The Bus Stop A fellow was driving home from work in a rainstorm. While he waited for a traffic light to change, he saw a young woman standing along at a bus stop. She had no umbrella and was soaking wet. "Are you going toward Farmington?" he called. "Yes, I am," she answered. "Would you like a ride home?" "I would," she said, and she got in. "My name is Joanna Finney. Thank you for rescuing me." "I'm Ed Cox," he said, "and you're welcome." On the way they talked and talked. She told him about her family and her job and where she had gone to school, and he told her about himself. By the time they got to her house, the rain had stopped. "I'm glad it rained," Ed said. "Would you like to go out tomorrow after work?" "I'd love to," Joanna replied. She asked him to meet her at the bus stop, since it was near her office. They had such a good time, they went out many times after that. Always they would meet at the bus stop, and off they would go. Ed liked her more each time he saw her. But one night when they had a date to go out, Joanna did not appear. Ed waited at the bus stop for almost an hour. "Maybe something is wrong," he thought, and he drove to her house in Farmington. An older woman answered the door. "I'm Ed Cox," he said. "Maybe Joanna told you about me. I had a date with her tonight. We were supposed to meet at the bus stop near her office. But she didn't show up. Is she alright?" The woman looked at him as if he had said something strange. "I am Joanna's mother," she said slowly. "Joanna isn't here now. But why don't you come in?" Ed pointed to a picture on the mantel. "That looks just like her," he said. "It did once," her mother replied. "But that picture was taken when she was your age-about twenty years ago. A few days later she was waiting in the rain at the bus stop. A bus hit her, and she was killed." Eyes As Jim Brand lay dying, his wife left him with his nurse and went into the next room to rest. She sat in the dark staring into the night. Suddenly Mrs. Brand saw headlights come rapidly up the driveway. "Oh, no," she thought. "I don't want visitors now, not now." But it wasn't a car bringing a visitor. It was an old hearse with maybe a half dozen small men hanging from the sides. At least, that's what it looked like. The hearse screeched to a stop. The men jumped off and stared up at her, their eyes glowing with a soft, yellow light, like cats' eyes. She watched with horror as they disappeared into the house. An instant later they were back, lifting something into the hearse. Then they drove off at high speed, wheels squealing, the gravel in the driveway flying in all directions. At that very moment, the nurse came in to say that Jim Brand had died. The Little White Dog (American Folktale) There was an old woman who had no family still living. Her only friend was a little white dog who went everywhere with her - with one exception. The dog loved the fireplace in winter, and after the old woman went to bed he would sometimes go and lie in front of the warm coals. Usually though, the dog slept at the very edge of the bed on a throw rug. The woman wouldn't allow the dog on the bed with her, but if she became frightened or had a nightmare, she would put her hand down to the little white dog and he would lick it reassuringly. One night the woman was reading her newspaper just before going to sleep. She shivered and pulled the comforter up around her as she read that a mental patient had wandered off from a nearby hospital. No one knew if the patient was dangerous of not; he was a suspect in the murders of several women who had lived alone. The woman turned out the lights and tried to sleep, but she was frightened, and tossed and turned fitfully. Finally, she reached down to where the little white dog slept. Sure enough, a warm, wet tongue began to lick her hand. The woman felt reassured and safe, and left her hand dangling off the bed as she turned and settled in comfortably. She opened her eyes for a moment and looked through the open door into the living room. There in front of the fireplace, sat her little white dog, gazing at the coals and wagging his tail.And down beside the bed, something was still licking her hand. The Call from the Grave One time there was a little girl whose grandfather had just died. She has loved her grandfather very much and she missed him a great deal. He was buried in the cemetery just a few hundred yards from her house, and she could see his grave every evening at sunset when she looked from her bedroom window. One night her parents were going out and the babysitter hadn't arrived yet. They knew she was a very reliable babysitter who would probably arrive just a few minutes later, so they kissed the girl good-bye and drive off. Hours passed and the babysitter had not yet come. The girl began to be afraid. A storm was brewing outside and thunder and lightning moved closer and closer to the house. Suddenly there was a bright flash of lightning without any sound and the power in the house went off. The wind blew the trees around and branches broke off, crashing against the house and falling to the yard. Alone in the dark, the girl became very scared. Then the phone rang. The girl went to the phone, hoping it was her parents. She said hello, and waited. The line seemed dead. Then, sounding far, far away, a voice came over the phone. It was her grandfather's voice. "Don't be afraid, honey. There's nothing to fear. You'll be safe in the house. The storm will pass over." Then the phone was silent and dead. The girl went to bed, calm and happy. She slept well in spite of the storm. The parents came home and found their daughter asleep, and, unwilling to wake her, they left their questions until the morning. They were horrified when the babysitter called the next morning to explain that she had been in a wreck at the leading edge of the storm. She was unhurt, but what had their daughter done alone in the house? When they woke her, she told them what had happened. And when they didn't believe her, she smiled and pointed out her window to what she had seen the night before. The phone line from the house was intact out to the first pole, but then it was broken by fallen limbs, and the cable drooped into the cemetery. The end of the broken line lay across her grandfather's grave. Strangers A man and a woman happened to sit next to one another on a train. The woman took ut a book and began reading. The train stopped at half a dozen stations, but she never looked up once. The man watched her for awhile, then asked, "What are you reading?" "A ghost story," she said. "It's very good, very spooky." "Do you believe in ghosts?" he asked. "Yes, I do," she replied. "There are ghosts everywhere." "I don't believe in them," he said. "It's just a lot of superstition. In all my years, I've never seen a ghost, not one." "Haven't you?" the woman said ... and vanished. The Red Spot Ruth was camping out in her back yard one night, and a spider crawled across her face, stopping on her left cheek, then went on it's way. "What is that red spot on my cheek?" she asked her mother the next morning. "It looks like a spider bite," her mother said. "It will go away. Just don't scratch it." Soon the small red spot grew into a small red boil. "Look at it now," Ruth said. "It's getting bigger. It's sore." "That sometimes happens," her mother said. "It's coming to a head." In a few days the boil was even larger. "Look at it now," Ruth said. "It hurts and it's ugly." "We'll have the doctor look at it," her mother said. "Maybe it's infected." But the doctor could not see Ruth until the next day. That night Ruth took a hot bath. As she soaked herself, the boil burst. Out poured a swarm of tiny spiders from the eggs their mother spider had laid in her cheek. The Guests A young man and his wife were on a trip to visit his mother. Usually they arrived in time for supper. But they had gotten a late start, and now it was getting dark. So they decided to look for a place to stay overnight and go on in the morning. Just off the road, they saw a small house in the woods. "Maybe they rent rooms," the wife said. So they stopped to ask. An elderly man and woman came to the door. They didn't rent rooms, they said. But they would be glad to have them stay overnight as their guests. They had plenty of room, and they would enjoy the company. The old woman made coffee and brought out some cake, and thefour of them talked for awhile. Then the young couple were taken to their room. They again explained that they wanted to pay for this, but the old man said he would not accept any money. The young couple got up early the next morning before their hosts had awakened. On a table near the front door, they left an envelope with some money in it for the room. Then they went on to the next town. They stopped in a restaurant and had breakfast. When they told the owner where they had stayed, he was shocked. "That can't be," he said. "That house burned to the ground, and the man and the woman who lived there died in the fire." The young couple could not believe it. So they went back to the house. Only now there was no house. All they found was a burned-out shell. They stood staring at the ruins trying to understand what had happened. Then the woman screamed. In the rubble was a badly burned table, like the one they had seen by the front door. On the table was the envelope they had left that morning. The Last Kiss Late one night, a young man was driving home along a dark country road. It was a Saturday night and it was raining. As he rounded a long curve, his headlights lit up a young woman standing at the side of the road. She was wearing a white dress and was all wet from the rain. He thought he knew what had happened: The girl had quarreled with her date and had chosen to walk home rather than stay with the guy. The young man skidded to a stop before the young woman could even raised her hand to thumb a ride. He leaned over and opened the door for her to get in. She slid into the seat and shut the door. With a smile she said, "Would you take me home? I just live a mile down the road." That was when he noticed how pretty she was. He almost couldn't think of anything to say, she was so pretty. He said, "Sure." He took off his letter jacket and offered it to her. She leaned forward and draped it around her shoulders. It was too crowded in the front seat for her to put her arms into the sleeves. The boy dropped the car into gear, and he still hadn't thought of anything to say when they passed the church and the graveyard and came to a two story house. "This is my house," she said. They stopped, and he got out and walked her to the door. They stood looking at each other for a moment and before he could think of a way to ask her for a kiss, she leaned over and kissed him. He was so surprised that she had opened the screen door, opened the front door, and gone inside the house before he could speak. He realized that she was still wearing his letter jacket and for a moment he thought about knocking on the door. But the house was dark, her parents were probably asleep, and she might get into trouble for getting in so late if he woke them. Besides, the jacket gave him the perfect excuse to come see her again. Sunday morning, about time for church, he came back to the house and knocked on the door. A tired, sad-looking woman answered. He asked if he could talk to the ladies daughter. "My daughter is dead," said the woman. "She died one year ago last night in a car wreck one mile down the road or so at the long curve." "That's not possible!" said the man. "I gave her a ride home last night!" "If you don't believe me," said the woman, "go look for yourself. She's buried in the graveyard there in the third row." The young man walked into the cemetery. In the third row of headstones, he found what he was looking for. A pink marble headstone was inscribed with the name Laurie, and over the rounded corners of the stone was his letter jacket. THE STORY GUIDE [CAMP STORIES] [SPOOKY CAMP STORIES] [A MARSHMALLOW STORY] [FRIENDSHIP] [Main Page] [Stories] [Songs] [Crafts] [PhotoAlbum] [S'Mores] [Native Page] [Cyber Stuff] [Fractals] [Banner Links] [Interactive Poem] [Community Leader] [Seasonal Pages] This Yosemite Ghost Stories site owned by Yosemite Cyn. [Previous 5 Sites |Previous |Next |Next 5 Sites |Random Site |List Sites ]