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You have stumbled into a website
unlike any other on the Internet. It is a site of the unexplained, the
unusual and the unknown. It is the most mysterious site upon the Internet
and you are now trapped within it's borders, tables and pages.
Admission was free but you have
to pay to get out! To the right you will see a door entitled
"ENTER HERE TO TELL YOUR FREAKY TALE!" It is the key to your passage beyond this realm.
Click the button and you will be taken to the place where your story can
be told. Share your tale with us and you may pass safely back into your
world.
Pretty melodramatic, wouldn't you
say? But the truth is, this is indeed a website like no other because this
website is built by it's visitors and is in a constant state of change.
You add to it each time you share your stories or photo's with us. Everyone has a
tale of the bizarre or supernatural. Each person has had an experience
that is beyond belief. Some people even hesitate to share their experience
for fear of ridicule. Well now those stories can be told and shared here at
Freaky-Links.com
in safety.
So what are you waiting for
Traveler? Click upon the "ENTER
HERE"
button to the right that will allow your tale to be told and
share your experience with the world. For only then will you find escape
and solace.
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FREAKY TALES
This page is like summer camp and we are all gathered around the campfire
to see who can tell the scariest tale. Each month we will feature one of your
stories
here. The stories will be picked from those that you post on the
Freaky Links
Stories page.
THE ALBINO WOMAN - By: J. A. George - Edited By: The GYPSY
While we are on the
subject of cemeteries allow me to relate the strange tale of the Albino Woman to
you my faithful readers. The story of the Albino Woman is a ghost story that has
touched me in the past and will again become part of my story in the future. The
cemetery she haunts, Rochester Cemetery, is located on the northwest outskirts
of Topeka, Kansas and is the final resting place of my family as it will also
someday be the final resting place of my wife Debbie and I.
This ghost story has its
roots in the life of a strange albino woman who wandered her north Topeka
neighborhood at night and glared at children on their way to school during the
day. As a child she had been mercilessly teased by her classmates. That taunting
had followed her to adult hood as the neighborhood children would call her names
and yell insults at her. After the friendless woman died in 1963 of mysterious
circumstances residents began reporting a glowing white female figure walking in
the area after dark especially along Shunganunga Creek.
Often the sightings were
near Rochester Cemetery where the woman was buried and through which Shunganunga
Creek flows. To this day employees of the nearby Goodyear Tire Factory claim to
see her regularly, and some neighbors see the apparition as often as once a
week.
It was August of 1964 and I was trying on clothes in the
dressing room of the children's department on the second floor of Pelletier's
Department store which my Grandmother was Manager of. It was time for me to get
my new school clothes. School was going to start soon and I would be entering
the second grade.
Suddenly the door to the dressing room flew open and
there stood a tall veiled woman dressed entirely in black. her red eyes were
visible through the dark veil as she reached out a gloved hand towards me. As
the arm came closer I saw with horror the pale almost bluish flesh of the arm
between her sleeve and glove. I let out a scream and she froze in her movement.
Appearing behind the tall frightening figure was the small stature of my
Grandmother. Summing up the situation quickly my Grandmother forcibly ordered,
"Leave! You are not welcomed here!" The veiled woman slowly turned as I crouched
back against the wall. I heard my Grandmother repeat, "You are not welcomed
here." She then ordered, "Now leave!" The tall figure with the red eyes and
bluish skin silently glided past my Grandmother and towards the stair well. I
ran to my Grandmothers arms and watched, along with the employees that had come
running when I screamed, the frightening figure descend the stairs and quickly
disappear.
I was to learn later that this apparition was that of
the Albino Woman who had died the year before. I was not to learn until four
years later why she had sought me out.
The Rochester Cemetery's
caretaker and his wife had a close encounter with the ghost late one night in
1968. As they pulled their car into the driveway they saw a figure scurrying
among the gravestones. Thinking it a child playing a prank, they aimed the car's
headlights at the figure, which was then kneeling before a grave. When the
caretaker got out of the car, the ghostly figure stood up and glared angrily at
him and walked deeper into the cemetery. The caretaker was so upset he called
the police but the officers found nothing.
The ghost's route was so
regular that one resident began watching for it as it strolled across his lawn
on clear nights. Eventually, he claimed, the figure began to pause and gaze at
his house as though it wished to speak to him. It began to pass closer and
closer to the house until one night it stood at his children's bedroom window
and watched them as they slept. The man was badly scared, but the apparition
never harmed his children.
This was not the only
house that the Albino Woman looked within the windows. One hot summer evening in
1968 as I lay asleep, my bed by the window to catch what little breeze drifted
into the bedroom. We were poor and air conditioning was not a luxury we could
afford so a rotary fan moved the stagnant air around the room. I was awakened by
a scratching sound at my window. In my groggy, half asleep state I thought it
was my cat, Blue Boy, scratching at the screen. "Stop it girl," I mumbled. That
is when my cat hissed. I opened my eyes to see Blue Boy, her back arched, her
hair on end and hissing at the window. I rolled over and looked into the glowing
red eyes of the Albino Woman who was standing right outside my window glaring at
me with an intense stare that was without emotion. I screamed and scrambled out
of my bed.
My Mother came running
into the room and saw the hideous apparition standing at the window. "Leave us
alone, damn you," my mother screamed, "leave us alone!" My mother grabbed my arm
and shoved me from the room. "I am sorry, OK?! I am sorry! Now leave us be!" My
mother yelled as she exited the room and slammed the bedroom door close.
I found out that night
that the Albino Woman had lived in a house in my mothers childhood neighborhood.
My mother and her friends had taunted the poor hapless woman everyday as they
walked to and from school.
I have not had an
encounter with her since the night my Mother apologized almost 40 years ago now.
But it is said that she still walks along Shunganunga creek and prowls the
interior woodlands of Rochester Cemetery at night. Do me a favor will you? If
you are ever in Rochester Cemetery and you meet a tall woman dressed in black
with piercing red eyes and pale bluish white skin, don't tell her that you know
me or that you know where I live. I'll have a word with her after I am laid to
rest there.
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