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Louisiana Halloween Story


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Louisiana Halloween Story

This happened about 6 months ago on Louisiana Hwy 57, just outside of Dulac, a little town in the bayou country of Louisiana, and while it sounds like an Alfred Hitchcock tale, it's real.

An Ohio businessman, Saul Rubins, abandoned his disabled vehicle on the side of the road, and attempted to hitchhike. The night was pitch dark in the middle of a thunderstorm. Time passed slowly and no cars went by. It was raining so hard he could hardly see his hand in front of his face.

Suddenly, through the sheets of rain, he saw a car moving slowly, approaching and appearing ghostlike in the rain. It slowly and silently crept toward him and stopped. Desperately needing a ride, Saul jumped in the car and closed the door. Only then did he realize that there was no one behind the wheel and no sound of an engine to be heard over the rain.

Again the car crept silently forward and Saul was terrified, too scared to think of jumping out and running.. He saw that the car was approaching a sharp curve and, still too scared to jump out, he started to pray and beg for his life; he was sure the ghost car would go off the road and into the bayou and he would then drown!

But just before the curve, a shadowy hand appeared at the driver's window, reached in and turned the steering wheel, guiding the car safely around the bend. Then, just as silently, the hand disappeared through the window and Saul was alone again.

Paralyzed with fear, Saul watched the hand reappear every time they reached a curve. Finally, scared nearly to death, Saul had all he could take, jumped out of the car, and ran to town.

Wet and in shock, he went into Schmoopy's. Voice quavering, he ordered two cups of coffee, black, and then told everybody about his supernatural experience. The room became silent and everybody got goose bumps when they realized Saul was telling the truth (and not just some drunk). About 30 minutes later two Cajuns, dripping wet, walked into Schmoopy's and one says to the other, "Look, Boudreaux, ders dat idiot what rode in our car when we wuz pushin' it in the rain!!!"


"Time is too slow for those who wait; too swift for those who fear;

too long for  those who grieve; too short for those who rejoice.

But for those who love, time is eternity."

(Jane Fellowes)

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kk, first, that was too weird, when I went to reply, it gave me your story to edit...(spookie)


LMAO *any one see it?*


I am reminded of when my niece (now 23) was about 3 and a half, and we were at my mothers house. I was sitting in the back room with my back to the kitchen door. I heard her come into the kitchen, open the refrigerator door and the clink of jars (knowing that she had a weakness for pickles) I said casually "Jessie, put the pickel jar back- no snacks before dinner" she put it back and came to me and said "How did you know what I was doing??" I shrugged

"I have eyes in the back of my head" She proceeded to use her fingers to poke through and move the hair on the back of my head, searching. finally she said "I don't see them"


"Thats because your fingers are in the eyes and they are closed..."

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LOL That one gave me the creeps till the denouement :notworthy: .

@Kath - If you click the reply button seen on a previous post it will automatically quote the contents of it in your own reply so that can address specific points if you wish. That's why you could see Darlene's entry in your own reply box. I hope that makes sense.

Here's hoping you are gathered around the camp-fire with your marshmallows cos I've got a spooky story with a twist of my own.


A Knife in the Grave

Tom, Fred, and John were sitting at the cafeteria table during lunchtime, discussing some of the local urban legends.

"According to my Uncle, his friend walked into the cemetery on a full moon, and at the stroke of midnight the hand of a skeleton reached up out of the ground and grabbed his leg," Tom explained as he twirled his fork around the pile of spaghetti on his plate.

"Yeah, whatever," John replied as he rolled his eyes.

"So, um, what happened then?" Fred stuttered as he stared at Tim with wide and fearful eyes.

"Well, they say that he was pulled down under the dirt and, trapped there, he died of suffocation," Tom answered, glancing back and forth at his two friends.

"Wow," Fred said as he broke a corner off his cornbread and popped it in his mouth.

"Get real. That's one of the oldest stories about Greywood Cemetery. Everyone knows it's a bunch of baloney." John said, looking at Tom with disdain.

"Okay then. Tomorrow night is a full moon. I dare you to stick a knife in the ground at midnight and leave it there. We'll check in the morning to see if you really did it." Tom answered, matching John's look with a smirk.


"Fine," Tom said as he shoved his hand across the table. John reached over his plate, grasped his friend's hand firmly, and shook it. The deal was made.

The next night, John crept silently into the dark end foreboding cemetery. It was far spookier than he remembered it seeming during the day. Finally, he found a fresh plot that had recently been filled in. He quickly removed the jack-knife from his jacket pocket, and unfolded the blade. As he watched the moon's reflection dance on the silver blade, he realized that his hand was shaking.

Whatever...it's just a story, just do it.

He squatted down, closed his eyes, and slammed the blade into the freshly packed earth. He waited a few moments.



He went to stand up, and at that moment he felt a tug on his jacket. He tried harder to stand up and realized that something had a firm hold on his jacket and was pulling him down toward the ground. His heart froze and he screamed at the top of his lungs until all of his breath was expended, and he passed out.

The next morning, his friends found him asleep by the grave. As they woke him, he started to tell the story, and then they all quickly looked down at his jacket where he'd been grabbed and pulled. Immediately, Tom and Fred burst into hysterical laughter. John just sat there staring at his jacket, with a corner pinned to the ground by the blade that he, himself, had thrust through it.



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Kath, anyone see what, the ghost popping in and out? I'm still waiting to see what happens when the spider finds me. :pumpkin4:

Great story Mark.


"Time is too slow for those who wait; too swift for those who fear;

too long for  those who grieve; too short for those who rejoice.

But for those who love, time is eternity."

(Jane Fellowes)

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