 |
questions&answers
thequestion:
Do you believe in ghosts? Tell us your horrifying tale of terror! |
|
archives:
12.01.04 : Tell us your tale of your most memorable trip to see the mall Santa
10.03.04 : DIY or store bought, doesn't matter. What are you going to be for Halloween?
10.01.04 : So we all watched it, now what do we think? Who avoided the questions best, Bush or Kerry?
09.23.04 : Bush or Kerry? Who would you rather have a drink with?
09.14.04 : As the season's change approaches, what is your favorite part of fall in Chicago?
09.06.04 : What was the best part of your Labor Day weekend?
09.01.04 : There is so much that makes Chicago great. What does the city not have that makes it wonderful. For example, an East
|
theanswers:
| 10.12.04 3:33 PM :
grandpa's painting says: |
| When my grandfather past away mr grandmother asked if I could repaint his den. In doing so I had to remove all the pictures from the wall. The painting went fine except for the spot on the wall that was covered by a portrait of my grandfather. The paint always ran there, looked like tears, it would not stick to the wall. We never painted that spot and just put grandpa back up.
Guess grandpa didn't like the color |
| |
| 11.12.04 6:11 PM :
Todd says: |
| We had a ghost in our first suburban home in St. Louis back when I was 5. The room I slept in used to be a little girl's room. The father in the home's previous family fell down the basement stairs and broke his neck, and the mother and two daughters ended-up moving out. Almost every night, I would wake-up and see a shimmering figure in my bedroom doorway, watching me. I called him Gumbi, because he was green and bald. He never really scared me, but I would still jump out of bed, dive under his legs and dart into my parent's bedroom each time he appeared. My parents thought I was imagining things, until my brother saw him pass by his bedroom door. My bro thought it was my dad, home from work, and chased after him, but Dad wasn't home yet, and Mom was in the kitchen. He would pop-up every so often. My Mom witnessed him in the basement a few times, hanging out near the playroom he had built for his daughters, that was now my brother's and my playroom. When we moved out of the house, Mom had all of us tell him goodbye, and told him to be as nice to the new owners as he was to us, and also to thank him for always watching over my brother and me. Now that I think back on it, it's all really really creepy, but at the time, it seemed normal. Hrmm. |
| |
|