Ghost stories, Creepy tales, whos got 'em?

BOO! Be sure and sleep with your hands, arms and legs up on the bed. You don't something that whatever it is under your bed can get a hold of and pull you under with it.
The dog and cat are grinning under your bed.
BOO !
 
When my father passed away, my sister couldn't attend the funeral because she lived several states away and was expecting her first baby any time. She was very upset that she couldn't come.

My sister had a first baby (a girl) two days after the funeral. About two months later, she woke up during the night and saw a male person leaning over the crib looking at her daughter. She thought it was her husband and didn't think any more about it. In the morning she asked him what he was looking at. He was said that he wasn't up at any time during the night. My sister was really taken aback and started to think about the event. She said the person resemble her Dad and she was positive that he was looking at his first Grand child!
 
Last edited:
ok, here's a couple a mine.

1) At Camp Karankawa back in the 70s sometime. My Troop-Troop 147, went to the camp for a week in late November. It was actually very cold-wet-n-on and off periods of rain. We all pitched our Army surplus tents. 4 to a tent. I think it was the 2nd night there-freezing our hinds off-and we went to bed. I them slept like a rock and the noise from a battle as big as Stalingrad-couldnt wake me.

Anyway, sometime during the night(my arm hanging out over the side of the cot) and I guess touching the ground? Anyway-some time during the night-I was dreaming I heard a large cat growling. Turns out that when we got up-the tied flaps were untied-and there were slashes in the side of the tent RIGHT NEXT TO WHERE I WAS SLEEPING and an intrance hole. This cat-was a black panther who tried to raid the trailer we kept our Scoutmaster (A WWII Navy fighter pilot/combat vet--Mr. Ross C. Genz) and had for awhile-kept Mr. Genz at bay-he couldnt reach his rifle-which was a 30-30 Winchester) without getting attacked my the cat. He had tried to get between the cat-and our camp-but cat was faster-and chased him into the food/supply trailer. What woke Mr. Genz up-was the sounds the cat had been making trying and getting into--my tent. While I was dreaming-I dreamt that a cat had been licking my hand. Turns out the other three in my tent-saw that Panther licking my hand-I never woke for the entire incident. Mr. Genz was finally able to reach his rifle and shot the cat dead. This was also back in the day when the elder Scouts could bring guns and nobody complained. However, all their guns had been stored in the other supply trailer for the night and nobody could reach them.

2) My old hometown is Kingsville-pop around 23,000. Back in the section of town where we had a Krogers-next to it across the road-was a plowed field-and along that field--all by its lonesome-was a house located in a thick thicket of Mesquite trees, a few Palm trees and several large cactus patches. This house was across an alley from a neighborhood that was all fenced in.

Supposedly about 30 years before my "adventure" to that house-supposedly there had been a very brutal murder. Mind you, I was with my friend Greg, and our then girlfriends Allisyn, and Judy? this was in broad daylight-maybe bout 4PM?? During the daylight-that long-since-abandoned home looked scary as hell. Well, Greg and Judy? got the most brilliant idea-to go looking around inside that house dragging Ally and I with them. Due to the bright day-and thick tree cover over most of the property-you go inside a near windowless cinder-block structure--your eyes will not adjust very will. Im not sure where Greg had gone? but Ally, Judy and I walked down a large dark hall which led to a photo-lab? as it had a heavy black canvas covering the entrance. The canvas hung in such a way-that it looked like someone was standing there. In the other room-Greg screamed at something and flew past us with his eyes wide-we followed soon as we could. Greg claimed to have seen someone dressed in a cloak of somekind-and held a butcher knife in hand. Turned out Greg had found another entrance to that lab-which had a wooden door. That idiots--cloak and butcher guy-was the same canvas door Ally, Judy? and I were near.
rofl.gif
rofl.gif
icon_e_biggrin.gif
icon_e_biggrin.gif


Also, Greg's reaction was real-that idiot was sheet white and it looked like his heart would leave his chest.
icon_e_biggrin.gif


Anyway-we raced back to my car-and got as fast outta Dodge as I could.
 
Last edited:
Walkin' Jack said:
I always relate fall weather to sittin' around a camp fire in the woods tellin' ghost stories and scary stories and creepy tales. I thought it might be fun to start a thread on the subject. I have no doubt that some of you old geezers have some tales that will make the hair on my arms stand up straight.

I am running short on time just now but y'all go on and get started with out me and I'll be back tomorrow with one or two of my own.

In the mean time I'll leave this'n with you as an example of what I'm talkin' about. This isn't mine it was posted by a fellow poster on another site we share. It made me want to stay out of the woods for the rest of my life when I first read it.

*************************************************

This may be very disturbing to some of you. I could never tell this story in person, but it's easier to type it for some reason.

When I and my wife were quite a bit younger, we decided that we would spend the bicentennial outdoors. Yes, July of '76......we're old. We lived in Pueblo at the time, and decided to go hiking, fishing and camp along Lime Creek between Durango and Silverton. There wasn't anything other than brookies in the creek, but they were plentiful and fun to catch.

We left our car by the side of the road along Old Lime Creek Road about 5 miles in from the highway and packed in upstream along the creek with our shepherd, Rebel. It only took us about an hour to get to where we wanted to camp, a nice meadow beside the creek just before a slot canyon that required you to swim to get any further upstream. Either that or take a several mile detour.

We camped uneventfully that night, the third of July, enjoying the sounds of the rippling creek and nature all around us. It was such a nice night that we just slept out under the stars, didn't bother to pitch our little backpacking tent. A little cool, but we had the fire going and our lightweight 30 degree bags, so we were very comfortable.

The next day we had breakfast, packed up and we all swam our way up the creek to the next wide spot with a bit of bank in the canyon, only about 150 yards or so. Now Rebel was never one to turn down a chance to get wet, but we had to do quite a bit of coaxing to get him to follow us up the creek. We fished and splashed upstream a bit, and before we knew it it was lunchtime. We thought we'd fry up some of those brookies but we were in this slot canyon that terminated in a fairly deep pool with about a ten foot rocky waterfall at the end of it.

We decided that I would scale the waterfall and pull the dog and the packs up and then I'd help Maggie get up. It was fairly difficult, even with the help of an old cable left over from a mining operation that was hanging down the side wall of the canyon. It took a LOT of effort and though we finally made it, we looked back down that waterfall and wondered what the heck we were thinking. Rebel was none too happy about it either, and seemed to get more irritable by the minute. We found enough driftwood at the rocky top of the falls to get a fire started and get the fish fried up, but that was about it.

You know the uneasy feeling that several others have mentioned? It was like a switch turned on and we all of a sudden became aware of our surroundings. It grew like a cancer and I actually watched the hair on the back of Rebel's neck stand up. Maggie felt it too and we both noticed that it was getting dark FAST down in this canyon. First thought in my head was a cat, and I actually felt a bit better about that because I figured the cat would leave us be, between the fire and the dog. I told Maggie what I thought and she seemed to feel a bit better, too.

I did not want to get caught in the dark in the canyon, for a bunch of reasons, flash floods etc. I spied what looked like a mine shaft about 2 hundred feet above us, a heck of a steep climb, but it looked like our best bet. We pulled out our flashlights and by the time we reached it it was PITCH black. The dog was a mess by this point, whipping around in circles, whining, yelping and generally being a real pain in the ***. Maggie and I were drenched with sweat and immediately began to freeze. July in the mountains is a weird thing, I have seen blizzard conditions before, but this was like someone turned on the deep freeze.

We were at what looked like the start of a mine, it only went back about ten feet, but there was evidence of fires at the mouth, and they curiously looked fresh. I was too tired to think more about it, I knew we had to get out of our wet clothes, pitch the tent, and climb in our bags before we got serious hypothermia. That was NO fun, let me tell you, having to do all of that by the light of our rapidly dying flashlight. And there was NO firewood anywhere close.

I cursed myself several times for letting things get this far out of control. We finally got the tent pitched right there in the back of this little cave , buck naked as we had no dry clothes left. The sleeping bags were slightly damp too, even though we had stuffed them in plastic garbage bags before our swimming expedition up the canyon. WE FROZE!! It was miserable.

About 1 in the morning I called Rebel into the tent for a little heat. The dog seemed to have calmed down greatly, and with the added heat we drifted off. Sometime during the night I heard something that just about woke me, I was still in a haze, so I fell asleep again immediately. I woke up one other time, because I thought I heard Rebel yip a little bit, but again I was in and out. I put my hand out to pet his head and he licked my hand. I fell asleep again. Maggie later said she fell asleep the same time as I did but never woke up at all during the night.

I woke to the most horrible noise I have ever heard come out of a hundred pound woman. Just the most God-awful shrieks that I have ever heard. I never want to hear that again.

I opened my eyes just in time to see a man at the mouth of the shaft, silhouetted against the morning daylight, looking back at us with the most twisted evil grin I have ever seen on the face of another human. I scrambled to get free of my tightly zipped bag and the little tent while he just crouched there and grinned. When I was just about free, he disappeared. Now, we were granola crunchin' tree huggin' anti-gun nature freaks at the time, so the only thing I had of any consequence as a weapon was my camp knife. I found it after what seemed like hours of searching, but really was probably under a minute. I very cautiously made my way to the entrance, millimeters at a time. The guy was gone.

About that time Maggie started screaming and whimpering again so I rushed back to the back of the shaft. She had struggled out of the tent and was pointing at what used to be Rebel. His head was nearly severed, and the tent and the bags were ruined with the blood all over everything. She had blood all over her, so the first thing I did was make sure she was not injured. Then I checked myself. We were ok,it was all Rebel's blood.

We put on our still damp cold clothes from the night before and then we noticed that our boots were gone. We were in trouble. I had some paracord, so we tied some shirts and towels around our feet and climbed back down towards the creek. We left everything in the mine, except for the knife and some stuff that we shoved in our pockets. It took us 8 hours to get back down to the car, and we were like hamburger. Hands, feet, arms and legs scraped raw, bruised and bleeding. We jumped in, the car started right up thankfully and we left a dust cloud that blanketed the valley as we sped down the rough trail toward Durango.

We limped into the Sheriff's office and we looked like hell. We got our story out, my wife through tears and me talking waaay too fast. but finally got it all out. The deputy said that they would go out first thing in the morning and asked us to stay in town. We had no money for a hotel, so he let us stay in a cell after we showered and changed into prison jumpsuits.

We were there at the jail waiting when the "expedition" returned with the convoy of three trucks. I noticed that all the officers, who were quite wet and filthy, gave us dirty looks as they passed us, and the Deputy that we had talked to the day before herded us back to his office. Then came the interrogation. Turns out that some animal had spread the dog's remains all down the slide to the creek, and he said that there was nothing else there. No tent, no backpacks, nothing. He asked us if we had any drugs. I did not want to admit to him that we had some herb, so I denied it.

It was clear that we were fighting a losing battle. They had come to the conclusion that we were wandering out in the woods high on LSD while a mountain lion had gotten our dog. The ******* even made us change back into our filthy clothes and give back the jumpsuits right then. He told us that he had better never see us again. We left. Maggie was sobbing. I never have been back to Durango.

The thing that I still have nightmares about years later, and I have never mentioned this to Maggie, is....... the second time I woke up when I heard Rebel yelp, was that when his throat was cut?.......and if it was, was it the dog who licked my hand before I fell back asleep?

I still go out in the wilderness, never overnight, out well before dark, only with other people, and always with a big gun. I respect animals, but I fear people.
Click to expand...

Now I know, I went up the hill to see if some folks wanted to share in some SMORES, dogs barked and attacked me, folks were screaming and shooting in my direction. Well I'll tell you it'll be a long night before I get out of my crypt again. Dang live people are scarey...
 
Was it the old Outer Limits show...??????

ParadiseRoad said:
...my Mother in Law...is in an Alzheimer's home...her son..my wife's brother passed away suddenly and unexpectedly last year in November...

...I am the caretaker for her house which is about five miles down hill from us...the day after he died I was making my daily visit to her house...I usually enter through the basement door...

...there was a tumble weed in front of the door that day...which was strange because we don't have tumble weeds up here on the mountain...

...I kicked it aside and opened the door...and my hair stood on end and a chill swept over me...there was another tumble weed inside the basement door...my brother in laws farm was loaded with tumble weeds...
Click to expand...

...tumble weeds were alien beings and had the people cornered in the desert one night?

PS Your story is creepier.
 
I've got a decent one that happened when I was 16 years old. My bed room was set up my headboard was against the wall, to the left of the bed was my closet, and to the right was my dresser against the wall to the right, on each side of my queen sized bed I had a night stand on each side with a desk lamp on the stand next to the side of the bed I normally sleep on. As I was slightly asleep, not quite asleep but starting to fall into sleep I heard a voice from my closet say my name very clearly, I woke up emidiately and switched on my desk lamp. My door was still shut and nobody was there, I soon calmed down and fell back asleep. The next night I was slightly further in my sleep cycle and I heard the voice by my closet say my name, I responded with a groggy "huh?" Then I heard the voice at the foot my my bed say my name again in a slightly agitated tone, I woke up panicked and flipped on my light, nobody door was shut and nobody was there. I didn't sleep very well for the rest of the night so when I woke up in the morning I was tired. I went to sleep that night completely exhausted at the point, I was almost asleep when I heard the voice by my closet say my name very softly, I responded in my sleep with "hmm?" Then by the foot of my bed, I was starting to wake up from the noise of the voice but not quite there yet, I responded with a huh. Then it was directly next to me I could feel the breath from the voice on my face as it said my name very angry, at that point I was irritated so in a very angry tone In my sleep I said what!? Then I felt whoever or whatever that was punch my in the middle of my back. I freaked out flicked on my light and took a blind swing at where I thought the voice came from. Nobody was there my door was shut. I woke my mom up (my dad was a truck driver at the time so he was never home) and had her look at my back for marks. I had a fist mark the size of a grown woman's fist on the small of my back. The night after that it never happened again, to this day I have no idea what or who that was, nor do I want to find out.

Sent from my SM-G930V using Tapatalk
 
alexfitch225 said:
I've got a decent one that happened when I was 16 years old. My bed room was set up my headboard was against the wall, to the left of the bed was my closet, and to the right was my dresser against the wall to the right, on each side of my queen sized bed I had a night stand on each side with a desk lamp on the stand next to the side of the bed I normally sleep on. As I was slightly asleep, not quite asleep but starting to fall into sleep I heard a voice from my closet say my name very clearly, I woke up emidiately and switched on my desk lamp. My door was still shut and nobody was there, I soon calmed down and fell back asleep. The next night I was slightly further in my sleep cycle and I heard the voice by my closet say my name, I responded with a groggy "huh?" Then I heard the voice at the foot my my bed say my name again in a slightly agitated tone, I woke up panicked and flipped on my light, nobody door was shut and nobody was there. I didn't sleep very well for the rest of the night so when I woke up in the morning I was tired. I went to sleep that night completely exhausted at the point, I was almost asleep when I heard the voice by my closet say my name very softly, I responded in my sleep with "hmm?" Then by the foot of my bed, I was starting to wake up from the noise of the voice but not quite there yet, I responded with a huh. Then it was directly next to me I could feel the breath from the voice on my face as it said my name very angry, at that point I was irritated so in a very angry tone In my sleep I said what!? Then I felt whoever or whatever that was punch my in the middle of my back. I freaked out flicked on my light and took a blind swing at where I thought the voice came from. Nobody was there my door was shut. I woke my mom up (my dad was a truck driver at the time so he was never home) and had her look at my back for marks. I had a fist mark the size of a grown woman's fist on the small of my back. The night after that it never happened again, to this day I have no idea what or who that was, nor do I want to find out.

Sent from my SM-G930V using Tapatalk
Click to expand...

An ex-girlfriend maybe? :D
 
My FIL died in 1975 in the ER from a massive heart attack, ten years later I had to take my Aunt to the ER, same hospital and the same room my FIL was in :eek: my wife was standing on one side of the bed and I was at the foot, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye, I looked at the door and a man was standing there who looked just like my FIL, I told my wife to look, she ran to the door and I was close behind, when we got out into the corridor no one was there, he couldn't have been more than ten feet away, I ran down to the end and stayed there and my wife checked every room, we were the only people there except for the staff, there was no way anyone could have gotten out without us seeing them. I hope he is not still roaming the hall's of that hospital.
 
I have experienced several "weird" things over the years. I don't like to talk about spooky things because I think they are better left alone, but these were some "weird" unexplained things.

I was in boarding school on a small US military base in England. One weekend night it was around 10:30 pm and I was getting ready for bed when the overhead light went out. I went to the wall and flicked the switch and nothing happened, so I went to my desk and turned on the light and then to my roommate's desk and turned on her desk lamp. She was away for the weekend so I was alone. I looked up and could see through the glass enclosure that the light bulbs were missing from the fixture. In order to take the bulbs, one would have to get on a high ladder and unscrew the glass covering. I knew they could not have fallen out through the glass but I looked on the floor anyway and they were completely gone. Interestingly, that summer I found out from a friend that the same thing happened to the girls who roomed below me. :eek: Why would a ghost need light bulbs? I don't want to know!

Later, I was in school in Austria in a building that was built in the 1500's. It was 4 stories and my room was in the "attic" above the school along with 5 other dorm rooms including a dorm supervisor. It was not uncommon to be up in the wee hours studying or even to pull an all-nighter as the coursework was very heavy. One night, my 2 roommates and I were up in the middle of the night studying. All of a sudden our latched window flew open (though there wasn't any wind) then there were these loud noises coming from the corner of our room like someone was moving heavy furniture on a wood floor back and forth. My roommates jumped on my bed and we huddled together as these loud noises continued for at least a minute or two. It was so loud, like it was happening right there next to us but nothing was there. Then there were heavy footsteps across the room where the floorboards squeaked and our door opened and slammed shut. There was not any wind but even if there had been, our window was only 12"x12" and could not have opened and closed the heavy door because the door was down a hallway with wall and curtain that would have blocked any wind. It was very strange.

Another time I was camping in Canada with my then fiance. We were on a few month road trip camping around the US and Canada. We were at a lake in the middle of nowhere. The large campground was almost entirely empty, except for a few RVs that were near the lake and we had a far tent loop all to ourselves on the opposite wooded end. We got there in the afternoon and were able to enjoy the lake during the afternoon and thought this was a marvelous place and planned to spend a few days there.

In the middle of the night, I woke up to go to the bathroom. While I was walking to the loo this green orb light started to follow me. Size wise it was between a softball and basketball. I got scared but talked myself into thinking that I did not see it. When I came out of the bathroom, I did not see it and started back to the campsite. Then it quickly appeared and was even brighter than it was before. I was scared and woke up my travel partner. He told me I was dreaming. I convinced him to come out with me to make sure. We walked towards the bathroom and again the green orb appeared. He thought it was really strange too and I could tell he was a little freaked out as we searched for answers as to what it could be. There was nobody else in this area. We walked back to our site, and the orb continued down the road. He wanted to follow it. Yes, I know, "crazy", right? I only followed him because I didn't want to be anywhere alone. I was genuinely scared. We walked up the road and beyond the trees and there was a field that was lit up with several green and purple lights low on the ground. I have no idea what they were but it was really freaky. We went back to the campsite, zipped ourselves in the tent and did not go back to sleep that night. No, we had not been drinking or doing any funny stuff. We were completely sober. At the first sign of daylight, we packed up our things and got the heck out of there. X-files?

The last thing was a good thing. It happened a few months after my mom passed away. It was a Sunday morning and I needed to get up and take my dad to church. However, I was in severe pain. I waited in bed for a while hoping it would go away. John was already up and in another part of the house. I was about to reach for my phone to call my dad to tell him that I could not make it. Just then I felt someone sit on the edge of the bed next to me and put their hand on my lower back like they were comforting me. Immediately the pain dissipated in a wave through my body; I felt it leave. I was able to take my dad to church. I think it was my mom helping me because she knew this day was important to my father and I.
 
Last edited:
Salty RI said:
My FIL died in 1975 in the ER from a massive heart attack, ten years later I had to take my Aunt to the ER, same hospital and the same room my FIL was in :eek: my wife was standing on one side of the bed and I was at the foot, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye, I looked at the door and a man was standing there who looked just like my FIL, I told my wife to look, she ran to the door and I was close behind, when we got out into the corridor no one was there, he couldn't have been more than ten feet away, I ran down to the end and stayed there and my wife checked every room, we were the only people there except for the staff, there was no way anyone could have gotten out without us seeing them. I hope he is not still roaming the hall's of that hospital.
Click to expand...

He's just checking on your aunt.
 
M. E. Morrison:
My family on my mother' side were seafarers back to the beginning. They had many stories, but I was too young to remember the ones my grandfather told in the '50s. The last member of the family in America died only a couple weeks ago after years of dementia and physical illness. He told some of the tales to his daughters, my cousins, and I plan to spend time with them before too long (*I'm* getting long in the tooth myself) and write them. Unfortunately, one is a hard-core Christian who believes all the tales are the Devil's work and likely will not repeat them. The other is Norse, like me, and holds them in fascination. One I hope she knows had to do with St. Elmo's Fire dancing in the ship's rigging.

I recently learned that some of my relatives in Norway, grand uncles and aunts, and cousins (Second and Third), are still alive, so they're on my list, too. I will need to really refresh my Norwegian, first!

I was a pilot for many years, starting in the USAF. I've flown all over the world with aviators from many cultures. There are thousands of stirring stories of ghostly flights and pilots.

Martin Caidin wrote "Ghosts of the Air" and was collecting stories for another one when he died. I sent him three from my personal experiences and got a wonderful letter from him. And I have my own ST. Elmo's Fire experiences!

So, look around for ghost stories of the sea and the air. You'll find them.
sdh
 
Harkrader said:
M. E. Morrison:
My family on my mother' side were seafarers back to the beginning. They had many stories, but I was too young to remember the ones my grandfather told in the '50s. The last member of the family in America died only a couple weeks ago after years of dementia and physical illness. He told some of the tales to his daughters, my cousins, and I plan to spend time with them before too long (*I'm* getting long in the tooth myself) and write them. Unfortunately, one is a hard-core Christian who believes all the tales are the Devil's work and likely will not repeat them. The other is Norse, like me, and holds them in fascination. One I hope she knows had to do with St. Elmo's Fire dancing in the ship's rigging.

I recently learned that some of my relatives in Norway, grand uncles and aunts, and cousins (Second and Third), are still alive, so they're on my list, too. I will need to really refresh my Norwegian, first!

I was a pilot for many years, starting in the USAF. I've flown all over the world with aviators from many cultures. There are thousands of stirring stories of ghostly flights and pilots.

Martin Caidin wrote "Ghosts of the Air" and was collecting stories for another one when he died. I sent him three from my personal experiences and got a wonderful letter from him. And I have my own ST. Elmo's Fire experiences!

So, look around for ghost stories of the sea and the air. You'll find them.
sdh
Click to expand...


I've heard plenty of stories, but just never experienced any myself.

PS: I don't count St Elmo's Fire as supernatural, but it is spooky to see! :eek:
 
For reasons not pertinent to this story, I was raised by my maternal grandparents. My parents lived in the same town but I seldom saw them. My grandmother was the adult female figure in my life.

In 1963 I was working as a civilian contractor in Germany. One day my father called me. My grandmother had had a heart attack and wasn't expected to live. I got back home as quickly as I could, but she died about a day before I arrived. I was there for the funeral, but I felt really sad that I hadn't been able to see her one last time before she died.

About a month later I was back in Germany, where I had a small apartment. I woke up one night, sometime in the wee hours of the morning, and felt the urge to look out the window next to my bed. There was a heavy fog, and as I watched, a figure emerged from the fog.

I instantly recognized the figure as my grandmother. I recall distinctly that I felt no surprise that I had seen her buried a month before. I was only surprised to see her in Germany, halfway around the world from where she had spent her life.

She came into the apartment and we talked for what seemed a long time. She told me she understood why I hadn't been there to say goodbye to her, so she had come to visit me one last time so we could say goodbye.

After a while we hugged and kissed, and she left. I sat on my bed and watched her walk down the sidewalk, into the fog. I went back to sleep, at peace for the first time since her death.

Years later I told this story to a golfing buddy, who was a psychologist. He said I had obviously had a dream in which my psyche made my feelings of guilt and regret bearable. I told him yeah, he was probably right.

What I didn't tell him was about the wet, snowy footprints I found on my carpet when I awoke tha next morning.
 
Last edited:
You must log in or register to reply here.

Similar threads

olfart
Tales From the East Texas Outback
Replies
9
Views
646
LVSteve
LVSteve
olfart
Yet Another Tale from the East Texas Outback
Replies
12
Views
631
olfart
olfart
THE PILGRIM
Sam Elliott Story, Sort of
Replies
18
Views
749
boykinlp
boykinlp
Jeep 1
The Off Road Racing Legend Walker Evans rest in peace
Replies
0
Views
218
Jeep 1
Jeep 1
chief38
Easy come - easy go
Replies
5
Views
444
pharmer
pharmer

Latest posts

Back
Top