Have you ever seen a ghost? What's the scariest supernatural thing that you've experienced? Halloween is coming, and this time of year always puts me in the mood for the spooks.
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Former Member
One day I look in the mirror I aint doing that again.
Former Member
quote:Originally posted by bird:
One day I look in the mirror I aint doing that again.
i feel your pain.
quote:Originally posted by bird:
One day I look in the mirror I aint doing that again.
Try turning the mirror upside down, the shock might be less.
Former Member
Poor Mirror
Former Member
you guys are no fun! nothing scary never happened to you?!
nah nothing, only time I was scared was watching the movie Black Christmas.
Former Member
Never seen any ghost although I did stay up a night to see if I would see one that was known to haunt that particular area. That night she surprisingly didnât make an appearance.......
Former Member
..quote:Originally posted by the new yorker:
you guys are no fun! nothing scary never happened to you?!
yuh does see jhumbie?
Former Member
quote:Originally posted by raymond:
yuh does see jhumbie?
you don't have to SEE something for it to be scary.
Former Member
the other night i felt like someone was pulling me off the bed and jumped out of my sleep but it was just my cover sliding off.
Former Member
Since no one would tell a scary story; I thought I would tell one. It is true and I just wrote it continuously at one sitting so do not spare me the comments about spelling or grammar or loose writing. I will take it into account and correct that later
The night I became a magician
When I was nine, I asked my dad how I can become a magician. We had just come back from a magic show and there the magician made things disappear, pulled rabbits and doves from his hat, sawed a woman in half and made her whole again, pulled coins from peopleâs ears and read what people were thinking. I wanted to be a magician. I asked my dad where to begin.
For some reason he had a very scary answer. He said magicians are people who have faced their most primal fears and come out ahead. He asked what my fears were and am I prepared to confront them. Well I knew immediately what I was afraid of most. My most profound fear was walking through our local graveyard at night. I knew there and then I was never ever going to be a magician.
My dad died that year. He was buried in the graveyard which was about a mile from our home we called the âreefâ. It is a sandbank that was deposited there eons ago when the seas covered the area. It is the only high point in our community that is never spared periodic flooding. We put our dead ancestors there so we could ensure they get a comfortable bed in the afterlife.
Unfortunately, some who died were never too please to have died and made that known. More often than not a villager would tell stories of harried encounters with the dead buried in this graveyard. Many barely escaped with their life after being pummeled or tossed through the air by apparitions too horrible to describe. A few deaths were attributed to these ghosts and there are many a villager who are never right in the head after such encounter. Worse; these angry residents were often well known grumps in real life or those who met unfortunate, untimely end.
No one is ever surprise when they attack a villager since it never doubtful that they can come back and to harass the living. One especially avoided going outdoors too close to midnight on the third day after one of these folks died since it is ususally their first night in their ghostly reality and when they arise they usually come home still confused or often angry they are no longer among living.
It so happened that year, there was a public showing of the âTen Commandmentsâ at the local rice mill. I asked for permission to go and my Aunt said I can if I completed my chores. The show began promptly at 7 and despite having to walk a mile to the site I made it in time. It was a wonderful experience. One cannot but feel a sense of awe at divine grace at the end of all. Moses became my hero.
I returned home at about 10 30. The lights at our home were on. We never have all the lights on that late. Something had happened. As I came in my aunt was crying. I hurried over and asked what the matter was. She said I forgot to lock the stables and my fatherâs prized thorough bred stallion, Reds, had walked off. He was not going to survive the night. He was big but no match for the black Morgan stallion we called Diamond. Diamond was fiercely aggressive to any horse that came around the mares in his brood and already killed at least two other horses that entered his area. I was deeply distressed. I did not want Reds to die. After all, I just lost my father and I could not lose his horse.
I ran out of the house, jumped on my horse Nightwind and rode in the direction of the âreefâ The horses liked to sleep there because the wind howled through the area real hard and it blew the mosquitoes away. Mosquitoes can be torture to animals in this area nights so they come here to get relief. I got to the reef in time. The stallions were marking each other, prancing and pawing the soil ready to do battle. I rode between them and tried to catch Reds and then Diamond since both knew me. They however did not want to be caught. I decide I was going to lasso one or the other. The horses thought they would play with me and ran ahead of me always beyond range of me lassoing them. Then it happened.
Nightwind got his leg tangled up on something. He fell, I fell. I may have been out for a bit because when I came to Nightwind a ways off snorting and frantically trying to distangle himself from a litter made of bamboo and decorated with ribbons and flowers that Hindus used bring their dead to the grave yard. They would and often leave over the fresh mound of dirt covering their recently dead relative. This one covered the grave of a grumpy village drunk who in a fit of anger hanged himself three days previously on a tamarind tree in front of the home of his estranged wifeâs family. Apparently the cows had moved the litter from the grave and I sitting on his grave at midnight on the third day of his death.
I got up slowly, I was not hurt. The soft mound of this recently dug grave broke my fall. I could not see any of the horses. Nightwind had ran off trying to free himself of his entanglement. Reds and Diamond possible ran off to resume their fight somewhere on a distant side of the reef. I was alone. I could hear my breathing. I began to walk home.
I had to traverse a quarter of mile of marshy land before I get to a good road home. On many occasions I could hear strange howls and peculiar sounds or some bird sleeping in the grass would flutter on being awaken and startle me. I almost died a few times from sheer fright. Terror reached its peak as I could hear multiple footsteps behind me. I dared not turn around because I knew who would be there . It would definitely be the fellow with his eyes bulging, and neck all crooked and stretched as I last saw him hanging on tree where we went and gawked after the found him. He possibly have a few dead buddies with him. When I stopped the footsteps stopped, when I walked faster, they walked faster. He was toying with me before he killed me. I just knew it. After about 10 minutes of sustained terror, I could no longer stand his persecution. If he was going to kill me then I was going to die fighting like Moses. I was going to tell this ghost to get on with killing me or give him a serious tongue lashing I turned around to confront him.
Instead of a fight with a ghost I was confronted with my faithful horse Nightwind. He was following me home. Behind him were Reds and Diamond. Obviously they decided not to fight and follow me home as well. I hugged my horse, kissed him and walked briskly home. All my friends and neighbors were gathered at my home. They did not know where I had run off to. They never thought I would go to the grave yard to get the horse. It never crossed their minds that anyone would do that. Yes dad, I became a magician. I made ghosts disappear.
The night I became a magician
When I was nine, I asked my dad how I can become a magician. We had just come back from a magic show and there the magician made things disappear, pulled rabbits and doves from his hat, sawed a woman in half and made her whole again, pulled coins from peopleâs ears and read what people were thinking. I wanted to be a magician. I asked my dad where to begin.
For some reason he had a very scary answer. He said magicians are people who have faced their most primal fears and come out ahead. He asked what my fears were and am I prepared to confront them. Well I knew immediately what I was afraid of most. My most profound fear was walking through our local graveyard at night. I knew there and then I was never ever going to be a magician.
My dad died that year. He was buried in the graveyard which was about a mile from our home we called the âreefâ. It is a sandbank that was deposited there eons ago when the seas covered the area. It is the only high point in our community that is never spared periodic flooding. We put our dead ancestors there so we could ensure they get a comfortable bed in the afterlife.
Unfortunately, some who died were never too please to have died and made that known. More often than not a villager would tell stories of harried encounters with the dead buried in this graveyard. Many barely escaped with their life after being pummeled or tossed through the air by apparitions too horrible to describe. A few deaths were attributed to these ghosts and there are many a villager who are never right in the head after such encounter. Worse; these angry residents were often well known grumps in real life or those who met unfortunate, untimely end.
No one is ever surprise when they attack a villager since it never doubtful that they can come back and to harass the living. One especially avoided going outdoors too close to midnight on the third day after one of these folks died since it is ususally their first night in their ghostly reality and when they arise they usually come home still confused or often angry they are no longer among living.
It so happened that year, there was a public showing of the âTen Commandmentsâ at the local rice mill. I asked for permission to go and my Aunt said I can if I completed my chores. The show began promptly at 7 and despite having to walk a mile to the site I made it in time. It was a wonderful experience. One cannot but feel a sense of awe at divine grace at the end of all. Moses became my hero.
I returned home at about 10 30. The lights at our home were on. We never have all the lights on that late. Something had happened. As I came in my aunt was crying. I hurried over and asked what the matter was. She said I forgot to lock the stables and my fatherâs prized thorough bred stallion, Reds, had walked off. He was not going to survive the night. He was big but no match for the black Morgan stallion we called Diamond. Diamond was fiercely aggressive to any horse that came around the mares in his brood and already killed at least two other horses that entered his area. I was deeply distressed. I did not want Reds to die. After all, I just lost my father and I could not lose his horse.
I ran out of the house, jumped on my horse Nightwind and rode in the direction of the âreefâ The horses liked to sleep there because the wind howled through the area real hard and it blew the mosquitoes away. Mosquitoes can be torture to animals in this area nights so they come here to get relief. I got to the reef in time. The stallions were marking each other, prancing and pawing the soil ready to do battle. I rode between them and tried to catch Reds and then Diamond since both knew me. They however did not want to be caught. I decide I was going to lasso one or the other. The horses thought they would play with me and ran ahead of me always beyond range of me lassoing them. Then it happened.
Nightwind got his leg tangled up on something. He fell, I fell. I may have been out for a bit because when I came to Nightwind a ways off snorting and frantically trying to distangle himself from a litter made of bamboo and decorated with ribbons and flowers that Hindus used bring their dead to the grave yard. They would and often leave over the fresh mound of dirt covering their recently dead relative. This one covered the grave of a grumpy village drunk who in a fit of anger hanged himself three days previously on a tamarind tree in front of the home of his estranged wifeâs family. Apparently the cows had moved the litter from the grave and I sitting on his grave at midnight on the third day of his death.
I got up slowly, I was not hurt. The soft mound of this recently dug grave broke my fall. I could not see any of the horses. Nightwind had ran off trying to free himself of his entanglement. Reds and Diamond possible ran off to resume their fight somewhere on a distant side of the reef. I was alone. I could hear my breathing. I began to walk home.
I had to traverse a quarter of mile of marshy land before I get to a good road home. On many occasions I could hear strange howls and peculiar sounds or some bird sleeping in the grass would flutter on being awaken and startle me. I almost died a few times from sheer fright. Terror reached its peak as I could hear multiple footsteps behind me. I dared not turn around because I knew who would be there . It would definitely be the fellow with his eyes bulging, and neck all crooked and stretched as I last saw him hanging on tree where we went and gawked after the found him. He possibly have a few dead buddies with him. When I stopped the footsteps stopped, when I walked faster, they walked faster. He was toying with me before he killed me. I just knew it. After about 10 minutes of sustained terror, I could no longer stand his persecution. If he was going to kill me then I was going to die fighting like Moses. I was going to tell this ghost to get on with killing me or give him a serious tongue lashing I turned around to confront him.
Instead of a fight with a ghost I was confronted with my faithful horse Nightwind. He was following me home. Behind him were Reds and Diamond. Obviously they decided not to fight and follow me home as well. I hugged my horse, kissed him and walked briskly home. All my friends and neighbors were gathered at my home. They did not know where I had run off to. They never thought I would go to the grave yard to get the horse. It never crossed their minds that anyone would do that. Yes dad, I became a magician. I made ghosts disappear.
Former Member
This is the first time in a long time, I actually read a post by D2. 
I enjoyed it very much.
I enjoyed it very much.
Former Member
D2, I love that story!
Former Member
What a wonderful Story, and well written.
Ihttp://guyanafriends.com/groupee_common/ver1.3.7.9832/platform_images/blank.giff I ever have a Horse it will be named Nightwind, Love that name.
You my friend have indeed Became a magician.
to quote IGH
"This is the first time in a long time, I actually read a post by D2.
I enjoyed it very much".
Ihttp://guyanafriends.com/groupee_common/ver1.3.7.9832/platform_images/blank.giff I ever have a Horse it will be named Nightwind, Love that name.
You my friend have indeed Became a magician.
to quote IGH
"This is the first time in a long time, I actually read a post by D2.
I enjoyed it very much".
Former Member
Beautiful story. Would make a good short story.
Excellent post by D2, cheers.
I am somewhat surprised at this particular part of the story...I wonder why?
I am somewhat surprised at this particular part of the story...I wonder why?
quote:It so happened that year, there was a public showing of the âTen Commandmentsâ at the local rice mill. I asked for permission to go and my Aunt said I can if I completed my chores. The show began promptly at 7 and despite having to walk a mile to the site I made it in time. It was a wonderful experience. One cannot but feel a sense of awe at divine grace at the end of all. Moses became my hero.
Former Member
glad you folks like it. It has lots of bugs since it is like a first draft. I wrote it in about ten mins in the site editor. I wont touch it for another month or so since I might destroy the sentiment that brought it to life. If you like it the message came through despite its unpolished state and that is what matters.
Former Member
Loved it D2 
Former Member
quote:Originally posted by D2:
glad you folks like it. It has lots of bugs since it is like a first draft. I wrote it in about ten mins in the site editor. I wont touch it for another month or so since I might destroy the sentiment that brought it to life. If you like it the message came through despite its unpolished state and that is what matters.
I love it... one check question though ...what took you so long to make the next post? were you constipated after all that writing.?
Former Member
quote:Originally posted by D2:
glad you folks like it. It has lots of bugs since it is like a first draft. I wrote it in about ten mins in the site editor. I wont touch it for another month or so since I might destroy the sentiment that brought it to life. If you like it the message came through despite its unpolished state and that is what matters.
D2, you are a terrific writer, and easily my favoroite on this forum.
Former Member
i dont think d2 wrote that it was probably extraced from some fiction novel
Former Member
quote:Originally posted by the new yorker:quote:Originally posted by D2:
glad you folks like it. It has lots of bugs since it is like a first draft. I wrote it in about ten mins in the site editor. I wont touch it for another month or so since I might destroy the sentiment that brought it to life. If you like it the message came through despite its unpolished state and that is what matters.
D2, you are a terrific writer, and easily my favoroite on this forum.
He's also a terrific liar. Don't be fooled.
Former Member
quote:Originally posted by china:quote:Originally posted by the new yorker:quote:Originally posted by D2:
glad you folks like it. It has lots of bugs since it is like a first draft. I wrote it in about ten mins in the site editor. I wont touch it for another month or so since I might destroy the sentiment that brought it to life. If you like it the message came through despite its unpolished state and that is what matters.
D2, you are a terrific writer, and easily my favoroite on this forum.
He's also a terrific liar. Don't be fooled.
ah mean which guyanese does write like that grave yard instead of burying ground, words like reef, etc
Former Member
Yep; told you that you were a pretty one!quote:Originally posted by china:quote:Originally posted by the new yorker:quote:Originally posted by D2:
glad you folks like it. It has lots of bugs since it is like a first draft. I wrote it in about ten mins in the site editor. I wont touch it for another month or so since I might destroy the sentiment that brought it to life. If you like it the message came through despite its unpolished state and that is what matters.
D2, you are a terrific writer, and easily my favoroite on this forum.
He's also a terrific liar. Don't be fooled.
Former Member
Every Guyanese know about "reef". They span the entire coast! The Corentyne highway was built from "reef sand". I am sorry they had you cooped up on on some lonely street in GT with no access to the rest of our beautiful country.quote:Originally posted by Inqubus:quote:Originally posted by china:quote:Originally posted by the new yorker:quote:Originally posted by D2:
glad you folks like it. It has lots of bugs since it is like a first draft. I wrote it in about ten mins in the site editor. I wont touch it for another month or so since I might destroy the sentiment that brought it to life. If you like it the message came through despite its unpolished state and that is what matters.
D2, you are a terrific writer, and easily my favoroite on this forum.
He's also a terrific liar. Don't be fooled.
ah mean which guyanese does write like that grave yard instead of burying ground, words like reef, etc
And the calypsonian did not say "a drunk man walked in a burial ground". He said "a drunk man walked in a graveyard"
Former Member
The drunk man walked in a cemetery he was dead drunk.
Former Member
I wrote ah lil short story while back...it was an outline....differnt kinda scary...here it is
My favorite aunt
by "Araff"
"Raymannnnnnnnnnn!" That call held all the elements of my childhood as I swung my feet over the bridge staring at the muddy water as it meandered slowly along it's way, oblivious to the trouble I was about to face. My shadow stretched weirdly across the trench, a result of the setting sun. Evening was here, the promise of a night where the blood sucking mosquitoes lay waiting to strike. I could feel my heart thumping.
"Raymaaaaaaaaaaannnnnn!" My head jerked up, I decided to turn around and wave to that figure on the landing, she looked so small from so far away, yet I knew she was there, I could make out her hands on her hips, if her face was fair, I'm sure it would be red as a cherry. "Rass," I muttered to myself, what have I gotten myself into. I lifted myself lazily off the bridge. Maybe I could fall in and pretend I'm drowning, that way I can escape the trouble I was about to face. Problem was I could not swim. "Ummmmmmmmmmmm," I might as well head back.
This all started because of the stupid twenty five cents. My aunt wanted me to go buy bread, so I started my way to that crazy, shaky bridge. Evenings were really beautiful, as I walked freely and carelessly towards the seaside. This I did not fully appreciate until 18 years later when I faced short days, bitter cold, tall faceless brick buildings in New York City. That's another story for another day.
Anyway, I was tossing the twenty five cents in the air, pretending that I was in the middle of the pitch at Bourda, spinning the toss against Greg Chappell. Heads or tail, should I bat or should I bowl? As I approached the bridge, not a care in the world, barefoot not feeling a thing on the dried up clay with deep holes made by cows when the place was wet, my mind deep in my cricket game, threading across the rikity bridge, the stupid twenty five cents still trying to decide who will bat first; the coin decided to flip itself into the trench! So, here I was, swinging my feet, about to head back now to that voice.
As I approached the landing, I could feel my aunt's eyes boring into my body. I wondered where was my grandmother, my savior, my only hope of surviving this whipping I was about to receive. I spied her, and started running to safety behind her skirt. At the same time, my aunt was coming down the stairs, a piece of stick in her hand. I reached my ma before my aunt reached me and held onto her for dear life.
"Yuh the one dat keep spoilin him, yuh know how lang meh call am, but he siddown pon ah bridge nah move". My aunt, to say the least, was a wee bit furious.
"Leff ah bai nuh", my love for my grandmother, my ma, was at it's peak at this moment. My aunt resigned herself to "ketch" me another day. I explained that the twenty five cents slipped out my hand. My aunt promised that one day, she hand gon slip too with licks.
I must say, that this memory for me is priceless, this is my favorite aunt, my ma went to God years ago, I still miss her after all these years
My favorite aunt
by "Araff"
"Raymannnnnnnnnnn!" That call held all the elements of my childhood as I swung my feet over the bridge staring at the muddy water as it meandered slowly along it's way, oblivious to the trouble I was about to face. My shadow stretched weirdly across the trench, a result of the setting sun. Evening was here, the promise of a night where the blood sucking mosquitoes lay waiting to strike. I could feel my heart thumping.
"Raymaaaaaaaaaaannnnnn!" My head jerked up, I decided to turn around and wave to that figure on the landing, she looked so small from so far away, yet I knew she was there, I could make out her hands on her hips, if her face was fair, I'm sure it would be red as a cherry. "Rass," I muttered to myself, what have I gotten myself into. I lifted myself lazily off the bridge. Maybe I could fall in and pretend I'm drowning, that way I can escape the trouble I was about to face. Problem was I could not swim. "Ummmmmmmmmmmm," I might as well head back.
This all started because of the stupid twenty five cents. My aunt wanted me to go buy bread, so I started my way to that crazy, shaky bridge. Evenings were really beautiful, as I walked freely and carelessly towards the seaside. This I did not fully appreciate until 18 years later when I faced short days, bitter cold, tall faceless brick buildings in New York City. That's another story for another day.
Anyway, I was tossing the twenty five cents in the air, pretending that I was in the middle of the pitch at Bourda, spinning the toss against Greg Chappell. Heads or tail, should I bat or should I bowl? As I approached the bridge, not a care in the world, barefoot not feeling a thing on the dried up clay with deep holes made by cows when the place was wet, my mind deep in my cricket game, threading across the rikity bridge, the stupid twenty five cents still trying to decide who will bat first; the coin decided to flip itself into the trench! So, here I was, swinging my feet, about to head back now to that voice.
As I approached the landing, I could feel my aunt's eyes boring into my body. I wondered where was my grandmother, my savior, my only hope of surviving this whipping I was about to receive. I spied her, and started running to safety behind her skirt. At the same time, my aunt was coming down the stairs, a piece of stick in her hand. I reached my ma before my aunt reached me and held onto her for dear life.
"Yuh the one dat keep spoilin him, yuh know how lang meh call am, but he siddown pon ah bridge nah move". My aunt, to say the least, was a wee bit furious.
"Leff ah bai nuh", my love for my grandmother, my ma, was at it's peak at this moment. My aunt resigned herself to "ketch" me another day. I explained that the twenty five cents slipped out my hand. My aunt promised that one day, she hand gon slip too with licks.
I must say, that this memory for me is priceless, this is my favorite aunt, my ma went to God years ago, I still miss her after all these years
Former Member
what scary about the above raymond your aunt disciplining you ah please gwan suh
Former Member
Akeem, tell us a story nuh?quote:Originally posted by Inqubus:
what scary about the above raymond your aunt disciplining you ah please gwan suh
warrior (Guest)
that what you thinkquote:Originally posted by Rosita:
the other night i felt like someone was pulling me off the bed and jumped out of my sleep but it was just my cover sliding off.
Former Member
quote:Originally posted by Inqubus:
what scary about the above raymond your aunt disciplining you ah please gwan suh
yhu need some good cut ass
Former Member
quote:Originally posted by warrior:that what you thinkquote:Originally posted by Rosita:
the other night i felt like someone was pulling me off the bed and jumped out of my sleep but it was just my cover sliding off.
THAT'S THE SEXIEST STORY I have heard in along time... you go girl.
Former Member
Guyana is most scariest at night in the countryside. Good night stories always have ghostly implications that put you to sleep with vivid jumbie imaginations. Halloween is Christmas comparing to Guyana night time ghost's story. Spooky undermines the meaning for scared-shit and pee-in-your pants.
Former Member
Why don't you tell us one of these stories that would have us quivering in our boots!quote:Originally posted by Cobra:
Guyana is most scariest at night in the countryside. Good night stories always have ghostly implications that put you to sleep with vivid jumbie imaginations. Halloween is Christmas comparing to Guyana night time ghost's story. Spooky undermines the meaning for scared-shit and pee-in-your pants.
Former Member
Nice story Ray. I think we have some best seller short story writer in the house.
I have a co-worker who work as a legal assistant and trying to write short stories part-time. He give me one of his short story to read the other day and by the time I finish I couldn't make head or tail of the story. But I told him it was a beautiful story nevertheless.
I have a co-worker who work as a legal assistant and trying to write short stories part-time. He give me one of his short story to read the other day and by the time I finish I couldn't make head or tail of the story. But I told him it was a beautiful story nevertheless.
quote:Originally posted by Rosita:
Nice story Ray. I think we have some best seller short story writer in the house.
I have a co-worker who work as a legal assistant and trying to write short stories part-time. He give me one of his short story to read the other day and by the time I finish I couldn't make head or tail of the story. But I told him it was a beautiful story nevertheless.
hehehehe, you jus told Ray his story nice then you say something about yo co-worker, nahhhh, neva mind, hehehehehehe
Former Member
is why yuh so wicked Cainster. 
I did mean it about Ray and D2 story. Both are nostaligic and have meaning to it.
The guy at work story had a lot of big words and the story line shifted at time.
I did mean it about Ray and D2 story. Both are nostaligic and have meaning to it.The guy at work story had a lot of big words and the story line shifted at time.
Former Member
quote:Originally posted by cain:quote:Originally posted by Rosita:
Nice story Ray. I think we have some best seller short story writer in the house.
I have a co-worker who work as a legal assistant and trying to write short stories part-time. He give me one of his short story to read the other day and by the time I finish I couldn't make head or tail of the story. But I told him it was a beautiful story nevertheless.
hehehehe, you jus told Ray his story nice then you say something about yo co-worker, nahhhh, neva mind, hehehehehehe
so yuh sayin Rosi just tryin to mek me and D2 feel good
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