🎥 Prefer to hear this story told aloud? Watch this ghost story on YouTube below:
I have a story for you that might make you rethink your tech. I’ve seen plenty of haunting accounts on here, but this one is for the VR players—specifically those of you using the Meta Quest 3. I discovered, quite by accident, that the passthrough cameras on these headsets capture spirits just as easily as any smartphone lens. Maybe even better.
I was staying in a motel in Gettysburg. If you’ve ever been there, you know the air itself feels thick with the past. I wasn’t even playing a mixed-reality game; I was just deep in a standard title, lost in the digital world. I had my roomscale boundaries set up—those glowing grid lines that pop up to warn you if a person or a piece of furniture enters your play area. I was alone, or so I thought, and I didn’t want to accidentally punch a hole in the motel drywall.
The feeling started mid-game. That prickly, cold sensation of eyes on the back of your neck. Being in Gettysburg, I brushed it off. The town is a graveyard; spirits are part of the scenery. But then, the air changed. A foul, cloying stench—like wet earth and stagnant flowers—filled the room. I felt a heavy, feminine presence pressing in on me.
“I’m not interested in communicating,” I said aloud to the empty room, trying to stay polite as I swung my virtual sword at a digital knight. “Please, just move along.”
The presence vanished for a moment. Then, it came back, surging with an intensity that made my skin crawl.
I tried again, my voice a bit tighter. “Hey, I’d like you to leave me alone, I’m not inter—”
Soft, cold fingers suddenly clamped onto my shoulders. I felt the weight of someone leaning in, their breath—smelling of that same rot—ghosting against my ear. A woman’s voice, a silk-thin whisper, hissed: “Shhh… take it off.”
In my peripheral vision, the safety lines of the headset flared to life. The sensors were outlining the distinct shape of a person standing directly behind me in the center of the room.
I didn’t take the headset off. Instead, I toggled the passthrough cameras to see who was in the room with me.
She was beautiful. Her features were distinct, oddly attractive in a way that took me off guard. But I’m no rookie. I know that things from the other side can wear whatever face they choose. Despite her beauty, that sickening smell of decay didn’t fade. It only got stronger.
“Please,” I said one last time. “I’ve told you. I’m not interested.”
Now, you have to understand a minor detail about this motel room: there were two large mirrors on the walls. Anyone who knows the craft knows that mirrors are doorways. She looked at me, her expression shifting to one of deep, simmering upset, and then she vanished.
A few moments later, the weight returned to my shoulders. But this time, it wasn’t a soft touch. It felt like needles—sharp, hooked points digging into my skin. I’d had enough. I ripped the headset off, spinning around to face her.
“Look, miss, I already told you—”
I froze. She was right there, draped in a seductive pose on the edge of the bed. She looked human, stunning even. But behind her sat the large vanity mirror. I glanced at the glass, and my heart nearly stopped.
The reflection did not match.
In the mirror, there was no beautiful woman. There was a creature I can barely find the words to describe—a gaunt, distorted thing that was most certainly never human.
I didn’t wait for her to move. I lunged for my nightstand, grabbing my cross and my vial of blessed oil. I began to recite a prayer, commanding the entity back to the dark corners where it belonged.
She didn’t scream. She laughed. As I prayed, her beautiful face began to melt and distort, bubbling away until the creature from the mirror was standing in the center of the room. I kept my voice steady, the prayer a shield between us, until finally, the air snapped. She was gone. The room felt light again.
But the silence didn’t last.
Suddenly, a chorus of blood-curdling screams erupted from the room next door. It sounded like teenagers in total hysterics. I met the motel manager in the hallway; she was already unlocking their door. When it swung open, we found a group of young adults huddled in a terrified circle on the floor.
In the center of them sat an Ouija board.
They were sobbing, crippled by a fear so pure they couldn’t even speak. While the manager started her lecture, I brought in my oil and my Bible. I said a final prayer to settle the room, and only then did the shadows seem to retreat.
It sounds like a tall tale, I know. But in Gettysburg, there are things hiding in the dark that no one really wants to acknowledge. Those teenagers didn’t think before they opened a door they couldn’t close. They were just lucky I was in the room next door, playing games with the lights off.
👁️ Think this was disturbing?
This is one of many ghost stories we’ve featured on our YouTube channel, check out our Appalachian Ghost stories collection.
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