. These old houses must have seen any number of births, deaths and marriages over the years. I have seen black-and-white photos of the Computer building under construction, on posters decorating the otherwise bare breeze-block walls in out-of-the-way corridors. As I saw it, the level of that haunted stairwell was at the height of an upstairs bedroom of an old terrace – just the place where a bed-bound person might have lived their last, and died. The haunting was beginning to prey on my mind and I felt I needed someone to talk to. I wanted to find some explanation of what I had witnessed. Finally, I was struck by a brainwave. I tracked down one of the younger lecturers in the School, named Tony Howarth. Tony had a rather studious, even anxious disposition, forever glancing around through thick-rimmed glasses. He generally spoke and moved quickly, as if bursting with nervous energy. The reason I had picked Tony as my confidante was that I had recently discovered that he was a subscriber to the Sceptical Enquirer periodical, as well as being part of an enthusiastic – if slightly nerdy – group dedicated to investigating, and debunking, claims of UFO sightings and ghostly hauntings. He displayed a sharp and enquiring mind, always ready with a plausible mundane explanation for apparently paranormal events. Sitting in his small office, Tony listened with great interest to my story and then asked a few questions, such as whether I had searched for hidden projectors or wires. I admitted that I had not – it simply had not occurred to me that the presence on the stairs was anything other than completely genuine. I think Tony could hear the earnestness in my voice and was apparently satisfied that I was not attempting to wind him up as a prank. After a few moments thought, Tony said that he had not heard such a claim but was happy – even eager – to investigate. He said he would make some gentle enquiries around the building and from the University authorities, and asked me to come back the following day. Tony’s report was non-committal. He had explored the area himself and had sensed nothing himself – a situation I had somehow anticipated. He also said that, as far as anyone knew, no-one had ever died in the Computer Science building, but it was impossible to be sure about the residents of the former houses on the site. Finally, Tony said he would talk to some of his contacts through the Enquirer, undertake some further investigations and let me know anything he discovered. This was a far less positive outcome than I had hoped for, with limited scope for some kind of a resolution. I started to avoid that part of the building, which was always dimly-lit and quiet – especially after dark, when the massed hordes of undergraduates had returned to their usual evening haunts of residential halls and public houses. Even so, in a hurry one early evening, I casually decided to take that route back to the office. I was shocked and horrified to find Tony, on the floor, apparently dead. The poor man surrounded by a litter of apparatus – assorted cameras, tape recorders, lights and other devices with more obscure purposes – all tied together with a rats’ nest of cabling fixed to a latticework of aluminium poles and garden canes with heavy-duty gaffer tape. I hurried over, desperately trying to remember the rudimentary first aid training I had received several years ago. Tony was definitely dead, already cold and I guessed he had been lying there for an hour or more. I called out wildly for assistance and, almost immediately George himself appeared around the corner. The old porter leant over, apparently checking the body, then looked up at me shaking his head. Even through my rising panic, I could see he looked somehow satisfied, as if pleased with an outcome long anticipated. I rushed back down the corridor towards the administrative offices to raise the alarm before collapsing in near-hysterics. I suppose I must have been in shock for a while. I vaguely recall being fed mug after mug of hot sweet tea – something I would normally have avoided – by the secretarial staff. I imagine that some ambulance crew come to remove the body and senior members of the university management were dragged away from their meetings to handle the situation. The police cordoned off the entire stairwell using that black and yellow tape familiar to viewers of TV crime dramas, making inconvenient detours necessary. After I had recovered some of my wits, I made a statement to the police, carefully omitting or playing down any the ghostly aspects, and merely noting that I understood Tony to be investigating reports of a haunting at this very spot. The subsequent police enquiry confirmed the obvious conclusions. It appeared that Tony had been attempting to attach his apparatus to the banisters at the top of the stairs. Somehow, he had fallen and broken his neck colliding with the protruding concrete of the intermediate level, before crashing to the floor below. There was no suggestion of ‘foul play’, to use that old-fashioned phrase; no evidence that anyone else had been involved. As a mark of respect, I was present at poor Tony’s funeral, which was attended by his weeping patents as well as an eclectic cross-section of the staff and student body. Later that day, there was a short nondenominational service (Tony was an atheist, apparently) in the Department itself, which was rather better attended. After the funeral and the service, I remained in the Computer building, unsure of what to do. I wandered to the fateful stairwell to find that the police investigation had evidently finished and the barrier tapes had been removed. Absently, I tidied away Tony’s equipment, carefully collecting up the damaged instruments and broken cameras. At first, I was not quite sure what to do with it, but eventually I stacked it all neatly in Tony’s office, which already seemed unnaturally quiet and faintly dusty, even though the previous occupant had been dead only a few days. Just as I finished this task, old George appeared at the doorway, the same unaccustomed look of glee in his eyes as I had seen when he had leant over Tony’s cooling body. “What’s going on?” I asked, the note of alarm in my voice sounding shrill even to myself. He made no reply, just stood there looking at me insouciantly. Then he disappeared – by which I do not mean he simply walked away, but quite literally vanished into thin air before my very eyes. The ghost of Computer Science is more visible, more often, these days. Other people seem to have caught a glimpse of it too, judging from the looks I see on faces emerging from that stairwell. I have not been able to persuade anyone to admit to this, yet, although I do get strange reactions from those of my acquaintances who I questioned just after I had first seen the apparition. Personally, I am convinced that the ghost in the stairwell is Tony himself. What I had glimpsed before must have been some kind of a future echo, his shade now stronger, more persistent, now that his death is in the past. It seems inappropriately ironic that he was investigating his own ghost when he died – was this the reason for George’s nonchalant reaction? What really worries me now is the old porters astonishing disappearance. The last time I ever saw him was when I was moving poor Tony’s equipment back to his office. I spent long hours, night after night, wandering the deserted corridors where previously I would also have guaranteed a meeting, without encountering any sign of him. The mysterious porter seemed to know more than he was letting on, and I desperately wanted to learn more. I made enquiries, eventually gaining an interview with the Head Porter in the tiny cupboard that his seniority allowed him to use as an office. He was a squat toad of a man, who sat in a decrepit old armchair sipping delicately from a chipped mug of strong steaming tea. The Head Man told me bluntly that he and the other porters in the building had never heard of George, that they did not recognise the description I put to them. Despite my increasingly frantic protestations, he insisted that no-one of that name had ever been employed as a porter in the School. So who, or what, is Old George? More importantly, why did he want our local paranormal investigator out of the way? What secret was he desperate to conceal – so desperate that he was willing to arrange Tony’s death while investigating his own ghost? My best guess is that George is a very capable and frankly rather malicious spirit who has been in this location for a long time – much longer than the present building. He did not want to be disturbed and felt threatened by Tony as a potential open-minded ghost-hunter. So the other ghost is both distraction and protection – although I am beginning to wonder about what might be happening on the Other Side…
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Nov 1, 2015 03:15
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this one time i thought i had my mic muted and i ripped wicked sick rear end and the guy who ran the voip channel heard me and set my title to "rear end blaster"
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Nov 1, 2015 09:08
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Korean Boomhauer posted:this one time i thought i had my mic muted and i ripped wicked sick rear end and the guy who ran the voip channel heard me and set my title to "rear end blaster" Nice
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Nov 1, 2015 15:52
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