This one is my grandfather's story, rather his spooky experience when he was of my age. It happened to him in the year 1948 (he can never forget that time). In those days, there were forests all around. People were superstitious. But my grandfather was not. One day he was visiting his friend and the way was through the forests. He was on his bicycle.
He was on his way, when somebody called out his name. It was a trembling sound. My Grandfather didn't noticed. Again he heard his name being called out. He ignored again. But when the name was called thrice, he was filled with fear. He thought of nothing but to run. He was pedaling faster. He somehow managed to escape from that place. When he had traveled a little further, he came across a banyan tree. He stopped at it as he saw a man hanging on the tree. He was dead. My grandfather was scared and he was asking for help but there was no one around. He looked in his eyes (which seemed to him very appealing). But all of a sudden, the hanging corpse opened his bloodshot eyes and then he disappeared. My grandfather was scared and he ran away in shock and fear.
He never told this to anyone since then. Only it was when I forced him to tell, he spoke out. He now believes on everything - whether god or evil. I'm sure that he knows something more also but he's not telling.