Posted 03 June 2004 - 01:20 AM
Okay, it's about time i shared with you all my very own personal ghost story.
However, i'm a skeptic so i barely believe it myself. It's just what i felt, it's so hard to explain.
This is in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. More specifically Barrhaven, a small suburban area a few miles out of the city surrounded buy fields and wooded areas.
September 14th, 2001
Walking alongside the outskirts of Barrhaven, you can see nothing but fields and trees to one side of you. But at a certain point, if you look real closely, you can see a very overgrown gravel path, the remains of what might have once been a gravel driveway at one point. Me and some friends explored this small overgrown gravel path to see where it lead. It took us about 5 mins to walk down the path, and at the end of it we were fighting through trees and bush. And suddenly, we emerged from the trees and the bushes into a square area on the edge of a field.
It was full with overgrown grass and weeds, and in the middle was one large gray cement area, in the shape of a house. No house, just a gray cement area. Interestingly enough, NO overgrown nature touched this gray area. It was perfectly smoothe, untouched, like it was made that way. In the corner of this area under the trees was a huge pile of rotting and decaying furniture. A smashed TV, a couch ripped to shreds, a bed with all the springs sticking out. A few broken wooden chairs and tables. Even a fridge.
Now, we came to the obvious conclusion that this spot is what remains of a house that used to be here. The driveway, overgrown. The furniture, and the gray cement area where the house used to be. But, why was it like this? Where had the house gone? Why was the furniture stacked up? Maybe the place had burned to the ground and was left deserted.
Now, that's when things got a little scary. There WAS one thing on the cement gray area. A couch. One solitary couch, orange and brown in colour. We thoight this was very odd, and moved in to investigate. But upon stepping on the cememt we felt something. Something awful. Like a presence of pain or anger. Still, we checked out the couch. It was actually bolted down to the ground, raising only further questions. I didn't sit on it but Mark did. He jumped back up suddently, saying he felt like he was on fire.
To my amazement and suprise, the couch sank inwards next to where Mark sat. By itself. Like some invisible had sat down there. The horrible unpleasent feeling got unbearable.
Then, we heard whispers, as faint as the wind. They sounded like a wild animal scratching on the concrete. I couldn't make them out. We ran, down the overgrown path, scratches on our cheeks from the twigs.
I haven't gone down there since and i never will again. We still talk about that night with skeptism and then again, i don't believe it was a prank. There was something at that place, and to this day it gives me shivers thinking about that.
Thoughts anyone?