T Building Terror: A Ghost Story

Busting ghosts isn’t on everyone’s bucket list for school, but anything to get that ‘A’, right? For the students at Algonquin College, this is a real struggle they have to face when attending classes.

Specifically designated to the T building, there have been numerous reports of strange incidents that have been taking place. Thus, the culprit has been dubbed the T Building Terror.

While in coordination with various students and faculty members, it has been determined that the culprit of the following incidents is a creature from beyond the earthly plane. A being who constantly looks forward to causing mischief and mayhem. We don’t know who it is, but the thought of a riled-up spirit roaming the halls certainly leaves me shaking in my boots.

Thankfully, investigating such places is my specialty. And who knows, maybe what we find is even more interesting than anyone could have imagined?

Pranks of the Century

by: alexander Popovkin

As for the problems that have been occurring recently, they all appear to be childish pranks done by this trickster of a ghost. Some of these pranks include students being tripped by an invisible force in the hallway, food being flung randomly, laces being tied together, and backpacks being stolen. Some individuals have even said they feel a cold draft run up their spines in the warmest rooms, but that might just be the anxiety of lurking exams. 

On the more serious aspect of things, the fire alarm has been getting pulled regularly, causing an influx of panic within the students and faculty. Based on surveillance, the mischievous creature has a knack for it.

One student, who has requested to remain anonymous, has reported sightings of smoke coming through the vents in the third-floor bathrooms, which may be the trigger for the fire alarms. Perhaps it’s another display for attention from the Terror itself? Luckily, there are no signs of tampering around the area, but nobody can quite figure out how this is happening.

The Truth Emerges

by: Mariana Montrazi

While doing some digging on who this ghost may be, I stumbled across something interesting. In the old accident reports, I found numerous papers dating back to the early eighties. There was one student in particular whose name came up frequently. Keerie Michaels. 

Many of the incidents reported with Keerie involved acts of bullying that were never dealt with. He would get tripped in the hallway, his things stolen, his laces tied together when he wasn’t looking, food flung at him… until one prank rivalled them all. The prank to end all pranks.

Keerie was in the third-floor men’s bathroom when this happened. He was by himself, and the bathroom started filling with smoke through the vents. When he tried to escape, the door was locked, and there was no other way out. Even as the fire alarms started blaring, Keerie was stuck. He died in that bathroom, only being found when the boys that bullied him finally opened the door again.

So now it’s Keerie’s ghost who roams the halls of T building, seeking revenge against the ones who wronged him.

Last Words

Unfortunately, due to these incidents and the seriousness of their nature, faculty of Algonquin College has put out a statement that they, “Do not want any more harm to come to their students,” and that, “they will be taking precautions to protect and ensure a safe learning environment”.

Thus, I leave you with a list of precautions to take when traversing the T building grounds that will assist you in avoiding any run-ins with a particular ghost.

Wear shoes without laces: this hinders the possibility of the laces being tied together.

Keep your backpack on you at all times so it cannot be stolen.

Avoid the third-floor bathrooms if you can, to ensure nobody ends up trapped inside.

And finally, the school is also taking precautions of their own for the more serious incidents, like having more security around T building, and making fire alarms harder to pull for nifty poltergeist fingers.

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Anders Bourne is a creative person with a love of quiet places and his pets. He grew up in the small town of Chalk River, Ontario and went on to study Professional Writing at Algonquin College. He enjoys various arts, such as drawing, music, and writing—if you consider it an artform. He certainly does, and depicting the scary tales of the world, from the paranormal stories of ghosts and the otherworldly to the immoral creatures that lurk in the night, feasting on our fear.

A Spooky Midnight Walk at Algonquin College

The grueling semester has finally come to an end.

Geoffrey, Hazel, Olive, Sam, and Tiffany had a fun night at ByWard Market celebrating the semester's end before heading home tomorrow. It’s almost midnight. They have just returned to Algonquin College by bus and entered the campus from the Algonquin Centre for Construction Excellence.

“I’ve never been here this late before,” says Tiffany. “Thank God you are all here with me. This whole space feels so chilling and eerie at night.”

the light of The pedestrian bridge over Woodroffe Avenue keeps going on and off at night

“Wait till you get to the bridge,” says Sam. “The light keeps turning on and off whenever it’s dark.”

When they are on the bridge, the light does keep going on and off as if someone’s playing with the switch.

“Anyone wants a campus ghost story?” asks Olive, feeling the vibe.

Tiffany frowns, but the others get electrified by the idea.

“Let me start with the ghost of Christie Mansion at the University of Toronto.” Olive has his storytelling mode on already.

“The Victorian-style mansion was built by successful businessman William Christie in 1881. His son Robert became the mansion’s owner when the father died. Rumour has it he kept his mistress in a secret room in the library, now known as Room 29, when he lived with his family in the same mansion. The lady had everything she needed in the room, so she didn’t need to come out. But soon, Robert got tired of her, and she hanged herself after losing her mind waiting day and night in the small room. People say the room will shut itself at night and lock up anyone inside.”

A deserted locker corridor at building c of the college

“Another testament showing humans are scarier than ghosts,” comments Sam, as they pass a deserted corridor with walls of lockers, a spot Tiffany dreads because she always feels something creepy will show up at the far end and chase her.

“Can we hurry back to our dorm, please?” she begs.

“I have a good one for you that happened at a dorm, Tiff.” Hazel grins.

“Before the dorm story, let me share a creepy tale about Siri that took place at Nanyang Technological University in Singapore,” says Geoffrey.

“In Singapore, the Hungry Ghost Festival is in the seventh month of the lunar calendar. People believe ghosts are freed from the underworld to roam the world of the living in search of food and entertainment during the festival. There’s a not-to-do list for people to avoid bad luck or naughty spirits. For example, you don’t swim or whistle.

“So, for students of the university at Hall 10, they don’t sing in groups. Because a few years ago, some students sang together during the festival. One of them felt a hand on his shoulder, but there’s nobody. They continued to sing until a student’s Siri spoke suddenly, ‘I’m here.’”

algonquin college residence at night

They have arrived at Residence and are heading to Hazel’s room for the last story. Tiffany is reluctant to join but she doesn’t want to be left alone in the now-empty dorm either.

“So, mine is about one of the dorms at the Chinese University of Hong Kong,” says Hazel, as her friends curl up in her room.

“There was a couple living in the same dorm. The girl was on the upper level, and the boy lived right below her room. It was exam time, so the two decided not to meet each other and concentrated on studying until the exam’s over. The girl wanted to show her care for the boy even when they couldn’t see each other. So, she made oxtail soup every day and lowered a bowl out of the window to the boy.

“The boy enjoyed the wholesome soup for days. Then the exam was finally over. He couldn’t wait but ran to his girlfriend. But when he arrived at her room, he saw people moving her stuff out of the room, and she was nowhere to be found.

“Only then, her friends broke the news to him, telling him she died of a sudden illness some days ago. They kept their mouths shut because they didn’t want to distract him from the exam. The boy broke down in tears. But then he realized something weird—”

“Who’s giving him the soup after she died?” chips in Sam.

Hazel then notices something off with Tiffany.

“You okay, Tiff?” asks Hazel.

“Thank you,” replies Tiffany in another girl’s voice. “For telling my story again. But I didn’t die of illness. I killed myself because of the stressful exam.”

---

Iris Tsui was born and raised in Hong Kong, an east-meets-west metropolitan rich in urban legends, haunted places, and ghost stories. She is a full-time college student, an occasional writer, and a 24/7 ghost story collector. Her favourite pastime is to have a cup of Earl Grey and listen to scary tales shared on the radio. Currently, she lives in Ottawa and is exploring the dark scary side of Canada. Don’t hesitate if you want to tell her your creepy tales. She will be more than happy to share her paranormal experiences and story collection with you in return.

The Haunted Washroom of Building B: Algonquin's Toilet Ghost

Photo by Miss g.

On the first floor of building B, down the hallway from room WB156, there’s a women’s washroom. The fluorescent lights are dim inside and sometimes they flicker on and off. Most, if it can be helped, usually avoid using this bathroom, insisting that it gives off a creepy vibe.

I was talking with my friend before class one day about it, confused as to why no one would step foot inside despite it seeming like a very normal washroom. She told me that a few years ago, there was a student named Delilah Morin who was in the last semester of her program. She was set to graduate with the rest of her peers, and she’d be doing the honours of the commencement speech.

However, Delilah had been getting bullied often by a group of girls since she’d started attending Algonquin. They’d whisper things as she walked past, trip her when she was rushing to class, and belittle her achievements. Amongst other things, it started getting to a point where Delilah was afraid of walking onto campus.

One day, a few weeks before graduation, Delilah excused herself from class and headed to the washroom. The group of girls followed her inside. My friend said no one knows exactly what happened, but Delilah never ending up walking out again. It was speculated the girls had drowned her as it was one student who found her in the last stall, hair drenched with toilet water. Once paramedics were called and the body had been taken away, the coroner ruled her death as accidental drowning.

Ever since that day, students and faculty alike avoid using it. Those who have the guile say the air feels thick inside, like breathing through a towel pressed to your mouth. Others have reported that stall doors creak open, faucets turn on and off, and never stop dripping, and most of all, the last stall locks automatically once you step inside and you have to crawl underneath the gap between the floor and the door to get out.

Intrigued, I decided to do a little more digging, and this is what I could find. While the college is closed at night, two students were dared to enter this specific bathroom by their friends. Too stubborn to decline, they ventured inside. When they came out again, roughly five minutes later, they were pale as ghosts and twice as silent. It took an hour for them to open up about what happened.

Photo by Ashley Fraser/POSTMEDIA

One of them said as soon as they walked inside, the lights flickered off and refused to come back on. Still, they pressed on and didn’t think much of it, using their phone flashlights as a solution. The other student described the feeling of being watched, like the walls were glaring at them. Either of them didn’t dare approach the last stall. When they turned to leave, one of them caught a small glimpse of a face peeking over last stall through the mirror. Too freaked out to investigate (that was probably the right idea), the two students bolted.

Now, there’s a lot of debate whether or not this story is actually true. Many want to believe the ghost of Delilah Morin haunts the washroom, while others think those two students lied for fun. But since I personally believe it to be true, I wanted to mention that this wouldn’t be the first haunting in a bathroom.

In Korean mythology, Cheuksin is a toilet goddess who waits until you’re vulnerable before wrapping her long hair around your neck, strangling you to death. In a Japanese urban legend, a young girl, Hanako-san, haunts a toilet. Supposedly, you can summon her by knocking three times while saying, “Hanako-san, are you there?” and she will answer before grabbing you and dragging you down the toilet. As for a more lighthearted tale, Harry Potter’s, Moaning Myrtle, is a young ghost named Myrtle Warren, and she haunts the girl’s bathroom on the second floor at Hogwarts.

While Delilah isn’t Cheuksin, or Hanako-san, or the harmless Moaning Myrtle, her story is widespread across Algonquin College because of the uncertainty surrounding her case. Did she actually accidentally drown, or did her death have something to do with the group of girls who followed her inside? Is she really haunting the last stall, or is it just a faulty lock?

Unfortunately, I’m too afraid to find out. I’ll gladly walk an extra minute or so to a different washroom if it means staying out of that one.

---

Peyden Mongrain has been a lover of the eerie and paranormal ever since she was young. She was born and raised in northern Ontario, but is currently enrolled in the Professional Writing program at Algonquin College in Ottawa. Her favourite thing to do is listen to scary stories either on Youtube, or reading them on Reddit. It doesn’t matter if they’re true or not because she just likes being afraid. She’s heard more than a few good scary stories and would be happy to tell them if asked.

Barking in Darkness: Black Dogs

2017, August. Kamal and Yuthika Ahluwalia—siblings—Joshau Graham, and Avni Iyer were walking as a group from afternoon classes, walking along the quiet road beside Ryan Farm Park. No cars, no strangers; the buses were cancelled due to a shortage of drivers, but their homes weren’t far away, for Graham at least. The siblings and Iyer had to find a bus route still functional. A warm Sunday night with no one around may once have been a good time. But it was in those quiet moments before the storm erupted, and the sound of teenagers shouting as a dog leapt from the bushes adjacent. Blistering gaze, jowls slobbering, fur black as the shadows it lunged from. 

While it attacked no one, offering a simple fright, the next day would prove otherwise. The four turned up in the hospital from sudden, overwhelming illness. While they all could have gotten food poisoning or caught the cold, their deadly sickness may just as likely originate from a far less mundane source, as what they crossed paths was none other than a Black Dog. A ‘malevolent’ one, at that. 

Originating from Western European folklore, Black Dogs are a classification of ghost with one significant feature: their black fur, burning eyes, and an association with death. From the half-time malicious Black Shuck to the stalwart Gurt Dog, their personalities vary as their duties. Many tales spin from their nighttime howls, and as colonizers ventured into the Americas, they too brought their spirits. However, why is this? Why are dogs, among most animals, so prevalent in encounters with the supernatural? And why are they so diverse?

To investigate their endings, you must first observe the beginning. About 30 thousand years ago, humans began domesticating grey wolves, and the rest is history. One can explain their connotations with the deceased with that past too, what with scavenging behavior… but it doesn’t explain how they persist too. 

Over time our bonds became like steel, where humanity dwells, so did mutts. In that way, we bred an undying loyalty. But at the same time, we removed a simplicity of being “animal.” Most non-human animals' live life in the moment, with no purpose beyond what their instincts tell them. Eventually they die and—if you believe in ghosts—they don’t linger long. They served their purpose in life, so they move on. Humans find themselves in a complex situation. Always confronted with mortality, yet it’s with our intelligence that recognizes the fact we are on limited time, and should one care, how we leave the world once we’re gone. In that way, if a person is so determined to stay, or has unfinished business, who’s to say they cannot? Ghosts, in many cases, may form from that desire.

On that basis, animals of high intelligence, or feel such necessity to continue, should be able to remain after death. The dog especially. Already they are highly social and intelligent but add its latent loyalty to their masters, no wonder ghost pets are such a common sighting. Loyalty, of course, may not be the only reason they keep going, but purpose also adds onto that.

Like human ghosts, Black Dogs can be malicious or benevolent, but in a point of personal investigation, and potential bias, the statement of “there are no bad dogs” may prove truer. Many cases of Black Dogs in America have proven harmless, choosing to stay in search of a master long since dead. The Gurt Dog is explicitly a protector for the living, as are Church Grims for graveyard dead. But then you have the Black Shuck, who’s almost always depicted as malevolent. Almost. One late-night witness claimed to be guided home as she cycled by the beast. With its many similarities to a guard dog, and the long history this specter had with Christain monasteries, I recall how Church Grims are made...

Buried alive beneath a church’s cornerstone.

I’m not surprised it dug the graves of five churchgoers, for how could it trust anyone that dawns the clothes of its murderers?

__________________________________________________________________________________

Maddox Charles Gordon Morphy is an aspiring writer and artist from Ottawa, on a constant hunt for those strange and enthralling things. A student at Algonquin College for Professional Writing, he is early in his career of traversing avenues unexplored by more prevalent authors. Despite his lack of time in the field, he’s already pushed himself to take on the the difficulties ahead with grace. Here’s hoping to a long career!

Haunted Algonquin – An Urban Legend

Did you know that Algonquin College in Ottawa Ontario is haunted? Well, according to urban legend, Algonquin’s residence building has its very own ghost. Her name is Brooklyn Marshall, and it all began when she was brutally murdered in her own dorm room.

The tragedy struck in February 2002. It was Brooklyn Marshall’s second year studying at Algonquin College, her second year staying on residence. She was only a few months away from graduating, from earning her paramedic diploma. Ever since, she has been haunting the residence in search of closure, in search of revenge.

By: Khoa Võ

The Legend

The following story is based off an urban legend I was told while staying in the residence at Algonquin College.

It was a Friday night. Instead of going out with peers, Brooklyn Marshall stayed. Instead of doing homework like she planned, she ended up falling asleep early. Besides, she could do it tomorrow, right?

The rain slammed against the window, making loud thudding sounds. Thunder roared outside, scaring Brooklyn awake. She sat straight up, breathing frantically. Normally storms didn’t bother her, but something was different about this one. It was louder, more violent than usual. It felt as though it was threatening her.

Her bedroom door swung open. Brooklyn screamed as if she was getting murdered. The darkness of the kitchen stared back at her. Jenna opened her bedroom door and stood in Brooklyn’s doorway. “What the hell? You look like you just saw a ghost,”

“Yeah, well-” she said, trying to think clearly. Brooklyn took a deep breath and explained how the door had opened on its own.

“Whatever, just don’t scream so loud next time.” Jenna rolled her eyes and walked back to her room, slamming both bedroom doors behind her.

Brooklyn’s mind was racing. Something wasn’t right. She turned on her light, and sluggishly made her way towards the window. There was someone outside standing still on the sidewalk staring up at her. Brooklyn’s eyes widened. Her heart began pounding as if it were about to jump out of her chest. She didn’t know what to do. She was breathing so heavily; it felt like her lungs weren’t working. The person outside was still staring at her, not making a move. For once, she felt lucky that she was on the third floor, because no one could get her from up there.

She closed the blinds and sat down on her bed. She tried to remember the breathing techniques to calm herself down, but they were no use. No matter how many times she held her breath and counted to four, her heart still wanted to hop out of her chest. There were scuffling sounds coming from the kitchen, like someone was picking a lock. “Its just Jenna, you’re fine” she told herself.

Once again, her bedroom door swung open. This time, there was someone there. It was the person from the sidewalk. She screamed bloody murder, for real this time. Jenna groaned in annoyance and rolled over in her bed. They had a knife, and they weren’t wasting any time. “No, no, no, stop, please!”

The next morning, Jenna found Brooklyn dead on the floor. Jenna called 911, but it was far too late for Brooklyn. Reports say that she had been stabbed over 20 times. Unfortunately, no evidence was left behind and the killer was never caught. They could very well be plotting their next attack, searching for their next victim. Hopefully you’re not the next victim…

By: Animesh Srivastava

The Aftermath

After the murder, Algonquin College allegedly fought hard to bury the story. They went so far as removing room 2203, and replaced it with a custodian closet. There has been no official reporting on the brutal murder, and no one has been able to find out if Brooklyn Marshall ever existed.

Today, you wont be able to find room 2203, but you can find Brooklyn roaming the halls late at night. Rumours say she lurks in the dark, plotting her revenge. Others claim she’s friendly and protects the students.

---

Isaiah landry

Isaiah Landry is a writer currently studying professional writing at Algonquin College. He likes writing, drawing, and playing the bass. Besides being creative, Isaiah likes to spend his time surrounded by friends, telling stories, and making people laugh.

A Letter to Lucille

Lucille,

If you haven’t realized, I struggled with my memory after you passed. What I can’t seem to forget is your twisted, mangled face that showed up at the end of my bed every night, reminding me of the fact that you’re not really with me anymore.

By: John Landis Davis

I remember it like it was yesterday, even if it was over two years ago by now. We were just sitting together, watching our show like we did every night. The Big Bang Theory. It was your favourite, no matter how many times you watched it on repeat. I didn’t care about how boring I thought it was; your laugh whenever they told some stupid joke or did something ridiculous made it worth it.

 I haven’t been able to watch that show since that night. I can’t get the sound of your screaming out of my head. All while I stood there frozen with fear, unable to do anything except watch as your life was taken from me right before my very eyes. “A robbery gone wrong,” was how the news described it.

I drank myself to ruin after your funeral, wishing and praying upon some useless star that somehow, I was the crazy one. Guilt and grief clawed at my throat, making the vodka I swallowed burn more with every shot I took.

After so many blurry nights, so many empty bottles, I couldn’t think of anything besides you. I lost my friends, my job, and I’ll probably lose the home we built together next. But these walls felt cold without you lying in bed next to me.

Every night, whenever I went to sleep, the state your murderer left you in when he broke in and stole you from me haunted the back of my eyes. You haunted me in my dreams, and then you haunted me in the waking world too.

By: Vito V

When I saw you for the first time, I couldn’t believe it. Despite how mangled and mutilated your face was, you were there, peering at me from the end of my bed. You didn’t say anything to me, and I didn’t say anything either. It didn’t matter if I could only see your head peeking out over the end of my bed, or the way your lithe fingers slid up to hold the footboard. It was you. Your nails were chipped and broken; covered in dirt and grime, like you had clawed your way out of the casket—out of the grave I buried you in. I thought, “maybe it’s just the alcohol again?” But no. You were there. Your long, dark hair was tattered, covered in mud and grease, but I knew it was you.

We only stared at each other, my heart thrumming violently in my ears with fear, and before I could realize it, you were gone again. Gone like the whisper of a ghost. I faintly remember my instinctive reaction: scrambling to reach for you. At least, that is what I willed myself to do. Yet, I stayed paralyzed to my bed, my own body and mind mocking me in the face of losing you once again.

Your soul was destined to not allow me to rest, even after your death. Or perhaps, it was I who did not allow you to rest?

Then you showed up again, and again, and again. The same thing happened every night. And eventually, my heart didn’t beat so hard against my chest. I wasn’t paralyzed with fear; rather, there was a comfort that flowed through my bones.

After seeing your face so many times, unmoving from the end of my bed, I knew you weren’t there to harm me. You were just watching over me, like we had promised each other in our vows. Your ghost wasn’t haunting me, you just wanted to show me you weren’t angry. That it wasn’t my fault.

Lucille, when you do eventually leave me again, when your presence no longer comforts my dreams, I think I’ll be okay this time. And when I finally join you in that casket buried six feet down, we’ll be together again, just the two of us.

To the stars and beyond, may we rest in peace.

---

Anders Bourne is a creative person with a love of quiet places and his pets. He grew up in the small town of Chalk River, Ontario and went on to study Professional Writing at Algonquin College. He enjoys various arts, such as drawing, music, and writing—if you consider it an artform. He certainly does, and depicting the scary tales of the world, from the paranormal stories of ghosts and the otherworldly to the immoral creatures that lurk in the night, feasting on our fear.

What lives on the Mountain?

This story comes from my cousin Brandon who lives in Thunder Bay ON.

I remember this story because it really creeped me out so bad that I still get full body chills.

two statues of ojibwe women stand in front of mount mckay (anemki wejiw)

At the head of Lake Superior, there is a reservation called Fort William First Nation. In the middle of the reservation is Mt McKay or in Ojibwe Anemki Wejiw. There is a lower summit where pow-wows are held near the top of the mountain, and the last summit requires climbing gear but rewards you with a beautiful view.

Hopefully, this tale won’t discourage you from visiting, as it is a marvel to behold.

Long overgrown with trees and brush, the area was only recently cleared out. The story takes place when the area was still an overgrown lot with climbable, rusted-but-still-red ski lifts going up the mountain. Long out of use, somehow, they were still vibrant against the dark greens and browns of the bush.

In the day, these red poles poked out of the ground like Christmas ornaments on a pine tree. We would run over from the safety of the yard and blitz through the trees to climb them, unaware of tetanus and how ridiculously close we were to contracting it. I remember spending hours goofing off in this “jungle gym” and then running back when we got hungry.

Aerial photo of mount mckay ski resort in 1977

Mount mckay brush durng the day

Sometimes I would stay over at my aunts, sleeping on a couch that faced the side of the mountain we played on. Through the massive bay window filled with plants, at night you could see as far as the front yard, the road dimly lit by a streetlight further down the block, and the thick trees lining the other side of the road. Most of what you could see was pitch black shadows, and slightly less black shadows.

I always felt like someone or something watching me sleeping through the window. I would stay up late at night watching satellite TV (we only had cable at home) and periodically feeling like my skin was crawling, as if someone was intensely staring at me.

Brandon creeped me out so badly I stopped sleeping on the couch and opted for a mattress in the basement.

His story goes like this:

“We were playing on the mountain when me and my buddy heard a crashing way up the mountain. We both looked in the direction where we heard the ruckus, and we see some big thing smashing through trees. Like, smashing trees – no joke, there were broken trees all over the place and they had some guys from MNR come and pick it all up. Weird guys in lab coats and some strange vans.

Anyways. We’re looking up the mountain, and this thing is just going nuts – like just rippin’ the place up. We get scared cause its way up the mountain, and we can SEE this thing, it’s like a big hairy dude, or someone in a Gilly suit, and it should be too far to see details like the chunks of fur or hair or whatever is covering the guy.

So, we both just start taking off towards the house. Didn’t even have to say anything, just took right off. And we’re running, just frickin’ givin’ er down the side of the mountain, and we hear it change direction from wherever it was going, to towards us. And we both start screaming like crazy, because we’re freaking out, I can hear my heart beating in my ears, I can taste blood in every breath, I’m sweating like crazy and we can see the house through the trees.

We’re hooting and hollering like crazy, basically screaming, and the bear man, or whatever, kinda looked like a bear anyways, the bear man behind us is smashing through where the paintball park stands today.

We dip across the road, and as we make it up the driveway to the house, the floodlights come on, we book it up the steps and through the front door, not looking back once.

We’re coughing and dying, but we scramble to the front window to look and see if it followed us, and it’s standing on the other side of the road, STARING AT US. Like, just standing there. Ugh, I can still feel how it felt while it looked at us, thing was UGLY. It looked like a dude, but a BIG dude, his face was fricked up, looked like he got hit in the face all the time as a kid, and was just covered in hair. Like head-to-toe dreadlocks, but not on purpose, like those TLC shows where they should just call CPS instead. It looked like I could smell it, I feel like we could smell it man. Through the window and everything.

I’ll never forget its eyes, just piercing into me and buddy. It was pissed, but eventually it just turned around and walked back into the trees.”

The two boys swear by their story, that it's true, and that there is a bear man living on the mountain.

Other reserve members say there is an angry spirit living on the mountain, or the lost soul of a forgotten member of homo sapiens.

Regardless, something lives up on the mountain, and it is pissed.

---

Creature from the North - Megan Bannon

Bannon brings tales from their upbringing around Anemki Wejiw (Thunder Mountain). Hidden in the shadowy corners of the Canadian Shield, ancient and modern secrets wait to be told.

In an area of Canada where reality subverts itself - the lush greens of the bush, and the piercing white snow, blend together until there is no longer a horizon…

People hear things, smell things, see things…encounter things.

Thanks to being in proximity of this paranormal area during Bannon’s life, they have experienced and heard stories of encountering these peculiar entities. In this creepy corner of the internet, they will share some of those stories.

Paranoiacs beware, and proceed with caution…

Beyond the Veil…

Waverly Hills Sanatorium: Kentucky's Haunting Legacy

First a schoolhouse to teach the young, next a sanatorium housing patients who were fighting against the deadly disease tuberculosis, Waverly Hills Sanitorium in Louisville, Kentucky, was dubbed one of the most haunted places in America. The sanatorium was first opened in 1910 as a small, one-story building, housing a little over forty patients. But with the increase in the tuberculosis epidemic, it went under renovations to expand its walls. In 1926, it officially reopened as a five-story facility with over 100 different rooms. The addition allowed over 400 patients to move in.

Photo by Sherrill Hyman/Courier Journal

Due to the diseases highly contagious nature, the sanatorium was built on top of a secluded hill for quarantine reasons, but also so the patients could be at peace and have lots of fresh air, which, at the time, was believed to relieve symptoms. While the patients were treated with the upmost care, it was rumoured that, according to the owner, Tina Mattingly, doctors used electroshock therapy on those whose tuberculosis had spread to the brain.

The number of deaths within its walls sparks controversy as some estimate the number to be 3,000 to 6,000, while others believe the number to be much higher, approximately 60,000 to 63,000. Although, no one can know for sure since there are no longer any patient records available.

The sanatorium was officially closed in 1961 after medical treatment for the lung disease became widespread around the country and there were less patients being admitted.

The Body Chute

Photo By Marty Pearl/Special to the cj

One of the more infamous parts of the sanatorium is a 500 ft. underground tunnel that leads all the way down the hill. It’s referred to as the “death tunnel” or the “body chute” as it originally was designed to transport deceased patients discreetly. This was done to maintain a sense of peace and morale to the living patients.

Although, it has also been said that the tunnel had a much more lighthearted history, only used to carry transported good into the facility. The tunnel would’ve been used this way to ensure quarantine from the outside world.

Timmy the Ghost

On the third floor, people have reported seeing a young, spectral boy who loves to play ball. He has come to be known as Timmy. Visitors of the sanatorium are encouraged to bring their own ball to play with him. It’s said if you were to throw it down the hallway, it would come back, like a ghostly game of catch.

One instance of this is showcased on the popular Youtube channel, BuzzFeed Unsolved, where Ryan Bergara and Shane Madej explore Waverly Hills. After throwing the ball down the dark hallway, Ryan and Shane go to retrieve the ball only to find it sitting directly under the graffitied name “Ryan”.

Whether it be a coincidence or something more sinister, we’ll never know for sure.

The Elevator Shaft

Also on the third floor, people have reported seeing a homeless man and his dog wandering the halls. When the sanatorium sat in disuse, the homeless man was said to have squatted here, but unfortunately passed away when he and his dog fell down the elevator shaft. Some say it was an accident, but others speculate he’d been pushed.

While I cannot find any actual reports of the death of these two other than what has been said by the owner, Mattingly, it’s still a highlighted component of the mystery surrounding the sanatorium.  

Room 502

Another infamous part of the sanatorium is room 502 on the top floor. It’s deemed as one of the more “active” rooms when relating to ghost activity. The room seemingly has an off-putting vibe once you step inside, and people often report hearing voices and seeing shadowy figures out of the corner of their eye.

Photo by Sandra N. on Trip Advisor

The room gained its reputation after the story of a nurse, Mary Hillenburg, committed suicide by hanging herself on a light fixture in 1928. No one knows why, but it’s believed that she was pregnant out of wedlock from a doctor at the sanatorium. In 1932, the room had also seen yet another death, where an unnamed nurse apparently jumped from roof. Like the homeless man and his dog, it was suggested that the nurse could have been maliciously pushed instead.

There is also a rumour that a young boy who was a patient there fell off the roof, but it may just be the ghost stories entangling. It could have been a young boy who fell, or it could have been the unknown nurse who jumped. Or perhaps it was both.

While some rooms are said to be more active than others, most visitors have noted that the entire sanatorium seems to hold a dark atmosphere. Encounters range from phantom footsteps that follow wherever you go, disembodied voices, and figures appearing in windows.

As of today, Waverly Hills Sanatorium offers historical, paranormal, public, and private tours as well as special events for funding reasons. All I know is I will never willingly step inside.

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Peyden Mongrain has been a lover of the eerie and paranormal ever since she was young. She was born and raised in northern Ontario, but is currently enrolled in the Professional Writing program at Algonquin College in Ottawa. Her favourite thing to do is listen to scary stories either on Youtube, or reading them on Reddit. It doesn’t matter if they’re true or not because she just likes being afraid. She’s heard more than a few good scary stories and would be happy to tell them if asked.

Hear Beyond the Veil

Some say ears out of the five sensory organs are the most sensitive in picking up paranormal signals. This belief may hold some truth as a poll reveals that people have more experience of hearing unexplained voices than seeing spirits. This is the case for me and my mother. We heard something unearthly on several occasions that we can never forget.

Laughter on a dim lane

A lane in shanghai at night

photo: Cody Ellingham

In my final university year, I joined an exchange programme to work as a summer intern in Shanghai.

One evening, my friend and I went to a mansion-turned-restaurant for dinner. It was a time without smartphones and Google Maps, and that was the first time we visited the restaurant, so we could only follow directional signs to get to it.

The former mansion was at the end of a dimly lit lane that was only wide enough for walking two abreast. It was a five-minute walk. As we were slowly leaving the hustle and bustle of the main street behind and expecting the building to show up at any moment, I heard a girl’s clear and light-hearted laughter. It took me by surprise because no one else could be around. The area on the left was surrounded by a chain-link fence, and a small, covered parking lot was on our right. No car was there so my view was not blocked.

I didn’t say anything on the spot because I didn’t want to spook my friend. But when we were seated in the restaurant, my friend asked if I heard something near the parking lot.

“Yes, I did.”

“A girl’s laughter, right?”

A hoo from inside my bookcase

The bookcase in my bedroom

I once worked as a freelance translator. My working hours were mainly at night because clients wanted their jobs done in the morning when they started the day. I worked only at home, a 300-square-foot unit with one tiny bedroom on the 22nd floor of an apartment building. In my bedroom, there was a 190 x 70 x 30 cm plywood bookcase with four doors, a pair on the upper compartment, and the other below. I lived with my mother who slept on a double bunk bed in a corner of the living room.

It was another night I worked until 3 a.m. I returned to my bedroom after a shower and opened the lower left door to get my stuff.

As soon as the door opened, I heard a male voice hoo-ing me from inside the bookcase. I was stunned and confused. I knew it was not possible, but my curiosity overcame me. So, before I could hesitate or stop myself, I had already bent over to take a better look at the inside of the bookcase. No one, no man, not even any body part was there. I then tried to make sense of the hoo. I checked around—no one was walking in the corridor outside my unit, my mother was not snoring, and, of course, no living soul was hanging outside the window in the middle of the night.

I was not too scared, but still, I left my light on for nights.

“It hurts to leave”

the last meal prepared for a dead family member

Photo: Bob Lam Chi Pok

My father died after having chemo. He didn’t have the chance to say his last words.

According to our religious belief, his soul would come home to see us for the last time before he moved on. We had to put his favourite food in the living room, so he could have a satisfying meal before his journey. But most importantly, we must put ourselves to sleep in our beds, or at least not open our eyes when he’s back.

That night, my mother and I went to bed earlier. I woke up after a sound sleep, not feeling anything unusual throughout the night. But my mother had quite a story to tell:

“I could sense it when he came back. I was wide awake but didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t dare to. I didn’t want to scare him away or get emotional if I saw how he looked now. He tucked me in gently. Then he whispered to my ears ‘It hurts to leave’ three times. It’s too vivid to be a dream.”

People can always find an explanation for eerie sounds and voices. But you can’t deny it’s creepy when you hear a voice ask, “Do you want to know what’s under your mattress?” in the dead of night.

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Iris Tsui was born and raised in Hong Kong, an east-meets-west metropolitan rich in urban legends, haunted places, and ghost stories. She is a full-time college student, an occasional writer, and a 24/7 ghost story collector. Her favourite pastime is to have a cup of Earl Grey and listen to scary tales shared on the radio. Currently, she lives in Ottawa and is exploring the dark scary side of Canada. Don’t hesitate if you want to tell her your creepy tales. She will be more than happy to share her paranormal experiences and story collection with you in return.

The Unending Want; the Wendigo

1906, sometime in September, the Fiddlers were broken apart when Wahsakapeequay, or Mrs. Thomas Fiddler, was brought to their doorstep. Officials of Norway House were suspicious to the Fiddlers, but among the local indigenous Suckers, they were a respected bunch for their profession. They were not healers, and what afflicted Wahsakapeequay could not be mended by any medicine. Fear consumed Jack and Joseph Fiddler, Chief Zhauwuno-geezhigo-gaubow and his brother Pesequan respectively, for this was the not the first time they saw someone in this condition. What worse was not the pain Mrs. Fiddler was experiencing... but what she would become once she passed. What would come to inhabit her body, what had tormented her all the way up to their house... 

They slew her, as they had upwards of 30 other similar patients over many years. They were not healers, but they were monster hunters, and specially trained for one of the most dangerous: the Wendigo. 

Perhaps the most well-known of Canada’s malevolent spooks, the Wendigo has found itself in the limelight of popular culture, what with numerous fictional works featuring its gaunt physique and characteristically gluttonous attitude. But to the Algonquin peoples, where this chilling terror originated, it is as real as the threat it poses every day. It is a character to us, but what are Wendigo to those that have to deal with it? Hide from, stave away, and in the worst-case scenario... what is it they have to destroy?

Let’s start with a description, and according to one Ojibwe teacher Basil H. Johnston, it isn’t like many pop culture appearances. It is a spirit, malevolent as they come, and one solely afflicting its curse upon man. The highest chance of possession occurring during the winter months, greed is what invites it most, and once it has taken hold of someone, the person is doomed. Form is hollowed and tightened so their bones are visible through their skin, lips torn and shredded so that their teeth always show, the body white as snow. Like a walking corpse, rising from the grave. When transformation completes, the monster finds insatiable hunger, one it attempts to quench with those they once held close... It cannot satiate this thirst, however, for every human they consume, the hunger grows too, leaving it forever unsatisfied. The body cannot be killed unless the heart, now turned to ice, is melted down.

Despite the efforts of those that take on the spirit, it cannot be destroyed like the person they possessed. And unfortunately, human greed is widely prevalent, especially in times of strife, like during the long winters it so often manifests in. As is, Canadian winters are deadly, and a member of the tribe taking more rations than their share would jeopardize everyone. If not by inviting the cannibal spirit into themself, then by starving everyone, inspiring more disorder that would further summon it.

Because of this threat, many tribes that believe in the Wendigo’s power made certain to enforce the seriousness of its threat. From recollections of the spirits luring the unwitting with voices of those they could trust into the woods to be devoured, to whole ceremonial practices, the lengths people went to prevent Wendigo from coming into being were far and away as manic as the monster itself. No surprise it would lead to the deaths of those believed to be transforming into Wendigo, striking at the monster’s weakest moment.

The narrative implications of Wendigo haven’t been ignored by those who feared it. Like any monster, it reflects the fears of the people, and that worry was spawned by what brought it into our world: Uncontrolled want. Excessive desire. Greed. Today, First Nation populations struggle with unsafe infrastructure; they lack clean drinking water; they face the highest suicide rates, and still they are treated less than human. The Canadian government, despite all the trouble they already caused them, promised to alleviate their issues, but years later, they still suffer. 

The Wendigo is real. It strives to create imbalance, to divide those it once dwelled with. It is willing to endlessly steal just to assuage a hole in their heart that cannot be filled. It decrees sweet nothings to draw in the uneducated and devour them whole when their use is fulfilled. It would’ve been easier to deal with when it wasn’t fully empowered, yet here it is now. 

The Wendigo is real; it wears a suit and tie. It’s eating Canada alive. 

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Maddox Charles Gordon Morphy is an aspiring writer and artist from Ottawa, on a constant hunt for those strange and enthralling things. A student at Algonquin College for Professional Writing, he is early in his career of traversing avenues unexplored by more prevalent authors. Despite his lack of time in the field, he’s already pushed himself to take on the the difficulties ahead with grace. Here’s hoping to a long career!

Ghost Hotel – Fairmont Banff Springs

By: Donovan Kelly

Have you ever been staying in a hotel, but you cant stop thinking about what could have happened there in the past? You could be staying in the same room a celebrity stayed in, or maybe one a gruesome murder took place. With so many people going in and out of hotels everyday, there’s no way to know how many ghosts could be around.

Fairmont Banff Springs is one of the most famous hotels in all of Canada and is as haunted as it is huge. The hotel was opened in 1888 by the Canadian Pacific Railway as one of the first of Canada’s railway hotels. Urban legends say there was a gruesome murder in room 873, which has reportedly caused paranormal activity. Staff and visitors of Fairmont Banff Springs claim that there are resident ghosts, such as Sam the Bellboy and The Bride.

Room 873

According to internet blogs and urban legends, room 873 of the Fairmont Banff Springs hotel was once the scene of a murder-suicide and has been haunted ever since.

The legend goes that a small family, were staying at the hotel, enjoying their lives. Unfortunately, the father was abusive and had serious mental health issues. One night the father drank too much, causing things to go south fast. When he returned to the room from the bar, he snapped and killed his wife and daughter and then himself.

After room 873 was cleaned, it went back to normal, guests and all. But things were different. Quickly, guests began to report being woken up by screams, and feelings of being watched. The paranormal activity in the room began to be too much, so the room was shut down. The door to the room was removed and painted over,

Sam the Bellman

Sam McCauley was an elderly Scotsman who worked at the Fairmont Banff Springs hotel as the head bellman from the 60s – 70s until he died in 1975. Ever since his death, staff and guests have reported seeing him wandering the halls of the hotel.

The most famous sighting of Sam was by two guests who were experiencing difficulties with their room key. The two called the bell desk for assistance but were left waiting for 15 minutes. Eventually the bellman arrived at their room but found that the guests had already been let into their room by another bellman. Confused, the bellman asked who had helped them, and the guests began to describe an elderly Scotsman named Sam who had helped them.

by: JP Fariax

The Bride

The bride is the second ghost that can be seen at the Fairmont Banff Springs hotel. She is commonly seen dancing in the ballroom wearing her wedding dress or descending the stairs as she did on her wedding day.

Reportedly she died on at her own wedding. She was walking down the stairs, making her grand entrance to the wedding, but the wind had other plans. The wind blew the veil in front of her face, blinding her. The veil not only made her trip down the stairs, but also caught on fire from nearby candles. Unfortunately, she broke her neck from the fall and burnt to death. Ever since that day she has been haunting the hotel, waiting for her husbands return.

Maybe the next time you’re at a hotel you’ll see a ghost, or maybe you’ll get murdered and spend eternity haunting it.

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Isaiah landry

Isaiah Landry is a writer currently studying professional writing at Algonquin College. When it comes to writing, or anything, he has a hard time keeping it serious and can’t help but blurt out stupid jokes. Along with writing, he also likes to draw and play bass and guitar. Besides being artistic, Isaiah likes to spend his time surrounded by friends, telling stories, and making people laugh.

The Haunted History: 3 Chilling Tales

Ghost stories and haunted places have always held a specific place within the vast love of horror and the paranormal for the curious. There are a few particular places that I have found to be wildly fascinating and evoke a serious sense of curiosity within. On top of that, many of these stories that end up documented are tragic and decrepit, but despite how gory and gruesome things get, I have the sole belief that it is important to remember the dead, no matter how they may appear to us. Thus, these are my top three favourite spooky places and some stories they have to tell.

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The Tower of London

When it comes to ghosts and phantoms, the Tower of London reigns supreme as one of the most haunted places, at least in England, merely due to the volume of tragic events which have taken place on these grounds.

Photo by: Amy’s Crypt

Back in the Middles Ages, the Tower of London was famously known for its grim history of public executions while the castle was used as a prison. One of the most famous individuals that were executed at the tower were Queen Anne Boleyn, who was beheaded on Tower Green following the accusations of adultery just three years after her marriage to Henry VIII. It is believed that a headless Anne and her procession of knights and ladies haunt the Green Tower, looming amongst the halls in the dead of night, following a dimly lit torch. Anne is just one of the headless women that have been reportedly seen. Among the executions at Green Tower, the beheading of Margaret Pole took place, improperly at that.

Eastern State Penitentiary

Among various rumours and stories that stem from the Eastern State Penitentiary, there are a few happenings that are frequently reported by visitors. One of the most notable instances happen to be within Cellblock 4, where visitors have reported intense negative feelings and even various sightings of unidentified movements.

This place in particular sparks interest in plenty of people largely due to the mass historic elements that has taken place within the torn and battered walls of the Eastern State Penitentiary. In fact, one of the most notable things the prison was known for was its unethical practices of reformation, which eventually ended up causing its closure. There is one incident in particular that stands out amongst the rest, and that belongs to the death of Mathias Maccumsey, who was subjected to the torture of the “iron gag” as punishment for speaking to the other inmates, which was disallowed as a means of “reform”.

The purpose of the gag is like any other, to prevent the individual from speaking. Unfortunately, the gag is highly suspected to have led to Mathias’ death, who was found dead in his cell merely an hour after being placed in the gag, which was place on the tongue and around the jaw. The chains attached to the gag connected to the ones on his wrists so that pressure was applied to his jaw and tongue with movement.

Photo by: Library company of Philadephia

The Island of The Dead Dolls

Although this island near Mexico City, Mexico is eerily spooky and chilling, the story behind it is rather tragic. These creepy dolls were placed around the island by a man named Don Julian Santana Barrera, who was the caretaker of the island.

photo by: Esparta palma

The way the story goes is that Julian came across a little girl drowned in the river and was unable to save her life. To show respect to her, Julian hung the doll he found not far from where the little girl drowned on a tree. Unfortunately, his grief and guilt did not stop there, and Julian continued to collect hundreds of dolls, hanging them all across the island as a means to appease the spirit of the girl, who he believed was inhabiting the dolls. It is reported that Julian was found dead 50 years later by drowning mysteriously in the same spot that he found the little girl. Does it make you wonder if it was really an accident, or if there was something else at play that wanted attention?

Even to this day, visitors and occupants of the island have reported various sightings of movement from these dolls. That those with heads, or even just the hanging heads, will turn to watch passersby, and that the eyes will even blink. Despite Julian’s death in 2001, more dolls are still being added to this island, and perhaps they will be until the island becomes overrun with creepy dolls.

Sources:

https://sailingstonetravel.com/eastern-state-penitentiary/

https://www.britannica.com/topic/Tower-of-London

https://great-castles.com/londonghost.html

https://philadelphiaencyclopedia.org/essays/eastern-state-penitentiary/

https://isladelasmunecas.com/

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Anders Bourne is a creative person with a love for quiet places and his pets. He grew up in the small town of Chalk River, Ontario and went on to study Professional Writing at Algonquin College. He enjoys various arts, such as drawing, music, and writing—if you consider it an artform. He certainly does, and depicting the scary tales of the world, from the paranormal stories of ghosts and the otherworldly to the immoral creatures that lurk in the night, feasting on our fear.

A Look at Mothman

On a cold midnight on November 15, 1966, the cold war was still brewing a chill down everyone’s spines; Ronald Reagan was chosen governor of California, Lunar Orbiter 2 was launched into space, and two couples inside one car drove down State Road 62. The lot of them were responsible adults, the duo of men and women with few distractions besides each other. Against a backdrop of pitch-black woodland, they’d be neighboring a long-abandoned weapon testing facility, the TNT Dome. They might have been talking about recent sports, town gossip, whose house they were deciding to park at, but not much of anything would compare to when the driver and owner of the vehicle, Roger Scarberry, slammed the breaks to a pair of red eyes shining in the headlights. 

Thus, Point Pleasant got its own resident horror that would take the world by storm. 

West Virginia is not absent of its monsters, ranging from the silly Vegetable-Man to the sole dragon of North America, the Snallygaster, and lest we forget the headless Grafton Monster... but this newcomer, making their start in the small town on the far west end of Mason county, stood by and large the tallest, casting its shadow over all of West Virginia. Not only that, but it also took cryptozoology by the throat, effectively standing toe-to-toe with Bigfoot and Nessie. But the Loch Ness monster had a 33-year head start; Sasquatch in 1811. What makes Mothman so popular in the eyes of Americans despite the lateness?

Well, besides being allegedly named after one of Batman’s rogues by an anonymous reporter, and lying in the middle ground of tangible and fantastical, it took on a far more real form than most things lurking in the shadows. Unlike most monsters in North America, Mothman demanded attention. 

Since their first appearance, locals of Point Pleasant fell into hysterics, pointing fingers at every dark and dreary bird minding its own business, or any indistinct object drawing attention with its appearance. The town was caught in moth-mania, with upwards of a hundred people making reports on the skyward fiend, averaging about one report every four days for the next year or so. Many proposed sightings, however, came from children’s books, or eye-witness accounts without names attached. Regardless, these accounts ranged from mere sightings of it passing by, to the extreme, attacking teenagers in their cars. All eventually culminating in Mothman’s most infamous appearance, where not once was the monster actually seen.

Silver Bridge, December 15, 1967, exactly 13 months after the original sighting, the connecting bridge of West Virgina and Ohio collapsed, taking 46 with it. 13, as a number, holds major significance to cultures around the world, and in this instance, would’ve fallen into the category of “bad luck.” Though the tragedy was brought on by a defective link in the bridge's construction, leading to its collapse, it did not stop some people from making connections.

One John Keel, author of The Mothman Prophecies, would be responsible for the theory that Mothman was, in fact, an omen of disaster, foretelling great tragedies of humanity... Alongside also labelling it as an alien and connected to government cover-ups. The man was a ufologist foremost. But with a new mythos constructed around the monster, what once was just a terror of West Virginia now took roost in branches all over America.

Mothman is a household name, and today, despite never being seen again after its painful crescendo nearly 60 years ago, cryptid-hunters, sightseers, and the average horror-enthusiast still find themselves intrigued with this... thing. Books, movies, documentaries, TV shows, and games feature its near-featureless mug, it’s the subject of creatives looking to take new spins on the original idea, but above all, it has no bigger fan than Point Pleasant itself. With its alleged home becoming a tourist attraction, a statue made in its likeness, and a whole museum built to preserve its legacy, tribute has been given to the monster. 

Why do people like Mothman? It isn’t everyday a small town has its own resident monster, but Mothman stands out. It wasn’t a one-time sighting in the fog, or two, it was a year of terror that followed everyone, and left its scars deep, culminating in tragedy it can never be separated from. Unlike other monsters of America, it wanted to be known.

SOURCES

“Couples See Man-Sized Bird ... Creature ... Something.” Point Pleasant Register, 16 Nov. 1966, https://www.unionleader.com/news/back_page/couples-see-man-sized-bird-creature-something-55th-anniversary-of-mothmans-appearance/article_29d2777a-b499-53cd-b0ad-318b1fd955df.html. Accessed 25 Dec. 2021.

Keel, John A. The Mothman Prophecies. Tor, 2013.

Mallow, Gwen. “An Ode to a Hometown Creature: Mothman of Point Pleasant, West Virginia.” Smithsonian Center for Folklife and Cultural Heritage, 7 June 2021, folklife.si.edu/magazine/mothman-point-pleasant-west-virginia.

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Maddox Charles Gordon Morphy is an aspiring writer and artist from Ottawa, on a constant hunt for those strange and enthralling things. A student at Algonquin College for Professional Writing, he is early in his career of traversing avenues unexplored by more prevalent authors. Despite his lack of time in the field, he’s already pushed himself to take on the the difficulties ahead with grace. Here’s hoping to a long career!

The Goatman: A Lurker in the Woods

With stories all across North America, from Texas, the United States to Ontario, Canada, the urban legend of the Goatman is one that dates thousands of years ago. Way back when, he would’ve been considered a Satyr, a male creature that is half-goat, half-man, with an insatiable taste for women. Now, however, he’s seen as a figure of horror. Depicted as a large and beastly, humanoid figure with the goat-like features, he is said to lurk in the forests and prey on unsuspecting campers that have crossed onto his territory. 

Since there are many popular stories of his origin, from Old Alton Bridge in Texas in the 1930s, to the Goatman that haunts Prince George’s County, to sightings all over Maryland and Virginia, it’s hard to track down where he seemingly came from. The legend has been spun countless times, each a different story with its own special twist. Some say he means no harm, while others depict him as a vengeful spirit who drags off those who dare impose on his land.

By: Biguglyjordan

Witnesses of these stories seemingly reported hearing strange sounds around their tent at night, glowing red eyes staring at them from far off into the woods, and most notably, how quiet the forest would get. No crickets, or birds, or wind, just the sound of hooves clopping in the distance that slowly grew closer. They would all feel the same sense of dread, an underlying fear that they were in the wrong place. Supposedly, the Goatman also had the ability to lure people into the woods by mimicking human voices, but I’m not sure if I believe that notion. 

I grew up with this legend and, to me, the Goatman seemed plausible because of a lesser-known story that happened here, in Ontario, Canada, and has personally happened to an old supervisor of mine up by Elliot Lake.

A few summers ago, on a camping trip, we were all gathered around the campfire about to call it a night and settle into our tents when one of our supervisors stepped forward. He asked if we wanted to hear a scary story. We, of course, said yes because who doesn’t like telling ghost stories around a campfire?

He started off by telling how him and his buddies back in 2017 went on a three-day camping trip to end off the summer. They drank, fished, swam, and ate copious amounts beef jerky. But then it got dark. So, they settled in for the night around the campfire much like we did and began telling their own stories. None of them had heard the forest grow quiet because, in my supervisors’ words, they were yelling around and being idiots. They hadn’t even noticed that someone else had joined them by the fire.

By: Pixabay

A few more drinks later, my supervisor turned to one of his friends only to realize he wasn’t standing beside his friend anymore, it was a man he’d never seen before. Tall and lanky with a weird look in his eyes, my supervisor described. He didn’t think much of it because there were other campsites around with people who were also camping in the area. He asked who he was and if he wanted a drink, and this caught the attention of his friends. They all began questioning him because they didn’t understand how they hadn’t notice him before, but the man said nothing at first and just stared.

My supervisor’s face had turned pale when he explained what happened next. He said when the man opened his mouth, it sounded like it was supposed to be human, but something felt off. It was quiet for a moment before one of his friends suddenly shrieked, “What the hell’s wrong with his legs?” And that’s when the man took off into the forest quickly. One second, he was there and the next, he was gone in a direction where no other campsites were situated.

They returned to their tents after that, chalking it up to a weird man creeping on campers, but my supervisor said he’d never forget the faint sound of hooves thudding around outside his tent. 

Whether the story’s real or not, I still get a small shiver up my spine when I saw how disturbed my supervisor seemed when recounting it. And whether the legend remains real or not, I do not want to find out.

Sources:

https://boundarystones.weta.org/2023/10/27/goatman-prince-georges-county

https://www.texasstandard.org/stories/goatman-denton-old-alton-bridge-texas-cryptids-lynching/#:~:text=The%20lore%20says%20that%20as,never%20does%2C%E2%80%9D%20Treat%20explains.

https://web.pdx.edu/~tdehart/Madam%20Mythos/Countries/Med/Profiles/Satyr/satyr.html#:~:text=%22Satyrs%20were%20male%20creatures%20who,known%20as%20Maenads%20or%20Bacchantes).

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Peyden Mongrain has been a lover of the eerie and paranormal ever since she was young. She was born and raised in northern Ontario, but is currently enrolled in the Professional Writing program at Algonquin College in Ottawa. Her favourite thing to do is listen to scary stories either on Youtube, or reading them on Reddit. It doesn’t matter if they’re true or not because she just likes being afraid. She’s heard more than a few good scary stories and would be happy to tell them if asked.

Scariest Ghost Stories and Urban Legends in Hong Kong

Hong Kong, my hometown, is rather (in)famous on the world map of paranormal activities as a city less than 200 years old. Though a relatively young city, it has seen many historical events, natural disasters, and man-made tragedies. A lot of lives were claimed, and a lot of them still linger there. Here are the darkest stories everyone in Hong Kong knows and tells.

The Braided Lady

Photo: cottonbro studio

Rumour has it, as early as the 1960s, a young lady was often spotted wandering along a railroad near the Chinese University of Hong Kong. She would always walk ahead of one or a group of male students who could only see her back and her long single braid. Out of curiosity, the students would try to catch up with her just to see her face. No bloody face, no eerie smile, no empty eye sockets. But another braid on the front of her head. That’s why the road is called Single Braid Road.

Here is the story behind the poor faceless lady. She was one of those who stowed away from Mainland China to Hong Kong by train. Things went terribly wrong as her long braid got stuck when she jumped off the train. So, the braid was torn off with her face, and she ended up on the track. Forever.

Missing body after a subway collision

On Sep. 23, 2024, a weird train accident happened in Japan. An operator saw a man being struck by his train. The train was damaged and stained with blood. But the victim was nowhere to be found.

photo: pixabay

This echoed the spooky subway accident that happened in Hong Kong in 1981. On a busy evening in November, a subway operator drove his train onto the platform of Yau Ma Tei Station. All of a sudden, he saw a young woman jumping down to the track from the platform. He hit the brake at once, but it was too late. Both he and the passengers felt the bump on the track, and witnesses on the platform claimed they saw a teenage girl jumping down.

Police and ambulance arrived. They searched the whole stretch of track trying to find the victim. But nothing could be found, not even a drop of blood. The victim simply vanished. Or did she ever exist at all?

A song that summons spirits

Let’s look beyond the haunted rail tracks and listen to some music.

“But I know, in the morning fog, I will be alone, you will be gone, like tonight”

This love song chanting the melancholy of leaving lovers is well-known among disc jockeys in Hong Kong for paranormal reasons. It is said whenever the song is played by DJs, albums would fall from shelves, equipment would malfunction, or things would be moved around in broadcasting rooms.

“Nights of Entanglement”, sung by singer-actress Connie Mak, is the theme song of the Cantonese horror movie The Occupant released in 1984. The movie is about a house haunted by dead singer Lisa Law (played by Mak), who tells her sad romantic story in the song. So, when the song is played, we hear Mak the singer performing a sentimental ballad, but at the same time, we hear Law the spirit whining about her misfortune.

This backstory helps explain why it is particularly creepy to hear the song in the depth of the night. But listeners are not the only ones to be spooked out. Several DJs are said to be the victims who witnessed supernatural occurrences in their studios when they played the song in their late-night shows. One of them was reported to hear a woman's voice sing along, while staff at a radio station said they saw a shadow wandering along corridors after another DJ put it on.

photo: pixabay

Barbara Tang, who was believed to be the first DJ to experience bizarre happenings playing the song, denied she was the one to start it all in an interview. But interestingly, she confirmed that many baffling things had happened in the days when she hosted an overnight show at Radio Television Hong Kong, without the haunted song playing. “The record player ran backward. The cassette player kept ejecting. The record turned on a stopped player,” Tang said. “The situation got so bad that I had to ask for a Taoist ritual (to appease the unknown powers).”

Perhaps the song is just a mood-maker in the already eerie radio stations.

Sources:

https://www.dimsumdaily.hk/train-strikes-pedestrian-victim-missing-on-japans-nagoya-railway/

https://www.sinema.sg/2020/10/15/sc-the-occupant/

https://www.timeout.com/hong-kong/things-to-do/top-spooky-ghost-stories-hong-kong

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Agqj4DFPvkc

https://youtu.be/EL-99PP1l68?si=ClAlLolkOBDihX84

https://zh.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E8%BE%AE%E5%AD%90%E5%A7%91%E5%A8%98

https://zh.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E9%A6%99%E6%B8%AF%E6%B2%B9%E9%BA%BB%E5%9C%B0%E5%9C%B0%E9%90%B5%E7%AB%99%E5%B0%91%E5%A5%B3%E8%B7%B3%E8%BB%8C%E4%BA%8B%E4%BB%B6

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Iris Tsui was born and raised in Hong Kong, an east-meets-west metropolitan rich in urban legends, haunted places, and ghost stories. She is a full-time college student, an occasional writer, and a 24/7 ghost story collector. Her favourite pastime is to have a cup of Earl Grey and listen to scary tales shared on the radio. Currently, she lives in Ottawa and is exploring the dark scary side of Canada. Don’t hesitate if you want to tell her your creepy tales. She will be more than happy to share her paranormal experiences and story collection with you in return.

Guardian from Beyond The Veil - A True Story

Person in black cloak holding a candelabra

By: homoki Photo

Have you ever had that creepy feeling crawl up your spine, telling you that someone is watching you? Perhaps you’ve seen an old lady watching over you in the middle of the night? Could it be a sleep paralysis demon or is it a guardian from beyond the veil?

               This is based on a true story that happened to my mom.

               One night, my mom was sleeping soundly with her back facing her empty bedroom. Suddenly, something forced her awake. A feeling was crawling up her spine, a feeling that someone or something was watching her. It was almost as if someone was right behind her, assessing her every move. As soon as she realized what was happening, she turned around to investigate. In the corner of the room there was a chair that was usually empty, but now there was something sitting in it. A black figure was staring back at her. They were taller than the average person. When she tried to look at their face, they didn’t have one, just darkness. The figure was wearing a black sandals and a black hooded cloak that covered their face, like the ones the cult people wear in movies or like the grim reaper. The intruder had long blonde curly hair, my mom said their hair looked bouncy. They sat, staring at her in silence, with their hands held together, but they weren’t touching completely, just the fingertips touched. It was strange, but it didn’t scare her. Oddly, she felt calm looking at the intruder.

               My mom was done staring blankly at the figure, she wanted to investigate further, to see who was sitting in her bedroom and why. She sat up in her bed and moved towards the light switch, being careful to not look away, and neither did the figure. Their head followed as she moved across the room. Before she turned on the light she said, “What the f**k are you doing?” and all the figure had to say was “shh.” She turned on the lights on and the figure was gone. My mom still felt calm and turned off the lights and went back to bed. She laid awake in her bed staring at the now empty chair, thinking about what just happened to her, was it even real, what did it mean? She knew what happened to her was real, but didn’t know why they had visited her. My mom said that the figure didn’t make her feel threatened at all, and when she saw them, they felt familiar, like she knew them. When she woke up in the morning, she sat in the chair to see if she could feel anything, but all she could feel was the cold plastic chair on her skin. My mom said that on and off for the next year or two she would find herself laying in bed and asking the figure to show themselves again. Or that the figure would at least tell her why they visited her, and who they were. But she never heard or seen them again.

               My mom said that she finds the experience cool, and one of the coolest experiences she’s ever had with the paranormal. She felt calm with it and peacefully confused.

               Most sources online and people I talk too say that these experiences are nothing but sleep paralysis or tricks of the mind. But how could it be sleep paralysis if my mom was able to stand up and turn on the lights? Other sources say the figure was a visitor from another realm. Personally, I like to think the figure was watching over my mom to keep her safe. What do you think? Are ghosts real? Do they visit us in the night, or are they all around us constantly watching? Do you have a guardian from beyond the veil?

Two people in black hooded cloaks standing in mirror holding scythes

By: alex server

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Isaiah landry

Isaiah Landry is a writer currently studying professional writing at Algonquin College. Along with writing, he also likes art, music, video games, and all things creepy and crawly. When it comes to writing, or anything, he has a hard time keeping it serious and can’t help but blurt out stupid jokes. Isaiah likes to spend his time surrounded by friends, telling stories, and making people laugh.

Introduction

Paranormal paradoxes – almost like Schrodinger’s cat, is it possible to exist and not exist simultaneously? Can objects be hosts to otherworldly entities? When things go bump in the night, is there a monster under the bed waiting to munch your toes, or is it the laundry you forgot to put away weeks ago?

In this analog of paranormal parables, we will explore all that goes bump from the night, from possessed objects to spectral ghasts, for when the paranormal meets the corporeal, are you ready to…

Cross the threshold; Beyond the Veil?