Does anyone know any really good ghost stories? True or made up...?

That is incredibly weird that u asked that and that i just randomly saw this. I am, just now, going in between this site and a ghost story site!!!! They are real stories by people who have experienced them. I am really into paranormal stuff, and so i am always searching. So, here is the site. It is on the page i was reading, but u can click around and look at other ones, as well as real ghost pics and videos. Have fun!! http://www.yourghoststories.com/real-ghost-story.php?story=5172

yes!!! supposedly REAL. a friend on myspace posted some things that happened to him and his sister.. if interested let me know and ill send you a liink but i read it a couple weeks ago and it had me jittery all night.. i am a grown man and not usually spooked by such a thing. maybe he caught me off gaurd?

I have a ghost story, and this really happened to me. I was a teenager in the 80's, and a friend of mine loved Ozzy. There was a desolate, road we drove frequently that was very dark and dangerous, and a lot of people had died on this part of the road. So much that it was nicknamed "dead man's turn". My friend and I were coming home from a long night out and it was around midnight. We had Ozzy up very loud, and something started happening to the engine in his truck and we had to stop. It just so happens that we stopped the truck right before dead man's turn. He got out of the truck, opened the hood, and was checking the engine. We still had the Ozzy playing loud. I felt a cold chill down my spine, like I had never felt before. It was a hot summer night. I turned my head to my right and looked out the truck window, and to my shock I saw two floating red eyes just outside of the window. I was frozen. It seemed as if everything went completely silent. The eyes floated there for what seemed like an eternity, but was really only about five or six minutes, then they vanished. The image of those eyes are still burned in my mind to this day and when I think back on what happened, I still get cold chills. I was not drinking or on any type of drug. This is a real story. People living near this dead man's turn also reported random sightings.

This is true because it happened to me. I was an EMT and my crew went on an ambulance call to a house where there was an older woman having a heart attack. We get to the house, and the old man is confused and scared. We see a very sparse living room, with two rocking chairs, cups on a small round table and the TV was on. We asked the man where is your wife? He points to the kitchen, we walk into the kitchen and there are mounds of plates in the sink, no wife. No one to be seen having a heart attack. By now the police are there. We walk up the steps, thinking maybe the woman went to the bathroom. Not there either. Now, the strange thing is, woman's clothing was everywhere, like it was being packed. Boxes of shoes, suitcases etc were around the bedroom. Still couldn't find her. The man is still useless. He isn't talking. By now, we are getting a little freaked out. I told the cop that I WAS not going into the basement...who knew what was down there. Like maybe he tossed her down, buried her, who knows. We were really scared. My friend and I decide to look outside. We walk around the house and there is an old well. I am NOT kidding! We were laughing nervus-like and almost peeing our pants. We were scared to look into the well, maybe he tossed her down there. We looked. Only a busted swing set. We never did find the lady. We left and left the police handle the husband. I guess they took him to the hospital. As we were walking to the ambulance, we heard a sound...a faint call...quiet...help me, help me. We just got the hell out of there. That was the freakiest thing ever. It still gives me the creeps. And now I live about 1 mile from that old farmhouse....

The scariest ghost stories I have read are those by M R James. So scarey I couldn't read them at night. It's all mainly Victorian Gothic and they are very short...but very potent. It's very well known so you will have no trouble getting hold of a copy.

Tales of Terror The Halloween Feast by Steven E. Wedel The air in the car was growing chill. Lewis Robertson stopped the tapping noise he was making with the envelope on the steering wheel. Angrily, he tore the card from the envelope and re-read the words of the invitation. On the front was a cartoonish picture of a ghoul, and in the voice bubble above his head were the words, "Come to a Halloween party!" Inside was an address. Lewis checked for the hundredth time to be sure the address inside the invitation matched that of the building he was parked before; they were the same. He tossed the invitation to the passenger seat of his car. He stared at the front of the building for a while longer. It was one of many abandoned warehouses along the waterfront, though not in as bad of repair as most. Still, there were no other cars here, and he had seen no sign of other people in the half hour he had sat in front of the old building. Was it a joke? He wondered. He hadn't wanted to come to any damn party anyway. He hadn't wanted to do anything for the past month except stay in his dark house and be left alone. He didn't need to work anymore, Beth's life insurance had paid the mortgage as well as all the other bills they had accumulated in their five years of marriage. And the policy they had taken out on little Brandon only two months before had been enough to pay the funeral expenses for both of Lewis's loved ones. Lewis stopped that train of thought, afraid if he stayed on it he would begin crying again. He didn't want that; recently it had become too hard to stop the tears once they began. He thought instead of his mother and how she had nearly forced him to come to this nonexistent party. "You haven't left the house in weeks," she had scolded. "This is a golden opportunity to get out and mingle with friends. You need that." "How do I know this party is being given by any of my friends?" Lewis argued. "Why else would you have been invited?" She countered. She had nagged until Lewis finally gave in and agreed to attend the party. He knew his mother was only concerned about him being shut up alone and brooding over the accident. She had made the red devil costume he was wearing. "****!" He muttered as he suddenly threw open the car door and stepped out of the vehicle. "Might as well be sure it's just a damn joke." He slammed the door, then straightened his wiry tail behind him, pulled the red mask over his face, and strode determinedly toward the door of the warehouse. A brisk wind brought the gooseflesh out beneath the thin material of his costume. From the other side of the warehouse Lewis could hear the steady rhythm of the river slapping against the pilings. Thin fingers of fog drifted toward him, curled around his legs like lovers, and then broke apart to reform behind him. Knock? Or just go in, if the door is unlocked? Lewis reached out and jerked on the door's handle. The wooden door opened with a groan of protest. Lewis quickly stepped inside and let the door close behind him. He was in an office. Another door faced him from the other side of the room. Lewis stepped to it and pulled it open as well. It led into the warehouse itself, and as it closed behind him, Lewis realized he was alone except for two tables in the center of the vast, dimly lighted storage area. He reached behind him for the door handle, ready to leave, angry at himself as well as his mother. "Lewis, there you are," a hand came down on his shoulder and held him. The grip was cold and heavy. Lewis turned his head to face a tall, muscular man dressed as a Greek warrior. The man smiled, a twinkle in his eyes. "Do I know you?" Lewis asked. "Not yet," the man answered. "But we'll have a while to get to know one another." "Am I the first to get here?" Lewis tried to grin. "No, you're late. But you're the guest of honor, so it doesn't matter. As long as you're here." "But I don't see anyone else," Lewis protested. "Your eyes will adjust." "Who are you?" "Who do I look like?" "I don't know," Lewis answered. "Hercules, or Achilles maybe." "Odysseus, my friend, Odysseus." "Okay, fine, but who are you really?" "Does it matter?" "I'd like to know." "You'll know later, though by then I doubt you'll care about me." "But--" "Come, Lewis, let's have some punch." The man took him by the arm and led Lewis toward one of the two tables. Lewis could now see that there was a large punch bowl and a single glass on one table. The other was empty. "One glass?" He questioned. "Do you need more?" The man picked up the small glass and began stirring the sweet-smelling red punch with a ladle he held in the other hand. "You miss your wife and child, don't you?" The man dressed as Odysseus asked. "You know..." Lewis eyed the man more suspiciously than before. "We all know." Odysseus nodded. He filled the glass and handed it to Lewis. Lewis lifted the glass and hel