#sunnyvale

"Technicians at Lockheed Missiles & Space Company in Sunnyvale, California, preparing to ship NASA's Hubble Space Telescope to Kennedy Space Center."

Date: 1989

ryan torres who was, as described by other people, a normal guy who read comics and scared his friends as lighthearted jokes. tommy slater who was well liked by the young kids at camp, and who was seen as kind and sweet by others to a fault. ruby lane, who was a sweet girl who loved singing, and even was in choir, making her parents as proud as possible. billy barker, who was a mere child, mistreated and bullied by the world just because of how he looked.

it’s just so tragic that none of them will ever be known for what they want to be known for. they died, being painted as monsters by everyone for actions they didn’t want to even do, and then forced to do it all over again when someone bleeds on sarah fier’s bones.

deena picks you up from your little miss teacher day !! wlw

{ tw ; implied nsfw with making out but is interrupted, light cussing, sensual caressing, practically making out in public

>> female reader, no mentioned skin tone, ethnicity, body type, or sexuality

♪ “ana” by the pixies

you have a promising future—at least, as promising as it gets for a shadysider. being a member of practically every school club, president of six of them, a part of the yearbook team, scoring all a’s for your entire high school career, and having a part time at the diner down the street.

and as the universe's way of applauding you for battling the hardships that are the harsh town of shadyside, you were one of the few people at your shitty school selected for a first grade reading program.

just visit a few elementary schools and read to them—simple, right? and it’ll fit right into the many things you plan to put on your college resume, already decorated with the hours of volunteer work and leadership building. thank you, universe.

but it did take up all of the day. and having no license, your personal taxi—aka, your girlfriend deena—has to pick you up and drive you back home (or to her place…).

you're currently sat in a wooden rocking chair, surrounded by numerous snotty nosed first graders butting in mid-sentence to ask dumb questions as you try to voice a book about the evolution of butterflies. smushed into the tight corner of the chair because a sweet-eyed girl wanted to sit with you, you attempt to keep their attention with dramatic hand movements and tone shifts, but it's no use.

hung on another colorful page of a chrysalis, the classroom door opens. none other than your girlfriend walks in, instantly set into a bit of a panic. does she not know she’s early? her eyes find yours, widened and her mouth slightly agape.

as she looks over at the two teachers—glued to their conversations about god knows what—it doesn’t seem like they have anymore shits to give, just happy for the break you’re providing them.

there's still about twenty more minutes left on the clock, and deena doesn't have anywhere else to be. so, she stays there—arms crossed, leaning against the wall beside the door, watching you with that intense, admiring look in her eyes as you read.

and then, finally, all of the kids are dismissed to either their school buses or their parent's cars. and, of course, deena is leaning against the doorframe when you return, patiently awaiting your arrival.

“tell me, mrs. johnson, how do you pull off reading to a bunch of seven-year-olds?" she cocks her head back with a grin, making you roll your eyes.

you lean in close to her, finding your place on the opposite side of the doorframe, ready to say something flirty. that’s until the teacher butts in between you two and through the doorway, all grumpy and mumbling something under her breath as she stomps down the hall.

deena looks back at you after, a few giggles escaping your lips before you lean back in, this time giving her her proper kiss. you wrap your arms snug around her neck, letting yourself lean into it.

no longer against the opposite side of the doorframe, deena’s hands slide up onto your waist, holding you against her. you tilt your head, giving her to opportunity to deepen the kiss, in which she immediately takes. you’re practically pressed against her torso now, both of you dancing on the line of making out.

you hum against her lips as her hands slide again, this time down over your shorts…

“mrs. smith, can mrs. smith please come to room 102. mrs. smith please come to room 102.”

the intercom very rudely interrupts the two of you, making you wake up and remember where you are. you pull back and giggle, giving her a last soft peck before getting off for good.

“come on, mrs. johnson needs a ride.”

—————————————————

i hope everybody found this cute, btw the whole thing is that she’s using her last name in place of yours!! i’m not making your last name johnson lol.

if you’ve seen anything like this elsewhere, know it’s still me. i posted this somewhere else a while back and i wanted to use it here, so know i’m not stealing somebody’s work! (ദ്ദി˙ᗜ˙)

love you!! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)

- banner made by me, no reusing or reposting!

- lace divider by @uzmacchiato

Haunted Lives: True Ghost Stories - “Ghosts R Us” - May 15th, 1991

“When one thinks of ghosts, one imagines ruined castles or a lonely graveyard in the dead of night. But recently, psychic Sylvia Browne investigated a series of hauntings in a most unlikely location: an ordinary toy store in Sunnyvale, California…” narrates Leonard Nimoy.

Haunted Lives is a series of three TV specials: one in 1991, one in 1992, then a final one in 1995. The first two aired on CBS, and the last one, under the name Real Ghosts on UPN; oddly, after that one aired the first two were retrospectively made sequels, retitled Real Ghosts II and Real Ghosts III.

Not only is this one narrated by Leonard Nimoy, but it was directed by Texas Chain Saw Massacre and Poltergeist director Tobe Hooper.

Noted terrible human being Sylvia Browne says this haunting is tragic. Sad. Not scary or violent.

In 1881, John "Yonny" Johnson (or is it Jan "Johnny" Johnson? Yohan Johnson??? Browne is inconsistent on the matter) was in love with Elizabeth, daughter of the owner of a local ranch. When she rejected his advances, because he was a unstable man who had never spoken to her, he was forced to angrily chop wood, until he accidentally sliced his own leg and died alone. Men are always doing this

1982. A Toys R Us now stands on the site of the ranch. A woman working at the store feels something moving her hair. She tells a manager, who is fielding complaints from a customer who says the water in the restroom turned on by itself; the manager says they'll go inside the storeroom to see the rational explanation...

SURPRISE! ALL THE TOYS ARE JUMPING AROUND, FRISBEES ARE FLYING, AN E-Z-BAKE OVEN IS ON THE FRITZ

The manager tells the crew: the storeroom is off limits. One woman says - “rumor is there’s ghosts in the storeroom. Welcome to Ghosts R Us, can we haunt you?”

Meanwhile, the ghost changes the price of a baseball bat to $900 dollars. Pan down to the stunned child holding $20.

I can get why the ghost would harass women in death as well as life, but why the ghost of a simple backwoods man who only wanted love and also to solve all his problems with axe violence would be stacking skateboards I'm not so clear on

Blood appears and disappears

Something something children's hospital hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahhaahhahaha what is air xD;;

The manager is chatting with someone who's read about the history of the ranch and OH GOD OH FUCK A FRISBEE. THE GHOST IS THROWING FRISBWAIT NO THEY SUE OVER THAT I MEAN THE GHOST IS THROWING THE ULTIMATE DISC (?)

A seance is convened by Sylvia Browne in the bike aisle. She says Johnson is stuck in a "time warp" and must be convinced he's dead, Elizabeth's dead, and he needs to move towards the light. A photo is taken...

Supposedly the ghost is the guy leaning in the back

So quick story: this photo spread around the early internet along with the story of the Toys R Us haunting a lot but they often didn't explain who the ghost was meant to be? The game of telephone degraded the story enough to lose that detail. So divorced from context people had no idea what they were meant to be looking at. It just looks like some guy

The seance is finished. Johnson has moved on. But when closing up for the night, they hear the doors rattling from the inside, and the manager who JUST SAW THE GHOST BE SUMMONED goes inside ALONE, past the aisle of race car beds, to find...

Gasp!

In 1991, they convene a reunion of present and former workers at the Sunnyvale Toys R Us to describe their experiences...

Suzanna heard her name called and felt her hair being caressed.

"Putt" saw a teddy bear fall in an arc and asked, "did it frighten you?" Her coworker responded, "it sure did Putt".

James heard too many footsteps; when he asked his employees to go upstairs and check they didn't

Cheryl heard the door open and the water turn on in the restroom...but nobody else was there!

Sylvia Browne says: “Someday of course he will leave. Maybe Beth will come for him, some loving entity will grab him, he’ll go on to the white light but until that time, he still walks up and down these halls looking for his lost love."

Okay but she rejected him. Why would she come back from him. The ultimate in inceldom: dying in a furious axe incident and then haunting a Toys R Us bc a woman said no to you. How do restraining orders work beyond the veil?

The ranch burnt down in 1961. The Sunnyvale Toys R Us opened in 1970, closed in 2018, and today is a REI store - which has had, as far as anyone knows, no reported ghost stories. In its time the Toys R Us haunting was profiled repeatedly: on a show called That's Incredible, on another show in the mid-80s with Lloyd Auerbach, and finally this one.

The story Sylvia Browne told was all bullshit, obviously. Elizabeth died prior to 1881, there's no evidence of a Johnson who killed himself by accidental axe strike, and Elizabeth didn't even go by "Beth". Sylvia Browne, a liar? Perish the thought!