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March 2003

Hello everyone, I've been reading the stories on this site for a while now and always checkout the new stories every month. I come from a remote part of Western Australia known as the Kimberley and growing up I have heard many stories from my family about all kind of paranormal activity.

The (TRUE) story I am going to tell has been told to me many times and I always get freaked out by it.

Our family has guardian angels (for lack of a better word) that warn of danger and when I say guardians I mean there are two of them and when I say angels I mean BIG BLACK DOGS.

My great Uncle was a Tribal Law Man, this means that if anyone broke the Law he would have the authority to kill them and was also capable of magic such as "singing people" (this means that he could kill people great distances away by performing a ceremony). When he was alive he had the closest connection with the BIG BLACK DOGS and whenever anyone died that he knew they would come to him and tell him, he always knew before anyone else (this happened at our house once). Now on with the stories.


This first story happened years ago in the middle of the bush and it happened to my uncle and auntie.

They had decided to go on a fishing/camping trip for the weekend with some other members of my family and stopped at a popular fish spot. After unpacking their things and setting up camp everyone started to fish. Before it started to get dark my Uncle and Auntie were standing by the river and my Auntie noticed two HUGE BLACK DOGS in the distance standing next each other. She pointed them out to my Uncle which made him feel very uneasy because there wasn't anyone in that area at the time besides them (he grew hearing the stories as well). So after talking for a while they decided that it probably wouldn't be a good idea to hang around and packed everything back into the car and went back into town before it got too late.

Anyway a couple of days later they pretty much forgot about what happened and then on the news that night it said how a father and son who had been fishing only a few hundred meters away from where they were to camp that day had been murdered by a crazed gunmen and their bodies dumped in the river for the crocodiles.

The gunman went on a killing spree for a couple of weeks and was eventually shot dead.


This next one is pretty sad.

When my dad and his brothers were all in their mid 20's they would go and play in Basketball competitions in the neighboring towns and on this occasions my grandmother kept on insisting that the youngest brother go to the comp in the same car with them and to watch him.As they would follow at their own pace but the youngest brother being head strong jumped on another car.

Anyway the car he was traveling in was hit by a Road Train (Truck with 2-3 trailers) and he was killed instantly.

Years of grieving later my grandparents told of how they had pulled up by the side of the road that day to have a break when the road train that killed him went flying past them and to this day they would swear on the bible (Christians) that the driver wasn't a person at all but a Black Dog was behind the wheel.


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