Haunted Report Contest - Tell Us Your Best Scary Story

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We figured it's about time to generate some buzz here since the general haunting industry seems to be in a slow period.  So we came up with a contest idea.

We're looking for your scary story - it could be real or made up, but we want to hear from you.  Send us your best scary story.  It could be anything - it could be about the ghost hiding in your closet, or the dream you had last night where you were the last person on earth and you had to fight zombies for the rest of your life.  Whatever.

We'll post all entries here and let you, the users, vote via your comments.

So what do you get for all you're hard effort?  How about free movies?  We have tons of DVDs we get every month for review on this site and our other site - BehindTheBigScreen.com  We'll pull a bunch out of our collection and send you some!

Not only that but I think we have enough for a few prizes.

So if you think you have what it takes - send us your story because you never know who's reading.  Maybe you'll catch the eye of a movie producer looking for the next great big screen horror flick.

Send your entries to news@hauntedreport.com with "scary story content entry" as the subject and we'll post them as we get 'em.

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Jenn Sutherland said:

Here's a real life story for you. My first job at age 15 was as a banquet server in an old mansion in a county park. The estate was turned over to the county after the dentist who owned the estate murdered his wife and 5 year old son in the house. The county turned the mansion into a banquet center, and the grounds into a beautiful park.

Each night after service, one server, bartender, disher and manager had to stay late to clean up and set-up for the next day...you drew straws for the dubious honor.

Going into the basement at the end of the night to take laundry down, you would often come across castle-shaped stacks of canned tomatoes on the floor, and walking by (quickly), the air was always cold right there over the stacks. The 5 year old boy was killed in the basement.

Going upstairs, to clean the bridal suite (which used to be the master bedroom), you'd tidy up, vacuum, remove any dishes, and turn out the lights. Walking out to the parking lot after work, you'd look up, and every single night, the desk lamp would be on in the master bedroom. It was not on a timer.

It still gives me goosebumps to think of all the run-ins with the former residents of the mansion, but I never really felt afraid of their presence, just sad that some part of them was trapped in that space.

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