Before I forget about it..

Over Time (cool I'm giving them titles now hehehe)


This story was shared to me by my dad. He said he works with this woman who was fairly new with the company. Sometimes, she would work a little over time to finish up some paperwork.One night,she thought everyone had left until she saw this middle-aged,Caucasian gentleman walk past her in one of the aisles and so she greeted him, " How are you doing?". He did not acknowledge her and he just continued to walk past her. She just shrugged it off and she continued to work on her paperwork. She saw him again on one of her shifts and she greeted him again, and once again, he ignored her. This time however, she turned her head expecting to his retreating form only to find that he was no longer there. Assuming he was just a fast walker, she resumed with her paperwork.

This woman was working with my dad one time and she told him about the rude middled-aged white guy who doesn't even respond to her when she greets him. My father did not think much of it until they both came across a poster spread of photos of Employee of The Month. She then recognized The Guy and pointed at this particular EOM saying " That's him. That's the guy. What is his name?"

My dad told her the man's name and told her that she could not have possibly seen him. She was adamant that it was him. My dad then explained to her that this man died of lung cancer 6 months before she started working there. My dad's co worker became upset upon hearing this and she started to cry because of. She told him she'll never work over time again.


Old Typewriter

Again , told by my dad.

This happened when he used to work at this particular company. My dad worked graveyard. The graveyard shift had a skeleton crew of less than a dozen employees. At the far end of their floor is a hallway with empty offices. During one of his shifts, my dad could hear the unmistakable tap-tap-tap of the type writer keys being punched and the ringing it makes. He stopped and reached out to his co-worker working next to him and asked, " Are you hearing that?", and his co-worker heard it too. It was past midnight and no one is in those offices. They decided to investigate and approached the hallway. But as they were approaching the hallway they heard a door shut and so they stopped, expecting to hear footsteps in the hallway and a co-worker to step out - no one emerged.

Curious, they continued to walk towards the hallway to check out who was using the typewriter but they were met with silence and a darkened hallway. They no longer hear the typewriter either.

Everyone was a little spooked especially the females. My dad said they would come in pairs to use the bathrooms by the dark hallway.

When their shift was over, my dad asked the guard if someone was working overtime in one of the offices. The guard said that it was just them working on the floor and no one was in the office during that time.


A classmate's farewell

So my dad was only 9 years old or so, he said, when this happened. He began his story by saying that he was a very cantankerous child who would always get into fights. He's the boy who would always cause a ruckus in class. He's the boy the teacher picks on because of his misbehaviour. He was being his usual mischievous self one day and so his teacher decided to call him to the front of class to recite the Panatang Makabayan (Pledge of Allegiance).

He described their classroom as a space that could seat up to 50 boys. At the far back corner of the room, to the right, are their musical instruments and other tools.

So my dad defiantly went to the front of the class and the teacher went to the back of the class so that he can have a full view of my dad. My dad started to recite the PM when he noticed that there was a commotion at the far corner of the classroom and so he stopped. He noticed too that his teacher was looking at the corner where they all have their instruments. Then my father heard it too - the unmistakable sound of their stand up bass guitar playing a non-melodic tune.

"Stop it! " , his teacher said at loud to no one in particular at the corner.

The stand up bass played again. I asked dad if it was playing something in particular? My dad said that it was just random strings with no particular musical pattern. The teacher took off running and was out of the room by the time his poor students were screaming and scrambling out of their chairs and out of the room - including my dad.

This ruckus got the attention of the school principal who also happens to be a priest. He went back to the deserted classroom and blessed the room. This was witnessed by my father, his teacher and his classmates who were all standing outside the room as this ritual was being performed.

My father said on the day this happened, it was the day of the funeral for one of his classmates. This boy died the week before because he was struck by a car. My father thinks that it was his classmate, making his farewell to everyone.

First Entry

Why did I decide to create this blog? I love hearing about ghost stories. As a child I would listen to my parents , aunts and uncles and all their grown up friends share their experiences.

I want to give these stories a home here, before they fade into my memory. Most of these stories are subjective. Some are from my own experience some are told from the mouths of others. Some has left me wondering, some has given me goosebumps.

My earliest memory of a ghost story was when I lived in , I guess you can call an ancestral home from my father's side of the family. As a child, I often find myself in the living room playing facing the stairway that leads to the second floor bedrooms.

I can recall at least half a dozen instances as child, while playing downstairs when I would hear the unmistakable creak of the floorboards at the top of the stairs. I would look up to see a pair of bare feet descend the first step with it's right foot and then it would vanish. It happened so often , I don't even think much of it.

One time I was playing with my little brother at this nook under the stairs. It's a storage area really of stuff. We were playing there when I don't know what made me look up towards the far corners of the nook - in the darkness. It was daytime but the nook was dark with a red heavy curtain cover it. Some daylight was shining through and at the far corner I could see movement. When I looked longer, I realized it was an unopened umbrella and what I was seeing was it's crooked handle and it moved from left to right then back to the left. I don't remember much of that anymore except that I think I just continued to play. I did not remember feeling frightened.

Another experience I've had but has left me wondering and looking back, I'm feeling a bit unnerved. You see in this house, they still had rotary phones. I was being a silly stubborn kid one day and was I think just bored and was dialing some random numbers. Our hired help was behind me telling me to stop but I kept on dialing. I then saw this hand that has a yellow-orange color , it looked like it came from my right side and it landed on top of my hand for a second then I felt it flick the top of my hand. I startled me and I turned to our hired help and asked her " Did you just flicked my hand?" and she shook her head no. Maybe it was her hand or maybe it was my grandfather or my great grandfather's spirit telling me to stop. I don't know what it was to this day. Maybe it's not even a ghost story.