Ghost Stories Stream German


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Ghost Stories Stream German

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Ghost Stories Stream German

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OK, so it's. HD Ghost Stories. Ghost Stories stream deutsch online. Ghost Stories. Update Streaming Links. Grab your flashlight, huddle around the campfire and get ready for the season with these five German ghost stories.

Although Halloween has its roots in ancient rites from the British Isles, the holiday as we know it today stems from North America.

But like so many aspects of American culture, Halloween is slowly but surely seeping into Deutschland.

Especially in a large, international city like Berlin , you can easily find Halloween costumes and children trick-or-treating.

Not all Germans are happy about this American import. Ghost stories really do abound in this country of folktales, castles and dark forests.

A master marksman finds himself unable to catch any wild swine or deer in the dark autumn forests. The peddler offers the marksman seven bullets, with one condition.

The first six bullets will hit whatever the marksman wants them to hit, but the peddler will choose the trajectory of the seventh. The marksman agrees.

The marksman quickly earns himself a reputation as the best hunter in the village, as he brings home wild boar after wild boar. He catches the eye of the prettiest girl in town, and they fall in love.

But all too soon, the marksman uses up all six bullets, and when he shoots the seventh, it goes astray and hits his love in the chest, killing her.

The peddler appears to the distraught marksman and reveals himself as the devil. Live a pious life, repent of your hubris, and you will be reunited with the girl after your death, the devil tells the marksman.

The marksman tries, but he is overcome by desire for another girl in the village, and he marries her instead.

Folktales about Freischütze were common in the s, s and s in Germany. The story subsequently became the inspiration for an opera by Carl Maria von Weber.

The people of Hameln, in lower Saxony, are dying from the plague sweeping through Europe. The piper does in fact save the town from the plague, but the ungrateful townsfolk refuse to pay him.

He pipes until they walk into the sea and drown. Versions of the Pied Piper can be found in many medieval sources, since the tale plays on medieval and early modern European fears about emigration and sickness.

The Brothers Grimm, those famous German folklorists, set the tale down in one of their collections in the early 19th century, and the famous Goethe wrote a poem about the tale as well.

Well, you can visit Hameln for historical recreations and atmospheric history. They lived a happy life together in the Grünewald outside Berlin.

On his deathbed, Joachim asked his son to take care of Anna, and the son promised that he would.

Anna is said to wander the halls of the citadel, unable to leave. They almost always involve a wronged woman haunting a rural area, unable to leave.

Visit the Zitadelle Spandau , of course! But failing that, you can read about Anna and her backstory here.

Maria Renata Singer von Mossau was a nun with a terrible secret. She joined a Bavarian convent in the midth century, but the other nuns soon became possessed by convulsions and swore that the devil was taking control of them.

Von Mossau was beheaded and burned, convicted of heresy and witchcraft. Von Mossau was hardly the only woman who was accused of witchcraft in early modern Europe.

These kinds of accusations were common in a society beset by anxiety about disease, religious wars and rapid change. Von Mossau was, however, one of the last women executed on this kind of charge in Germany.

Suddenly, the financier commits suicide with a shotgun. Goodman returns to Cameron, who tears a latex mask off his face, revealing himself to be Priddle.

Goodman at first believes that he is the victim of an elaborate hoax, but reality soon breaks down altogether. Priddle leads Goodman back in time to the scene of a childhood incident in which he watched two bullies entice a mentally disabled boy into a drain, where he died of an asthma attack.

Goodman has felt guilty all his life about his failure to rescue the victim. The decaying corpse of the bullied boy appears, tormenting Goodman and leading him to a hospital bed, where he is made to lie down.

The ghoul lies on top of him and forces his finger into Goodman's mouth as Goodman cries "No, not again! In the real world, Goodman is in a hospital with tubes in his mouth.

He suffers from locked-in syndrome after a suicide attempt in his car. All the characters and events Goodman has experienced were inspired by the staff and objects in his hospital room.

The doctors incorrectly believe him to be in a persistent vegetative state with no awareness of his surroundings.

The junior doctor predicts that Goodman is "here for keeps", without a chance of recovery. As he leaves the room, the senior doctor says to his junior colleague: "I hope his dreams are sweet".

The hospital cleaner, in contrast, chats to Goodman and moves a mirror to give him a different view. Ghost Stories was described by The Guardian as "an anthology of creepy supernatural tales in the intensely English tradition of Amicus portmanteau movies from the s.

The website's critical consensus reads, " Ghost Stories offers a well-crafted, skillfully told horror anthology that cleverly toys with genre tropes while adding a few devilishly frightful twists.

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Please expand the article to include this information. Further details may exist on the talk page.

December Theatrical release poster. Jeremy Dyson Andy Nyman. My brother chose the latter, he basically just told it "hey fuck you, I don't have time for this shit".

My brother started to walk to the back of the basement and briskly up the stairs, closing doors and turning off lights as he was walking out.

The last light switch is on the opposite side of the front door My brother said he felt something at his back, but at no point did he turn around.

As he flicked the last switch the living room went dark, as did rest of the house. As he stepped out he pulled on the door closing it behind him, still holding his food container in one hand he jogged down the few porch steps.

He walked towards the front gate As he closed the gap between himself and his friend-laden truck he kind of smiled and thought things over in his head, mad at himself for spooking out when there was no reason.

He climbed into the drivers side of the truck, putting on his seat belt and getting ready to pull out of the parking spot directly in front of the house, when one of his friends asked " Hey wait what about your brother, isn't he coming with us?

He went to work early tonight, he is already gone, do you see his car anywhere? The next question they asked "So then who was walking behind you when you were leaving the house?

The Rocking Horse. One night, when I was maybe , I had trouble falling asleep. My bedroom was the entire top floor of our house with my bed and such being on the left side and storage closets and a play area being on the right.

I was lying in bed when I heard a noise from the other side of the room and see a rocking horse begin to rock.

It was sitting just outside one of the storage closet doors. It proceeded to rock its way halfway across the room and stopped dead under the ceiling light.

At this point I was freaking out and just buried my head under my blankets and never peeked out again until morning. It was all confirmed to not be a dream as the rocking horse was still in the middle of my room when I woke up.

Furthermore, I got a stern reprimand from my parents for being up out of bed playing with my toys well past my bedtime.

The Following. I lived with her once for about 3 months, and so much weird stuff happened in that time. All my sister would say to me when I mentioned it was that her ghost "didn't like me being there.

Things like going to bed with everything locked up and switched off and waking up in the morning with the back door open, lights on and the kettle switched on.

One night my sister and I were getting ready to go out and I'd asked to borrow her liquid foundation. I used it and put it back where she kept her makeup.

Ten minutes later she's asking me for it and it was nowhere to be seen. She accused me of taking it and made me buy her a new one and refused to listen to my side of the story.

About a year or so later when she was packing to move to a new house, she found the makeup in a shoebox with some old letters. The shoebox was in a zipped up suitcase that was underneath her bed.

But probably the most scared I ever felt was one afternoon when I was the only one in the house which never happened as four other people lived there.

I'd arrived home from work and headed straight to the bathroom. I was standing in the bathroom and started squeezing a pimple on my chin when a female voice in the hall said "stop picking your zits!

So I laughed, told her to "fuck off" and asked what she was doing for dinner. No answer. I stuck my head out into the hall.

No one there. I searched the house top to bottom and there was no one home. I sat out on the front porch until someone else got home because I didn't want to be in there alone.

Annie96 Is Typing. This is much more of an interactive experience than anything else on the list. As you read through this WhatsApp conversation you have to manually click enter to make each new message appear.

It's as close to a text-based horror movie you'll find. The Whispers. This is a story I do not often tell. I promise, sincerely, that this has scarred me for life and although I have looked into psychological explanations for what I heard and natural explanations for what occurred, they remain unsatisfactory.

When I was a child, I was scared of the dark. I swore to my mother I heard voices in it. They were not evil, but they were not familiar and so they scared me.

It was not uncommon in the middle of the night for me to wake up and hear "whispers" as I would call them when asking my mom.

She figured they were just "bumps in the night" and typical kids nightmare material. I tried often to explain to her that it was more than that; that they sounded different from one another the way people's voices do.

On some nights I would get so scared from these "whispers" that I would sleep in my mom's bed with her. It was an added bonus that the bathroom was directly outside of her bedroom door for my late-night tinkles.

I should add at this point that when walking out into the hall to go to the bathroom, you looked directly down the stairs that would lead you into my living room on the first floor as my mom's bedroom was on the second floor.

On one such night, around Christmas, I awoke and felt the need to relieve myself. I walked out from the door and distinctly heard the phrase "Look!

The light had no other source, it was by itself, and I was transfixed by it. How else could he get into my house to know I was being a good boy?

I was so excited I began walking down the stairs to greet him, picking up my pace after the second step as it began to creep off the wall and fade into the darkness in my living room.

That's when I heard him. A very strong, masculine voice. Different from the first. Not at all like my father's not to say he isn't masculine, it was just distinctly different.

It said, "Stop! Right now. Go back up those stairs. After reaching the top of the stairs, I heard a very loud CRASH that sent me running back to my mother's bed where I jumped straight under the covers and stayed there the whole night.

When we awoke the next morning, the poinsettia lights little Christmas flower lights that glowed red my mother had put on the railing down the stairs were pulled straight down to the bottom of the stairs, some broken from what seemed like a forceful tear, laying in a single pile.

The dry sink in my living room had fallen from the wall. My mother could not explain it! My father was worried we had been the victims of a home invasion.

My sister was crying. There was nothing missing, nobody had broken in, there did not seem to be any reason this had happened. And then I saw it, and I kept quiet about it because I was so afraid that I could not force words out of my mouth.

There, on the edge of the wooden dry sink which had been facing up, were three indentations where the finish on the wood had been worn, almost as if in a forceful grip.

That was what the bang was. I was mortified. After that day I never heard a single voice again.

I do not like to imagine what was waiting downstairs for me that night, if it was anything at all, but I can tell you that the reality was that something had physically acted upon two things in my house near the bottom of that stairwell.

After this, I had never heard another whisper again. Which is sad, because in some ways I would have liked to thank the man masculine energy?

This happened when I was 7. I am 20 years old now, and because of this incident I am still afraid of the dark. The Grandfather. My grandfather told me this story about how one time he was sitting in a chair in front of the house, when he heard his wife repeatedly calling him from inside the house.

The thing is, my grandmother passed away a few years before that. But he told me that the voice was so pressing that he actually got up to look inside the house, and as soon as he got inside he heard a loud crash behind him and turned around to see that the chair he has been sitting in moments ago had been crushed by the cast iron gutter that fell on it.

If he hadn't come inside the house he would have probably been seriously injured. I don't know if it's paranormal or not, but every time I think about it it sends chills down my spine.

The Crib Shadow. I was babysitting my niece once while I was staying at my brother's place, and they had the baby camera setup so I could see her on the little TV it came with.

I was studying and started dozing off when I heard some whispering and realized it was coming from the monitor.

I initially thought it was some feedback or something, but when I looked at the TV there was a dark shadow near my niece's crib.

I have never been more terrified in my life, but the shadow was clearly there where it had not been before. I ran to my niece's room and looked around and saw nothing, but I took her the hell out of there.

I went back to the TV, and the shadow was clearly gone. I told my brother what happened and he pulled me aside and told me not to mention it to my sister-in-law because she'll freak out, but that he had seen that same thing several times now, with the same whispering.

They stayed in that house for about four more years and when my niece was just learning to talk she would tell her mom about her 'special friend.

When they moved out, my brother told me my niece had become inconsolably sad because she would miss her 'friend. We have never to this day told her about that damn shadow, and she apparently never saw it.

The Shadow. I didn't know that's what it was called until much later. I was living in a house in Laguna Beach that had been there since the s.

In it's history, it had been a speakeasy, a brothel and a house for smuggling illegal immigrants. One day, my new wife and I were having an argument.

I can't even recall what it was about. She walked down the block to get a cup of coffee and cool off, and I was alone in the house.

The way the place was built was incredibly haphazard. There was a bedroom and living room on one side, then a bathroom with two entrances.

On the other side of the bathroom was a hallway that had windows in one side and two bedrooms on the other. From my bedroom, I could look across the hall into the bathroom, then through the bathroom and down the other hall.

I was standing at my dresser, and I just noticed movement out the corner of my eye, and looked down there.

There was It was maybe three feet tall, and it was only vaguely humanoid. There was no sound that I could remember. Then it noticed me looking at it.

I can't say it turned around, it just, focused on me I guess. THEN I was scared. I screamed. I yelled for my wife.

She wasn't home. I went the fuck outside, into the daylight, and didn't go back in until she got home about 10 minutes later. I don't believe in ghosts.

I don't believe I saw something supernatural, but I know I saw something. I don't know what it was. The Princess. How did The Princess take control of our message board, if only for a few seconds?

It didn't make any sense. Our message board wasn't a video game. Our message board pulled all its information from the Internet. The Princess was already inhabiting a game at the same time.

All the rules we thought we knew, all the things we thought kept us safe had failed us. Could she have done this at any time?

Could she do it again? Were there any real limits to what she was capable of? We looked through all the data we'd collected.

We tried to find some common thread we'd been missing. There must have been some way we could have known. There had to be more answers than what we were seeing.

And there were. We finally realized the truth. It was so obvious. The Princess had been in our message board the whole time. She was on every page.

She was on every forum list. She'd been staring at us, watching us for years and we never even saw it. She was the banner at the top of the forum.

She was every screenshot we'd posted, every video we'd uploaded and every piece of fan art we'd drawn. Every image of her is her. Every image of her, when observed, gives her power.

She's not a ghost. She's not a computer virus. She's an idea. When we all watched that stream, banded together and gave her all of our attention all at once, we made her more powerful than she'd ever been before.

We made her strong enough to manifest through the images we'd posted on our message board and speak directly to us. We took down all the images. From what we speculate, it's enough to simply never look at them again, but we deleted them all just to be certain.

However, it may already be too late for us. I've been losing contact with other members of the society.

I can't tell if something's happened to them or if they've simply gone into hiding, but at this point only a fool wouldn't consider the worst-case scenario.

I'm not completely heartless. I know she's fighting for her survival, now. For her, being forgotten is death. She does what she does in the hopes of keeping her memory alive.

To that end, perhaps my telling her story to the world is a small act of mercy. Maybe the thoughts I've lent her will ease her pain somewhat.

I don't know, but either way that isn't why I wrote all this. What I've told you could put you in great danger, but it could also save your life.

You're a target now, and in the months and years ahead she may well come for you, but I've also given you all the knowledge you need to keep yourself safe.

It is my sincere hope that I've given you all the answers you want, so you won't make our mistake and try to investigate further.

There is one and only one thing you need to do to be safe:. The Photograph. My friend took this picture of his cousin in their new house. He says it was just the two of them there but that's not what it looks like.

The Satellite Images. A friend of mine showed me how to use Google Maps. I'm sure you've seen it. It lets you use satellite images to look at locations all over the world.

A few years ago, I was in a car accident. Since then, I really don't leave the house that often. It's difficult, and the idea of a seeing a car drive by me makes me feel lightheaded.

I was fascinated by the fact that I could see all over the world, almost like being there. I could virtually walk down the streets, and it almost felt like I was really there.

I became instantly hooked. It gave me a real eye on the world. I could go to almost any major city, and I did. I'd seen streets in China, Japan, Germany, and England I'd even gone to tourist attractions like the Great Barrier Reef and Dracula's castle.

My favorite was to go to random places in major cities and see how many people and animals I could find. The faces of the people were always blurred to protect their privacy, but it was still enjoyable to see them out there, enjoying their life, walking like it was no big deal.

I zoomed in closer and noticed the grey bag she carried on a grey and purple shoulder strap. She was walking in a relaxed manner, one hand trailing the wall beside her.

I bet if I could have seen her face, I would see that she was smiling. I began to feel a little sad.

Ghost Stories Stream German

He pipes until they walk into the sea and drown. Versions of the Pied Piper can be found in many medieval sources, since the tale plays on medieval and early modern European fears about emigration and sickness.

The Brothers Grimm, those famous German folklorists, set the tale down in one of their collections in the early 19th century, and the famous Goethe wrote a poem about the tale as well.

Well, you can visit Hameln for historical recreations and atmospheric history. They lived a happy life together in the Grünewald outside Berlin.

On his deathbed, Joachim asked his son to take care of Anna, and the son promised that he would. Anna is said to wander the halls of the citadel, unable to leave.

They almost always involve a wronged woman haunting a rural area, unable to leave. Visit the Zitadelle Spandau , of course! But failing that, you can read about Anna and her backstory here.

Maria Renata Singer von Mossau was a nun with a terrible secret. She joined a Bavarian convent in the midth century, but the other nuns soon became possessed by convulsions and swore that the devil was taking control of them.

Von Mossau was beheaded and burned, convicted of heresy and witchcraft. Von Mossau was hardly the only woman who was accused of witchcraft in early modern Europe.

These kinds of accusations were common in a society beset by anxiety about disease, religious wars and rapid change. Von Mossau was, however, one of the last women executed on this kind of charge in Germany.

Suddenly, the financier commits suicide with a shotgun. Goodman returns to Cameron, who tears a latex mask off his face, revealing himself to be Priddle.

Goodman at first believes that he is the victim of an elaborate hoax, but reality soon breaks down altogether. Priddle leads Goodman back in time to the scene of a childhood incident in which he watched two bullies entice a mentally disabled boy into a drain, where he died of an asthma attack.

Goodman has felt guilty all his life about his failure to rescue the victim. The decaying corpse of the bullied boy appears, tormenting Goodman and leading him to a hospital bed, where he is made to lie down.

The ghoul lies on top of him and forces his finger into Goodman's mouth as Goodman cries "No, not again! In the real world, Goodman is in a hospital with tubes in his mouth.

He suffers from locked-in syndrome after a suicide attempt in his car. All the characters and events Goodman has experienced were inspired by the staff and objects in his hospital room.

The doctors incorrectly believe him to be in a persistent vegetative state with no awareness of his surroundings. The junior doctor predicts that Goodman is "here for keeps", without a chance of recovery.

As he leaves the room, the senior doctor says to his junior colleague: "I hope his dreams are sweet". The hospital cleaner, in contrast, chats to Goodman and moves a mirror to give him a different view.

Ghost Stories was described by The Guardian as "an anthology of creepy supernatural tales in the intensely English tradition of Amicus portmanteau movies from the s.

The website's critical consensus reads, " Ghost Stories offers a well-crafted, skillfully told horror anthology that cleverly toys with genre tropes while adding a few devilishly frightful twists.

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Please expand the article to include this information. Further details may exist on the talk page. December Theatrical release poster.

Jeremy Dyson Andy Nyman. Andy Nyman as Phillip Goodman, a famous professor and television presenter, whose show is devoted to debunking fraudulent psychics and explaining paranormal events.

Samuel Bottomley portrays Phillip as a child. British Board of Film Classification. Retrieved 7 April The Numbers. Especially in a large, international city like Berlin , you can easily find Halloween costumes and children trick-or-treating.

Not all Germans are happy about this American import. Ghost stories really do abound in this country of folktales, castles and dark forests.

A master marksman finds himself unable to catch any wild swine or deer in the dark autumn forests. The peddler offers the marksman seven bullets, with one condition.

The first six bullets will hit whatever the marksman wants them to hit, but the peddler will choose the trajectory of the seventh.

The marksman agrees. The marksman quickly earns himself a reputation as the best hunter in the village, as he brings home wild boar after wild boar.

He catches the eye of the prettiest girl in town, and they fall in love. But all too soon, the marksman uses up all six bullets, and when he shoots the seventh, it goes astray and hits his love in the chest, killing her.

The peddler appears to the distraught marksman and reveals himself as the devil. Live a pious life, repent of your hubris, and you will be reunited with the girl after your death, the devil tells the marksman.

The marksman tries, but he is overcome by desire for another girl in the village, and he marries her instead. Folktales about Freischütze were common in the s, s and s in Germany.

The story subsequently became the inspiration for an opera by Carl Maria von Weber. The people of Hameln, in lower Saxony, are dying from the plague sweeping through Europe.

The piper does in fact save the town from the plague, but the ungrateful townsfolk refuse to pay him. He pipes until they walk into the sea and drown.

Versions of the Pied Piper can be found in many medieval sources, since the tale plays on medieval and early modern European fears about emigration and sickness.

The Brothers Grimm, those famous German folklorists, set the tale down in one of their collections in the early 19th century, and the famous Goethe wrote a poem about the tale as well.

Well, you can visit Hameln for historical recreations and atmospheric history. They lived a happy life together in the Grünewald outside Berlin.

On his deathbed, Joachim asked his son to take care of Anna, and the son promised that he would. Anna is said to wander the halls of the citadel, unable to leave.

They almost always involve a wronged woman haunting a rural area, unable to leave. This happened when I was 7.

I am 20 years old now, and because of this incident I am still afraid of the dark. The Grandfather. My grandfather told me this story about how one time he was sitting in a chair in front of the house, when he heard his wife repeatedly calling him from inside the house.

The thing is, my grandmother passed away a few years before that. But he told me that the voice was so pressing that he actually got up to look inside the house, and as soon as he got inside he heard a loud crash behind him and turned around to see that the chair he has been sitting in moments ago had been crushed by the cast iron gutter that fell on it.

If he hadn't come inside the house he would have probably been seriously injured. I don't know if it's paranormal or not, but every time I think about it it sends chills down my spine.

The Crib Shadow. I was babysitting my niece once while I was staying at my brother's place, and they had the baby camera setup so I could see her on the little TV it came with.

I was studying and started dozing off when I heard some whispering and realized it was coming from the monitor. I initially thought it was some feedback or something, but when I looked at the TV there was a dark shadow near my niece's crib.

I have never been more terrified in my life, but the shadow was clearly there where it had not been before.

I ran to my niece's room and looked around and saw nothing, but I took her the hell out of there. I went back to the TV, and the shadow was clearly gone.

I told my brother what happened and he pulled me aside and told me not to mention it to my sister-in-law because she'll freak out, but that he had seen that same thing several times now, with the same whispering.

They stayed in that house for about four more years and when my niece was just learning to talk she would tell her mom about her 'special friend.

When they moved out, my brother told me my niece had become inconsolably sad because she would miss her 'friend. We have never to this day told her about that damn shadow, and she apparently never saw it.

The Shadow. I didn't know that's what it was called until much later. I was living in a house in Laguna Beach that had been there since the s.

In it's history, it had been a speakeasy, a brothel and a house for smuggling illegal immigrants. One day, my new wife and I were having an argument.

I can't even recall what it was about. She walked down the block to get a cup of coffee and cool off, and I was alone in the house.

The way the place was built was incredibly haphazard. There was a bedroom and living room on one side, then a bathroom with two entrances.

On the other side of the bathroom was a hallway that had windows in one side and two bedrooms on the other. From my bedroom, I could look across the hall into the bathroom, then through the bathroom and down the other hall.

I was standing at my dresser, and I just noticed movement out the corner of my eye, and looked down there. There was It was maybe three feet tall, and it was only vaguely humanoid.

There was no sound that I could remember. Then it noticed me looking at it. I can't say it turned around, it just, focused on me I guess.

THEN I was scared. I screamed. I yelled for my wife. She wasn't home. I went the fuck outside, into the daylight, and didn't go back in until she got home about 10 minutes later.

I don't believe in ghosts. I don't believe I saw something supernatural, but I know I saw something. I don't know what it was.

The Princess. How did The Princess take control of our message board, if only for a few seconds? It didn't make any sense.

Our message board wasn't a video game. Our message board pulled all its information from the Internet. The Princess was already inhabiting a game at the same time.

All the rules we thought we knew, all the things we thought kept us safe had failed us. Could she have done this at any time?

Could she do it again? Were there any real limits to what she was capable of? We looked through all the data we'd collected.

We tried to find some common thread we'd been missing. There must have been some way we could have known. There had to be more answers than what we were seeing.

And there were. We finally realized the truth. It was so obvious. The Princess had been in our message board the whole time. She was on every page.

She was on every forum list. She'd been staring at us, watching us for years and we never even saw it. She was the banner at the top of the forum.

She was every screenshot we'd posted, every video we'd uploaded and every piece of fan art we'd drawn. Every image of her is her.

Every image of her, when observed, gives her power. She's not a ghost. She's not a computer virus. She's an idea.

When we all watched that stream, banded together and gave her all of our attention all at once, we made her more powerful than she'd ever been before.

We made her strong enough to manifest through the images we'd posted on our message board and speak directly to us.

We took down all the images. From what we speculate, it's enough to simply never look at them again, but we deleted them all just to be certain.

However, it may already be too late for us. I've been losing contact with other members of the society. I can't tell if something's happened to them or if they've simply gone into hiding, but at this point only a fool wouldn't consider the worst-case scenario.

I'm not completely heartless. I know she's fighting for her survival, now. For her, being forgotten is death. She does what she does in the hopes of keeping her memory alive.

To that end, perhaps my telling her story to the world is a small act of mercy. Maybe the thoughts I've lent her will ease her pain somewhat.

I don't know, but either way that isn't why I wrote all this. What I've told you could put you in great danger, but it could also save your life.

You're a target now, and in the months and years ahead she may well come for you, but I've also given you all the knowledge you need to keep yourself safe.

It is my sincere hope that I've given you all the answers you want, so you won't make our mistake and try to investigate further.

There is one and only one thing you need to do to be safe:. The Photograph. My friend took this picture of his cousin in their new house. He says it was just the two of them there but that's not what it looks like.

The Satellite Images. A friend of mine showed me how to use Google Maps. I'm sure you've seen it.

It lets you use satellite images to look at locations all over the world. A few years ago, I was in a car accident.

Since then, I really don't leave the house that often. It's difficult, and the idea of a seeing a car drive by me makes me feel lightheaded.

I was fascinated by the fact that I could see all over the world, almost like being there. I could virtually walk down the streets, and it almost felt like I was really there.

I became instantly hooked. It gave me a real eye on the world. I could go to almost any major city, and I did. I'd seen streets in China, Japan, Germany, and England I'd even gone to tourist attractions like the Great Barrier Reef and Dracula's castle.

My favorite was to go to random places in major cities and see how many people and animals I could find. The faces of the people were always blurred to protect their privacy, but it was still enjoyable to see them out there, enjoying their life, walking like it was no big deal.

I zoomed in closer and noticed the grey bag she carried on a grey and purple shoulder strap. She was walking in a relaxed manner, one hand trailing the wall beside her.

I bet if I could have seen her face, I would see that she was smiling. I began to feel a little sad.

I let my hands fall onto the arms of my wheelchair and looked at her for a minute more. I wished that I could be there, walking so carefree with her.

That wouldn't happen though, until I died. I was stuck in this chair. I sighed and zoomed out of Tokyo.

Enough of this for tonight. I turned off the computer and went to bed. I got up early and decided to look around Paris.

Paris was always fun. I liked the look of the city, with all of the old, beautiful buildings and so many people to watch. I randomly zoomed to an area and saw a street, lined with old brick buildings, a few small shops, and an old tan brick church.

Ahead was an intersection, and dozens of people walked by. A balding businessman walked quickly past, looking back at an old woman, hair covered with a scarf, carrying a large purse.

A curvy woman in black pants that were too tight stared into a store window, and two women led a group of small children around a corner.

I spun the view around a few more times, and then saw something peculiar. Sitting on the bench at the bus stop, were two people.

One of them was a young woman with her feet stuck in front of her in a relaxed manner.

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