I'd like to start this off by saying I am not a firm believer in the paranormal. Until these accounts occurred, I was blissfully ignorant to any supernatural phenomena. Also, there is roughly a three year gap between two connecting points in the story.
About six years ago I attended a class trip to Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. I was about 14 years old at the time. We departed for the trip from Rochester, New York at about 7 a.m. After a long bus ride and some rather embarrassing photos later, we arrived at our hotel, for we were staying two days and one night. My roommates Matt, Eric and Josh began unpacking as I made plans to sneak in some girls from across the hall later in the night. The schedule for the day, however, included lunch and a museum followed by a ghost walk in the woods. After the ghost walk we were to go to and hear the history of some hotel at the main strip.
The day proceeded relatively normal. That is, until we walked down "Picket's Charge" and into the woods for the tour. I walked up this hill, with my friends Eric and Casey on either side of me and looked down at the woods roughly 150 yards away at this point. Our group of about 20 people was following behind us. I clearly saw a young girl with long black hair and a white nightgown at the tree line. She had a dazed, but happy expression on her face, but what scared me was her rather elongated fingers and sharp nails. Apparently I had stopped in my tracks and stared at it for too long, because my friends were asking what the hell was wrong with me. I shook it off as nothing and continued down the hill. The figure disappeared as soon as I looked away.
Our group went into the woods and heard some bland, generic stories from historians and locals. Proceeding that, we got to the hotel (not the one we were staying at) for the next lecture. They seated all of us in the basement which had chairs arranged. This basement was by no means finished. It had the original stone foundation and wooden ceiling. Seated beside me was Eric, to my left, closest to the wall. The hotel staff began speaking about the eerie history of the place. About 15 minutes in Eric was looking nervous. He didn't respond when I asked him what was wrong, but he was fine again minutes later. We left the area and went back to our hotel as it was 11 p.m.
Eric and I met back up with the rest of our roommates and proceeded to our room. As the long night went on, I was sitting under the window, Eric was laying on a bed and Matt I believe, was passed out in the tub. At this time, Eric looked at me with the most terrified expression I had ever seen anyone give. This, along with his other episode back in the basement, led me to intensely question what his deal was. Refusing to give an answer, he get furious with me and told me he was going to bed. The rest of the trip continued rather normal. It wasn't until years later that I had to deal with one of the most terrifying experience/realization of my life.
Three years after Gettysburg, Eric, my father and I were messing around with a Ouija board in my kitchen. We really wanted to see something cool so we had candles, power and phones off, the works. My father left us alone after about 20 minutes into the session as he had somewhere to go. Eric and I continued until about 1 am when Eric's phone started vibrating. Mind you, his phone was off. He began to freak out, and started saying, "It's happening again" along with some other serious cussing. We couldn't turn his phone back on, nor stop the vibrating for an unsettling 5 minutes. When it did finally stop, we heard a loud banging in the attic.
Now, I don't have the average horror movie attic with stairs leading up to it. It's really just a crawl space with the only access point being a hole in the ceiling of the garage. Both of us knew we'd have to check it out if we were ever going to get any sleep that night. So, we closed the Ouija board and went into the garage, and I climbed up to take a look in the attic, as Eric was in no condition for anything else even remotely spooky. Nothing. Absolutely nothing was up there. Not a creature, or even anything stored. What the hell made those unexplained noises?
I woke up in the morning and started making coffee, trying to brush off the night before. Eric came into the kitchen minutes later with an uncomfortably solemn look on his face.
"We need to talk."
Finally, at this point, I got to hear the connecting point. "That night back in Gettysburg, I saw something in the basement of that hotel. I saw these long fingers with sharp nails slowly caressing the window pane from the outside." My heart began to race. "When I tried to make sure I wasn't just seeing things, my phone started vibrating, but the battery was out of it and in my other pocket." A strong surge of anxiety poured over me as he went on with his explanation.
"Remember when we were back at the hotel afterwards, and me and you had that argument? I saw something behind you. In the window. A little girl in a white nightgown with long black hair. And She. Looked. Pissed." "What?" I responded with in my stupor. He continued. "The morning after I saw that in the window, I woke up with three long, bloody scratches under my shirt from my neck to my waist that were hot to the touch." I thought I knew what he was going to show me next, but I wish I hadn't. He lifted up his shirt, revealing three long bloody scratches, from his neck to his waist. He insisted I feel them. Burning hot to the touch, in the middle of February.
To this day, I still think I can see her out of the corner of my eye, lingering near wooded areas.
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