Poltergeist Quotes

Harry witnessed Professor McGonagall walking right past Peeves who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier and could have sworn he heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, 'It unscrews the other way.

I glanced up to see Liz and smiled. "Thank you." "I just went along for the ride. After that happened-" She waved at Derek. "You know how blind people need Seeing Eye dogs? Well, apparently werewolves could really use Opening Door poltergeists.

We had one gun, one werewolf, one poltergeist, one supercharged spell-caster, one not-so-supercharged spell-caster, and one perfectly useless necromancer, though Liz was quick to remind me that she needed me to relay her words. - Chloe

I shall not commit the fashionable stupidity of regarding everything I cannot explain as a fraud. —address to the Society for Psychical Research in England

We won't be seeing you,' Fred told Professor Umbridge, swinging his leg over his broomstick. 'Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch,' said George, mounting his own. Fred looked around at the assembled students, and at the silent, watchful crowd. 'If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three, Diagon Alley — Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes,' he said in a loud voice, 'Our new premises!' 'Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat,' added George, pointing at Professor Umbridge. 'STOP THEM!' shrieked Umbridge, but it was too late. As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Fred and George kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air, the iron peg swinging dangerously below. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd. 'Give her hell from us, Peeves.' And Peeves, who Harry had never seen take an order from a student before, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as Fred and George wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out of the open front doors into the glorious sunset.

Winston Gallagher!" I said, recognizing the first ghost I'de met. Then my eyes narrowed & I covered my hand in front of my crotch as I saw Winstons gaze fasten there next. "Don't even think about poltergeisting my panties again". "This is the sod? Come here you scurvy little--" "Bones don't!" I interrupted. He stopped, giving a last glare to him while mouthing YOU. ME. EXORCIST. before returning to my side.

You! You tricked me! I never want to see you or that bottle of liquid arsenic again!” I chucked the empty moonshine jug at him. Or tried to. It missed him by a dozen feet. He picked it up in astonishment. “You drank the whole bloody thing? You were only supposed to have a few sips!” “Did you say that? Did you?” He reached me just as I felt the ground tip. “Didn’t say anything. I’ve got those names, so that’s all that matters, but you men…you’re all alike. Alive, dead, undead—all perverts! I had a drunken pervert in my pants! Do you know how unsanitary that is?” Bones held me upright. I would have protested, but I couldn’t remember how to. “What are you saying?” “Winston poltergeisted my panties, that’s what!” I announced with a loud hiccup. “Why, you scurvy, lecherous spook!” Bones yelled in the direction of the cemetery. “If my pipes still worked, I’d go right back there and piss on your grave!

A week after Fred and George's departure, Harry witnessed Professor McGonagall walking right past Peeves, who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier, and could have sworn he heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, "It unscrews the other way.

... the cupboards start opening and closing by themselves, drawers slamming shut and the walls start to bleed. Slamming doors and smashing plates. Anna is acting like a common poltergeist. How embarrassing.

God forbid I should bleed to death, eh? Then you'd have to cart around my rotting corpse. (Kyrian) Could you be any more morbid? Jeez, who was your idol growing up? Boris Karloff? (Amanda) Hannibal, actually. (Kyrian) You're trying to scare me, aren't you? Well, it won't work. I grew up in a house with an angry poltergeist and two sisters who used to conjure demons just to fight them. Buster, I've seen it all and your gallows humor isn't working on me. (Amanda)

Demon. Gremlin. Poltergeist. Ghost. Phantom. Spirit. Shadow. Ghoul. Devil. People are afraid of them, so they relegate their existence to stories, volumes of books that can be closed and put on the shelf or left behind at a bed and breakfast; they clench their eyes shut, so they will see no evil. But trust me when I tell you that the zebra is real. Somewhere, the zebra is dancing.

but you men... you're all alike. Alive, dead, undead- all perverts! I had a drunken pervert in my pants! Do you know how unsanitary that is?" "What are you saying?" "Winston poltergeisted my panties, that's what!" "Why, you scurvy, lecherous spook! If my pipes still worked, I'd go right back there and piss on your grave!

The phrase 'sodomized by a bratwurst poltergeist' suddenly flew through my mind.

It all had a classy, run-down look, like a place to be aesthetically killed by a really famous poltergeist.

According to Thomas, the city [of Bath] had once been a veritable hotbed of manifestations, with every sorcerer, bunyip, golem, goblin, pict, pixie, demon, thylacine, gorgon, moron, cult, scum, mummy, rummy, groke, sphinx, minx, muse, flagellant, diva, reaver, weaver, reaper, scabbarder, scabmettler, dwarf, midget, little person, leprechaun, marshwiggle, totem, soothsayer, truthsayer, hatter, hattifattener, imp, panwere, mothman, shaman, flukeman, warlock, morlock, poltergeist, zeitgeist, elemental, banshee, manshee, lycanthrope, lichenthrope, sprite, wight, aufwader, harpy, silkie, kelpie, klepto, specter, mutant, cyborg, balrog, troll, ogre, cat in shoes, dog in a hat, psychic and psychotic seemingly having decided that this was the hot spot to visit.

Don't you even think of poltergeisting my panties again," I warned him, adding in a louder voice. "That goes for everyone else here, too." "This is the sod?" Bones started down the porch stairs even as Winston began to edge away. "Come back here, you scurvy little--" "Bones, don't!" I interrupted, not wanting him to start using slurs that might offend the other living-inpaireds gathered here. He stopped, giving a last glare to Winston while mouthing, You. Me. Exorcist, before returning to my side.

Picture yourself when you were five. in fact, dig out a photo of little you at that time and tape it to your mirror. How would you treat her, love her, feed her? How would you nurture her if you were the mother of little you? I bet you would protect her fiercely while giving her space to spread her itty-bitty wings. she’d get naps, healthy food, imagination time, and adventures into the wild. If playground bullies hurt her feelings, you’d hug her tears away and give her perspective. When tantrums or meltdowns turned her into a poltergeist, you’d demand a loving time-out in the naughty chair. From this day forward I want you to extend that same compassion to your adult self.

First comes mischief, then comes menace, then mayhem. The more trouble poltergeists cause, the more powerful they get.

Sometimes we took refuge in our diving bell while waves of charge and magnetism spiraled languidly past, like boluses of ectoplasm coursing down the intestine of some poltergeist god.

I’m probably the only sixteen-year-old girl in a three hundred mile radius who knows how to distinguish between a poltergeist from an actual ghost (hint: If you can disrupt it with nitric acid, or if it throws new crap at you every time, it’s a poltergeist), or how to tell if a medium’s real or faking it (poke ‘em with a true iron needle). I know the six signs of a good occult store (Number One is the proprietor bolts the door before talking about Real Business) and the four things you never do when you’re in a bar with other people who know about the darker side of the world (don’t look weak). I know how to access public information and talk my way around clerks in courthouses (a smile and the right clothing will work wonders). I also know how to hack into newspaper files, police reports, and some kinds of government databases (primary rule: Don’t get caught. Duh).

Don’t go to the bears! It’s like Poltergeist all over again. Don’t go into the fur-lined light!

Homecomer, hitcher, phantom rider, White lady wants what’s been denied her, Gather-grim knows what you fear the most, But best keep away from the crossroads ghost. Talk to the poltergeist, talk to the haunt, Talk to the routewitch if it’s what you want. Reaper’s in the parlor, seizer’s in a host, But you’d best keep away from the crossroads ghost. - common clapping rhyme among the ever-lasters of the twilight

I have never liked the theory that poltergeists only come into houses where there are children, because I think it is simply too much for any one house to have poltergeists and children. —“The Ghosts of Loiret

Not to succeed in one thing is to fail in all.’ Far more frightening than any poltergeist is the spectre of loneliness in old age.

I assert our inalienable right to party!

Anyone else who misspent their largely-sexless adolescence playing role playing games would be aware that games nights are often accompanied by peculiar states of consciousness and even the odd poltergeist effect.

Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd. “Give her hell from us, Peeves.” And Peeves, whom Harry had never seen take an order from a student before, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as Fred and George wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out of the open front doors into the glorious sunset.

Now living has become a series of hauntings, poltergeists, revenants that flock to the entrances to my ceremonial spaces and enter without regard or invitation.

Not that I really think the Caine is inanimate. It’s an iron poltergeist sent into the world by God

It better not be a bomb, or I’m coming back as a poltergeist and finding some way to ghost-murder you.

The terms we use for what is considered supernatural are woefully inadequate. Beyond such terms as ghost, specter, poltergeist, angel, devil, or spirit, might there not be something more our purposeful blindness has prevented us from understanding? We accept the fact that there may be other worlds out in space, but might there not be other worlds here? Other worlds, in other dimensions, coexistent with this? If there are other worlds parallel to ours, are all the doors closed? Or does one, here or there, stand ajar?

Personally, I don’t mind a good cry. In fact, if I cry while chopping onions, I’ll run to the bathroom mirror and recite one of my favorite lines from Poltergeist: “Don’t you touch my babies!!!” It’s the part where the kids are being sucked into the bedroom closet for the second time and JoBeth Williams is at HER WIT’S END! It’s very dramatic.

It is my greatest wish that victims of paranormal attack are treated with the respect and compassion they deserve, and that by writing this book, it will encourage others to come forward and share their stories also.

... Ethical cyberexplorers are responsible, yeah? We are friendly ghosts in the machine, not poltergeists or hooligans. We are a growing breed. Over sixty-five percent of top-flight systems explorers are ethical." Ai gives Suga a black look. "And over eighty-five percent of all statistics are made up on the spot.

Faith is belief without proof. Faith is fine, but don't call it science.

I sorted out the poltergeist problem. I told it to go to the light.” I rub the plaster over my eye. “So, it threw a lamp at me.

Peeves the poltergeist,

The traditional wisdom when dealing with poltergeist phenomena is to keep an eye out for adolescent children in the vicinity.

...he was more of a poltergeist than a lodger

The most likely victim of spontaneous human combustion is a solitary woman, 75 percent of all known cases of SHC are women. I tell her that some people believe that arsonist poltergeists are to blame, that the spirits of firestarters roam the cities setting souls on fire.

I have never liked the theory that poltergeists only come into houses where there are children, because I think it is simply too much for any one house to have poltergeists and children,

A love of all things saccharine often seems present where there is a lack of real warmth or charity. So

Even if teen-age children aren’t making a sound, it’s quieter when they’re gone. They put a boiling in the air around them. As they left, the whole house seemed to sigh and settle. No wonder poltergeists infest only houses with adolescent children. The

No Muggle Prime Minister has ever set foot in the Ministry of Magic, for reasons most succinctly summed up by ex-Minister Dugald McPhail (term of office 1858 - 1865): 'their puir wee braines couldnae cope wi' it.

You have like … seven pockets in those pants. Imagine carrying seven pockets with you at the carnival. You can’t. You’d need a purse. Then you’d get on the Zipper and it’d be fine for a minute until your purse popped open and all of your stuff was being poltergeisted around the cage at you like you were a kitten in a dryer full of batteries, and then your phone gave you a black eye. This is all based on real life, by the way.

Your fancy scientific method is that I’m going to tie a rope around your waist and drag you back to safety when you push yourself too hard? Like in Poltergeist?” “It worked in Poltergeist.” “Just when I think you may the smartest person I’ve ever met, you go and say something like that.

Albert Boot 1747 – 1752 Likeable, but inept. Resigned after a mismanaged goblin rebellion. Basil Flack 1752 – 1752 Shortest serving Minister. Lasted two months; resigned after the goblins joined forces with werewolves.

you men…you’re all alike. Alive, dead, undead—all perverts! I had a drunken pervert in my pants! Do you know how unsanitary that is?” Bones held me upright. I would have protested, but I couldn’t remember how to. “What are you saying?” “Winston poltergeisted my panties, that’s what!” I announced with a loud hiccup.

Ahem," a voice said behind me. I didn't need to turn around to know it was Judith, my once human, but now poltergeist mother-in-law. I had once joked with Bella that if anyone hated me enough to come back from the dead to haunt me, it would have been her mom. Seems the joke was on me, because that's exactly what she did.

I have noticed more than once in life that a taste for the ineffably twee can go hand-in-hand with a distinctly uncharitable outlook on the world. I once shared an office with a woman who had covered the wall space behind her desk with pictures of fluffy kitties; she was the most bigoted, spiteful champion of the death penalty with whom it has ever been my misfortune to share a kettle. A love of all things saccharine often seems present where there is a lack of real warmth or charity.

The postmodernist belief in the relativism of truth, coupled with the clicker culture of mass media, in which attention spans are measured in New York minutes, leaves us with a bewildering array of truth claims packaged in infotainment units. It must be true—I saw it on television, the movies, the Internet. The Twilight Zone, The Outer Limits, That’s Incredible!, The Sixth Sense, Poltergeist, Loose Change, Zeitgeist: The Movie. Mysteries, magic, myths, and monsters. The occult and the supernatural. Conspiracies and cabals. The face on Mars and aliens on Earth. Bigfoot and Loch Ness. ESP and psi. UFOs and ETIs. OBEs and NDEs. JFK, RFK, and MLK Jr.—alphabet conspiracies. Altered states and hypnotic regression. Remote viewing and astroprojection. Ouija boards and tarot cards. Astrology and palm reading. Acupuncture and chiropractic. Repressed memories and false memories. Talking to the dead and listening to your inner child. It’s all an obfuscating amalgam of theory and conjecture, reality and fantasy, nonfiction and science fiction. Cue dramatic music. Darken the backdrop. Cast a shaft of light across the host’s face. Trust no one. The truth is out there. I want to believe.

What’s so funny?” she asked, crinkling her face in confusion. “This,” he said, whirling to bat down the books that sailed at him with flapping pages. “I mean in my youth, we had iron chastity belts to keep maidens pure, but this is new. And entertaining.” He smiled at her with sharp teeth, not at all bothered by her voices poltergeist act.

Everything that dies never really goes. In little ways, it all stays." Not in the horrific way Lee wrote it. Not with the moaning ghosts and terrifying poltergeists and living dead, but in the way the sun came back around again, the way flowers browned and became dirt and new seeds bloomed the next spring. Everything died, but pieces of it remained.

one might call this state ["youth" (but that seems inaccurate)] "remembering" but memory is quite eerie like caging a dream, and when I recite the rote details the real event slithers further from me because the telling of it reshapes it, every touch alters it, until it is unrecognizable except as a story [a doppelganger (immediately not myself) a writhing poltergeist summoned to snap at me from the darkness~or benign but vague, like a whisper making it better to remain silent, but I can't~the past is a narrative (that writes us) immanent in the present [proving there is cause and effect in the immaterial (the mythic becomes carnal by leaving marks on the body)] symbol by symbol, building up invisible scars

The Victorians, for instance, couldn’t get five minutes’ peace without falling over a ghost. So what has changed? Have all the spectres left town?

This house … is clean. —POLTERGEIST (1982)

This isn't some poltergeist that needs to be exorcised, Dani. Like I told you, it's a living, breathing energy, trying to be the top dog.

on such matters as reincarnation, poltergeists, astral projection, and spontaneous human combustion.

Memories are like Teek." said Pixie Pan, "You never can tell." (Teek being a compulsive lying and commitment-shy poltergeist.)

A fastidious neatness had been at work there, like a poltergeist in reverse.

Winston poltergeisted my panties, that’s what!” I

She has a job. Haunting the house. That’s why she wasn’t concerned about my bringing a ghost home. Our house is already ruled by a poltergeist. No other entity would dare invade her territory.

have always liked the notion that the American twins were actually a poltergeist phenomenon; certainly poltergeists can overshadow any more interesting manifestation. Bad ghosts drive out good.

(Dolores is the only person, other than Lord Voldemort, to leave a permanent physical scar on Harry, having forced him to cut the words ‘I must not tell lies’ on the back of his own hand during detention).

The name ‘Azkaban’ derives from a mixture of the prison ‘Alcatraz’, which is its closest Muggle equivalent, being set on an island, and ‘Abaddon’, which is a Hebrew word meaning ‘place of destruction’ or ‘depths of hell’.

We haven’t actually laid eyes on Lila yet, but I can hear her moving around in the room next door, noisy but unseen. Like a very entitled, very tortured poltergeist. I’m half afraid she’ll float through the wall at any minute.

Under Kingsley Shacklebolt, Azkaban was purged of Dementors. While it remains in use as a prison, the guards are now Aurors, who are regularly rotated from the mainland. There has been no breakout since this new system was introduced.

Behind my office, to the south-east, was Police Headquarters, and I imagined all the good hard work that was being done there to crack down on Berlin's crime. Villainies like speaking disrespectfully of the Führer, displaying a 'Sold Out' sign in your butcher's shop window, not giving the Hitler Salute, and homosexuality. That was Berlin under the National Socialist Government: a big, haunted house with dark corners, gloomy staircases, sinister cellars, locked rooms and a whole attic full of poltergeists on the loose, throwing books, banging doors, breaking glass, shouting in the night and generally scaring the owners so badly that there were times when they were ready to sell up and get out. But most of the time they just stopped up their ears, covered their blackened eyes and tried to pretend that there was nothing wrong. Cowed with fear, they spoke very little, ignoring the carpet moving underneath their feet, and their laughter was the thin, nervous kind that always accompanies the boss's little joke.

Oh, no. That’s just a name. Oswald isn’t a man, he’s an ondageist. Have you heard of poltergeists?” “Er . . . invisible spirits that throw things around?” “Good,” said Miss Level. “Well, an ondageist is the opposite. They’re obsessive about tidiness. He’s quite handy around the house, but he’s absolutely dreadful if he’s in the kitchen when I’m cooking. He keeps putting things away. I think it makes him happy. Sorry, I should have warned you, but he normally hides if anyone comes to the cottage. He’s shy.” “And

Even at seventeen, Dolores was judgemental, prejudiced and sadistic, although her conscientious attitude, her saccharine manner towards her superiors, and the ruthlessness and stealth with which she took credit for other people’s work soon gained her advancement. Before

She is an immensely controlling person, and all who challenge her authority and world-view must, in her opinion, be punished. She actively enjoys subjugating and humiliating others, and except in their declared allegiances, there is little to choose between her and Bellatrix Lestrange.

Firstly, we only saw the landing on the moon on television. If this constituted a proof, then the existence of aliens, flying saucers, poltergeists, talking animals and typing monkeys would also have been proven, since we have seen all these things on television too; and the same goes for the photos.

Freud believed that much of mental illness was due to repression, which is arguably and reasonably considered a form of self-deception. For him, memories of traumatically troubling events were unconsciously banished to perdition in the unconscious, where they rattled around and caused trouble, like poltergeists in a dungeon.

Iko fell silent. Cinder glanced around, sensing Iko all around her. The engine rotated faster for a moment, then reduced to normal speed. The temperature barely dropped. A light flickered in the hallway behind Thorne, who was stiff and uncomfortable in the doorway, looking like a poltergeist had just taken over his beloved Rampion.

Umbridge. ‘STOP THEM!’ shrieked Umbridge, but it was too late. As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Fred and George kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air, the iron peg swinging dangerously below. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd. ‘Give her hell from us, Peeves.’ And

This is the gayest thing we’ve ever done, by the way,” she said. “Summoning me from the afterlife to have one more long talk about our feelings.

Had she been relegated to an immortality of wearing the lesbian staple outfit of chunky shoes and cargo pants?

Her desire to control, to punish and to inflict pain, all in the name of law and order, are, I think, every bit as reprehensible as Lord Voldemort’s unvarnished espousal of evil.

Like many people who feel themselves to be insignificant, even laughable, Quirrell had a latent desire to make the world sit up and notice him.

Einstein’s ‘spooky interactions.’” Einstein had famously described quantum entanglement as “spooky action at a distance.

Some things have to be believed to be seen.

Now, clear your minds. It knows what scares you. It has from the very beginning. Don't give it any help, it knows too much already.

The popular idea of a Potions expert within the wizarding community is of a brooding, slow-burning personality: Snape, in fact, conforms perfectly to the stereotype.

I assert our inalienable right to party’, which drew cheers from all present.

Reminds me of that urban legend about hearing voices in the white noise of a television tuned to a station that's off the air

It was like I’d spent my whole life staring at the moon and she’d walked in with all of her sunshine. Now I was constantly seeking out her warmth, constantly turning toward the sun.

Poltergeists, for the most part, seemed to be pretty unhappy spirits with a vendetta against humanity and an eye for trickery. I knew that if I died I’d definitely come back as one. It actually was quite appealing, throwing shit around and scaring hapless people out of their homes, just to be an ass. I started looking forward to “meeting” these asshole ghosts.

When his bravery at the Battle of Hogwarts was publicised, his actions (along with those of Regulus Black, which gained attention in the aftermath of Voldemort’s demise) removed much of the stigma that had been attached to Slytherin house for hundreds of years past. Though now (permanently) retired, his portrait has a place of honour in the Slytherin common room.

And there will be other occurrences, an immensity of them, and the world and all that's in it will continue to hum and sing, to shake and shine, to hold us in its darkness and its light.

But soon the poltergeist ran out of ideas in connection with Aunt Maud and became, as it were, more eclectic. All the banal motions that objects are limited to in such cases, were gone through in this one. Saucepans crashed in the kitchen; a snowball was found (perhaps, prematurely) in the icebox; once or twice Sybil saw a plate sail by like a discus and land safely on the sofa; lamps kept lighting up in various parts of the house; chairs waddled away to assemble in the impassable pantry; mysterious bits of string were found on the floor; invisible revelers staggered down the staircase in the middle of the night; and one winter morning Shade, upon rising and taking a look at the weather, saw that the little table from his study upon which he kept Bible-like Webster open at M was standing in a state of shock outdoors, on the snow (subliminally this may have participated in the making of lines 5-12). I imagine, that during the period the Shades, or at least John Shade, experienced a sensation of odd instability as if parts of the everyday, smoothly running world had got unscrewed, and you became aware that one of your tires was rolling beside you, or that your steering wheel had come off.

I feel the thinness of me, the littleness of me, and the vastness and the weirdness of me. I become the darkness all around, I become the night. Tomorrow I will be a different Davie, and I will be the day.

So it's important to know where you are in your cycle?" "What?" She had no idea what the man was asking. "The poltergeist!" Xander stated, then seeing her confusion carried on. "Are you ovulating?" As the plane levelled out and the engine noise dropped abruptly stunned silence blanketed the jet, until Nate's voice sounded from the back of the plane. "Dude, one head injury wasn't enough for you this week?

Not only did Peeves break easily through the giant bell jar, showering an entire corridor with broken glass, he also escaped the trap armed with several cutlasses, crossbows, a blunderbuss and a miniature cannon.

There are three known planets in the PSR B1257 system, which have been named Draugr, Poltergeist and Phobetor. Poltergeist was the first to be discovered. I know, I was curious about their names as well. Poletrgeist means "pounding ghost". The draugr are the unded in Norse legends who live in their graves. And Phobetor is the personification of nightmares, and the son of Nyx, Greek goddess of the night. Astronomers are goths.

Evangeline Orpington 1849 – 1855 A good friend of Queen Victoria’s, who never realised she was a witch, let alone Minister for Magic. Orpington is believed to have intervened magically (and illegally) in the Crimean War.

I walked over to the paper and bent as the pencil began scribbling across it. You look OK. Are you OK? “Liz?” A stupid question. Liz was the only poltergeist I knew. But if she was here, that meant. “Chloe?” My heart started thudding again. “Where’s Chloe. Did they—?” She’s outside. I took a deep breath. “Good. Okay. My dad’s there, too?” I watched the paper. Nothing happened. “Liz? My dad is with her, right? She called him, didn’t she?” Couldn’t. “What do you mean she couldn’t. She has her cell—” No, she didn’t. We hadn’t taken them into the forest. If Chloe had managed to follow me straight from there … I swore. “Tell her to get to a pay phone. Call collect. Get my dad and—” No time. They’re packing the van. “Then you ride with me. You can find out where we go, and return and Chloe—” We’re getting you out. “What? No. Absolutely not. Tell Chloe—” Girls rule :D

But why should life after death prove the truth of religion, any more than life before death does? It may 'prove' that man is a spirit, but even an agnostic can believe that by deciding that he is more than a mere machine.

The worst of which he could be accused during his teaching career is that he made far too great a distinction between those students whom he found amusing and promising, and those in whom he saw no flicker of future greatness.

Every witch or wizard with a wand has held in his or her hands more power than we will ever know. With the right spell or potion, they can fabricate love, travel through time, change physical form and even extinguish life. In the wrong hands, power and magic can be dark, lethal, and consuming. Lord Voldemort showed us that; he sought power so viciously that he tore apart the fabric of his soul and lost everything that made him human. He is the ultimate villain, motivated by an ice-cold desire for power and destruction. Obviously few people could match Voldemort in general evil intent (though Bellatrix Lestrange and Dolores Umbridge indeed try), but there are certainly other characters attracted to power.

Briston shakes his head in answer, and slowly walks over to the sword. He cautiously stretches out his hand, which I can see is shaking. "What are you doing." I ask, frightened. "I'm going to see what happens if I touch it." Briston continues to stretch his hand out slowly. "Briston don't. What if it, I don't know, sucks you inside?" Briston stops to give me a dubious look. "What? It could happen. Don't you remember Poltergeist? The little girl got sucked into the television.

When he disappeared again, I texted Agent de Cabrera for emergency positivity. I got socked by a poltergeist. I wanna give up. Elian texted: Winston Churchill said, “Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.” He ended with a smiley face. I texted back: Probably, Churchill wasn’t being punched in the gob by eldritch spirits. Then, to add that pinch of positivity, I added, I’m positive his enthusiasm was a sign of mental instability. There was a thud from somewhere beyond the hall, and a shout of alarm.

A gifted wizard, but an unlikely politician, McLaird was an exceptionally taciturn man who preferred to communicate in monosyllables and expressive puffs of smoke that he produced through the end of his wand. Forced from office out of sheer irritation at his eccentricities.

You’re right, poltergeists are the third classification. They’re not an entity in their own right, though. They’re altered versions of either spectres or imprints. When a ghost becomes highly emotional—if a researcher taunts them, for instance, or if they see a scene strongly reminiscent of a powerful moment from their life—they can gather additional energy and start affecting the physical world. Usually, that manifests as objects being thrown or as gusts of wind. Sometimes, poltergeists will try to touch you, which I’m told feels like an ice cube being run over your skin.

In the act of watching the television news, audiences cross the globe, one moment viewing a scene in a wide aerial shot, the next moment seeing an emotional close up of a victim’s face. By extending the physical senses to impossible dimensions, media provide audiences a near metaphysical adventure.

His head drooped forward, but his eyes were open. His expression was shattered as he met Serilda’s gaze. She didn’t realize that she’d taken a step toward him until the king’s voice startled her back to herself. “Leave him be.” She froze. “Why—” Then, remembering that she was not supposed to have met Gild before, she cleared the hurt from her brow and faced the king. “Who is he? What has he done to be chained up like that?” “Our resident poltergeist,” the king said mockingly. “He dared to steal something that was mine.” “Steal something?” “Indeed. A bobbin was missing from your previous night’s work, disappeared before my servants could even collect the gold. I am sure it was the poltergeist, as he has a habit of causing trouble.” Serilda’s stomach dropped. “But I will not tolerate his mischief on such an occasion. Your labors have served me well. Not many things can hold him, but chains crafted from magicked gold? They worked just as well as I’d hoped.” She swallowed hard and looked back. Gild’s jaw was locked. Misery mixed with anger across the plains of his face. It was too far for her to see the chains clearly, but Serilda had no doubt they were crafted of strands of pure gold, woven into an unbreakable chain. Her heart ached. He had made his own prison, and he had done it for her.

If [t]he mind is a system with many parts, then an innate desire is just one component among others. Some faculties may endow us with greed or lust or malice, but others may endow us with sympathy, foresight, selfrespect, a desire for respect from others, and an ability to learn from our own experiences and those of our neighbors. These are physical circuits residing in the prefrontal cortex and other parts of the brain, not occult powers of a poltergeist, and they have a genetic basis and an evolutionary history no less than the primal urges. It is only the Blank Slate and the Ghost in the Machine that make people think that drives are “biological” but that thinking and decision making are something else.

She froze, bracing one hand against the wall. Gild stared up at her, clutching a bundle of fabric in his arms. His sleeves were pushed up past his elbows, and she could see lines of red welts where the gold chains had wrapped around him. There was tension in his shoulders. His expression was too careful, too wary. She wanted to rush into his arms, but they did not open to her. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she found words. “I was coming to free you.” His jaw tensed, but a second later, his gaze softened. “I was starting to make a bit of a ruckus. Moaning. Chain-rattling. Typical poltergeist stuff. They finally got tired of listening to me and brought me down around sunset.” She eased down the steps. A finger reached for one of the marks on his forearm, but he flinched away. She pulled back. “How did they do it?” “Cornered me outside the tower,” he said. “They had the chains around me before I knew what was happening. I’ve never had to worry about that before. Being…trapped like that.” “I’m so sorry, Gild. If it wasn’t for me—” “You didn’t do this to me,” he interrupted sharply. “But the gold—” “I made the gold. I designed my own prison. How’s that for torture?” He looked briefly like he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite figure out how. “But if I’d told the truth…at anytime, if I’d just told the truth, rather than asking you to spin the gold, too keep coming back, to keep helping me—” “Then you would be dead.

the city had once been a veritable hotbed of manifestations, with every sorcerer, bunyip, golem, goblin, pict, pixie, demon, thylacine, gorgon, moron, cult, scum, mummy, rummy, groke, sphinx, minx, muse, flagellant, diva, reaver, weaver, reaper, scabbarder, scabmettler, dwarf, midget, little person, leprechaun, marshwiggle, totem, soothsayer, truthsayer, hatter, hattifattener, imp, panwere, mothman, shaman, flukeman, warlock, morlock, poltergeist, zeitgeist, elemental, banshee, manshee, lycanthrope, lichenthrope, sprite, wight, aufwader, harpy, silkie, kelpie, klepto, specter, mutant, cyborg, balrog, troll, ogre, cat in shoes, dog in a hat, psychic, and psychotic seemingly having decided that this was the hot spot to visit.

Poltergeist is one of those German words, like zeitgeist or schadenfreude, that everyone thinks they know but no one really understands. The translation is “noisy ghost,” and it’s legitimate; they are the loud bullies of the psychic world. They have a tendency to attach themselves to teenage girls who dabble in the occult or who have wild mood swings, both of which attract angry energy. I used to tell my clients that poltergeists are just plain pissed off. They’re often the ghosts of women who were wronged or men who were betrayed, people who never got a chance to fight back. That frustration manifests itself in biting or pinching the inhabitants of a house, cupboards banging or doors slamming, dishes whizzing across a room, and shutters opening and closing.

There is no spot on earth that is free from loss. On this street, or in this room, someone lay down or was put down and was no more. Someone held someone else for the last time here. Rivers and lakes and oceans are full of people who vanished beneath the surface and were never seen again. Wherever you are standing, wherever you call home, someone left the earth there. Everyone we love dies and disappears.

She leaned in and hugged me. “I know. Thanks. I love you, too. And for the record, Cheyenne and Landon are soul mates and if they don’t end up together, I want you to find a poltergeist to haunt the Easton Heights writers.” She pulled back, smiling at me, then reaching out to ruffle Lend’s hair. “Take care of each other, you two obnoxious kids.” Then, throwing her shoulders back and staring straight forward, she walked through the gate. I watched, dreading seeing her turn into dust or something, but gasped in relief and joy as her ruined, unnaturally preserved body blossomed into something new, something strong and proud and undeniably alive. She turned back, just once, and although she was nearly unrecognizable, I could see our Arianna in her smile that managed to maintain its trademark ironic twist. “I’m going to miss her,” I said. “What?” Lend shouted. “I said, I’m going to miss her!” “I can’t hear you! I’m going to miss her!

Do you really think I’ve been murdered?” Michael’s voice was soft, but I still heard it from across the bedroom. He stood in the doorway with a rather solemn expression. Words failed me. Would he really want to hear the answer? If it were me, would I want to know if someone killed me? Maybe. I took a deep breath. “I’ll be honest with you. It doesn’t look good. The fact that no one knows you’re dead yet makes me worry that your death might have been intentional.” I stepped closer to him, staring all the way up into his face. “But if you want the truth, I don’t think the reason you died was your fault. You’re a pain in the ass, but you’re a good guy. I’m sorry this happened to you.” He gazed at me for a handful of seconds before nodding and his hair slid forward into his eyes. For some reason, it was the first time Michael seemed human. He was always so amiable and confident that seeing him be vulnerable felt odd. “Thank you.” “Come on. Let’s go find some answers.

Kat Godwin, Kipps’s right-hand operative, was a Listener like me, but that was about all we had in common. She was blonde, slim and pouty, which would have given me three good reasons to dislike her even if she’d been a sweet lass who spent her free time tending poorly hedgehogs. In fact she was flintily ambitious and cool-natured, and had less capacity for humour than a terrapin. Jokes made her irritable, as if she sensed something going on around her that she couldn’t understand. She was good-looking, though her jaw was a bit too sharp. If she’d repeatedly fallen over while crossing soft ground, you could have sewn a crop of beans in the chin-holes she left behind. The back of her hair was cut short, but the front hung angled across her brow in the manner of a horse’s flick. Her grey Fittes jacket, skirt and leggings were always spotless, which made me doubt she’d ever had to climb up inside a chimney to escape a Spectre, or battle a Poltergeist in the Bridewell sewers (officially the Worst Job Ever), as I had. Annoyingly, I always seemed to meet her after precisely that kind of incident. Like now

she picked up a jug of distilled water and poured it into a flask, plugging the flask with a stopper outfitted with a tube wriggling from its top. Next, she clipped the flask onto one of two metal stands that stood between two Bunsen burners and struck a strange metal gadget that sparked like flint striking steel. A flame appeared; the water began to heat. Reaching up to a shelf, she grabbed a sack labeled “C8H10N4O2,” dumped some into a mortar, ground it with a pestle, overturned the resulting dirtlike substance onto a strange little scale, then dumped the scale’s contents into a 6- x 6-inch piece of cheesecloth and tied the small bundle off. Stuffing the cheesecloth into a larger beaker, she attached it to the second metal stand, clamping the tube coming out of the first flask into the large beaker’s bottom. As the water in the flask started to bubble, Mrs. Sloane, her jaw practically on the floor, watched as the water forced its way up the tube and into the beaker. Soon the smaller flask was almost empty and Elizabeth shut off the Bunsen burner. She stirred the contents of the beaker with a glass rod. Then the brown liquid did the strangest thing: it rose up like a poltergeist and returned to the original flask. “Cream and sugar?” Elizabeth

Tim Ferriss, Rogaine, Brian Rose, Rich Roll... etc. how do they get away with this shit. Have long talks with mostly uninteresting characters, and sometimes they just fucking interview each other. How do I get in on the action. On this little scam. Just kidding. I have better things to do. I got Runescape. Sometimes I watch Mishlove. At least he talks to dogs and poltergeists.

Inquisitor

Addirittura, una settimana dopo la fuga di Fred e Gerge, Harry vide la professoressa McGranitt passare accanto a Pix che trafficava intorno a un lampadario di cristallo, e poteva giurare di averrla sentita sussurrare al poltergeist: «Si svita dall'altra parte».

many afternoons of watching Golden Girls reruns (the envy I felt toward fictional retired women living in Florida before the internet was unlike any I’d experienced—I wanted to crawl into my TV screen Poltergeist-style)

There are four known categories of hauntings. One is where an event imprints energy onto the environment. At some trigger, the event replays itself like a tape. Another is inhuman, which might be demonic or elemental. A third is poltergeist, where a spirit uses a human as an agent for telekinetic activity. And the last is typically what we investigate, which is an intelligent haunting. That’s where the spirit is conscious, intelligent, and may be willing to communicate.

Making a poltergeist can be a simple recipe: allow a girl to have her first menstrual period, tell her she is a naughty girl for thinking dirty thoughts, punish her, bore her, disenfranchise her from her life, and wait. It is not a universal outcome. More than likely, you will summon nothing more than a moody teenager who slams her bedroom door and wishes aloud she had never been born. In exceptional cases, the dishes will fly off the shelves.

A poltergeist is the byproduct of a repressed girl (and, yes, we are typically dealing with young girls; boys tend to feel more in control and have coping mechanisms beyond psychokinesis).

You say you reject your gender. But that isn’t right. Your gender is whatever you make it. It is your sex you reject. It is your sex you recognize when you like your dress but not the way it fits. It is your sex you try to hide when you tuck your penis or tighten your corset. It is your sex you hope to alter with hormones. But your sex is your flesh. You are no poltergeist enmeshed in skin and bone and brain. You are skin and bone and brain. A war upon your flesh is a war upon yourself.

The point is that there are many, many ways in which to perceive things that exist in our world and indeed many unusual ways to exist (it’s estimated that 86% of all plants and animals on land and 91% of sea creatures have yet to be discovered). We have five amazing senses, but only five. For us to assume that everything that there is to perceive can only be perceived with our five senses is not only naive, but fundamentally incorrect.

The day science begins to study non-physical phenomena; it will make more progress in one decade than in all the previous centuries of its existence.” Nikola Tesla.

Likeable, but inept. Resigned after a mismanaged goblin rebellion.

Shortest serving Minister. Lasted two months; resigned after the goblins joined forces with werewolves.

It was why she found horror movies so comforting. Her adult life had turned out to be a series of patterns and routines. She knew what to expect of a given day, but that didn’t always mean life was particularly interesting, or that she was particularly fulfilled, or that she knew what the point was, other than moving from one space to the next. At least when a guy with a butcher knife is after you, when a werewolf is loose or a poltergeist is messing with your furniture and your head, you know what you’re fighting for.

returning to the

Being in a library with no one in it was kind of eerie. It was as though the books had a secret life and I was interrupting them.

I will not cower in my room and wait for you to hover around me like some sort of poltergeist fart.

saccharine

sodomized by a bratwurst poltergeist

The man-shaped arrangement of meat rose up, as if functioning as one body. It pushed itself up on two arms made of game hens and country bacon, planting two hands with sausage-link fingers on the floor. The phrase “sodomized by a bratwurst poltergeist

Fire and sword laid waste the Earth. Darkness stalked the land. From the ashes of defeat and the smoke of despair, the people of Earth, searching for a future, plundered the past. It was the time of the Great Concoction, when the world was remade. In the thirty-first century of Our Lord, the Europe of the past rose again in the shape of Europa. In Europa, history was reborn. The geologic upheavals of Europa's formation resulted in an acute psychic backlash, manifested in periodic shifts in reality and embodied hallucinations. Spatial dimensions became mercurial in their behaviour. Entire counties could be crammed into a field. These anomalies were exacerbated by advances in psionics which produced dream worlds that were as close to the notion of a real supernatural as makes no odds. Spectres, poltergeists, fallen angels, unfallen angels, trolls, hobgoblins, vampires, werewolves and suchlike entities sprang into pseudo-being. It was upon this ontological quicksand that the Dominions of Europa were founded, recreations of ancient European countries, each containing several time periods. Within each of these historical eras there existed a small percentage of 'Reprises'; clones of famous figures from history artificially encoded with the appropriate personality matrix. These Reprises were prone to severe identity confusion. Yet more acute was the confusion of the fictional Reprises, clones of actors who became identified with particular roles: in these cases, it was not the actor's personality that was encoded into clone-body, but the role he played. By the thirty-third century, Europa was plunging into chaos. Reality unravelled. It was a time of heroes, whimsical worlds, blood and thunder, and general Byronic excess. Dark powers arose. Fearful villagers locked their shutters at night. Fire and sword laid waste the Earth. Darkness stalked... Excerpt from The Tenebrous Testaments of the House of Rue. chapter XIV. volume CLXVII [From Count (Baron) Dracula and Baron (Count) Frankenstein]

I have a poltergeist. I keep him for emergencies. His name is Fred.

Barabashka is a small home spirit, who is often confused with other home phenomena as poltergeist or even Domovoy.  While in reality poltergeist can be one of the group of home spirits and Domovoy is a being that exists only to help people.  Barabashka on the other hand is not a spirit, but rather a being that materialized in our World, may even have a physical body.  He has a unique ability to be able to find so called “worm holes”, which allow him to instantly travel in space-time.  This ability to instantly disappear and reappear has made people think that Barabasha is a spiritual being, rather than a physical one.

journalist of the occult, and a firm believer in ghosts, poltergeists, levitations, dowsing, PK (psychokinesis), ESP, and every other aspect of the psychic scene. After dismissing classical astrology as pseudoscience, in his four-column entry on astrology, Wilson goes on to defend what he calls "astro- biology"-the view that positions of the sun, moon, and planets strongly influence human personality and behavior.

She is an immensely controlling person, and all who challenge her authority and world-view must, in her opinion, be punished. She actively enjoys subjugating and humiliating

Sometimes, if a spirit doesn’t feel heard by the medium, they begin acting out in other ways. Poltergeist activity, scary manifestations. A bit like a child throwing a tantrum.

If you keep waking me up at five a.m., legend has it you won’t have to worry about me speaking to anyone,” I muttered.

Sudden death can cause unrest. If the spirit died with a grudge, that could cause problems for the living.

You sound a little mad.

The corridors of my teenage years are going to be exorcised spaces, safe to walk in without poltergeist or ghoul or attack from the shadows.

The poltergeist is keen on as much destructive mischief as possible. It is not discriminatory. It will attack the girl who shaped it.

A poltergeist is not within the girl's control. That is a crucial point: the girl made it and charged it, but she has no idea that she did. Once called forth, the poltergeist does as it wishes.

Poor Daphne. I’d liberated her from Ironclaw, dragged her over the mountain to Castlemaine, and left her in the care of a poltergeist, a hellhound, and a psychotic murder goose, while I ran off to help the Vampire Lord find a little baby so he could stab her in the heart with a silver dagger.

Ghost Sonnet (Parapsychology 101) Do you believe in ghosts, someone asked. Plenty mysteries to unfold, I replied. Most cases, commoner curiosity gives in, supernatural explanation is convenient. Thus mysteries become paranormal, despite being born of a natural world. Question is not, is there an explanation, but how far are you willing to unravel! In short, there is no supernatural, only natural yet to be understood. If human mind perseveres long enough, every mystery soon reveals its truth. Bluntly put, there is no ghastlier ghost than a wicked personality. We are the gods, we are the goblins, of our own elaborate story.

This witch and I had gone on one single date and I was already ready to jump her bones. Fuck. Maybe I should book the U-Haul now . . .

Summoning the ghost of my ex-girlfriend on the anniversary of our breakup wasn’t one of them. Yet here I was, drunk at three a.m. in a circle of salt.

Oh. Too bad. Well, all's quiet so far. There was a heckuva lot goin' on last night, though. Think it might be one o' them poultry heists." "Poultry heist? Someone's stealing chickens?" I asked. Maya nudged me. "He means poltergeists.

Mir ist schon mehr als einmal aufgefallen, dass die Neigung zu unerträglichem Kitsch gern mit einer wenig liebevollen Sicht auf die Welt einhergeht. Einmal musste ich mir ein Büro mit einer Frau teilen, die die gesamte Wandfläche hinter ihrem Schreibtisch mit Bildern von niedlichen Katzenbabys tapeziert hatte; sie war die engstirnigste, sturste Verfechterin der Todesstrafe, mit der ich jemals einen Wasserkocher teilen musste. Manch einer scheint mangelnde echte Wärme und Nächstenliebe durch die Gegenwart möglichst kitschiger Details kompensieren zu wollen.

We’ve covered power and politics in the wizarding world sensibly and thoroughly. But to end on something altogether more uplifting, let’s take a look at the potent presence of Peeves the poltergeist. If there were an unpopularity contest among the staff and students of Hogwarts, surely Peeves would at least be a finalist in the ‘nuisance’ category?

MUST LOOK LIKE SCARY GUY FROM POLTERGEIST 2. Jeez. Dr.

The local pub, The Red Lion, has the double distinction of being the only pub in Britain to be surrounded by a stone circle and be voted one of the top 10 most haunted bars in the world. The pub has quite a bit of history. It started as a farmhouse in the early 17th century before becoming a coaching inn in 1802, acting as a rest stop for the growing network of horse-drawn coaches taking passengers and mail between cities. It continues to serve drinks to this day. The Red Lion’s landlord says there are at least five ghosts in his pub. The best known is a young woman named Florrie, who married a local soldier in the 17th century. When he went off to fight in the English Civil War, she took another lover. The soldier returned unexpectedly, discovered them together, and shot the man who had cuckolded him before stabbing Florrie and throwing her down a well located inside the building. The well is still there today, and she is often seen hovering nearby or floating in and out of it. Sometimes, she is not seen, but acts as a poltergeist, throwing small objects across the bar.

He smiled at her with sharp teeth, not at all bothered by her voices poltergeist act. Oh my god, he’s crazy. Just like me.

lack of ability to concentrate for periods of time, nightmares more frequently, feelings of depression with or without reason, agitation at the drop of a hat and feel like you are going insane.  Family members who were once close will become total strangers if not mortal enemies.       Most negative hauntings are poltergeist.  It is extremely rare to encounter an actual demon.  There are three ways someone would cross paths with a demon.  One, they are called.  At this point sorry about your luck.  You don't just conjure these guys up and then think you’re going to break up with them when you’re done using them for your personal   gain or satisfaction.  Two, they come with the property.  It could be land, or personal property someone has used in a ceremony.  If a demon is attached to property move, if personal property

One year, not so long ago, I was ’round Danny Fenton’s house watching Poltergeist with him.

Millicent Bagnold 1980-1990 A highly able Minister. Had to answer to the International Confederation of Wizards for the number of breaches of the International Statute of Secrecy on the day and night following Harry Potter’s survival of Lord Voldemort’s attack. Acquitted herself magnificently with the now infamous words: ‘I assert our inalienable right to party’, which drew cheers from all present.

MINISTER: Ulick Gamp TERM OF OFFICE: 1707 – 1718 Previously head of the Wizengamot, Gamp had the onerous job of policing a fractious and frightened community adjusting to the imposition of the International Statute of Secrecy. His greatest legacy was to found the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Damocles Rowle 1718 – 1726 Rowle was elected on a platform of being ‘tough on Muggles’. Censured by the International Confederation of Wizards, he was eventually forced to step down.

Perseus Parkinson 1726 – 1733 Attempted to pass a bill making it illegal to marry a Muggle. Misread the public mood; the wizarding community, tired of anti-Muggle sentiment and wanting peace, voted him out at the first opportunity.

Eldritch Diggory 1733 – 1747 Popular Minister who first established an Auror recruitment programme. Died in office (dragon pox).

Those who entered to investigate refused afterwards to talk of what they had found inside, but the least frightening part of it was that the place was infested with Dementors.

Curse A type of wish or spell directed at another person or group of people with the intention of causing them harm, injury, or misfortune. A curse involves one's calling upon a preternatural power to achieve the desired goal. This may be done

Before a small, unknown Methodist college was transformed into Duke University in the late 1920s, the city of Durham had been a backwater, known mostly for minor league baseball and cigarettes.

Mijn vader Jos Hermans is electriciën van beroep. Ik bid nooit tot Poltergeist.

With every step I expected a poltergeist to sail down from the ceiling and take charge of my body or find a zombie hunkered in a corner eating Jerry’s flesh.

Occam’s razor is summarized for our purposes in this way: Extraordinary claims demand extraordinary proof.

Her rhythms pulse regular and sinusoidal—a freak show in caravan, travelling over thousands of little hills. A serpent hypnotic and undulant, bearing on her back like infinitesimal fleas such hunchbacks, dwarves, prodigies, centaurs, poltergeists! Two-headed, three-eyed, hopelessly in love; satyrs with the skin of werewolves, werewolves with the eyes of young girls and perhaps even an old man with a navel of glass, through which can be seen goldfish nuzzling the coral country of his guts.

When I can’t sleep, every wrong I’ve ever committed slips in through the cracks in the doors and windows like the ghosts in Poltergeist.

Periodically, all hell breaks loose in all these places simultaneously, and then we have a flap, or wave, of UFO sightings, apparitions, poltergeists, sudden inexplicable disappearances of animals and human beings, mysterious fires, and even a form of mass madness.

Her punishment quill is of her own invention PARENTAGE:

Win shrugged. “Easier to kill him.” “Please don’t.” Another shrug. They kept driving. Win took the Grand Avenue exit. On the right was an enormous complex of town houses. During the mid-eighties, approximately two zillion such complexes had mushroomed across New Jersey. This particular one looked like a staid amusement park or the housing development in Poltergeist.

With the fall of Lord Voldemort, Dolores Umbridge was put on trial for her enthusiastic co-operation with his regime, and convicted of the torture, imprisonment and deaths of several people (some of the innocent Muggle-borns she sentenced to Azkaban did not survive their ordeal).

Acquitted herself magnificently with the now infamous words: ‘I assert our inalienable right to party’, which drew cheers from all present.

Quirrell is, in effect, turned into a temporary Horcrux by Voldemort. He

Few people are denied agency as much as a teenage girl: She is dismissed, belittled, cut down to size at every turn. Her pleas for help are derided as 'attention seeking," and Heaven help her should she dare come forward with stories of abuse at the hands of someone who has power over her – namely, nearly everyone. Cutting, eating disorders, and other types of self-harm are some of the more earthbound cries for help, and at the other, extreme end of the spectrum dwells the poltergeist.

I’d recommend titles like ESP, Hauntings and Poltergeists: A Parapsychologist’s Handbook by Loyd Auerbach and Communicating with the Dead: Reach Beyond the Grave by Jeff Belanger

I’m hoping someone out there has a similar tale. A similar experience where the image they saw could not move or negotiate through a wall and therefore took off pacing or running, only to disappear once they were no longer in view range of the observer.

Ad hominem is where an argument is rebutted by attacking the character, motive, or other attribute of the person making the argument, or persons associated with the argument, rather than attacking the substance of the argument itself ~ Webster’s Dictionary

yawning and dragging their feet, and Harry was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt. A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him. “Peeves,” Percy whispered to the first years. “A poltergeist.” He raised his voice, “Peeves — show yourself.” A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered. “Do you want me to go to

STOP THEM!” shrieked Umbridge, but it was too late. As the Inquisitorial Squad closed in, Fred and George kicked off from the floor, shooting fifteen feet into the air, the iron peg swinging dangerously below. Fred looked across the hall at the poltergeist bobbing on his level above the crowd. “Give her hell from us, Peeves.” And Peeves, whom Harry had never seen take an order from a student before, swept his belled hat from his head and sprang to a salute as Fred and George wheeled about to tumultuous applause from the students below and sped out of the open front doors into the glorious sunset.

I’ve discovered that much of the activity attributed to poltergeists actually happens around teenagers and menopausal women. It turns out that their increased hormonal energy floods the atmosphere with estrogen or testosterone in an uncontrolled manner, which can manifest in what appears to be ghostly or paranormal activity.

In beauty may I walk, All day may I walk, Beauty before me, with it I wander, Beauty behind me, with it I wander, Beauty beloe me, with it I wander, Beauty above me, with it I wander On the beautiful trail I am, With it I wander.

The man-shaped arrangement of meat rose up, as if functioning as one body. It pushed itself up on two arms made of game hens and country bacon, planting two hands with sausage-link fingers on the floor. The phrase “sodomized by a bratwurst poltergeist” suddenly flew through my mind. Finally it stood fully upright, looking like the mascot for a butcher shop whose profits went entirely to support the owner’s acid habit.

Not unlike the herbicide-spraying campaigns in Asia, Central Europe was also flown over by helicopters spraying chemicals intended to wipe out the deciduous forests, which had gone out of fashion. Beech and oak trees held very little value at that time; low oil prices meant that no one was interested in firewood. The scales were tilted in favour of spruce – sought after by the timber industry and safe from being devoured by the high game populations. Over 5,000 square kilometres of deciduous woodlands was cleared just in my local region of Eifel and Hunsrück, through this merciless method of dropping death from the air. The carrier for the substance, sold under the trade name Tormona, was diesel oil. Elements of this mixture may still lurk in the soil of our forests today; the rusty diesel drums are certainly still lying around in some places. Have things improved now? Not completely, because chemical sprays are still used, even if they’re not directed at the trees themselves. The target of the helicopters and trucks with their atomising nozzles is the insects that feed on the trees and wood. Because the drab spruce and pine monocultures give free rein to bark beetles and butterfly caterpillars, these are then bumped off with contact insecticides. The pesticides, with names like Karate, are so lethal for three months that mere contact spells the end for any unfortunate insects. Parts of a forest that have been sprayed with pesticide are usually marked and fenced off for a while, but wood piles at the side of the track are often not considered dangerous. I would therefore advise against sitting on them when you’re ready for a rest stop and look out for a mossy stump instead, which is guaranteed to be harmless. This is quite apart from the fact that freshly harvested softwood is often very resinous. The stains don’t come out in the normal wash; you need to attack it with a special stain remover. Stacked wood carries another danger: the whole pile is liable to come crashing down. When you know that a single trunk can weigh hundreds of kilograms, you tend to stay away from a precariously stacked pile. It’s not for nothing that the German name for a wood stack is Polter, as in the crashing and banging of a poltergeist. Back to the poison. In areas sprayed by helicopter I wouldn’t pick berries or mushrooms for the rest of the summer. Otherwise, the forest is low in harmful substances compared to industrial agriculture.

Ham.

It’s more like the work of a prankster than a vengeful spirit.

While they valued her hard work and ambition, those who got to know her best found it difficult to like her very much.

None of the staff but Filch seemed to be stirring themselves to help her. Indeed, a week after Fred and George’s departure Harry witnessed Professor McGonagall walking right past Peeves, who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier, and could have sworn he heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, “It unscrews the other way.

Those who entered to investigate refused afterwards to talk of what they had found inside, but the least

That was Berlin under the National Socialist Government: a big, haunted house with dark corners, gloomy staircases, sinister cellars, locked rooms and a whole attic full of poltergeists on the loose, throwing books, banging doors, breaking glass, shouting in the night and generally scaring the owners so badly that there were times when they were ready to sell up and get out.

Indeed, a week after Fred and George’s departure Harry witnessed Professor McGonagall walking right past Peeves, who was determinedly loosening a crystal chandelier, and could have sworn he heard her tell the poltergeist out of the corner of her mouth, ‘It unscrews the other way.

Vortex of Delusion(s) by Stewart Stafford Canary in the coal mine, Freedom's oxygen dwindles, The zeitgeist is a poltergeist, Truthers prosecution swindles. False prophets on Preacher's Corner, Backward backslide, upside down, All bets are off for mere existence; Wrong is right in New Salem town. Google maps an accident blackspot, An end times last laugh foretold, Mind custard for sanity crumble, Our fractured future, now foresold. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.

Greyfriars, like other cemeteries, employed occasional night watchmen, but guards were easily bribed and it was not unusual to see families, rich and poor, huddled round the graves of recently deceased relatives waiting for their loved ones to decompose enough to be useless to the anatomists.

Peeves era el poltergeist del colegio, burlón y volador, que sólo vivía para causar problemas y embrollos.

McLuhan implied that media characteristics create certain modes of perception in members of a society. For example, the logical, left-to-right linear constraints of print media cause people to perceive their world in a logical, linear way (McLuhan, 1964; McLuhan & Fiore, 1967).

Believers in the supernatural claim to have special wisdom about the world. But real wisdom means knowing truth from falsehood, knowing the difference between evidence and wishful thinking.

«Secondo me», stava dicendo Larry, «è un poltergeist maledettamente grosso.» «Non puo essere un poltergeist, caro», disse mamma. «I poltergeist sono quelli che fanno volare le cose.» «Be', qualsiasi cosa sia, se ne sta lassù a trascinare le sue catene facendo un fracasso dell'accidente», disse Larry, «e io esigo che venga esorcizzata. Tu e Margo siete le esperte del paranormale. Dovete pensarci voi, andate lassù e procedete.»

Ghosts are just one of the possible causes of these phenomena. Other such causes include, but are not limited to, the following: poltergeists, psychic children, magic, aliens, hallucinatory drugs, an alternate dimension analog of my apartment, a Hollywood special effects team, intergalactic space wizards, LASERS, ninjas, demons, vengeful deities, mischievous deities, uncaring impersonal but very clumsy and unapologetic deities, Silent Hill, that little kid from the Twilight Zone, Old Scratch himself, a curse, trapped spirits and/or demons, a building with hemophilia that cuts itself, one really really pissed ex girlfriend, a dimensional portal to Hell, an erection lasting more than four hours, a manifestation of a horror movie into the real world caused by a djinn or other bad wishing, fever dreams, a sentient building, Bizarro Elvis, the Antichrist, the Best Little Demonic Whorehouse in Texas, mental illness, brain damage, living downstairs from a cut-rate blood bank, a vision from God, or even a cursed sword.