Great Haunted Houses And Scary Stories
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During Halloween everyone loves to visit the best Denver Haunted Houses, but if you’re not in the right mood, even going into the best haunted houses might not be as much fun. That’s why we at Scared.com want you to be prepared. Not only do we offer you the best guide to all the haunted houses in the Denver area, we’re giving you a little game to play before hand. Everyone loves a good Ghost story. Remember sitting around a camp fire as a kid, it didn’t get spooky till someone whipped up a great ghost story to tell. So here is your homework, before going into any of the great haunted houses in the Denver metro area, we want you and your friends to take turns telling Ghost stories on the way to the Haunts. So to get your mind going in the right directions here are some partial ghost stories for you to finish, and be sure to visit the best Haunted Houses
Ghost Magnet When I was a little kid my Jitney bus driver (yes I rode the short bus) departed this earth and came to me in my dream to tell me that she wouldn't be able to take me to school anymore. Imagine my mother's surprise when I told her about the dream and 5 minutes later the phone rings with the official news from the school that Mrs Clements had passed away in her sleep. All my life I have seen, heard and felt things that had me thinking either I was concussed or perhaps in some way I had a gift. I'm not talking about The Ghost whisperer where Melinda carries on conversations with full body apparitions. I'm talking more like in the moments of my darkest despair, I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder, I hear a giggle when I do something stupid or amusing, I see a young man chasing my dog through the house, wait...what? Yes and I have seen and heard so much more. I think it's something that runs in my family... My mother, my sister has had numerous experiences since her first experiences cleaning a haunted house Last summer my sister and I took a vacation together; we went to Ocean city New Jersey and stayed at a quaint Bed and Breakfast. We arrived early Friday morning and to save money we shared a room. When we checked in we were to learn that there would only be the two of us and 2 other couples staying there that weekend. The house is owned by a couple who live on the lower level with their teenage children and a dog named Daisy. That Friday we spent a sometime at the beach and went out for a nice dinner. We arrived back at the house and enjoyed a quiet evening on the front porch. My sister went to bed about 10pm and I went shortly after 11pm. I was climbing the stairwell up to our room and I heard a distinctive woman's voice say "shhh". I stopped and looked behind me and didn't see or hear anyone. I went
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back down the steps, no one was there. I go back up and go into our room, my sister was sawing logs. I think maybe it was one of the other guests and somehow their voice carried to me, I can't explain it so I went to sleep. The room that my sister and I were sharing had a double bed and a set of bunk beds, since my sister was sprawled out on the double bed; I slept on the lower bunk. Creek, creek, crack went the joints in my body but I finally got comfortable and fell soundly to sleep. I shifted in the night and I stretched my foot down to the bottom of the bed, my toes came in contact with a warm, soft, fuzzy creature and I thought to my elf "Awe Chewie your mamas girl" CHEWIE? Chewie is my dog but she was 400 miles away at home in Pittsburgh. I jumped off the bunk and reached for the light, there was nothing in the bed, nothing under the bed. I looked at my sister who was up and looking at me like I was nuts. I told her I must have been dreaming and she says she was too. Her dream was about a dog and it licked her hand, waking her just as I jumped out of the bunk...Weird. I climb backed in bed it was a while before I fell asleep. Once again I was awakened, this time by children. I could hear them running in the room above us. This is non-stop for at least an hour. My sister woke up and said "Who do those kids belong to shouldn't they be in bed? The noise stopped abruptly and we are able to once again fall asleep. The next day, we are baffled by the night's events. My sister asked the Inn keeper about the kids and she just looked at us and offered no explanation, in fact she just smiled and walked away. Saturday was spent at the beach and in the evening we headed up to Atlantic City for some Casino fun! We get back to the house around midnight and headed straight up to bed. I once again got the bunk, but being exhausted I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. Ok, here is where it gets really weird. I woke up to a vibration. I realized that the bed was shaking. I mean it was shaking so bad I could barely sit up. I called out to my sister who once again was sawing logs. "Carol-jo CAROLJO!" She continues snoring. I start laughing; I do that when I am scared to death. I finally yell "Stop!" The shaking stopped. I turned the light on and climbed into bed with my sister. Now you finish the story‌and visit the best Denver Haunted Houses with us!
One story starter down, two to go‌.if you can hold your wits!
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Dispatched retold by S.E. Schlosser There was something odd in the tone of the dispatcher’s voice when he called to tell me a person needed picking up at Bramlett Road late one summer night in 1947. I shuddered when I heard the name of the street. I did not want to go anywhere near that area, especially at midnight. But I drove a Yellow Cab, and it was my job to pick up a call when it came. So I swallowed and headed toward Bramlett Road and the slaughter yards. I’d been out of town when “the incident” happened. I call it an incident, but it was murder, plain and not so simple. A fellow name of Brown who drove a cab with our company was robbed and stabbed to death in his cab. Next day a man named Willie Earle was picked up by the police the very next day and put in jail for the crime, though he denied doing it. Then a bunch of hotheads who drove cabs for our company gathered together, passed around a bottle of whiskey and talking about “getting” the fellow who’d stabbed Brown. One of the men went out and borrowed a shotgun, and the mob drove to the jail, grabbed Earle and threw him in the back of one of the cabs. The hotheads took him to the slaughter yards and they dragged Earle forcibly from the cab and started beating him. A man pulled a knife and waded into the mob with it, and Earle shouted: “Lord, you’ve killed me!” That’s when the fellow with the shotgun put a bullet in his head, reloaded, and shot him twice more. When the mob was sure he was dead, they climbed back into their separate cabs and fanned out, each heading back to the city by a different route. Eventually word got out and thirty-one fellows were arrested for the crime. But they were all acquitted by a jury of their peers. After the incident, the slaughterhouse section of Bramlett Road got a bad reputation. No one in the cab company much liked driving there, especially at night. Folks claimed it was haunted by the ghost of Willie Earle. I shivered as I pulled onto Bramlett Road and slowed down to look for my passenger. No one was there. I parked the cab and got out to have a quick smoke while I waited. All at once, the temperature around me plummeted. I froze in place, suddenly terrified, as someone moaned in terror from the other side of the road. The sound scraped my nerves raw. I could hear the unmistakable thud of hammering fists and the darkness was filled with swirling black silhouettes pounding on something...or someone. I fumbled for the icy-cold door handle as a man shouted agony: “Lord, you’ve killed me!” I threw myself inside the cab as a gun exploded, cutting off the man’s cries. The shot was swiftly followed by two more. Now you finish the story…. and visit the best Denver Haunted Houses
Two story starters down, one to go…if you can hold your wits.
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Goblin of Easton retold by S. E. Schlosser
There was once a monk at the mission who loved money and power more than he loved God. He would hear the confession of the good folk who attended the mission, and then would blackmail them into giving him gold and silver to keep their darkest secrets. He turned many a wayward sinner's feet towards the fires of hell rather than the gates of heaven, encouraging their crimes in secret while he reviled them in public. It was after he beat one poor old woman to death that the evil monk was imprisoned and sentenced to hang for his crimes. But just after he was cut down from the noose and pronounced dead, his corpse began to transform before the horrified eyes of the people. The face twisted and small tusks sprang from either side of his nose. His shock of white hair grew long and greasy, and two pointed canines emerged from his slit of a mouth. The goblin-monk opened eyes that glowed yellow even in the light of noon-day, and sprang to feet that now ended in claws rather than toes. The people screamed and fled, and no prayer of his former brothers-in-faith could banish the goblin. It disappeared deep into the forest, only to return at night and prey upon the monks of the mission who had been responsible for its death. After five of the brothers had fallen to the goblin, the rest of the monks abandoned the mission and moved to another part of the country. Since that time, the mission-house had slowly fallen into ruin.
Now you finish the story, and don’t forget to visit the best Denver Haunted Houses
For The Best Haunted Houses Visit: www.Scared.com
Denver Haunted Houses