Real Ghost Stories Online

Some hauntings don’t just cling to houses—they linger in the places people loved most. This is the terrifying and unforgettable story of a haunted bar in Leesville, Louisiana, where a ghost refused to leave the job she once dedicated her life to. Back in the 1970s, a young worker was hired to help renovate a run-down brick building that had once been a lively bar and disco. Its massive wooden bar had been hauled all the way from Bourbon Street in New Orleans, but the glamour was long gone. Rats ran across the shelves, drunks swore they saw things no one else could, and the air itself carried a strange energy. One night around 3:30 a.m., while painting the ceiling alone, the worker felt the unmistakable sensation of being watched. Turning his head, he saw an elderly woman in glasses, a green hat, and an old coat with a brooch. She smiled but said nothing. When he climbed down to approach her, she simply vanished. The haunting stopped after the renovations, as if the spirit had been released, proud to see th

Some hauntings leave scratches, voices, or whispers. Others leave a mark so deep you can never forget them. This is one of those stories. Anonymous shares a chilling true paranormal encounter from Christmas night, 2007. Staying at their parents’ house, they awoke at 3 a.m. from a nightmare of being chased by a man with a knife. Shaken, they glanced toward the doorway—and saw what they thought was their mother standing there. But something was wrong. The figure was completely black—solid, not shadow. Behind it, a strange orange glow. It didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Only raised its hand to its mouth, as if smoking. That made sense—Mom smoked. Until they looked back at the bed and felt their mother’s form still asleep beneath the blankets. The realization hit hard: whatever stood in the doorway was not her. When they spoke to it, the entity raised its hand again—this time not like smoking, but like hushing. The gesture of silence made their blood run cold. They reached for their mother in bed, confirmed she w

This is a Grave Talks CLASSIC EPISODE! Lance Anderson didn’t have a normal childhood. He grew up in a house where the dead never truly left. Night after night, he and his siblings witnessed the impossible—phantom footsteps, shadowy figures, and voices from nowhere. But their parents refused to believe. It was just imagination. Just nerves. Just nothing. But it wasn’t nothing. It never was. Those early encounters planted a lifelong obsession in Lance. An obsession that led him into the world of paranormal investigation—and eventually into a career that placed him face-to-face with death itself. The morgue. A place where silence reigns, and the dead are meant to rest. But not all of them do. Some of the bodies that pass through the cold steel drawers still have stories to tell… and not all are willing to stay quiet. We explore the haunted life of Lance Anderson—from childhood hauntings to ghostly morgue encounters, and the spirits who refuse to let go. #HauntedLife #LanceAnderson #MorgueGhosts #TheGraveTal

Every house keeps secrets, but some refuse to stay quiet. This is Amy’s chilling story—a tale of love, family, and the forces that claimed her home before she could. At just seventeen, pregnant and hopeful, Amy moved with her partner Kev into a modest house in Seaham. From the first day, the walls betrayed them. A deafening crash shook the upstairs. That night, footsteps thundered through the halls, furniture dragged, and the nursery drawers toppled into the hallway beneath a gaping attic hatch. From then on, the haunting never let up. Teacups vanished and returned in bizarre formations. Shadows clung to the stairs. Voices whispered. Cold mists lingered where no steam should have been. The most terrifying moment came when Amy awoke to see an old woman leaning over her newborn’s crib. Days later, she recognized the face—Kev’s great-grandmother, dead for decades. Recordings captured phantom arguments upstairs, ending with the chilling declaration: “This is my effing house.” Dreams turned violent. Kev’s young

Some hauntings announce themselves with slamming doors and violent screams. Others creep in quietly, folding themselves into the rhythm of your life until you can’t tell where the ordinary ends and the extraordinary begins. This is a true story of one woman’s experience with real hauntings in Iceland — encounters so chilling they blur the line between life and death. When she and her boyfriend moved into a small apartment, the first sign was subtle: a spirit that copied voices. She heard her boyfriend speaking and even felt him sit on the bed — only for him to walk in minutes later from outside. Soon, the ghost mimicked her friend’s invented Dungeons & Dragons character, proving it wasn’t just her imagination. The activity grew bolder after they bought an older house. There, she heard phantom children running upstairs, witnessed hair-pulling from unseen hands, and even spotted a ghost kitten she named Julia walking across her bed. Friends agreed the home felt strangely warm, yet the nights told a differ

A terrifying true story of a young woman haunted, attacked, and stalked by a spirit that latched onto her with violent obsession. Emma’s story starts in a small home in Auckland, New Zealand, where the paranormal crept in quietly. At first, it was just a feeling—like someone was in the room with her. But that presence escalated. Over time, the touches began. Light brushes. Then pressure. Then slaps. Then a human bite mark that left her with no doubt: this wasn’t her imagination. What followed was a decade-long battle with an unseen entity that wasn’t bound to a location—it was bound to her. Even worse, no one believed her. Not her strict parents. Not the friends who brushed it off—until they, too, felt a cold hand stroke their hair or a slap from nowhere. Even miles away, in dorms and sleepovers, the presence remained. It wasn’t the house that was haunted—it was Emma. This real haunting defies easy explanation. Was it a poltergeist? A jealous ghost? Or something darker—a demonic attachment with a personal

True story of a haunted house in rural Iowa that locked one woman out again and again—until something truly unexplainable happened. When Jessica and her family moved from sunny California to a small town west of Iowa City, they thought they'd found a peaceful new beginning. But their dream home had other plans. From the very first morning, strange events began unfolding—starting with Jessica getting mysteriously locked out of the house… in her pajamas… while desperately needing the bathroom. At first, it was brushed off as a draft or bad luck. But when it started happening repeatedly—and only to Jessica—it was clear something more sinister was at play. The most chilling moment came later that day. As Jessica and her husband were preparing lunch, their beagle Ranger began barking at the basement door. Suddenly, they both heard it: the sound of a dog running up the basement stairs, scratching, yapping—desperate to be let out. The problem? They didn’t own another dog. What followed was a terrifying few momen

When a teenager cleaning out his grandparents' attic in Connecticut stumbled upon an old Ouija board, he had no idea he was uncovering a dark family legacy. Hidden in a dusty box, the board seemed like a harmless novelty—until his mother saw it. What followed was a moment of uncharacteristic fury and fear. She confiscated it on the spot, refusing to even let it stay in the house. Only later did she reveal the chilling reason behind her reaction. As a young girl, she and her friend had used the same board. When they asked who they were speaking to, it responded: “I am neither. I am dead.” The board continued to spell out a full name, birth and death dates, and a chilling statement: “I was murdered.” The next day, the girls rode to the local graveyard and found the grave—exactly as the board described, behind the big oak tree. Was it just a coincidence? A subconscious trick? Or proof that the board really is a conduit to something we don't fully understand? #OuijaBoard #RealGhostStories #ParanormalPodcast #

This is a Grave Talks CLASSIC EPISODE! Kaycee Colbrun wasn’t like the other kids. While they were learning to tie their shoes or play hopscotch, she was astral projecting around the house. Holding silent conversations with animals. Chatting casually with a grandfather she had never met in life. From the very beginning, the boundary between this world and the next was thin for Kaycee—so thin, she sometimes forgot most people couldn’t see what she did. But that kind of sensitivity comes at a cost. As she grew older, the energy around her intensified. Spirits came not just with messages, but with emotions. Warnings. Echoes of pain. The world became louder, more complicated—beautiful, but often overwhelming. Kaycee opens up about what it’s really like to grow up “open”—to live your life walking the line between the seen and unseen. Her story isn’t about ghosts lurking in the dark… it’s about what happens when the spirits walk right beside you, every single day. This is Part Two of our conversation. #PsychicMe

It begins lightheartedly—with dreams of strange alternate lives and even celebrity encounters in the dreamscape. But the tone shifts when Candace calls with a story that blurs the line between comfort and fear. Her grandmother passed in 2011. A year later, Candace and her husband bought their first home. For a while, it was quiet—until he moved in. Then came the disturbances: footsteps in empty rooms, objects vanishing and reappearing, tools gone missing only to resurface later. The strangest moment was the washing machine incident. For her twenty-first birthday, her husband had secretly hidden a bottle of wine high on a basement shelf. Candace didn’t even know it existed. Yet one day, she opened the washer—and found the bottle inside, intact and waiting. Neither of them had touched it. Other moments followed. Around a backyard bonfire, the garage motion-sensor light flickered wildly until Candace snapped, “Grandma, knock it off!” Instantly, the light shut off—and never worked again. Even her skeptical mot

Some haunted house tales end when you move. This one didn’t. This true story is about a presence that wasn’t tied to a Victorian hallway or a basement door—it was tied to her. From Florenceville, New Brunswick, to Moses Lake, Washington, to Central Wisconsin, a human-shaped void followed across borders and years. If you’re looking for a real haunting that reads like midnight, this is it. She was six when it began—peering through the railings of a towering Victorian in Florenceville. A man’s voice called her name. She ran to the landing… and froze. Below, a figure looked up: a perfect silhouette of a man with no face, darker than darkness itself. She screamed. Life pretended to return to normal. But the ordinary had slipped. By fourteen in Central Wisconsin, the dread returned—panic attacks, midnight wake-ups, the sense of being observed. Then proof: beads on her closet handle rattled violently as her dog snapped awake. She looked up—and saw him, full-bodied, a shadow person that absorbed the room. And yet,

They moved from California to start fresh — a small town in Iowa, a charming house with room for their kids, dogs, and dreams. But the house had other plans. The first red flag? The door slammed and locked her outside on Day One. In her pajamas. No wind, no trick latch — and worse, it kept happening. Always to her. Never anyone else. But that was just the beginning. One morning, as they unpacked and settled in, their dog Ranger began fixating on the basement door, ears perked, tail stiff. Then, from the other side of that door, it began: frantic paws pounding up the stairs, sharp scratching, high-pitched barking — the sounds of a trapped dog begging to be let out. Problem was, all their dogs were upstairs. Frozen in place, they watched the door rattle as Ranger barked back, hair raised. Convinced a stray had somehow gotten inside, they opened the basement door slowly, expecting a small dog to rush out. But there was nothing. Not a sound. Not a shadow. The basement was completely empty. The phantom sounds

What if the ghost story you laughed at as a child turned out to be horrifyingly real? This is the true story of a glowing maid from beyond the grave—seen walking through an attic door in a massive Victorian home built in 1900, nestled in a quiet riverside town in Iowa. For over 15 years, one woman’s sister claimed a ghostly maid lived in the attic, but everyone chalked it up to childish imagination… until one chilling night changed everything. Now 8 months pregnant, our storyteller was spending the night with her grandmother, like she often did, enjoying wine and reruns of The Golden Girls. But when she woke at 2:35 AM, expecting her dog to need a bathroom break, she saw something impossible—a full-bodied glowing apparition of a maid, dressed in old-fashioned black and white, gliding out of the attic and dusting the room like it was still 1905. She wasn’t dreaming. She pinched herself. Twice. The dogs didn’t move. Her grandmother didn’t stir. The ghost just kept… cleaning. When the TV turned on, the spirit

When Carrie agreed to help babysit for her best friend in a historic waterfront duplex, she expected late nights, diapers, and maybe a few creaky floorboards. What she didn’t expect were phantom footsteps, voices over the baby monitor, and a room so unnerving she couldn’t bring herself to look directly at the glass-paneled door. In this episode of Real Ghost Stories Online, Carrie recounts the subtle, creeping unease that built over weeks of babysitting in the Dock Street duplex. The upstairs room—bare except for boxes—always felt watched. Strange thumps, the sound of a ball rolling, and toys moving on their own added to the mystery. But nothing prepared her for the slow, heavy footsteps directly above her while the baby slept. Years later, her friend Dee confirmed what Carrie feared: the house may have been haunted. Her son laughed at unseen visitors in his crib and tracked something invisible with his eyes. Then came the final blow—a child had died in that home over a century earlier. What started as an

This is a Grave Talks CLASSIC EPISODE! Kaycee Colbrun wasn’t like the other kids. While they were learning to tie their shoes or play hopscotch, she was astral projecting around the house. Holding silent conversations with animals. Chatting casually with a grandfather she had never met in life. From the very beginning, the boundary between this world and the next was thin for Kaycee—so thin, she sometimes forgot most people couldn’t see what she did. But that kind of sensitivity comes at a cost. As she grew older, the energy around her intensified. Spirits came not just with messages, but with emotions. Warnings. Echoes of pain. The world became louder, more complicated—beautiful, but often overwhelming. Kaycee opens up about what it’s really like to grow up “open”—to live your life walking the line between the seen and unseen. Her story isn’t about ghosts lurking in the dark… it’s about what happens when the spirits walk right beside you, every single day. #PsychicMedium #TheGraveTalks #AstralProjection

On tonight’s chilling edition of Real Ghost Stories Online Live, Tony Bruski, Carol Hughes, and Todd Michaels invite you into the shadows—where the veil between the living and the dead grows dangerously thin. It begins with a visit to a small-town graveyard. Tom from Virginia, a longtime listener returning after years of illness, recounts eerie encounters among the headstones. When he walks the cemetery with friends, it’s silent. But alone, the voices arrive. On his EVP, whispers emerge: a woman softly saying “friends,” echoed instantly by a man. Later, an older female voice growls: “I know what people think.” The graveyard seems to recognize him, speaking through static instead of silence. Tom revisits one of his older calls, “Be Careful What You Wish For,” and hears something new—an unfamiliar woman’s voice woven into the background. Soon after, objects in his own home move on their own. The night’s stories deepen as Carol recalls editing The Grave Talks and discovering phantom voices on recordings—sound

Not all hauntings scream for attention. Some don’t slam doors or throw objects across a room. Some simply exist—woven into daily life, quiet and constant, the kind that lingers longer than terror ever could. This is one man’s true story of a lifetime of subtle yet undeniable encounters with the paranormal. His first ghost appeared at just eight years old, in the last place you’d expect: church. A modern Methodist church with bright lights, soft carpet, nothing Gothic or ominous. But children notice what adults ignore. During prayer, he opened his eyes—and at the altar stood a hooded monk. Not a minister. Not a trick of light. A robed figure, visible only to him, that never left his memory. That was the beginning. At university, the haunting returned. His design tools vanished from his desk, only to reappear after he demanded them back aloud. A housemate’s mother was a medium. Another flatmate saw a man standing in her bedroom. The presence wasn’t violent—but it wanted to be noticed. Later, working as an a

This is a true story. And it begins with a color most people never associate with ghosts. Red. Taylor had heard dozens of ghost stories, but none that ever mentioned red smoke. That is, until one day while listening to a podcast, someone finally said it. That’s when she stopped everything and ran out of her office. Because she knew what she saw wasn’t just a dream. It was real. Years into her spiritual sensitivity, Taylor already knew spirits followed her. She and her husband saw things, felt things, and even had names for “the ones” who lingered just out of sight. But one night, when she was completely alone — her husband gone, her dog nowhere near — something entered the room. She hid under the covers. She buried her face beneath the pillows. But it knew. It circled her bed. Silent. Steady. And unmistakably present. It wasn’t malevolent. It wasn’t kind either. It simply was. When she woke, shaken, her room was empty. But the image remained: thick, swirling red clay smoke, moving with purpose. Not a mi

In the shadow of the Tower of London — one of the most haunted places on Earth — a group of American students arrived wide-eyed and eager to check off their travel bucket lists. But for one student, the trip turned into a horrifying true story of disrespect, dark history, and possible paranormal revenge. He mocked it all. Laughed at ancient relics. Rolled his eyes at stories of hauntings. And then, beneath the very tree where Anne Boleyn — the famously executed wife of Henry VIII — is believed to have lost her life, he spit on the ground. He danced and joked about "the headless queen," trampling over the memory of those brutally murdered centuries ago. The rest of the group watched in awkward silence, uneasy at his disrespect. But that night, the real haunting began. Hours after his behavior, he collapsed in a London pub. Screaming that his head didn’t feel like it was attached to his body — an eerily specific phrase considering whose grave he'd just mocked — he passed out and tumbled down a full flight of

Some hauntings don’t come from a house, a cemetery, or a battlefield. Sometimes, they follow a person. They weave themselves into a family’s life, like a black thread running through every memory, every home, every breath. Angela’s story begins in Indiana, where her grandmother warned her of folk curses—old beliefs about hair, nails, and the power of binding. As a teenager, she dismissed those warnings. But then came her first relationship: abusive, controlling, and shadowed by threats. Her boyfriend told her he would curse her if she ever left. She escaped with her children after ten years, but his words—like an echo from the grave—never left her. In a Michigan townhouse, footsteps creaked across empty rooms, drawers slammed, and faucets turned themselves on. Her daughters saw faces that shouldn’t exist. Rosie, her oldest, endured sleep paralysis, crushing depression, and whispers that told her to end her life. Doctors said schizophrenia. But when the voices stopped without treatment, Angela began to quest