they should buy higher quality shit, that's one pathetic high.

My brother was invited to his boss's home around the holidays one year.

Boss went to the kitchen to make drinks, my brother went into the living room where a man in a red and black flannel shirt was sitting on the couch, who smiled at bro.

My brother turned away for a second, but when he looked back the flannel shirt guy was gone.

Shaken he asked the boss about it, who was nonplussed, "Oh, that's just Clarence, the former owner, who died in the house. But he always stops back in around Christmas every year."

Not as scary as a talking cat, but my brother was shaken, none the less.

I had a dream last night that I was eating pork in a kind of broth. Then I realized that it was actually a whole pig cut up in a large metal bowl that I was eating, the broth was very red, like hot pot. Then as I cut into a piece of the pig it started shifting rhythmically. Then I realized that that was a massive artery and it's heart was still beating. The artery was as big as my forearm.

It was really creepy, and I woke up and my teeth hurt.

I nominate as the perfect Halloween true story Jay Roberts' staggering discovery that he spent an afternoon in his youth being sized up by one of the most notorious serial killers in American history, one who sexually tortured and killed as many as 100 young Marines in sunny California during the 70s. The piece overall is one of the most wonderfully written tales I've seen in ages.
http://www.orangecoast.com/features/2013…

Ah Detroit, home of reeeally cheap rent, and lots of spooky places. And weird mixed assorto-packs of feral companion dogs that chase you down the street. on your bicycle.

Here's a good one: there's no such thing as ghosts, and there never was. Boo!

A Talking Cat!?! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6VnkM_Vtp…

And then there's the Majestic on Woodward Ave Detroit, MI. Haunted as all get!!! Detroit rules with the living dead!!

Today at the thrift store here in SW WA where I volunteer I bought an oversized, fake roll of money with a greasy looking hundred dollar bill on top. It was in with the wallpaper trim and shelf paper so I thought it would be rolled, attached hundreds all the way through, but upon inspecting it at home realized it was just one bill wrapped around some other waxy paper. I finished reading Kelly O's Detroit stories and went to the garage to see if I could peel back the top layer and keep at least the one bill intact. With a little gentle toothpick prying and minimal tearing I liberated the bill and noticed the paper rolled inside was newspaper greased at the outside edges to better approximate the colour of money. There were maybe fifteen center page top to bottom strips , four inches wide, and inspecting each I realized first, the newspaper was from Detroit; second, the date was September 22, 1988; and third, the last page I came to was a full page ad from grocery store "armer Jack," which I'd have to guess is "Farmer Jack" as featured in Kelly's vignette "Farmer Crack." Small world.

Can't trust Cats, they are always thinking about Murder.

Nowhere near as creepy, but fun nonetheless....
Some years back, I was house-hunting with my boyfriend, and we stopped at a property to get a look at it before bothering the owner/agent/whoever for an interior look.
So we're walking around the house, and he's in the back, and I go on the front porch and look in the windows.
Can't really see anything because of the lace curtains, but if you were to crouch down just so, you could just see a magnificent fireplace.
I went to go find my partner so I could show him.
We go back on the porch, and the curtains had been opened, offering a clear view into the living room (and that magnificent fireplace)
A little spook work later, we figured out the spirit was an older woman who'd died in the house, and she didn't mean any harm.
When we met the agent/owner to view the interior, I asked about the history of the house, and was told that it was her MIL's, and she had died in the house a few months back.
(We didn't end up renting the house, but it wasn't because of the spook. )

this definitely doesn't beat that, but it really creeped me out at the time and does still when i think back on it.

when my son was 2-1/2 or so, we were in a rental house. we hadn't been there long at all. he was alone in the living room and i was down the hall. i heard him talking, and i decided to spy, (you know, it's cute the things they do at that age when they think nobody's watching). from about halfway down the hall i realize he's having one half of a conversation. i listen a minute, then go to the end of the hall where i can see him. he's standing facing an empty chair, still talking.

i asked him, "who are you talking to?" he looked over at me and pointed at the chair, then looked back at the chair and said, "oh. he's gone now." then he just turned and walked away.

I lived in this rental house up in Bellingham for a couple years, that was one of those victorian houses built around 1900. It was cute but a little run down cause the owner lived in Alaska and didn't really take care of it. I usually pretty sensitive to bad vibes and most of the house was pretty chill, but it has this unfinished basement where the laundry was that I absolutely would not go into unless it was day time and it helped if my roommates were there. It had a door that would occasionally blow open, and a large mound of dirt that lead to some crawl spaces, and occasionally the neighbors feral cat would get stuck down there for a couple weeks. Otherwise known as creepy as fuck.
Well, one day I was down there sweeping and none of my roommates weren't around and I got a call on my cell phone, and it was a unknown number. So I answered and at first it was quiet on the line and so I'm asking "Hello? Hello?" thinking it's just a wrong number. And then this little girl's voice starts FUCKING SINGING "every day..............we go down to the sea...........and so we go.............down to the sea" with these long pauses between verses. I'm fucking loosing my mind scared, but I can't hang up because I'm just waiting for some asshole kids to start laughing. And after a moment I realize it's not that kind of prank so I hang up and immediately run outside and refuse to go back inside until my roommates get back, because I'm not stupid and what if the call was coming from inside the house? Suffice it to say, I definitely did not linger in the basement any more.