The Shadow Man and The Soldier

Thanks to Samuel Moralez from Long Island, NY for sharing his story!

Sam grew up in a large Victorian house that used to be a funeral home in the 1930s and 1940s.  The two large rooms that had been used for funeral viewings were separated by wooden and glass sliding doors.  The property itself was huge, with nine-foot-high lilac bushes surrounding the border and a circular driveway with a big tree in the center.

Sam had a frightening experience when he was a little boy.  He had been very sick for a while and his mother had sent his siblings to stay at a friend’s house while he recovered.  One night, he woke up to hear a sound coming from the kitchen.  He rolled over on his bunk bed.  Normally, he could see through the hallway and into the kitchen from his bedroom.  Sam expected to see his mother walking about the kitchen, but the whole house was dark.

As Sam continued to stare, he saw a shadowy mass emerge and glide through the kitchen and down the hallway toward his bedroom.  The dark form was twelve feet tall and looked like a “blob of twisting, churning oil.”  Sam could hear the entity speaking to him as it approached his room, but couldn’t understand what it was saying.  It appeared to be speaking in some other language.  Eventually, he heard it say, “It’s not your time yet.”  Hoping this was some sort of nightmare, Sam pulled the covers over his head.  He wanted to call for his mother, but couldn’t seem to make a sound.

The house was quiet.  After what seemed like forever, Sam poked his head out to see if whatever it was had disappeared.  He gasped, tugging the covers about himself.  The shadowy form was still in the room, keeping its silent vigil over him.  Too scared to look away, Sam kept watch until the form shrank into the shadows and disappeared.

Thinking that it was safe to come out now, Sam pulled back the covers.  That’s when he saw the lights in the driveway.  He looked out of the window to see what appeared to be a Spanish soldier riding a white horse.  The man seemed lost and confused.  When the spirit spied Sam looking at him from the window, he started toward the house.  Suddenly the figure grabbed his chest like he was in great pain and faded away.

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The Hidden Entity, Part 1

Thanks to Gafyn from Swansea, Wales for this story!  You can also read Gafyn’s other stories, Adventures with Ghosts and Haunted Roads in South Wales

Gafyn is an experienced Medium.  At the time this story took place, he had been working in the paranormal field for many years.  The trouble started when Gafyn and his partner, Angela, rented this big, beautiful house.  It was everything that they had ever wanted.  Gafyn was most interested in the garden and the garage, so he didn’t spend much time in the house before deciding to rent it.  Later, when they were unpacking, Gafyn kept getting the feeling that he was being watched.  Gafyn dismissed this because it didn’t feel particularly menacing and he felt that he would be better able to tune into whatever it was after they were finished settling in.

Ten days passed before the presence decided to make contact.  One night, after the kids were in bed, Gafyn and Angela were sitting on the couch talking and enjoying their new home.  As they turned to kiss, one of the ornaments suddenly fell off the T.V. and broke.  Despite the event, the atmosphere in the room didn’t feel foreboding.  They cleaned up the mess and sat back down, only to hear the pictures shifting.  When they turned back around, all the pictures that lined the staircase were slanted.  These were the first signs of activity.

At around 3:20am that night, Angela woke up screaming from a horrible nightmare.  As Gafyn was trying to comfort her, he heard one of the kid’s bedroom doors close.  The door was not slammed, but it was loud enough to make him decide to go check on the kids.  He looked in on them, only to find that everyone was still sleeping.  Afterward, he went back to bed.  Both he and Angela agreed that while strange things kept happening in the house, neither of them could sense anything.

The next day, Gafyn asked his friends for advice.  They set up a meeting time for 6:30pm that night.  He and his partner made sure that the kids were out of the house for this.  As they entered the house, they were met with a blast of negative energy that made the place feel unnaturally cold.  Whatever had been hiding before was definitely making its presence known now.  Despite their best efforts to warm things up, the place remained ice cold.

As Gafyn was trying to get his thoughts together for what lay ahead, Angela pointed out the window into the garden, and said that she just saw someone in their garage.  Sure enough, their garage door was open, even though Gafyn had locked it earlier.  Leaving Angela safe in the house as a lookout, Gafyn went to go check out the situation in the garden.  As he approached, he heard what sounded like someone picking up one of his big gardening tools.  Before the person could come out, Gafyn kicked the door shut and locked them in.  The lock had not been cut or damaged at all despite someone managing to get inside the garage.  Then he told Angela to call the police.

The police arrived, only to check out the garage to find it empty.  Once back inside, the officers asked, “Who is upstairs?”  When Gafyn replied that he and his partner were the only ones that were home, the police responded that they had seen the upstairs light go on when they were in the garden, so they went to check the back bedroom.  They came back down a few minutes later, commenting on the frigid temperature in the house.  After making sure that everything was secure, the officers took their leave as Gafyn’s friends arrived.  The cops agreed that there was something off about the house and were glad that the group was going to discuss what could be done.

The friends sat down to tea and talked over what was going on in the house.  During this time, the atmosphere became pleasant again and stayed that way for the next couple of days.  One of their neighbors came over and told them about the history of the home.  The prior residents had not had any issues.  However, the man who lived there before them had ended up in a psychiatry ward after jumping out one of the back windows.

Stayed Tuned for Part 2 Next Week!

Do You Have a Ghost Story?

Send me an email to to set up an interview.  I’m always in the mood for a good ghost story! 

Want even more Ghost Stories?

For more ghost stories, paranormal phenomena, and updates, follow Tara Theresa Hill on Facebook and on Twitter at @TaraTheresaHill

Also, check out The Ghost Post’s new YouTube channel for audio recordings of The Ghost Post.  It’s perfect for camping out, sleepovers, or anytime you just want to hear a ghost story on the go. 

Get Your Ghost On!

In celebration of The Ghost Post’s 1 Year Anniversary, I have launched a Café Press store featuring The Ghost Post’s official new mascot, Spook.  We’ve got awesome coffee mugs, t-shirts, and more!

Spook Giant Coffee Mug
Spook – Coffee Mug – Copyright 2017



The Banishing

While this story is my own, I have changed the names of those involved to protect their privacy.

Growing up with Wiccan high priestess, Lady Rhea, for a mother made for an interesting time.  Aside from glittering Enchanted Candles, crafting perfumes, and giving clients psychic advice, my mother occasionally performed banishing rituals to remove negative energies from close friends’ houses.  This was much different from the spiritual cleansings that she did to purify a space.  These spells involved deeper, older magick.  For those of you who don’t know, Wiccans and Pagans often spell magick with a “k” to differentiate from the stage “magic” that magicians use as entertainment.

When I was a teenager, a close family friend of ours, started experiencing a lot of problems.  Anne had a big house with several people living there.  Over a few months, her family experienced a slew of bad luck with illnesses, financial setbacks, and a rise in heated arguments.  While various circumstances could lead to this happening, Anne felt that something in the house was “off,” so she asked for my mother to give her a reading to see what was going on.

Mom shuffled her cards and turned them over.  Taking a final drag of her cigarette, she shook her head.  “Oh, no…This is not good.”

“What is it?” asked Anne.

Mom turned over more cards.  “What I’m going to say might sound ridiculous, but I need you to listen to me.”  Anne nodded.  My mom paused before continuing, “The cards indicate that there is something inside of the house that is causing the problem.  It’s a negative entity of some sort.”

Anne’s adult son, Peter, who was also seated at the table turned his head at this news.  He said that he had recently woke up and saw an apparition of a bat-like creature with a human face hovering over his bed.  He hadn’t mentioned it before because he thought it was just a nightmare.  Mom looked back at the card reading.  She turned to Anne’s son.

“Can I see your room?”

He nodded.  Even I tagged along upstairs.  After hearing Peter’s story, I didn’t want to be left alone.  Mom entered the room.  After a minute or two, she nodded.  “Yes.  Whatever it is, it’s upstairs and it generally stays in this room.”

We went back downstairs.

“What can we do?” asked Anne as she made more coffee.

“You can light some white candles and incense to help cleanse the space, but ultimately, I’ll have to do a banishing spell for you,” said my mother.

I almost choked on my soda.  Mom always prescribed candles, prayers, incense, that sort of thing.  She only spoke about conducting rituals for serious problems.

“Great,” said Peter.  “I’m staying downstairs on the couch until this thing is gone.”

After Peter went to hang out with some friends, Mom asked Anne about the history of the house.  A large, three-story, white, Victorian house, it was the kind that you see iced with snow on picturesque Christmas cards.  The house had been remodeled in the years following an older relative’s death.  Mom asked if there were any strange events that had happened in the house.  Anne said that there was one.

The last owner of the house had met a tragic end.  Two hours before his daughter’s wedding, he had excused himself saying that he would be right back.  While everyone was in the house getting ready, he left the car engine running and sealed himself inside the vehicle with the windows shut.  Without any warning to his friends or family, he had committed suicide on the day that his daughter was to be married.

“Why’d you even buy the house?” I asked, after Anne was done telling the story.  I was about fifteen then.

“TARA!” Mom glared at me.

Anne laughed.  “It’s okay, Rhea,” she said.  “We didn’t find out until years after we bought the house.  Some neighbors told us.”

Later on, I shivered as we got into the car.  Even though I had been over Anne’s house hundreds of times, I was afraid that the ghost of the dead man was going to jump out at us in the driveway.

“Could Anne’s neighbors have made up that story?” I asked.

“Perhaps,” said Mom, “But I don’t think so.  That negative spirit has caused trouble before.”

“What are we going to do?”

“It’s okay,” said Mom.  “We’re going to get rid of it.”


“You’ll see.”

The first thing Mom did was call our coven members.  She told them that she needed their help doing a special favor for a dear friend of hers.  They all knew about Anne and were happy to help.  I had already been initiated and since we needed as many people as possible, Mom decided to bring me along.

A few days later, our coven met at Anne’s house.  We went upstairs to the second floor where all of the bedrooms were located.  My mother turned off the lights and then lit some candles.  She and her partner cast circle to help protect us during the ritual.  Then we all started running clockwise to create a cone of power while chanting a Wiccan banishing spell that is sacred to my mother’s coven.  As we did this, we were running past the bedroom doors which were all standing wide open.

At one point as I was running past Peter’s room, I saw a pale face glaring back at us from the dark.  The apparition was about three or four feet off of the floor.  The face glowed white and had three dark spaces where the eyes and mouth should be.  I didn’t dare break the chain and by the time that I had come around again, the thing was gone.  After the ritual was done, I mentioned the incident to my mother.  One of my older friends who was also in the coven turned to me.

“You saw it too?”

In addition to the banishing spell, we also said prayers that night to help the previous owner’s spirit move on to the light.  After the ritual, everyone was much more at peace in the house and Anne’s family life returned to normal.

If you have a real ghost story that you would like to share with The Ghost Post, send an email with your contact information to Tara Theresa Hill at to set up an interview. 

I’m always in the mood for a good ghost story! 

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The Ancient Ones

My favorite exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City is the Egyptian Hall.  One day, my friend, Stephanie and I decided to go down into the city to see the museum.  Being the Egyptian exhibit is close to the entrance, we decided to stop there first.

A secluded hallway shoots off from the Egyptian temple leading to a room that is lined on either side with sarcophagi encased behind glass walls.  I usually skip this room because while the detailed artwork is beautiful, it is also strangely eerie.  For some reason though, my friend and I wandered down this way.  We were the only ones in this area at the time.  The dead silence and fixed gaze of unseeing eyes staring at you from every corner gave the place an ominous atmosphere.

I was standing near to the entrance and Stephanie was in the middle of the room when I suddenly tripped.  I don’t know how this happened.  There was nothing in my way to have caused this.  My hand flew out to help me regain my balance, accidentally touching the wall.  A dark presence rose up behind me.  In my mind’s eye, I saw the image of a ten-foot temple guardian appear.

“I meant no harm,” I thought.  “In fact, I’m leaving right now.”

Stephanie was as unnerved by my fall as I was and suggested that we get out of there.  I didn’t feel right again until we left the exhibit.  Later when I told her what happened, she said that she also felt something strange at the moment that I tripped.  The rest of the museum visit was normal, but I have never forgotten that experience.

I am not the only one in my family to have an odd occurrence in the Egyptian exhibit at the Met.  When I was young, my father worked as a security guard at the museum.  One day, he was standing close to the immense stone statue of the Egyptian lion-headed goddess, Sekhmet.  As he turned around, his mood ring clinked against the statue.  When he looked down at his hand, the ring’s stone had turned black as coal.  It never changed again.

The impression that I got of the entity made me wonder if there really wasn’t something to the old ways of worship and protection.  I think we forget about ancient magic in our modern world, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t out there.  This encounter also made me reexamine my thoughts regarding keeping another civilization’s artwork that doesn’t rightfully belong to us.  The archeologists disturbed the sanctity of the Egyptian tombs, upsetting the spirits.

If you have a real ghost story that you would like to share with The Ghost Post, send an email with your contact information to Tara Theresa Hill at to set up an interview. 

I’m always in the mood for a good ghost story!