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Here is one of the best Ghost Stories ever told by Virginia Walker. Be sure you listen carefully as Virginia Walker tells on of the best Ghost Stories ever on Video. I guarantee you that if you don't believe in Ghost Stories when you start to watch these videos you just may when you finish watching these great videos.
Many incidents occurred that result in ghostly manifestations to this day. The bloodiest battle ever fought on American soil occurred during the Civil war.
Incident 1:
On a balmy afternoon in June of 1863, Federal General John Buford peered through his binoculars across a field just west of the town of Gettysburg. He was perplexed as he gazed at a column of Confederate soldiers marching along Chambersburg Pike. He knew this body of men was too large for a raiding party - they were an advance element of Confederate General Heath's division. This resulted in the pivotal battle of the American Civil War.
Three days later, fifty three thousand men would soak the fields red with the blood of the dead and dying. That would help explain why the abundance of ghost sightings are reported time and again from visitors who frequent the town and battlefield year after year.
It is as well with little wonder that Gettysburg has obtained the reputation of being the most haunted place in America. Even the skeptics who refuse to believe even in the possibility of ghosts, won't refute the possibility of this haunted locale.
On July 1, 1863, what began as a skirmish soon escalated into a heated battle with the arrival of Federal General John Reynolds' infantry. The Confederates pressed, and soon found the Union troops retreating chaotically towards the little town. The streets were thick with soldiers as the Federals retreated toward a designated rallying point just beyond town at Cemetery Hill and Culps Hill.
Paranormal? Ghosts, Ghost Towns, Gettysburg\
Confederate sharpshooters took up positions through out as their prey was easy and plentiful. Some took position in the Farnsworth House, a small home situated along Baltimore Pike. Their perch was magnificent due to the locale on the main road through town. They mercilessly fired upon retreating soldiers, often hitting their mark. The streets were strewn with dead.
Today, the Farnsworth House functions as a Bed aand Breakfast. Bullet holes can still be seen on the southside wall. It is here that many guests report seeing an apparition at the end of the bed during the night, while other guests have reported doors opening and closing through their own volition. One woman incredulously has reported her infant being lifted by unseen hands and gently placed back down.
The Devils Den is a large patch of rocks where many Confederate sharpshooters took refuge in order to exact their death toll upon Union officers atop the hills of Little and Big Round Tops.
In 1970, a tourist approached a park ranger and inquired about stories of Gettysburg being haunted. The Park Service cannot answer such questions but the ranger asked why? The woman stated as she was taking photographs of the Devils Den, a man suddenly appeared beside her and said, 'What you're looking for is over there.'
Pointing northeast toward the Plum Run, she turned to look and the man vanished. The ranger asked for a description, and she felt he looked ragged and like that of a hippie. Barefooted with torn butternut shirt and trousers, wearing a big floppy hat. This was often the attire of Confederate Texans.
A few weeks later, the same ranger was approached by yet another visitor with the same question. The man said he was taking pictures and a man mentioned to look elsewhere and disappeared. His description was identical to the woman's.
The Little Round Top is an unimpressive hill overlooking the Devils Den and the wheat field. As the extreme left flank of the Federal lines, it has had its share of carnage.
During the filming of the movie Gettysburg, many reenactors would find themselves with some down time. Although the movie was not filmed on the battlefield, it was not uncommon for these extras to walk upon the battlefield in their period uniforms.
One small group of men found themselves atop the Round Top, admiring the view as the sun began to set. A rustling of the leaves behind them alerted them to the presence of a stranger. From the brush emerged a rather haggard looking old man, dressed as a Union private. The man was filthy and smelled of sulfur, a key ingredient of the black powder used in 1863.
He walked up to the men and as he handed them a few musket rounds, he said 'Rough one today, eh boys?' He turned and walked away. As the reenactors looked upon the musket rounds, they looked up to see the man had vanished. When they brought the rounds into town, they were authenticated as original rounds 130 years old!
Many visitors have reported the smell of gunpowder, and have heard gunshots and screams from the Little Round Top over the years.
Friday, July 3, 1863 was a new day already polluted with the stench of death and war. For two days, 175,000 men have engaged in the bloodiest battle before or since on the American continent. The morning was somewhat uneventful, with the exception of some fighting at Culps Hill; which had ended by late morning.
At 1:00 p.m., 140 Confederate cannon opened fire on the Union center. For two hours, the largest cannonade ever witnessed pounded the Federal lines. So fierce was the shelling, that one could not see across the mile of open field to ascertain whether or not their targets have been hit. So loud was the shelling that the attack was heard in Washington DC; some 80 miles away. This was the preamble for one of the most infamous military events. This was the preamble for what was to become known as Pickett's Charge.
After the second hour of the cannonade was up, some 12,000 Confederate infantrymen emerged from the woods. Formed in battle line, they began the deadly march across the mile of open field. How the Union soldiers must have gazed wide eyed as 12,000 fixed bayonets glistened in the summer sun, all preparing to converge on a single stretch of stone wall known as The Angle.
Long range cannon fire sent explosive shells into the rebel ranks. As they neared, the artillerymen changed to canister shot; a typed of buckshot fired from a cannon. Closer still the rebels marched; closing holes in the line left by soldiers killed en masse.
A deafening musketry opened from the Yankee lines behind cover of the stone wall. Still, the Confederates came. As the survivors reached the stone wall, brutal hand to hand combat ensued, but alas, the rebels, tired and outnumbered quickly lost momentum. The entire charge lasted less than an hour.
In that time, 10,000 Confederates lay dead and dying. With the failure of the charge, the battle ended. Robert E. Lee retreated back into Virginia. Thus ended Lee's second invasion of the north. Thus ended the Confederacy's hope for independence. Although the war would continue for two more years, the Army of Northern Virginia would never fully recover from this loss.
The Angle is a beautifully maintained area of landscape. One can still look out across the field from where Pickett's Charge originated. A park ranger while on routine patrol one night noticed a man on horseback. As the rider neared, the ranger wondered who would be on the battlefield so late; on horseback. Upon closer inspection, the ranger noticed the attire of the rider. It was that of a Civil War officer although the allegiance could not be ascertained.
The unknown horseman approached to within 10 feet of the car and promptly disappeared. Other visitors have reported the sound of galloping horses in the immediate area of The Angle, although none were present. Sounds of the cannonade have permeated through time as people report hearing the thunderous roar of battle.
One visitor even reported seeing Robert E. Lee himself, sitting atop his horse, Traveler, on the opposite side of the field. A resident of Gettysburg, and amateur ghost hunter mentions that during a stroll across the field on a warm summer night, cold spots were common. Going from balmy humidity to sudden cold, so cold he could see his breath, the fellow continued the path of Pickett's infantrymen.
I have met other psychics who have been to these grounds and reported the pain and anguish from the energies of the soldiers who died in that battle.
Incident 2:
Two of the most bloody battles fought were Chickamauga and Stones River, both in Tennessee. Nearly 125,000 men fought at Chickamauga from the morning of September 19th to the 20th of 1863. When it was all over, the combined casualties numbered 37,129. They compare with 23,582 at Sharpsburg (Antietam) known as the "bloodiest day of American history" and 43,454 for the three days of fighting with larger armies at Gettysburg.
Chickamauga is derived from an ancient Cherokee word meaning "River of Death". And death was all around this heavily wooded area occasionally spotted with uncultivated, vine-strewn, thicket- matted stretches of ground sometimes disturbed by outcroppings of limestone rock. In other words, land that no farmer would have bothered with since it would have required a massive amount of work and toil to bring up to minimal farming standards. The real prize that the Union army hoped to gain from this battle was capture of Chattanooga which was the rail center and major city of the Middle South. It was the greatest Southern victory of the entire war.
There are several legends about ghosts associated with these battles - Perhaps the most bizarre story concerns "Old Green Eyes". Who or what is Old Green Eyes?
Old Green Eyes was a soldier who died in the war. There are two legends concerning his death.
One is that a Confederate soldier's head was severed from his body which was blown to bits by a cannon ball. All that was left to bury was his head and, according to legend, on misty nights he roams the battlefield, moaning mournfully, searching for his body.
Another legend is quoted as saying that Old Green Eyes roamed the area long before the Civil War and was even seen moving among the dead at Snodgrass Hill during a lull in the fighting. Probably the most stubborn phase of the campaign was at Snodgrass Hill which is some of the roughest and hilliest terrain in the entire park area.
Many people visiting the park near dusk have seen two big glowing eyes approaching them and have heard an agonizing groaning sound which sent shivers up and down their spine.
Charlie Fisher, a forest ranger, says that in the early 1970's two different people both wrecked their automobiles against the same tree. They both sworn to have seen Old Green Eyes.
A man named Ed Tinney did see Old Green Eyes on several occasions. He saw the ghost one foggy night while walking along one of the trails which wind through the park. He said the shape was human-like but wasn't human. When he first saw it, it was less than twenty feet away and passed right by him! He described the hair on the "thing" as long, like a woman's hair, with eyes almost greenish-orange in color. It's teeth were long and pointed like fangs and was wearing a cape which seemed to be flapping in the wind, even though there was no wind! The next thing he knew, it just disappeared right in front of him.
Lizzie Andrew Borden (July 19, 1860 – June 1, 1927) was a New England spinster and central figure in the brutal axe murders of her father and stepmother on August 4, 1892 in Fall River, Massachusetts. Although acquitted, no one else was ever tried, and she has remained a notorious figure in American folklore. The slayings, trial, and the following trial by media became a cause célèbre; and the incident has endured in American pop culture and criminology as one of the seminal cultural events of the Victorian era. Dispute over the identity of the killer or killers continues to this day.
The Murders
On August 4, 1892 Andrew J. Borden, Lizzie Borden's father, and her step-mother, Abby Borden, were murdered in the family home. The only other people present at the residence at the time were Lizzie and the family maid, Bridget Sullivan. An uncle, John V. Morse, (brother of Andrew Borden's first wife) was visiting at the time, but was away from the house during the time of the murders. Lizzie's older sister Emma was also away from home. That day, Andrew had gone into town to do his usual rounds at the bank and post office. He returned home at about 10:45. About a half-hour later, Lizzie found his body. According to Bridget's testimony, she was napping in the second floor of the house shortly after 11:00 am when Lizzie called up the stairs to her, saying someone had killed her father, whose body was found slumped on a couch in the downstairs sitting room.
Shortly thereafter, while Lizzie was being attended to by neighbors and the family doctor, Bridget discovered the body of Mrs. Borden upstairs, in the guest bedroom. Mr. & Mrs. Borden had both been killed by blows from a hatchet, which in the case of Mr. Borden, not only crushed his skull but cleanly split his left eyeball.
Motive and Method
Study of the facts in the case reveals that over a period of years since the death of the first Mrs. Borden, life at 92 Second Street had grown stale and unpleasant in many ways, and that affection among the older and younger family members had waned considerably if any was present at all. The upstairs floor of the house was divided -- the front being the territory of Lizzie and her sister Emma, and the rear that of Mr. and Mrs. Borden. Meals were not always taken together, and conflict had come to a head between the two daughters and their father about his decision to divide up valuable property among relatives before his death -- a house had been turned over to relatives of their stepmother, and Uncle John Morse had come to visit to facilitate transfer of farm property which included what had been a summer home for the Borden daughters that week. Shortly before the murders, a heated argument had taken place which resulted in both Emma and Lizzie leaving home on extended "vacations" -- Lizzie, however, decided to cut her trip short and return early.
When she was refused the opportunity to purchase cyanide by a local druggist, which Lizzie claimed was for cleaning a seal skin coat. Shortly before the murders, the entire household -- Lizzie included -- took violently ill. As Mr. Borden was not a popular man in town Mrs. Borden feared they were being poisoned but the family doctor diagnosed it as bad food.
Lizzie's testimony as given at the original inquest incriminated her in several ways.
The Trial
Lizzie's stories proved to be inconsistent, and her behavior suspect. She was tried for the murders, defended by former Massachusetts Governor George Robinson.
During the police investigation, a hatchet was found in the basement and was assumed to be the murder weapon. Though it was clean, most of its handle was missing and the prosecution stated that it had been broken off because it was covered with blood. However, police officer Michael Mullaly stated that he found it next to a hatchet handle. Deputy Marshall John Fleet contradicted this testimony. Later a forensics expert said there was no time for the hatchet to be cleaned after the murder.
No blood-soaked clothing was ever taken as evidence by police. A few days after the murder, Lizzie tore apart and burned a light blue Bedford cord cotton dress in the kitchen stove, claiming she had brushed against fresh baseboard paint which had smeared on it.
Despite incriminating circumstances, Lizzie Borden was acquitted by a jury after an hour's deliberation. The fact that no murder weapon was found and Lizzie was clear of blood just a few minutes after the second murder pointed to reasonable doubt. Some blame the fact that her entire original inquest testimony was barred from the trial, as was evidence she attempted to purchase cyanide from a local drugstore days before the murders took place, for her acquittal. Others have suggested the all-male jury did not like the idea of acknowledging that a respected man's daughter could possibly have committed such an act. Certainly, another axe murder in the area which took place shortly before the trial was a great stroke of luck for Lizzie.
Conjecture
Several theories have been presented over the years suggesting Lizzie may not have committed the murders, and that other suspects may have had possible motives. One theory was that Lizzie was having a lesbian affair with the maid and was discovered by her step-mother. Another was that any number of townspeople could have carried out a grudge against Mr. or Mrs. Borden. Another theory is that the maid did it, possibly out of outrage for being asked to clean the windows, a backbreaking job on a hot day, just a day after having suffered from food poisoning. Yet another theory is that Lizzie suffered petit mal epileptic seizures during her monthly period, at which times she entered a dream-like state, and unknowingly committed the murders then.
Sullivan allegedly gave a deathbed confession to her sister, stating that she had changed her testimony on the stand in order to protect Lizzie. Public reaction
The trial received a tremendous amount of national publicity, a relatively new phenomenon for the times. It has been compared to the later trials of Bruno Hauptmann and O.J. Simpson as a landmark in media coverage of legal proceedings.
The case was memorialized in a popular jump-rope rhyme:
Lizzie Borden took (or "had") an axe And gave her mother forty whacks. When she saw what she had done, She gave her father forty-one.
The anonymous rhyme was made up by a writer as an alluring little tune to sell newspapers even though in reality her stepmother suffered 18 or 19 blows, her father 11. Though acquitted for the crimes, Lizzie Borden was ostracized by neighbors following the murders. Lizzie Borden's name was again brought to the public forefront when she was accused of shoplifting several years following the murders.
Alleged affair with actress Nance O'Neil
In 1904, actress Nance O'Neil met Lizzie Borden in Boston. In the early 20th century, it was still considered socially unacceptable for women to become actresses. O'Neil was a spendthrift, always in financial trouble, and Borden came from a wealthy background. The two had an intense relationship, despite Borden's notoriety. O'Neil was married at the time.
While it has never been definitively proven that the two were intimate, the termination of the relationship two years later in 1906 was a significant loss to Borden, and she is alleged to have had difficulty in recovering emotionally. O'Neil was later a character in the musical about Lizzie Borden, entitled Lizzie Borden: A Musical Tragedy in Two Axe, where she was played by Suellen Vance. Feminist Carolyn Gage refers to O'Neil as an overt lesbian, and although there are few documented details of any affairs other than Borden, Gage claimed that her sexual orientation was well known in entertainment circles, despite her marriage. The book Lizzie by Evan Hunter (real name Salvatore Lombino, and also famous for writing under the name Ed McBain) is the chief source of this conjecture.
Legacy
The house on Second Street where the murders occurred is now a bed and breakfast. It is open for daily tours. When the house was renovated some years ago by a previous owner, at least one hatchet was found. It was given to the police. Nothing came of it. Ongoing work has restored the home to a close approximation of its 1892 condition.
"Maplecroft," the mansion Lizzie bought after her acquittal, on then-fashionable French Street in the "highlands" is privately owned, and only occasionally available for touring. Haunted By Humans and A Dog
The House where the infamous murders took place is reported to be haunted. A door upstairs opens and shuts by its self and a womans plea's and screams come from the room where Lizzie's mother was killed. Sometimes you can hear someone run up and down the stairs when no one is there and a ghost of a small dog is also reported.
My husband and I moved into our home the day we got married in 2003. After being in this house for a month, people started telling me things about this house. About a month in this home, weird things started to happen. One night I sent my brother and his girlfriend to the store for me, and while they were gone, this box that was sitting on my china cabinet floated off and landed two feet from me.
Another time, me and my family members were sitting in my living room and we heard this old lady singing. We have seen a little girl in a blue dress walk down my steps and turn right around and walk back up them. We can hear a child running upstairs in the hallway. I have seen a man's face in my china cabinet. Half of his face was gone and the other half there. One night I went to bed early and I fell asleep with all my clothes on (down to my jacket). In the middle of the night, I woke up to something taking my pants off of me.
We can hear people walking up my steps at night when everyone is in bed asleep. One night, my husband had to work night shift and I was sitting in my family room and the living room door came open and I heard footsteps walk through my door, and a man just started busting out laughing. When I went and looked to see who was there, the only thing I saw was a shadow of a man standing there laughing as hard as he could... and then he vanished.
We have lived in this house for two years now and we have grown to get used to the ones who share this house with us, from the children to the unexplained. We have come to realize if you don't pay them any mind that we don't hear that much out of them anymore, but they won't let us forget that they are there.
My husband and I just bought this house a year ago. My husband is a law officer and has in the past done work on homicides. When we first looked at this house, my husband told me he had been in it before. I said, "A break in?" He said, "No, a homicide."
The man's name was Mr Ritter. That is what we call him. He still lives in the house and is not shy about making himself known. We have had things dumped over, and doors slam shut and then reopen. We have been redoing the house, for it is over 40 years old, and if he likes what we did, he just moves things in the room to suit himself. But if he doesn't like it, then things get dumped. He was killed next to the furnace in the basement and there you can feel a much colder draft.
When he turns things on or dumps things on the floor, I go there and tell him, "Mr. Ritter, knock it off." Most people I know don't believe me, but he stops. Then like he is sorry, I will find something, like a flower or a knick-knack on the table upstairs. I just want people to know that not all ghosts are mean and something to be afraid of. I really think he looks out for us and the house.
The year was 1974. The place, rural South Florida. My new bride and I had found our dream house in the country sided by a great bass fishing canal. On the other side were endless acres of cattle land. One night, we heard horrible crying and screams (not human) off in the near distance. I figured maybe the cattle were mating, but it sounded more like death wails, and seemed to get closer to the house as the night went on. These noises keep us up till the wee hours, then stopped around 5:00 a.m.
Around 7;00 a.m., with my cup of coffee in hand, I stepped out unto my open front porch and saw wet sand and mud imprint tracks there. Not human footprints! Being only a fisherman and not a hunter, I couldn't tell what they were. A week later, two police officers came to our door wanting to know if we has seen or heard anything unusual lately. They explained that several animals (cattle) had been mutilated in the field next door and all their blood removed the same night we heard those horrible noises. I explained the prints on my patio, but I had washed them away. They asked us to remain quiet about the incident.
Needless to say, our country living was never the same, and we soon sold our home. Florida "Skunk-Ape" stories arose after that, but I am not a witness to any of those sitings, only to what I heard and saw that cool clear Florida night in '74 will I attest to as being the most scariest and heart-pounding experience of my life.
I don't believe that my little brother would have any reason to make this up and then tell our parents and grandmother, so I'm counting this as reputable. My parents recently gained possession of an old farmhouse in a rural portion of the midwest. The house is over a century old, and has been in my family for about half that time. To gain a little freedom, my little brother volunteered to occupy the house until ground is broken on the addition. He moved in about mid-January, 2007.
Recently, he related to me that he believes that the house is haunted or has a stitch in time. Occasionally, at night when he is trying to fall asleep, he gets the feeling that he is being watched, and his dog goes crazy. Then he can hear bluegrass music playing softly. When he investigated the noise, it seems to be coming from the wall between a bedroom and the living room. In talking with previous occupants of the house, that wall is where the old radio was next to. So far, nothing untoward has happened; I just hope the addition won't unsettle any beings.
In the same house about 1990, my great-grandfather had recently lost his wife. A religious man, he had asked God to take him as well. One day he woke up from his nap, with a bearded man dressed in white sitting at the foot of his bed. The man, presumably St. Peter, stated, "It's not yet your time," stood, and disappeared. I don't believe this is related to the the current events, but it establishes that there have been unusual events here before.
We were speaking of sequestration, alluding to a recent lawsuit. It was at the close of a friendly evening in a very old mansion in the Rue de Grenelle, and each of the guests had a story to tell, which he assured us was true.
Then the old Marquis de la Tour-Samuel, eighty-two years of age, rose and came forward to lean on the mantelpiece. He told the following story in his slightly quavering voice.
"I, also, have witnessed a strange thing—so strange that it has been the nightmare of my life. It happened fifty-six years ago, and yet there is not a month when I do not see it again in my dreams. From that day I have borne a mark, a stamp of fear,—do you understand?
"Yes, for ten minutes I was a prey to terror, in such a way that ever since a constant dread has remained in my soul. Unexpected sounds chill me to the heart; objects which I can ill distinguish in the evening shadows make me long to flee. I am afraid at night.
"No! I would not have owned such a thing before reaching my present age. But now I may tell everything. One may fear imaginary dangers at eighty-two years old. But before actual danger I have never turned back, mesdames.
"That affair so upset my mind, filled me with such a deep, mysterious unrest that I never could tell it. I kept it in that inmost part, that corner where we conceal our sad, our shameful secrets, all the weaknesses of our life which cannot be confessed.
"I will tell you that strange happening just as it took place, with no attempt to explain it. Unless I went mad for one short hour it must be explainable, though. Yet I was not mad, and I will prove it to you. Imagine what you will. Here are the simple facts:
"It was in 1827, in July. I was quartered with my regiment in Rouen.
"One day, as I was strolling on the quay, I came across a man I believed I recognized, though I could not place him with certainty. I instinctively went more slowly, ready to pause. The stranger saw my impulse, looked at me, and fell into my arms.
"It was a friend of my younger days, of whom I had been very fond. He seemed to have become half a century older in the five years since I had seen him. His hair was white, and he stooped in his walk, as if he were exhausted. He understood my amazement and told me the story of his life.
"A terrible event had broken him down. He had fallen madly in love with a young girl and married her in a kind of dreamlike ecstasy. After a year of unalloyed bliss and unexhausted passion, she had died suddenly of heart disease, no doubt killed by love itself.
"He had left the country on the very day of her funeral, and had come to live in his hotel at Rouen. He remained there, solitary and desperate, grief slowly mining him, so wretched that he constantly thought of suicide.
"'As I thus came across you again,' he said, 'I shall ask a great favor of you. I want you to go to my château and get some papers I urgently need. They are in the writing-desk of my room, of our room. I cannot send a servant or a lawyer, as the errand must be kept private. I want absolute silence.
"'I shall give you the key of the room, which I locked carefully myself before leaving, and the key to the writing-desk. I shall also give you a note for the gardener, who will let you in.
"'Come to breakfast with me to-morrow, and we'll talk the matter over.'
"I promised to render him that slight service. It would mean but a pleasant excursion for me, his home not being more than twenty-five miles from Rouen. I could go there in an hour on horseback.
"At ten o'clock the next day I was with him. We breakfasted alone together, yet he did not utter more than twenty words. He asked me to excuse him. The thought that I was going to visit the room where his happiness lay shattered, upset him, he said. Indeed, he seemed perturbed, worried, as if some mysterious struggle were taking place in his soul.
"At last he explained exactly what I was to do. It was very simple. I was to take two packages of letters and some papers, locked in the first drawer at the right of the desk of which I had the key. He added:
"'I need not ask you not to glance at them.'
"I was almost hurt by his words, and told him so, rather sharply. He stammered:
"'Forgive me. I suffer so much!'
"And tears came to his eyes.
"I left about one o'clock to accomplish my errand.
"The day was radiant, and I rushed through the meadows, listening to the song of the larks, and the rhythmical beat of my sword on my riding-boots.
"Then I entered the forest, and I set my horse to walking. Branches of the trees softly caressed my face, and now and then I would catch a leaf between my teeth and bite it with avidity, full of the joy of life, such as fills you without reason, with a tumultuous happiness almost indefinable, a kind of magical strength.
"As I neared the house I took out the letter for the gardener, and noted with surprise that it was sealed. I was so amazed and so annoyed that I almost turned back without fulfilling my mission. Then I thought that I should thus display over-sensitiveness and bad taste. My friend might have sealed it unconsciously, worried as he was.
"The manor looked as though it had been deserted the last twenty years. The gate, wide-open and rotten, held, one wondered how. Grass filled the paths; you could not tell the flower-beds from the lawn.
"At the noise I made kicking a shutter, an old man came out from a side-door and was apparently amazed to see me there. I dismounted from my horse and gave him the letter. He read it once or twice, turned it over, looked at me with suspicion, and asked:
"'Well, what do you want?'
"I answered sharply:
"'You must know it as you have read your master's orders. I want to get in the house.'
"He appeared overwhelmed. He said:
"'So—you are going in—in his room?'
"I was getting impatient.
"'Parbleu! Do you intend to question me, by chance?'
"He stammered:
"'No—monsieur—only—it has not been opened since—since the death. If you will wait five minutes, I will go in to see whether——'
"I interrupted angrily:
"'See here, are you joking? You can't go in that room, as I have the key!'
"He no longer knew what to say.
"'Then, monsieur, I will show you the way.'
"'Show me the stairs and leave me alone. I can find it without your help.'
"'But—still—monsieur——'
"Then I lost my temper.
"'Now be quiet! Else you'll be sorry!'
"I roughly pushed him aside and went into the house.
"I first went through the kitchen, then crossed two small rooms occupied by the man and his wife. From there I stepped into a large hall. I went up the stairs, and I recognized the door my friend had described to me.
"I opened it with ease and went in.
"The room was so dark that at first I could not distinguish anything. I paused, arrested by that moldy and stale odor peculiar to deserted and condemned rooms, of dead rooms. Then gradually my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, and I saw rather clearly a great room in disorder, a bed without sheets having still its mattresses and pillows, one of which bore the deep print of an elbow or a head, as if someone had just been resting on it.
"The chairs seemed all in confusion. I noticed that a door, probably that of a closet, had remained ajar.
"I first went to the window and opened it to get some light, but the hinges of the outside shutters were so rusted that I could not loosen them.
"I even tried to break them with my sword, but did not succeed. As those fruitless attempts irritated me, and as my eyes were by now adjusted to the dim light, I gave up hope of getting more light and went toward the writing-desk.
"I sat down in an arm-chair, folded back the top, and opened the drawer. It was full to the edge. I needed but three packages, which I knew how to distinguish, and I started looking for them.
"I was straining my eyes to decipher the inscriptions, when I thought I heard, or rather felt a rustle behind me. I took no notice, thinking a draft had lifted some curtain. But a minute later, another movement, almost indistinct, sent a disagreeable little shiver over my skin. It was so ridiculous to be moved thus even so slightly, that I would not turn round, being ashamed. I had just discovered the second package I needed, and was on the point of reaching for the third, when a great and sorrowful sigh, close to my shoulder, made me give a mad leap two yards away. In my spring I had turned round, my hand on the hilt of my sword, and surely had I not felt that, I should have fled like a coward.
"A tall woman, dressed in white, was facing me, standing behind the chair in which I had sat a second before.
"Such a shudder ran through me that I almost fell back! Oh, no one who has not felt them can understand those gruesome and ridiculous terrors! The soul melts; your heart seems to stop; your whole body becomes limp as a sponge, and your innermost parts seem collapsing.
"I do not believe in ghosts; and yet I broke down before the hideous fear of the dead; and I suffered, oh, I suffered more in a few minutes, in the irresistible anguish of supernatural dread, than I have suffered in all the rest of my life!
"If she had not spoken, I might have died. But she did speak; she spoke in a soft and plaintive voice which set my nerves vibrating. I could not say that I regained my self-control. No, I was past knowing what I did; but the kind of pride I have in me, as well as a military pride, helped me to maintain, almost in spite of myself, an honorable countenance. I was making a pose, a pose for myself, and for her, for her, whatever she was, woman, or phantom. I realized this later, for at the time of the apparition, I could think of nothing. I was afraid.
"She said:
"'Oh, you can be of great help to me, monsieur!'
"I tried to answer, but I was unable to utter one word. A vague sound came from my throat.
"She continued:
"'Will you? You can save me, cure me. I suffer terribly. I always suffer. I suffer, oh, I suffer!'
"And she sat down gently in my chair. She looked at me.
"'Will you?'
"I nodded my head, being still paralyzed.
"Then she handed me a woman's comb of tortoise-shell, and murmured:
"'Comb my hair! Oh, comb my hair! That will cure me. Look at my head—how I suffer! And my hair—how it hurts!'
"Her loose hair, very long, very black, it seemed to me, hung over the back of the chair, touching the floor.
"Why did I do it? Why did I, shivering, accept that comb, and why did I take between my hands her long hair, which left on my skin a ghastly impression of cold, as if I had handled serpents? I do not know.
"That feeling still clings about my fingers, and I shiver when I recall it.
"I combed her, I handled, I know not how, that hair of ice. I bound and unbound it; I plaited it as one plaits a horse's mane. She sighed, bent her head, seemed happy.
"Suddenly she said, 'Thank you!' tore the comb from my hands, and fled through the door which I had noticed was half opened.
"Left alone, I had for a few seconds the hazy feeling one feels in waking up from a nightmare. Then I recovered myself. I ran to the window and broke the shutters by my furious assault.
"A stream of light poured in. I rushed to the door through which that being had gone. I found it locked and immovable.
"Then a fever of flight seized on me, a panic, the true panic of battle. I quickly grasped the three packages of letters from the open desk; I crossed the room running, I took the steps of the stairway four at a time. I found myself outside, I don't know how, and seeing my horse close by, I mounted in one leap and left at a full gallop.
"I didn't stop till I reached Rouen and drew up in front of my house. Having thrown the reins to my orderly, I flew to my room and locked myself in to think.
"Then for an hour I asked myself whether I had not been the victim of an hallucination. Certainly I must have had one of those nervous shocks, one of those brain disorders such as give rise to miracles, to which the supernatural owes its strength.
"And I had almost concluded that it was a vision, an illusion of my senses, when I came near to the window. My eyes by chance looked down. My tunic was covered with hairs, long woman's hairs which had entangled themselves around the buttons!
"I took them off one by one and threw them out of the window with trembling fingers.
"I then called my orderly. I felt too perturbed, too moved, to go and see my friend on that day. Besides, I needed to think over what I should tell him.
"I had his letters delivered to him. He gave a receipt to the soldier. He inquired after me and was told that I was not well. I had had a sunstroke, or something. He seemed distressed.
"I went to see him the next day, early in the morning, bent on telling him the truth. He had gone out the evening before and had not come back.
"I returned the same day, but he had not been seen. I waited a week. He did not come back. I notified the police. They searched for him everywhere, but no one could find any trace of his passing or of his retreat.
"A careful search was made in the deserted manor. No suspicious clue was discovered.
"There was no sign that a woman had been concealed there.
"The inquest gave no result, and so the search went no further.
"And in fifty-six years I have learned nothing more. I never found out the truth."
And here are two great Ghost Videos of video evidence of ghosts in St Augustine Florida
One notable thing I have done is I have been inside the two “authentically” haunted houses in California. The first was the Winchester House, and the second, the Whaley House.
The Whaley House is a lot smaller, but has more drastic haunting. When I first entered it, I was drawn upstairs to the little theater. I then felt a strange pressure in my chest, and I breathed heavily. I left the room and the house FAST.
After getting some fresh air, I went to the garden and was around a small shed (now a bathroom). I had a strong feeling something was wrong with it.
I later went back into the house to hear the tour guide person (the house is very small, so it wasn’t actually a tour). He told the little audience about the house.
He said one of Whaley’s daughters committed suicide in the shed/bathroom. I felt that, I know I did. And he shared his own haunted experience in the theater. He felt someone was watching him.
The theater is probably the most haunted place in the house, and it’s the one where I felt the most energy.
Eastern State Penitentiary
Last summer, my girlfriend (who has some ability as a sensitive) and I decided to tour Eastern State Penitentiary, after watching that same episode about it on “Ghost Hunters” on Sci-Fi.
We went during the week on a VERY hot day. As such, we were two of about six people in the whole place. We had it pretty much to ourselves. We took the self-guided tour, as neither of us like to be held up by pokey people lagging behind. We walked though all the spokes of the prison that were open to the public.
We felt nothing till we reached the Death Row cellblock. For several minutes we stood inside, looked around at the cells and took in the feel. It was noticeably cooler inside, though the doors were open, and most of the windows were gone.
We finally walked out the door to the outside of this particular spoke in the wheel and turned to walk to the next one. Behind me I heard a low moan – “Ahhhhh ... uhhhhhhhhhh...” – as if someone was disappointed. I stopped immediately and turned around. My girlfriend, however, kept right on walking.
I turned quickly to see if she had heard it. Before I could get anything out, she said, “I heard it. Ignore him. If he had something to say, he could have done it while we were inside. He’s just playing games. I don’t play." And she kept right one walking.
I glanced back over my shoulder at Death Row, shrugged and kept walking. We were treated to taps and knocking following us along the wall till we reached the next building.
While neither of us was frightened, we BOTH wondered, if the place was so active during the day, what would a night trip actually be like? We will go back this spring with equipment and friends. I’ll be sure to post if anything interesting occurs.
Meet the Infamous Women of England
I have just returned from the UK. When I was in London I visited Westminster Abbey and Windsor Castle.
While I was in Westminster Abbey I came across the tomb of Mary, Queen of Scots. I am told this has happened to other people – a strong urge came to cross oneself and pray. I moved from her tomb and went on discovering the other tombs of monarchs and aristocracy. I came across an alcove with a tomb of a husband and wife who seemed to have met their demise in the 16th century. Immediately a putrid smell arrested my nose, like a smell of the sewer. Nowhere else in Westminster Abbey did I smell that.
A feeling of incredible fear overtook me. I was standing on the side of the wife’s tomb. I fled the alcove and went looking for the guide so he could tell who lay buried there, as it was all mainly written in Latin. The guide came back and said it was Anne of Middlesex and her husband. I thought no more of it, till the smell stayed with me for miles and miles, and at least three hours after I had left London.
I rang a friend and asked her who Anne of Middlesex was, and also related to her the awful smell. She replied in shock that Anne of Middlesex was a notorious poisoner, witch and as evil as one could be. I asked her, why the bad smell? She replied, “Because she was bad.”
Next I went onto Windsor castle. Two weeks later I was looking through the galleries of paintings, when I noticed the portrait of a woman in a green dress. She was not bad to look at, but something made me say, “Look that horrible woman.”
From the minute I uttered the words, the eyes in the painting followed me all around the room. As I was leaving – and it was for more than one second – as I kept staring in disbelief, the face had turned into a look of unspeakable hatred, a sneer so evil I had to leave the room in a hurry.
I later rang the same friend, who is an old Englishwoman, the same one who informed me of the reputation of Anne of Middlesex. She was almost certain that I had gazed on the portrait of Madame de Villiers, another evil woman.
I wandered the ancient city of Bath on Halloween and encountered nothing, but by accident at Westminster Abbey and Windsor castle, I was accosted by two of the most evil women of English history, and one of the most devout Catholic ones, Mary, Queen of Scots.
Later I decided to look up some information about Anne of Middlesex. The place I was heading to where I was staying in the UK was Bath. As I previously wrote, that unspeakable smell followed me on the bus all the way there.
The information I have read about Anne of Middlesex was she was the daughter of the Lord of Bath, so that explains why that smell stayed with me till I reached there. She obviously accompanied me back to her place of birth.
Gettysburg Experience
I am a huge history buff, and my family and I were fortunate enough to stay in Gettysburg for 10 days in the summer of 2004.
On the second or third day, I ended up in a field just past Devil’s Den. It was about 4:30 and a little overcast, but not dark. I was by myself, no other visitors, and my family was still at Devil’s Den. I was about 30-40 feet (not very far) inside the gate and on a well-worn dirt path, when I got a really strange feeling, like I shouldn’t go any further. I tried taking a few more steps and just couldn’t do it. This isn’t like me. I’m pretty level headed and don’t scare easily, but it was just one of those feelings you don’t ignore.
I lifted my camera to take a picture of the beautiful area, asking if anyone would like to be in the picture to please feel free to do so. As I was focusing the shot, I felt a “tap” on my leg! I actually turned around to see who it was. There was nobody there. I went to get my 16-year-old daughter. I didn’t tell her what happened or how I felt entering the field, just that I wanted her to come with me. (So I could document anything else that might happen and not to put preconceived thoughts or ideas in her head.)
We got back there about 10 minutes later, and I still couldn’t go past that point. So we were about to turn around and leave, when we heard footsteps to the left of us (no wind that day, and still nobody in the field) and whispering on the right of us (no wind/nobody there). We left pretty quickly, not running and screaming, but quickly. I asked her later what she heard.
She heard the same thing I did at the time. We both heard footsteps in the waist-high grass to the left and the whispering of two to three people on the right, but we couldn’t make out what they were saying. I regret not having a digital recorder right then. A few days later I went back with my daughter and another person from our B&B and got to the end of the path with only two “minor” incidents.
My daughter stopped in about the same place as before and asked if the bushes were supposed to “grab you.” She was nowhere near a bush and felt “something” touch her on the shoulder. A few minutes later, at the stone wall that runs across the middle part of the field before the tree line, the video function and battery on my digital camera went bad just as I was filming, and then it was fine after I left.
It was a very interesting experience, and I plan on going back to Gettysburg as soon as I can.
The Bunnyman's Bridge
I first read about the “Bunnyman’s Bridge” last year in ninth grade. There was a picture of the bridge in my school newspaper, but I cannot send it in because I don’t know where the paper is, and I don’t know how to submit ghost photos.
The legend goes on to say that a man was at a mental hospital, and he escaped. Just as the police were about to catch him, he committed suicide by jumping in front of an incoming train. He now haunts the bridge, the Bunnyman Bridge (he dresses as a bunny). The bridge had another name, but I cannot remember what it is.
The legend also says that if you go to the bridge at midnight on Halloween, you will see the Bunnyman. But you have to be careful because the police are there, and they really don’t want kids there.
The bridge is located at Chapel Road off Colchester Road in Clifton, Virginia. If you want to see the Bunnyman, go to the bridge and say three times really loud, “Bunnyman! Bunnyman! Bunnyman!”
Shanghai Tunnels
I went to the Portland Underground for my birthday one time. The Portland Underground, better known as the Shanghai Tunnels, is located in Portland, Oregon. These were underground tunnels that went all over Portland, and tours were held here.
Once inside, the tour guide started telling the tunnel’s history and whatnot. He talked about Nina, a famous ghost that is supposed to haunt the Underground. He told me and my friends about the stuff she did to the tourists, like grabbing their shirts, touching the back of their neck or their arm, and even appearing before their very eyes.
As we progressed through the tunnels we came to a large room. The tour guide did his routine and began telling the history of the place. I was in the back of the room listening. A few moments later, I feel something ice-cold slide across the back of my neck like a finger. I gasped but then smiled, knowing it was Nina. I just pretended like it never happened.
We went into the next room. Same routine – history was being told, and I was in the back of the room. A few moments later, something ice-cold, same feeling as before, slid across my head, rubbing my hair. I turned around; there was nothing there.
Nothing else happened after that, and we left the tunnels telling each other our experiences. The next day, to my surprise, I found a white streak of hair on my head right in the spot where I was touched.
I had my sister examine the back of my neck, and sure enough, there was a blue streak across it. The blue streak eventually went away, but the mark in my hair, which goes down to the root, is still here. And it’s been here for two years. I am looking forward to going to the Shanghai Tunnels again.
West Virginia State Penitentiary
One Halloween weekend about two years ago I took a “haunted” tour of the West Virginia State Penitentiary with some of my friends. The place was well known for its hauntings and was featured on MTV's short-lived “Fear” program.
The first half of the tour was of the actual prison and the most “haunted” spots, and the second half was set up like any other cheesy haunted house...
One of the events on the tour was the guard (or ex-prisoner, in my case) who was doubling as the tour guide would lock everyone in their own cell in pitch darkness and tell stories walking up and down the row. I got into my cell, and it really wasn’t that bad. I was getting bored with the stories the tour guide was telling so I started to explore.
On the wall in front of the toilet were two painted handprints, almost like whoever was prisoner in the cell painted the marks where his hands should go when he goes to the bathroom. Out of rebellion, for lack of a better term, I put my hands on it. Immediately my hands grew hot, and the rest of my body was freezing. This shook me up a bit but I wrote it off as just an overactive imagination. I wouldn’t call myself a skeptic per se, but I try to debunk everything first.
I then decided to test fate a bit more by laying on the metal bed frame connected to the wall by chains holding it at the outside corners. I lay there a bit, thinking of how horrible it would be to be in jail, when suddenly the bed frame began to shake violently. I jumped up and stood against the opposite wall. The bed stopped as soon as I got up. I went over and tried to lift it or see if the chains could be pulled from the adjacent cell, but the chains were bolted, and the bed was a good 150 lbs. I could hardly lift it, let alone shake it as much as it did.
I finally was let out of my cell without another incident, but to this day I don’t know what the hell went on to me in that cell – Cell 11. Has anyone else had a story similar to mine in the WV State Pen?
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