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Started By
Message
Your best kid-safe camping ghost stories?
Posted on 6/16/21 at 10:24 am
Posted on 6/16/21 at 10:24 am
I'm about tapped out on ghost stories after going on so many campouts, does anyone have some good ones or sources that you are willing to share?
I can tweak stories as needed, but this is for Cub Scouts, so murderous clowns are out... lol... at least for the little ones.
I can tweak stories as needed, but this is for Cub Scouts, so murderous clowns are out... lol... at least for the little ones.
Posted on 6/16/21 at 10:27 am to concrete_tiger
The Legend of TulaneLSU's Mother
Posted on 6/16/21 at 10:28 am to concrete_tiger
quote:
Your best kid-safe camping ghost stories?
Posted on 6/16/21 at 10:29 am to concrete_tiger
Tell them about Canteen Boy!
Posted on 6/16/21 at 10:30 am to Usual Suspect
My best has to do with old aomdiers who buried themselves under the ground and come out of the ground at night.
Posted on 6/16/21 at 10:31 am to concrete_tiger
Ghost Piper of Duntrune
Story involving my family...
When my dad was a baby, his family lived in a haunted house. They would hear knocks on the doors, with no one there. They would hear a baby crying, but it wasn't my dad. They would see an apparition of a woman in a pink dress.
30+ years later, the local newspaper asks for "true" ghost stories for Halloween. My grandmother writes about the house, even though they haven't lived it in for well over two decades. She never gives the address, just the name of the street. The paper publishes on a Saturday morning. My parents happen to drive past the house the next day and the people living there are moving out. Our assumption has always been they were hearing/seeing the same things and then after reading the story in the paper, were convinced it was real and got the hell out of there.
Story involving my family...
When my dad was a baby, his family lived in a haunted house. They would hear knocks on the doors, with no one there. They would hear a baby crying, but it wasn't my dad. They would see an apparition of a woman in a pink dress.
30+ years later, the local newspaper asks for "true" ghost stories for Halloween. My grandmother writes about the house, even though they haven't lived it in for well over two decades. She never gives the address, just the name of the street. The paper publishes on a Saturday morning. My parents happen to drive past the house the next day and the people living there are moving out. Our assumption has always been they were hearing/seeing the same things and then after reading the story in the paper, were convinced it was real and got the hell out of there.
Posted on 6/16/21 at 10:32 am to Tvilletiger
Tell them about that time we never crossed the 50 yd line against Bama in the biggest game of the year
Posted on 6/16/21 at 10:34 am to concrete_tiger
Where’s my toe
I have no nose (which is basically where’s my toe with a funnier ending)
Bloody fingers
Monkey man Jones
The whisper
The closet
I’ve got a ton of them. It’s all in the storytelling and bringing them in and then BAM! The twist.
I’ve got your nose
The mirror.
Tappa-tappa-tap
13 steps
Some are ones I’ve collected over the years and some are my own. My kids get me to tell them in the car when we are riding around and sometimes they demand I make up new ones
ETA: give me a bit and I’ll write some down.
I have no nose (which is basically where’s my toe with a funnier ending)
Bloody fingers
Monkey man Jones
The whisper
The closet
I’ve got a ton of them. It’s all in the storytelling and bringing them in and then BAM! The twist.
I’ve got your nose
The mirror.
Tappa-tappa-tap
13 steps
Some are ones I’ve collected over the years and some are my own. My kids get me to tell them in the car when we are riding around and sometimes they demand I make up new ones
ETA: give me a bit and I’ll write some down.
This post was edited on 6/16/21 at 10:41 am
Posted on 6/16/21 at 10:35 am to concrete_tiger
Bloody Finger
A businessman arrived at a hotel late one night and asked for a room. The room clerk told him the hotel was all filled up. "There is only one empty room," he said. "But we don't rent that one because it is haunted". "I'll take it," said the businessman. "I don't believe in ghosts."
The man went up to the room. He unpacked his things, and he went to bed. As soon as he did, a ghost came out of the closet. Its fingers were bleeding, and moaning, "Bloody fingers! Bloody fingers!" When the man saw the ghost, he grabbed his things and ran.
The next night, a woman arrived very late. Again, all of the rooms were taken except the haunted room. "I'll sleep there," she said. "I'm not afraid of ghosts." As soon as she got into bed, the ghost came out of the closet. Its fingers still were bleeding. Its still was moaning, "Bloody fingers! Blood fingers!" And the woman took one look and ran.
A week later another guest arrived very late. He also took the haunted room. After he unpacked, he got out his guitar and he began to play. Soon the ghost appeared. As before, its fingers were bleeding, and it was moaning, "Bloody fingers! Bloody fingers!" The man paid no attention. He just kept strumming his guitar. But the ghost kept moaning, and its fingers kept bleeding. Finally, the guitar player looked up. "Cool it, man!" he said. "Get yourself a Band-Aid."
A businessman arrived at a hotel late one night and asked for a room. The room clerk told him the hotel was all filled up. "There is only one empty room," he said. "But we don't rent that one because it is haunted". "I'll take it," said the businessman. "I don't believe in ghosts."
The man went up to the room. He unpacked his things, and he went to bed. As soon as he did, a ghost came out of the closet. Its fingers were bleeding, and moaning, "Bloody fingers! Bloody fingers!" When the man saw the ghost, he grabbed his things and ran.
The next night, a woman arrived very late. Again, all of the rooms were taken except the haunted room. "I'll sleep there," she said. "I'm not afraid of ghosts." As soon as she got into bed, the ghost came out of the closet. Its fingers still were bleeding. Its still was moaning, "Bloody fingers! Blood fingers!" And the woman took one look and ran.
A week later another guest arrived very late. He also took the haunted room. After he unpacked, he got out his guitar and he began to play. Soon the ghost appeared. As before, its fingers were bleeding, and it was moaning, "Bloody fingers! Bloody fingers!" The man paid no attention. He just kept strumming his guitar. But the ghost kept moaning, and its fingers kept bleeding. Finally, the guitar player looked up. "Cool it, man!" he said. "Get yourself a Band-Aid."
Posted on 6/16/21 at 10:36 am to Tic44
quote:
Tell them about that time we never crossed the 50 yd line against Bama in the biggest game of the year
'member when someone in the stands blew a horn, and whole Alabama team ran to the locker room, thinking it was halftime? And 3 plays later, we scored!
Posted on 6/16/21 at 10:37 am to Baers Foot
quote:
The Legend of TulaneLSU's Mother
Doesn't seem appropriate... lol
Posted on 6/16/21 at 10:37 am to concrete_tiger
The Bald-Headed Bear of Claire County
(YouTube)
ETA nobody can tell a scary story like John Candy
(YouTube)
ETA nobody can tell a scary story like John Candy
This post was edited on 6/16/21 at 10:57 am
Posted on 6/16/21 at 10:38 am to Tvilletiger
quote:??? who dat?
aomdiers
Posted on 6/16/21 at 10:39 am to concrete_tiger
Following. I'd like to print some out to read to my nieces this weekend when I go home.
Posted on 6/16/21 at 10:40 am to concrete_tiger
Father Thomas and the naughty alter boys summer vacation?
Posted on 6/16/21 at 10:43 am to Funky Tide 8
Got Your Nose
There was once a boy named Daniel who hated clowns. Ever since he was little, he couldn’t stand the sight of them, to be around them, to hear their stupid laughs.
Their ridiculous makeup, with the false, painted on smiles that hid rictus grins. The curls of their multicolored Afros, hiding gross bald heads with liver spots. Because no one cool would ever be a clown. It was always gross old men or nasty women, social outcasts who foolishly cling to a dying form of pathetic theater that hadn’t been relevant in almost a century.
There were no more circuses, and the party clowns who twisted their idiotic squeaky balloons into mockeries of animals at lame bar mitzvahs and children’s parties were all that remained of their stupid kind. And this made Daniel glad. Yes, he despised clowns, not because they made him afraid, but only angry.
He’d fantasize about stomping on their oversized shoes and kicking them square in the crotch of their colorful pantaloons. But what Daniel hated most about clowns, was their nose. That ridiculous red rubber round thing they’d stick on. It was just so punchable. The thought of one made him want to run up and rip it off.
But circuses were a thing of the past, thankfully. People no longer cared about enslaved animals and the flying trapeze when they could watch things far more wondrous on YouTube. And good riddance, Daniel thought.
So what a surprise he had when one day he saw a flyer about the circus coming to town taped to a telephone pole. He saw the caravan coming in, long lines of box trucks and trailers with tent poles and fabrics. They began unloading, the name “Silas Bros.” stenciled on the
side of the trucks and wagons. Men began to pull out tent poles and hammering them in the ground, 4 sledgehammers swinging in a rhythm. Ting ting ting ting. Ting ting ting ting.
Giant canvases rolled out, men shouting, the clamor of a work site. And then the performers began to emerge from their trailers. A tall, thin man. An enormously rotund midget. A bearded lady.
This was right out of a black and white movie. A blast from the past. He snuck surreptitiously between the trailers, avoiding the eyes of the workmen. He was about to turn a corner when he heard a bunch of footsteps padding out of one of the caravans. He quickly dove under the wheels and hid in the shadow as they passed by, laughing, the smell of liquor wafting with them. When they had passed, he emerged, and turned around to see that hideous, stupid makeup masked grin of a clown.
It was painted on the side of the trailer. Big blue letters said BOPPO THE AMAZING!
Red and blue hair erupting from its head. And right in the middle was that big stupid nose, crimson and unnerving. He crept around the side of the trailer, and saw the door was slightly ajar. It hadn’t latched. He looked left, then right, and saw the coast was clear. He ducked into the empty trailer.
There were clown outfits hanging up everywhere. Makeup vanities with little lights and all the tools of their horrible trade. And there on a rickety wooden chair sat an old leather doctors bag, just tempting him to look inside. He undid the latch, and peered at the contents. Two oversized shoes, yellowed with age. That ugly wig of crimson and blue. And there in the middle, like a bright strawberry, was that bulbous red nose.
He heard voices laughing, making their way back to the trailer. In a moment he knew what trick to play. He stuck his hand in the bag and wrapped his mischievous fingers around the nose, crushing it as he pulled it out, then rushed out the door. Running as fast as his legs would carry him, dodging workers and vaulting over building materials as he fled the site, his heart pounding hummingbird fast. “Got your nose,” he thought as he made it past the old church and back on the road that let away from that awful circus and towards his neighborhood. “Let’s see how they have a circus without their clown.”
He ate dinner in his room that night. Sitting on his bed, he reached in his pocket and pulled out the now ruined red rubber nose. He stared at it, angrily. He walked downstairs to the kitchen turned on the garbage disposal. The rough whirring, grinding noise was a cacophony. He held his clenched fist over the roaring hole of jagged teeth and opened his palm. The red nose dropped and in an instant it was mutilated into a thousand pieces. He turned the disposal off and said “good riddance.”
He returned to his room and watched videos until he drifted off to sleep. But it wasn’t a peaceful rest. The horrible, punchable face of Boppo danced in his head. Laughing, grinning that awful grin. The laughter was ringing in his head as his eyes shot open, waking in a cold sweat. The sound of the grandfather clock chimed three, booming thrice, and then fell silent. He closed his eyes again but he could hear a faint sound. He couldn’t quite place it, nearly imperceptible as it was. Discordant, but melodic at the same time. Then it hit him...calliope music, like an old organ grinder would play.
And then, fainter still, laughing.
He got out of bed and slowly walked to the window. From the second story vantage point he could see the street, empty and bathed in moonlight.
Empty except for a single solitary figure standing still under the yellow glow of the streetlight. It took him a moment to comprehend what he was seeing.
Yellow shoes too large for any man’s foot. A billowy green outfit with purple polka dots.
Blue and red hair sticking out at odd angles from a ghostly white face.
A grin of broken teeth, softly laughing, as one hand waved at him. The eyes of the figure stared at him. And where that stupid red ball should have been at the center of that awful face was nothing but a gaping hole.
Slowly the figure raised his other hand, a closed fist, turned it upwards, and opened it. There was a small pink and red object in it. It almost looked like a...
Just then Daniel began to hear a thick, heavy, drip drip drip. He glanced down to see a dark pool on the carpet. Reaching up with his hand, he touched his face, right at the center, and felt a warm, sticky wetness.
His eyes widened in horror as he realized what the figure held, and then, the figure spoke with a blood curdling voice....
GOT YOUR NOSE!
There was once a boy named Daniel who hated clowns. Ever since he was little, he couldn’t stand the sight of them, to be around them, to hear their stupid laughs.
Their ridiculous makeup, with the false, painted on smiles that hid rictus grins. The curls of their multicolored Afros, hiding gross bald heads with liver spots. Because no one cool would ever be a clown. It was always gross old men or nasty women, social outcasts who foolishly cling to a dying form of pathetic theater that hadn’t been relevant in almost a century.
There were no more circuses, and the party clowns who twisted their idiotic squeaky balloons into mockeries of animals at lame bar mitzvahs and children’s parties were all that remained of their stupid kind. And this made Daniel glad. Yes, he despised clowns, not because they made him afraid, but only angry.
He’d fantasize about stomping on their oversized shoes and kicking them square in the crotch of their colorful pantaloons. But what Daniel hated most about clowns, was their nose. That ridiculous red rubber round thing they’d stick on. It was just so punchable. The thought of one made him want to run up and rip it off.
But circuses were a thing of the past, thankfully. People no longer cared about enslaved animals and the flying trapeze when they could watch things far more wondrous on YouTube. And good riddance, Daniel thought.
So what a surprise he had when one day he saw a flyer about the circus coming to town taped to a telephone pole. He saw the caravan coming in, long lines of box trucks and trailers with tent poles and fabrics. They began unloading, the name “Silas Bros.” stenciled on the
side of the trucks and wagons. Men began to pull out tent poles and hammering them in the ground, 4 sledgehammers swinging in a rhythm. Ting ting ting ting. Ting ting ting ting.
Giant canvases rolled out, men shouting, the clamor of a work site. And then the performers began to emerge from their trailers. A tall, thin man. An enormously rotund midget. A bearded lady.
This was right out of a black and white movie. A blast from the past. He snuck surreptitiously between the trailers, avoiding the eyes of the workmen. He was about to turn a corner when he heard a bunch of footsteps padding out of one of the caravans. He quickly dove under the wheels and hid in the shadow as they passed by, laughing, the smell of liquor wafting with them. When they had passed, he emerged, and turned around to see that hideous, stupid makeup masked grin of a clown.
It was painted on the side of the trailer. Big blue letters said BOPPO THE AMAZING!
Red and blue hair erupting from its head. And right in the middle was that big stupid nose, crimson and unnerving. He crept around the side of the trailer, and saw the door was slightly ajar. It hadn’t latched. He looked left, then right, and saw the coast was clear. He ducked into the empty trailer.
There were clown outfits hanging up everywhere. Makeup vanities with little lights and all the tools of their horrible trade. And there on a rickety wooden chair sat an old leather doctors bag, just tempting him to look inside. He undid the latch, and peered at the contents. Two oversized shoes, yellowed with age. That ugly wig of crimson and blue. And there in the middle, like a bright strawberry, was that bulbous red nose.
He heard voices laughing, making their way back to the trailer. In a moment he knew what trick to play. He stuck his hand in the bag and wrapped his mischievous fingers around the nose, crushing it as he pulled it out, then rushed out the door. Running as fast as his legs would carry him, dodging workers and vaulting over building materials as he fled the site, his heart pounding hummingbird fast. “Got your nose,” he thought as he made it past the old church and back on the road that let away from that awful circus and towards his neighborhood. “Let’s see how they have a circus without their clown.”
He ate dinner in his room that night. Sitting on his bed, he reached in his pocket and pulled out the now ruined red rubber nose. He stared at it, angrily. He walked downstairs to the kitchen turned on the garbage disposal. The rough whirring, grinding noise was a cacophony. He held his clenched fist over the roaring hole of jagged teeth and opened his palm. The red nose dropped and in an instant it was mutilated into a thousand pieces. He turned the disposal off and said “good riddance.”
He returned to his room and watched videos until he drifted off to sleep. But it wasn’t a peaceful rest. The horrible, punchable face of Boppo danced in his head. Laughing, grinning that awful grin. The laughter was ringing in his head as his eyes shot open, waking in a cold sweat. The sound of the grandfather clock chimed three, booming thrice, and then fell silent. He closed his eyes again but he could hear a faint sound. He couldn’t quite place it, nearly imperceptible as it was. Discordant, but melodic at the same time. Then it hit him...calliope music, like an old organ grinder would play.
And then, fainter still, laughing.
He got out of bed and slowly walked to the window. From the second story vantage point he could see the street, empty and bathed in moonlight.
Empty except for a single solitary figure standing still under the yellow glow of the streetlight. It took him a moment to comprehend what he was seeing.
Yellow shoes too large for any man’s foot. A billowy green outfit with purple polka dots.
Blue and red hair sticking out at odd angles from a ghostly white face.
A grin of broken teeth, softly laughing, as one hand waved at him. The eyes of the figure stared at him. And where that stupid red ball should have been at the center of that awful face was nothing but a gaping hole.
Slowly the figure raised his other hand, a closed fist, turned it upwards, and opened it. There was a small pink and red object in it. It almost looked like a...
Just then Daniel began to hear a thick, heavy, drip drip drip. He glanced down to see a dark pool on the carpet. Reaching up with his hand, he touched his face, right at the center, and felt a warm, sticky wetness.
His eyes widened in horror as he realized what the figure held, and then, the figure spoke with a blood curdling voice....
GOT YOUR NOSE!
Posted on 6/16/21 at 10:44 am to Shexter
quote:…Open the door, get on the floor, everybody walk the dinosaur
Finally, the guitar player looked up. "Cool it, man!" he said. "Get yourself a Band-Aid."
Posted on 6/16/21 at 10:47 am to concrete_tiger
Once, in my early teens, I and a friend were walking the neighborhood one late night. We rounded the block, and there, in the middle of the road, was a lone toe!
My friend and I immediately ran back home and called the police. When the police arrived, the toe had mysteriously disappeared!!! The police brought out dogs to track the toe, called the local hospitals, and even asked neighbors to check their security cameras. Still, the toe could not be found!
Finally, one of the neighbors came forward and told us the truth. At some point in the night, a "toe" truck had come and picked it up.......
(I'll show myself to the door now.... )
The Viper
A young man inherited a house from his uncle and moved in right away to start fixing it up. While he was unpacking his things, the phone rang. A strange voice said “I am the Viper, I’ll be there in 3 weeks!” and hung up. The young man thought it was odd, but figured it was a wrong number.
Days went by and the man got settled into the house and started the repairs. The phone rang again with the same voice saying “I am the Viper, I’ll be there in 2 weeks!” The man said “Who is this?” but the caller hung up.
The man ignored the call and started fixing up the huge old house. The phone rang again a week later and the man answered it yelling “Who are you?” But the voice on the other end only said “I am the Viper and I’m coming to your house in 1 week!”
The man was scared and called the police, but he was told there was nothing they could do. So he sat tights and hoped that the calls would stop. A week later there was a knock on the door. The young man was expecting a delivery but as he peeked out the door he saw an older gentleman standing on his front step..
A little nervous from the starge calls he’d been receiving, the young man yelled out “WHO ARE YOU???”
“I am the Viper” the old man stated, “I’m here to vipe and vash your vindows!”
My friend and I immediately ran back home and called the police. When the police arrived, the toe had mysteriously disappeared!!! The police brought out dogs to track the toe, called the local hospitals, and even asked neighbors to check their security cameras. Still, the toe could not be found!
Finally, one of the neighbors came forward and told us the truth. At some point in the night, a "toe" truck had come and picked it up.......
(I'll show myself to the door now.... )
The Viper
A young man inherited a house from his uncle and moved in right away to start fixing it up. While he was unpacking his things, the phone rang. A strange voice said “I am the Viper, I’ll be there in 3 weeks!” and hung up. The young man thought it was odd, but figured it was a wrong number.
Days went by and the man got settled into the house and started the repairs. The phone rang again with the same voice saying “I am the Viper, I’ll be there in 2 weeks!” The man said “Who is this?” but the caller hung up.
The man ignored the call and started fixing up the huge old house. The phone rang again a week later and the man answered it yelling “Who are you?” But the voice on the other end only said “I am the Viper and I’m coming to your house in 1 week!”
The man was scared and called the police, but he was told there was nothing they could do. So he sat tights and hoped that the calls would stop. A week later there was a knock on the door. The young man was expecting a delivery but as he peeked out the door he saw an older gentleman standing on his front step..
A little nervous from the starge calls he’d been receiving, the young man yelled out “WHO ARE YOU???”
“I am the Viper” the old man stated, “I’m here to vipe and vash your vindows!”
This post was edited on 6/16/21 at 10:57 am
Posted on 6/16/21 at 11:02 am to Shexter
Hatchet Man
We used to tell this one. Change the story for whatever setting you want to use. It always ended for us with The Hatchet Man hasn't been caught. He's out there looking for his next victim. If you hear slap slap drag (sound effect were quickly slapping each thigh, followed by a stomp-drag of your foot) you better run because the Hatchet Man was nearby.
We used to tell this one. Change the story for whatever setting you want to use. It always ended for us with The Hatchet Man hasn't been caught. He's out there looking for his next victim. If you hear slap slap drag (sound effect were quickly slapping each thigh, followed by a stomp-drag of your foot) you better run because the Hatchet Man was nearby.
Posted on 6/16/21 at 11:11 am to concrete_tiger
On this very night, ten years ago, along this same stretch of road in a dense fog just like this, I saw the worst accident I ever seen. There was this sound -like a garbage truck dropped off the Empire State Building! And when they finally pulled the driver's body from the twisted, burning wreck...
It. Looked. Like. This!
It. Looked. Like. This!
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