I work at a small motel in Tennessee. I've been at this place along time and had heard stories of the owner's first wife passing away on the property. She was said to have fallen down a flight of stairs and died instantly. Years after her death, the upstairs attic area was remodeled and made into rooms. A few months ago, I was alone at the motel working. The front desk was closed due to slow business during the winter months. I had only two or three rooms to clean then I would be heading out. One of my rooms due to check out that day was on the upstairs level. I noticed the car belonging to the lady I saw go into the room the day before was still there. My fist thought was that she had went shopping or walking through town before leaving.

The story of the Black-Eyed Kids inspired me to send in my story because I think I ran into the adult version, though there was no feeling that I would die:

It was a nice sunny day in November and I had been out running some errands. I decided to stop at Starbucks on my way home to get some tea. There were a lot of people at Starbucks, no surprise. I got my tea, headed out the door, had to stop and organize myself as my keys migrated to the bottom of the purse and I still had to get my wallet in! So I plopped the stuff down on an open table and tried to get my act together. I felt like I was being watched, so turned around to give whatever to the perv that I assumed was watching me, and the smart aleck remark died in my mouth as I caught sight of him and made (inadvertent) eye contact.

This happened when I was about 8 years old. We moved to a small mining town with a very small population. We went and looked at the houses there and there was this house that my parents decided on that gave me this creepy feeling. I still remember it like it was yesterday there are feelings that you can shake off and then there are the ones that stick with you for the rest of youre life.

Now this house was a 3 bedroom place there with a pond outside the yard was not big at all. The one room in the house had me frightened I did not like to walk past it or even go in there. It ended up being my sister's room, she is 3 years younger than me. When ever I had to go in there I will have all of these mixed emotions, anger, crying, and feeling outraged. The one night my sister came to my room crying, and she tells me the lady is standing at her bed. I told her that she can sleep with me in my room.

We knew right from the start that Johnny was going to be a soldier. Even as a child, all his concentration was on the military. So we weren't surprised when he joined the Marines right out of high school.

Johnny excelled in his chosen career. He was so happy to be serving his country. I could see it in his face every time he came home on leave. He was itching to get into some "real action", something that - as a mother - frightened me. He was my only son, and I didn't want to lose him. But he was also a grown man with a wife and a baby on the way. I was very proud of the way he was living his life.

As a writer of Victorian novels that have a definite Gothic twist, I’ve often been asked if I draw upon any personal events regarding ‘ghosts’ which are then included in my work. 

I have had experiences that might be considered ‘supernatural’, but whether this is a real force, or an internal manifestation of extreme emotions such as grief, well, I am in two minds about such things.

But there is one event very clear in mind from the time of the death of my step-father — a man who had loved me as his own and for whom I had the greatest affection. 

Wendy Leigh saw the great love of her 20's after he died

I’ve never believed in ghosts, but three years ago I had an earth-shattering manifestation of the ghost of a dead former lover.

His name was Richard, he was 6ft 2in, with bright blue eyes, dark hair and a smile that could warm an Arctic winter. 

Santa Montefiore's earliest memories are of seeing shadowy figures wandering around my bedroom at night

I have seen spirits since I was a child. My earliest memories are of seeing shadowy figures wandering around my bedroom at night. They seemed darker than the darkness, and appeared unaware of or certainly uninterested in me. 

I’d watch them in terror, my heart racing, until I found the courage to reach out and switch on the light. At that moment they would disappear.

Hannah Betts' new home outside Birmingham boasted three spectres: a woman who paced the ground floor, an aged doctor forever racing up the stairs searching for a dying grandson, and the victim of a confrontation that had spilled over into murder

I consider myself a sceptical atheist, yet spooks inveigled their way into my life in a way that made their existence impossible to deny — much as I and my family wished we could.

One summer in the early 1970s, I’d travelled ahead of my family to work in the bar of the Old Head Hotel in County Mayo, which is where we holidayed each year. 

Along with several girls working as maids, waitresses or front of house, I was billeted in what was known as The Annexe, a converted stable behind the kitchen. 

These days, Health & Safety would call it uninhabitable, but our excitement at being away from home and hitching into the local dances each night went a long way towards helping us ignore the damp and mould.