A public record of private hauntings
Houses change hands. Leases end. The people who saw something move away — and whoever moves in starts from nothing. This is the registry that remembers: look up an address and read what others experienced there. Or write down what happened to you, for whoever lives there next.
How it works
Search an address — yours, one you're about to rent or buy, one you can't stop thinking about.
Read what's on record. Every entry is a firsthand, unverified account from someone who was there.
If the record is empty and you know better — add what happened. You may be the reason the next resident feels less alone at 3 AM.
Latest entries
104 B PLEASANT, 104 b — STELLARTON, CA
my teeth rotted outta my face got ripped out at the dentist different places in the house do different things every room you sleep in is different and i cannot leave no money im fucked
151 W COLLINS ST, Apt 234 — OXNARD, CA
Not a murder story or anything explicitly or heavily implicitly paranormal per se, but my father died in his 70s of COPD there after being in hospice for 4 years. Providing this information in case anyone notices any signs of haunting and wonders who the ghost might be. For privacy reasons I won’t be sharing his identity, but he used to host a very obscure boating show on TLC when he was younger.
19822 BROOKHURST ST, #3H — HUNTINGTON BEACH, CA
In 2006 I was sleeping in the guest bedroom — the small one — lying on my stomach. I began to feel hands patting my ankles. The hands moved slowly up my legs, up my back, all the way to my shoulders. When the patting on my shoulders stopped, the hands moved onto the mattress itself, and I watched a handprint push in and out of the sheets beside me, pressing down and lifting, pressing down and lifting. I was completely frozen in terror. Maybe ten pats against the sheets, and then it was gone. About two months later, my sister was sleeping in that same room. She felt something rustling around her feet. Her chihuahua was in the bed with her, so she thought nothing of it — just the dog adjusting. Then she shifted her head on the pillow and felt the dog's fur right by her face, and realized in an instant that whatever was moving down by her feet was not the dog. She sprang out of bed and shook the sheets out frantically, equally afraid of something coming out of them and of nothing coming out of them. The apartment is nice. But the small bedroom in 3H is... a unique experience. I know the two of us can't be the only ones who've felt this in that room. I'm hoping others will share what happened to them here too.
3 entries on record · see recent
The Field Manual
The experiences filed most often — the plain answer first, the ordinary causes worth ruling out, and the honest remainder.