Category Archives: Legends

Narratives about belief.

Ed the Friendly Ghost

Age: 19
Performance Date: 10/23/2025

EH: “My mom and my dog, like, left the house, and they went to the park, which is not at all close to my house. And then there was, like, tacking on my window, and I heard my mom’s voice yelling at the dog. And it was like the same yelling that she had done the night before so the dog would come inside. 
And I was like, that’s weird because they’re not here right now. And so I asked my mom later. She’s like, oh, that was probably just Ed. I was like, who the **** is Ed? 
And she was like, he’s our house ghost. Don’t worry, he’s not like malevolent or anything. I was like, I hope you would have told me that sooner if he was, but also, we have a house ghost? 
And she was like, yeah, he’s like, he’s older, he died of old age in the house. It’s fine. He’s nice. 
He just likes to tap on the windows and mimic people. And I was like, okay, that’s crazy. But, like, apparently I had him around your whole childhood? 
During my childhood, I thought I had an over of active imagination, ’cause I would, like, I had a bunch of, like, figures and stuffed animals, and so I would, like, make these complex plots, and, like, I thought I was just, like, making voices, but, like, I realized now it wasn’t me making voices, it was Ed.”

Interviewer:  “But, like, other people hear him?”

EH: “Yeah, like, my parents heard him. He liked my room the most. 
I think that might have been where he died now that I think about it. Oh my god. Because my parents lived, their bedroom was originally in my current bedroom, and they would hear him in there the most. 
And then they moved bedrooms and they were like, let’s stick our daughter with that. Naturally. And so I heard him all through my childhood because I had, you know, like those weird horror movies where like the kid has like a playmate and then like they show a picture of it, like a drawing or something and then it’s like this horrific creature. 
That was me, but I never drew Ed and I didn’t think Ed was like a real person. I thought it was just violently hallucinating. But Ed is like a real person. 
He’s a real guy. I found him on ancestry.com. My parents looked him up. 
My dad had that **** bookmarked. Yeah, that’s crazy. I’m gonna ask them for his last name so I can, like, show you guys.”

Interviewer: “So all of a sudden finding this out, how did it impact you? 
Like, what do you take out of your experience?” 

EH: “Well, 1st of all, I lived with a ghost, so, like, there’s that. He was, yeah, he was a friendly guy. 
Friendly old guy. Like it wasn’t weird. He was just like, he played with me, you know? 
Apparently. Now that I think back, I was like, I wasn’t making all the voices, okay? Oh my God. 
But yeah, so I’m like…”

Interviewer: “And is he still there?”

EH: “I haven’t heard from him in a while. 
Mostly because I’ve been here, but when I’ve been back in my house, there hasn’t been much. I think there’s been tapping, but he hasn’t done a lot of voices recently. Let me text my mom.”

Context: This story was told to the informant by her freshman dorm roommate in late October, while the two were in their dorm with another student, and they were discussing classes together. When the topic of ghosts came up (as a topic of a GE Seminar), EH immediately mentioned her complete belief in ghosts because she had had a recurring experience with one. Piquing the interest of her peers, she immediately jumped into this story. 


Analysis: This tale illustrates a ghostly take on the classic ‘imaginary friend’ situation often portrayed in popular culture. Prior to this conversation, EH had not mentioned this aspect of her childhood, assuming it was not out of the ordinary to have had such a normalized relationship with the uncanny. The informant has true belief that throughout her childhood she continually interacted with this household ghost, and that ‘Ed’ continues to occupy (EH avoids the term haunt) her house to this day. Her encounters with the spirit are unique in the sense that Ed never fully presented himself to her, but just existed as a voice or tapping noise. The tapping noise associated with the company of the household spirit is a common motif across ghost stories, being seen, often ominously, as a ghost’s way to make their presence known. However, the subject makes it clear that in no way is the ghost unwanted or invoking fear. Rather, the ghost is treated as a member of the household, acting as a playmate and lighthearted imitator.

The Haunted Routes of Rehoboth

Age: 71

 MC: “I live in Rehoboth, Massachusetts, which, of course, is in New England.

And there are a lot of old ghost stories that center around the region we live in.

And many years ago, well, probably about 20 or 30 years ago, um, an author from the town that I live in, Rehoboth, um, decided to investigate some of the stories he had heard about.

And one of the stories was the redheaded hitchhiker of Route 44.

And as the story goes, this is first traced back, I think, to the late 60s.

Someone was driving down Route 44 from Seekonk into Rehoboth.

And all of a sudden, a face appeared on the right outside the passenger window, and it was obviously really scary.

It was nighttime.

And the thing was, the car wasn’t stopped, it was going.

And the face was, like, pressed up against the window, and he stayed there for a while and just disappeared.

Now, many years later, there were several other sightings of this red headed hitchhiker, who always had on a red plaid shirt.

And in one of the stories, he was on Route 44 again, traveling the same stretch through Rehoboth.

And he was in the middle of the road, and he just appeared as this woman was driving through, and she didn’t have enough time to break, but she tried to break, and she knew she was gonna hit him, and when she looked through her rear view mirror, she had gone right through him.

Like, he wasn’t, like, dead on the side of the road or anything.

So she was freaked out about that.

And then there was another couple, too, where something very, very similar happened, all on this one stretch of road, and nobody could, they reported this, and nobody could really attribute it to anything.

But many years go by, and I think there were a total of, like, five or six cases where people had seen this red headed hitchhiker with big, bushy, red hair, and the same type of red plaid shirt.

Sometimes, they noticed he was in jeans, and there was a couple from Swansea going down that same road, and they saw him as well.

And this was between many years.

In fact, I think the last official sighting was in the 1980s.

So within, like, a 15 year period, um, it was reported, like, five or six times that somebody had seen him, and he always had this evil laugh. That they could hear.

And for some of them, the laugh would get, like, really, like, loud, and for others, it would kind of, like, drift off into the woods.

And for one of the incidents, he actually, someone stopped to pick him up, because they thought, obviously, he was real, and he got into the car, but didn’t say anything, just kind of nodded when he was spoken to, or made a face when he was spoken to.

And when it was time for him to get out of the car, he didn’t open the door.

He just went through the door.

And, of course, that was scary.

That’s the end of the hitchhiker story, as I know it.”

Interviewer: “Okay, so, have you ever heard of anybody you know actually, like, seeing or experiencing the hitchhiker?”

MC: “Um, If I remember right, back, um, no, I don’t know anyone who was actually seeing that particular apparition, but there was something. You know who JC. is, right?”

Interviewer: “Yeah.”

MC: “I vaguely remember, and you’d have to check with JP on this to know if I’m remembering it.

It was someone, one of her friends, and I think it was JC, who was driving home late at night, and it wasn’t on Route 44.

But it was on the corner of 118 in Fairview Avenue.

Do you know which one that is?”

Interviewer: “Yeah, I think so.”

MC: “Yeah, but so it’s, like, two kind of major roads, well major for Rehoboth anyway.

And it was pretty, pretty late, and there was someone just standing there near a stone wall.

And I vaguely remember JC telling us about it.

That’s the only thing, but it was…”

Interviewer: “Was it a redheaded figure or anything like that?”

MC: “Um, I can’t remember the details on that.

And I don’t know if she had heard that story and was kind of imagining things, but she definitely thought it was some kind of an apparition.

Not just a person.

But they were standing near the stone wall, on the corner of 118 in Fairview Avenue.

So there’s a stop sign there.

So, JC, if it was JC, had stopped there, and looked over, and it was, like, the middle of the night.

Like, it was late, late, late, and she just, it freaked her out, too.

That’s the only thing I know.

So I don’t know about the roads in Rehoboth, they’re a little bit haunted, you know?”

Interviewer: “Do you believe that apparitions continue to haunt these roads, or it is more simply a story for you?”

MC: “To me, it’s more like a story.

It’s more like a story, but, you know, you never know.

Yeah.

You never know.

I mean, I think it happened enough, there were enough years in between sightings, that’s no coincidence.

I’ve yet to see him myself. But, you never know.”

Context: This story was told to the informant by her grandmother several times throughout their life. It is a local legend rooted in the history of Rehoboth, Massachusetts, where they are both from. This widespread tale is known throughout surrounding areas and has been the inspiration behind a short film, a podcast and many articles about ghosts of the region.


Analysis: In this rural legend, sightings of a distinctly red-headed, plaid-adorned ghost are reported along a stretch of a local main road. Throughout the story many common motifs are present, such as the unnerving laugh, spectral face in the window, and passing through material objects. With reports spanning from the 1960s to 1980s, this tale continues to be well-circulated throughout the region, drawing the attention of inhabitants and inspiring various media interpretations. The subject reporting the story seems skeptical as to the actual presence of the ghost, yet is unwilling to entirely dismiss the notion. Recognizing the eeriness of the town’s streets at nights, the subject admits to a slight ‘haunting’ feeling present as one drives through a small town without streetlights. In the spectrum between belief and disbelief, the subject recognizes the legend as more of a story than reality for them, yet acknowledges how the history of reportings seems beyond just coincidence.

The Girl with the Red Thread

Age: 18

Context:

One evening, while walking on campus with my friend, we began sharing spooky stories. She suddenly recalled something that had haunted her for years — a strange experience she had as a child, which had blurred the lines between dream, memory, and legend. This is the story she told me.

The Story:

When she was around 7 or 8 years old, she lived in a home with a study room that had a bed but was rarely used. One night, after waking from a nightmare, she found herself in that very study — a place she never usually slept in. She remembered lying beside her mom, both of them facing the wall, and gently shaking her awake out of fear.

She asked her mom to tell her a story because she couldn’t sleep. Strangely, her mom — who was known to strictly avoid ghost stories or anything scary — agreed. What happened next would stay with her for life.

Still facing the wall, her mom began to tell a ghost story. In the story, a nurse was working the night shift at a hospital. One evening, while heading out from the first floor, she took the elevator — but somehow, the elevator inexplicably descended to the 4th basement level instead, a floor used as a morgue.

This floor had no button, no lights, and no one should have been able to access it. But the elevator stopped there, the doors opened, and the nurse saw a little girl standing silently in the dark. The girl got into the elevator with her.

As the nurse glanced over, she noticed a red thread tied around the girl’s wrist. In Chinese superstition, red thread on the wrist is sometimes associated with the dead. The nurse was so frightened she reportedly died on the spot.

What terrified my friend wasn’t just the story itself — it was the realization much later in life that this was a widely circulated urban legend. Many people she later met had heard it before. And yet, she had never heard it before that night, and neither had her mother — who later insisted, repeatedly and sincerely, that she had no memory of telling the story, or even of waking up that night.

My friend later searched the story online and found that it had indeed been turned into a movie, or at least referenced in popular media. This deepened the mystery: how could a widely known ghost story have been told to her by someone who had never heard it — someone who vehemently denied ever telling it?

To this day, my friend remains disturbed by this experience. She remembers it vividly. Her mother, however, insists it never happened.

The Informant’s Thoughts:

She finds this story creepy, not because of the ghost itself, but because of the contradiction between her clear memory and her mother’s absolute denial. She believes the most chilling part of the experience isn’t the plot, but the uncertainty of how she ever came to hear it.

Years later, when telling others the story of the girl with the red thread, people would say, “Oh, I’ve heard that one!” But she hadn’t. Not before that night. Not ever.

My Thoughts:

What makes this story so compelling is not just the content of the ghost story, but how it plays with memory, belief, and reality. The idea that a story could be “implanted” through a moment that no one else remembers adds an eerie, almost psychological horror element to the tale.

It made me question how many of our memories are truly our own — and how stories that seem personal might actually belong to something much larger, floating around in the cultural subconscious, waiting to find a host.

The repetition — her telling the story to others, retelling it to her mother, and hearing denials each time — builds a quiet but powerful kind of fear. Over time, the story’s scariness comes not from the ghost, but from the accumulated sense of being haunted by a memory no one else shares.

As a piece of folklore, it’s fascinating because it shows how legends can find their way into our lives, not just through media or hearsay, but through deeply personal and unexplainable experiences.

The Shadow Behind the Curtain

Age: 18

Context:

This story was told to me by a Chinese international student at USC, whom I’ll refer to as SG. We were sitting together in one of the quiet study lounges at Parkside after midnight, discussing the kinds of ghost stories we’d heard growing up in China. That’s when she told me something she had never written down or shared publicly—something that happened to her in her childhood that she still remembers with frightening clarity.

The Story:

When SG was 10 years old, she lived with her grandparents in Harbin, a city known for its long, dark winters. Her grandfather had a habit of rising very early, often before sunrise, to boil water and do light chores. Their apartment had large, thick curtains that covered the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room.

One early winter morning, just before 6 a.m., SG woke up suddenly. She had heard soft footsteps and assumed her grandfather was up again. Curious and still sleepy, she wandered out to the living room—only to find it completely dark, with no lights on. She paused at the doorway.

That’s when she saw it: a silhouette of a person standing perfectly still behind the curtain, as if staring out the window. The form was unmistakably human—tall, slightly hunched, and entirely motionless.

Thinking it was her grandfather, she called out to him.

No answer.

She approached slowly, heart pounding. The air felt wrong—too still, too cold, as if the temperature had dropped. When she finally touched the curtain and pulled it aside—

There was no one there.

No one in the room. No sound of footsteps. No open windows. Just the snow falling silently outside.

Terrified, she ran back to her room and hid under her blanket. She didn’t tell anyone for weeks.

Informant’s Thoughts (SG):

SG says what disturbed her most wasn’t the sight of the shadow, but the fact that she saw it so clearly, and yet her grandfather had still been asleep in his room the whole time. Years later, she still isn’t sure if it was a dream, a hallucination, or something else.

What unsettles her most is that she continues to experience the exact same dream every few years: waking up in a different place, walking into a dark living room, and seeing a shadow behind a curtain.

Each time, she says, she wakes up before pulling the curtain open.

My Thoughts:

To me, what makes SG’s story haunting isn’t just the visual horror of the silhouette—it’s the way it has embedded itself into her memory and dreams, repeating like a ritual.

I’m struck by how familiar this setting feels: cold northern apartment, heavy winter curtains, the eeriness of early morning silence. Even though nothing explicitly supernatural happens, the ambiguity makes it even scarier.

It also makes me think about how many ghost stories we hear as children in China are tied to domestic spaces—kitchens, hallways, staircases—not abandoned mansions or graveyards. They are ordinary spaces made terrifying by something just a little out of place.

This story lingered with me long after she told it—not because of a ghost, but because of the uncertainty that still follows her.

The Bride of the Ball Field

Age: 35

Location: Kailua Kona, Hawai’i

Text:

“So we’re getting back super late from an away game, like close to midnight. The field’s totally dark, no lights on anywhere, just the bus headlights. We all start unloading our gear, and I noticed the lady. At first I just stared out because I couldn’t tell what it was.

I tell everyone, ‘Do you guys see that?’ And we all look, and there’s this lady in a long white dress just walking the warning track. Slow, like she’s searching for something. At first we thought she was just some random person who wandered in, but the longer we watched her, the weirder it felt. She never looked at us, never changed her pace, never reacted at all.

Her dress was dragging behind her like it was floating, even though there was no wind. And she just kept making this slow loop around the field, head kind of tilted like she was looking for someone.

We all started unpacking the bus way faster. Like throwing bags out, not even caring where they landed because everyone just wanted to get to their cars and get out of there. By the time we left, she was still out there walking the field, not noticing us at all.

I thought about it for a while that night and recalled the dress looking like a wedding dress. Although I wasn’t sure, I thought that maybe she was searching for her husband.”

Context:

This ghost story was told to the informant by their baseball coach. The coach claimed to have encountered the apparition more than once over the years. He described the woman as a deserted bride who wanders the baseball field at night searching for the man who abandoned her on their wedding day

Analysis:

This legend blends personal testimony with the classic “white lady” ghost motif. The baseball field, normally filled with noise, players, and daylight becomes creepy when empty and dark. This creates the perfect setting for a spectral figure whose emotional trauma keeps her stuck to the space.

The lady’s slow pacing reveals her restlessness, mirroring her search for her husband who left her. The idea that she is only present at night reinforces her connection to liminality: she inhabits the darkness, the in-between spaces, and vanishes as the sun comes up.