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  1. Join Date
    Dec 2003
    Posts
    11,317
    #271
    M2, may 3rd eye ka rin siguro hehe, nice stories!

  2. #272
    Quote Originally Posted by mazdamazda
    let me share a few:

    > when am working before during saturdays at the office and am alone in the whole floor (18F), I can sometimes hear keyboards tapping. I just turn up the volume of my laptop's speakers to drown those sounds out. by now, am quite used to those kind of noises.

    > another saturday again... am alone in the whole floor (27F). am doing my turnover report and file sorting since I've just resigned then. I was minding my own business when I hear the keyboard behind me tapping. at first I though that it was just the mice going through the garbage bin, but when I got curious and turned my head towards the noise - and it stopped. I went on working again and the tapping started I gain, I turned my head towards it and it stopped. this went on for a few more minutes and then I had enough. I just stared at the pc / keyboard behind me with arms crossed since I was already pissed off from being disturbed. then the keyboards started moving by themselves. I first couldn't believe it but it went on... so I crammed all my personal things in one box and left the office promptly.

    > an officemate of ours just died from a heart attack... a few days after his demise, his officemates would report of smelling flowers in the office. one reported of seeing him huddled over one of his staff overlooking his work. another one (the one with the third eye) saw him with a really sad and heavy face. another manager reported that after a high-pressure meeting (with whom the departed one was the main proponent / mover), she and her staff saw on her cellular phone a missed call from the departed one. when they scrolled for the date it was in the past.
    emotional distress or depression, anxiety can sometimes cause our brains to create images and produce sounds which appears to be real. Environment can also be a factor.

  3. Join Date
    Feb 2005
    Posts
    2,849
    #273
    M2, buti pag alis mo sa building nde sumabay sa yo sa elevator. waaaahhhh!!!

  4. Join Date
    Feb 2005
    Posts
    36
    #274
    I just want to repost a true account of an American married to Filipina who had "scary story while travelling in the Philippines. I found it so scary that I thought I share the story.

    "After 6 days in Luzon, my wife, her daughter, her sister and I piled our belongings and suitcases on and in two trikes outside the Imee Massage, and off we went to the bus terminal in Dau. Prior to checking out of the hotel, Mahal Ko made me change into my worst, and poorest looking shirt, made me take off my shoes and put all my cash into my socks, and told me that under no uncertain terms was I to allow any Pinoy to take or handle my suitcase until I hit the beach at San Antonio, Biri Island. I feigned my best "grim" look, and said, "okay mahal." With that, Mahal Ko smiled and told me she loved me for the 100th time that day, and it wasn't even 7AM.

    Once the trike convoy pulled into Dau, a squad-sized element of rough, desperado-looking Pinoys were closing in on us before the trikes even came to a full stop. I grasped the collapsible handle of my carry on suitcase, de-triked, and four or five hands tried to take my luggage. With a firm "no thanks" I kept my grip and made my way by the bus. Mahal Ko had our tickets to Pasay and we loaded an air conditioned bus. Once on, I laid my suitcase on the floor within our seats and mahal ko and I sat down and sister and daughter took their places in the seats in front of us. As soon as we sat down, a herd of Filipino men and women came on the bus to try and sell us all sorts of foods, newspapers and other wares. I bought a paper and noticed something about "PNP Chief warns media in light of 1707," and even more locals attempted to sell me things. I was, at this point, unaware that this scene would repeat itself all throughout our long journey to Samar. Or as Mahal ko described it, "The terrible trip."

    The trip to Pasay, my first, was rather uneventful and we made rather good time, it being a Sunday, along the Northern Luzon Expressway and into Manila. Along the way, I read that we were in a "state of emergency," but no one seemed to be acting any different and though somewhat alarmed, I couldn't exactly remember what to do in a state of emergency and asked mahal to pass the pringles. I didn't know where I was exactly, but I saw a rather large Jollibee sign and Mahal ko was able to get the driver to let us off close by. We got off and once again, a group of Pinoy men, albeit larger than in Dau, approached us and tried to take my suitcase. "No thanks, I'm good," I said a few times, and we made our way to the terminal. I had loaded up Mahal ko with some cash back at the Perimeter, and she took charge of gathering our tickets to Catarman, Northern Samar.

    Once that was taken care of, Mahal, as she always does, started attending to me, and even though she had stocked up on all sorts of carry-on foods the night before at JJ's, asked me if I was hungry and how about we try Jollibee. I gave my standard, "okay mahal," and her sister Michelle stayed with the other three's luggage, and mahal, daughter and I walked across the street - me still holding on to my luggage as ordered, and went inside Jollybee. The first two meal combos were "out of stock, Sir," and I ordered two of some kind of burgers with the adjoining combo meal, along with other foods for Mahal, daughter and sister.

    As I was eating the burger I noticed that for the first time in my life I was eating food with incredibly sweet, pink mayonaise. After eating, I felt several weird pangs in my stomach and was glad I had been taking daily 500mg tablets of cipro. About 30 minutes later we loaded up on a Philtran, or Phil-something aircon bus and off we went.

    Once we were somewhere near Laguna, my stomach really started to growl, and I thought some nice tangerines might ease the distress. Wrong! The citric acid mixed with Jollybee and my inards were fillled with an extremely large volume of gas. Well, I really held on as long as I could, but after about 10 minutes of intense stomach pain, I looked at mahal who was napping, and I sort of shifted my position and lifted one ass-cheek as non-chalantly as I could and let loose a very lengthy, silent controlled emition, noting that the temperature of the escaping concoction exiting my ass, was extremely hot. I hadn't even expelled one-third of the total amout of asshole poison when I noticed a rather toxic, extrenmely foul odor filling my immediate vicinity. I silently cursed myself and closed my eyes and slumped my head over to my mahal's shoulder and hoped for the best, half-heartedly pretending to be sleeping. About 5 seconds after that, I noticed the lady sitting in front of me and to the left of Michelle and daughter, starting to awake from her sleep, and her face began contorting while at the same time making expansive movements with her nose and lips. "Oh Baho!," she loudly gasped, and I sunk a little bit deeper into my seat. At the same time, my mahal jolted up and moved her head in my direction-seeing me in feigned sleep, and then moved her head all about in a vain attempt to find an explanation for the vile scent that was wafting its way throughout the interior of the bus.

    Although, if memory serves me, the Sultan did impress upon me in his post the need to carry toliet paper, especially if travelling on a kolorum bus. I mean, Jesus Christ, here I was in my first dangerous, potentially explosive (well maybe that's the wrong word to use at this point, I hope Mindlinker doesn't ban me for using words that have the postential to inflame....damn wrong word again) situation and my 9 years in the Philippines didn't prepare me or help me in the slightest.

    Those thoughts being in my head I now sat up ( might as well pretend the gas woke me up too )and looked at Mahal, and said some lame **** about, "Mahal someone made a really bad utot." My mahal looked deeply into my eyes for about 10 seconds and just when I thought I had her, I let loose with another bomb from my ass. Not a genuine fart sound, mind you, but a very quiet hissing sound - only audible within our seats, thank god. Mahal's face went beet red and she too slumpled down in the seat and put her hand over her mouth and started to slilently laugh her ****ing ass off. I lowered my head and chin and began to join her in uncontrolled, though silent, laughter.

    By this time the entire bus, and I do mean, entire, was contaminated. And as I was quietly howling in my seat, I looked up and noticed the driver in the driver's mirror (just like my first grade school bus driver in rural Indiana) and he appeared to be giving me the evil eye. Maybe he wasn't really looking at me. It could have been because I was starting to get worried at this point, and I was really paranoid. I slumped down as far as I could and closed my eyes again and pretended to be sleeping again. All around me, people were making comments, and not quietly. Now I don't speak tagalog very well, and in this case almost all of the words being flung around were in the Waray language. But by the tone and whine of the words being used, I can safely assume they were not good. Two older OCW's sitting to my right had their t-shirts up over their noses - thankfully, somewhat muffling whatever the hell they were saying.

    I started to get very nervous and asked mahal ko for Coca-Cola light and she dutifully stopped laughing and reached into her bag, popped the top and handed me a cold one. Once again my dietary judgement failed me terribly. The carbonation of the coke light mixed with the weapons-grade nuclear waste inside my gut only served to increase the air inside and somewhere along the way managed to mix and formulate the mother of all utots, which came about 5 minutes after finishing the coke.

  5. Join Date
    Feb 2005
    Posts
    36
    #275
    American Account - Continuation (Part 2)


    Now if you think the first two were bad, the next foul fart that left my ass, was so hot it burnt the hairs surrounding my anus. Mahal's sister, Michelle, who had a very serious hangover, finally woke up and like her Filipino brethern, shouted the obligatory "Mabaho"! Again, just like the first time, the passengers all over the bus started to wail and moan and hide their noses under their shirts and before I could start lauging again, the bus came to a screeching ass halt. I **** you not, the ****ing bus driver stopped the bus. My eyes bugged out of my head in a deer - caught - in - the- headlights look, and I could hear my heart beating. Though its old hat to many you old Philippines oldtimers, there are both a driver and a conductor on these busses. And once the bus came to a full stop, the condoctor started talking to the the passengers. I was so freaked-out at my bad fortune and this sad turn of events, that I immediately assumed that the conductor had identified hismelf as part of an underground NPA or Abu Saayaf cell and was instructing the members of our bus to hold down the foreigner in the middle seats and cut his ****ing head off. I looked at mahal, and whispered, "what's he saying?" My mahal, totally lost it at this point and started to laugh loudly.

    Now I have never hit a woman in my life, nor would I, but I clamped my hand over mahal's face rather quickly and was begging her to shut the hell up. Finally, the bus started rolling again, and I managed to get mahal to translate.

    "Mahal, he say apology to the members of the bus, and he ask whoever the person who is who making bad smells to identify themselves and to come forward."

    "What?" "Are you ****ing serious?" "Yes, mahal, he very angry, hehe...." "****!"

    I could not ****ing believe it. I keep my wallet in my front pocket along with my left hand when I push my cart out to the arrival extensions at NAIA. I always get a room with a safe when I'm in AC. I take my friggin cipro. Before I got engaged, I used those ****ing nasty ass trust condoms that felt like I was ****ing a rubber bag. I always count my money at the money changers before I leave. Jesus ****ing christ, I'm gonna ****ing get my head chopped off on a ****ing bus and why? Insulting national Filipino pride? Nope. Gang banging some broad in Subic? Uh-uh. Trying to over-throw GMA? Wrong again. I'm gonna get ****ing whacked on the road to Samar for the high crime and misdemenor of having the fart from hell. This cannot be happening.

    Finally we made our way to one of the many, many, rest stops. Once the bus stopped, the first hawker got onboard with with some kind of hanging, unrolled condom-looking things and instantly made a face, and you guessed it, said, "Oh Baho." At that point all the people on the bus lost it. They were laughing their collective asses off. As my Mahal later related, they said the following:

    "Oh thank God I can get off this bus and have fresh polluted Filipino air to breathe." "In Laguna, there was a terrible smell that invaded the bus and has not left since then" "Oh my god there is a smell that is like a dead animal on this bus" On and on and on.

    Jesus ****ing christ. Filipinos and their "sensative" ****ing noses. I wish I knew the tagalog word for "intestinal distress."


    That's all for now. I 'll finish the rest of this wonderful story later.

    All the best,"

  6. Join Date
    Mar 2005
    Posts
    8,837
    #276
    holy ****ing smell, Batman!

  7. Join Date
    Oct 2002
    Posts
    14,824
    #277
    Quote Originally Posted by ts1n1ta
    M2, buti pag alis mo sa building nde sumabay sa yo sa elevator. waaaahhhh!!!
    well... actually, I have a separate story about the ghost in the same floor (27th) who rides in the express elevator.

    whenever we would go home past 8PM, after the elevator has closed shut... it would suddenly open again as if someone pressed the down button. we are quite used to that already. there was even a time when the elevator would stay open for a couple of minutes before closing... this never happens during daytime.

    our officemate with a 3rd eye confirmed of a girl who "rides" with the elevator.

    ---

    another 27th floor story! hahaha!

    in the lady's comfort room, two of our officemates were patiently waiting for the person in the closed cubicle to finish using it. they could hear some sounds coming out of the cubicle and they got curious when their waiting period extend to more than 5 minutes already. they took a peek under the cubicle and saw a pair of feet without shoes. they were surprised to find a shoeless pair of feet when they stood up so they peeked again and it disappeared.

    so ayun... nagsisisgaw at nagtatakbuhan palabas ng CR. hehe. the receptionist confirmed that there was no one who went inside the CR before the two girls.

  8. Join Date
    Jun 2005
    Posts
    3,281
    #278
    hehehehehe ayos ito ah.... 1st thread after the argument on khaos binasa ko from start to finish

  9. Join Date
    Oct 2002
    Posts
    29,320
    #279

  10. Join Date
    Oct 2002
    Posts
    6,796
    #280
    Quote Originally Posted by ghosthunter

    sonopabiatch

Ghost / Scary / Supernatural Stories [Merged]