Replies

Here are a couple of other stories. I wanted to make the Civil War re-enactor story the primary one, but the site will not allow it due to a copyright complaint, so here is the link:

Did ghostly soldiers pay re-enactors a courtesy call?

Ghost Stories or Urban Myths? - you decide

Ghost Ping...

Previous threads:

This Defeat not the Only Thing Haunting Them

Walking with the Dead (Haunted Pub)

Ghost Hunters

Ghost Story

Spooky goings-on at couple's home

Boo!

The ghost will be voting for Kerry.

Some of the guys I used to reenact with took a photo of them lounging next to their tents under some trees.

When the photo came back the tent nearest the camera had dappled light that had filtered through the trees. This dappled light made a photographic image. The image WAS one of those photos of a soldier's reunion that you sometimes see. Old men all arranged in rows.

Strangest thing I have seen. You could look at it as leaves and it looked like leaves, you could look at it as a photo and it looked like a photo. Weird.

I guess this is Leadville Colorado right? Years ago I had a strange experience in Silver City Colorado. We were on vacation with our little kids.

We went to eat in a building that had been an old saloon with a brothel upstairs, The Bent Elbow Saloon, I think it was called. We sat down & ordered our lunch and an old rinky tink piano started to play.

We were having a great time & laughing when all of a sudden I began to feel sad. In a few minutes the saddness turned to tears. I was crying like a tragedy had occurred. My family was shocked & embarrassed.

I went outside to compose myself and as soon as I got outside I felt fine & the tears stopped. I went back in & the tears started streaming again. I had never felt such terrible saddness.

Finally I had them bring my lunch outside & I didn't try to go back in again.

Any thoughts on this weird event?

Ooooh, spooky stories!

Here is a post I wrote last Halloween in another web forum, about some of the strange things that have happened to my family and I over the many years. I hope you enjoy it.

SHADOWS ON THE WALL: My true Ghost Stories

"I aint 'fraid of no ghosts!"

Well,....maybe....

In the spirit of Halloween, I have recorded here, true paranormal experiences that have happened to myself, or to members of my family. Some might be explained, others cannot.

Fasten your seatbelts, but don't read this in the dark alone!........

"I who walk the night have seen things you sleepers could never dream."

I am an Agnostic. I don't know, for sure, one way or the other about life after death. I hope that our consciousness, our souls survive death, but I just don't know. I have no solid evidence of life after death that would meet my own requirements, let alone others. Because, though I, as we all, only trust our own senses, we still demand a more solid evidence from others. Something we can hold, feel, and examine. Something that we can see, show, and study on demand. This I cannot do.

So, with that in mind, the experiences that I have had over my lifetime cannot be proven to others, nor even to myself. Yet, over the years, and many attempts to find some reason, I cannot explain tham all away. To simply excuse them as a runaway imagination, or some electrical signal in the brain gone astray, brings no real explanation, nor comfort of the memories of those few days and nights, alone, when for a fleeting moment, time stood still, and I was witness to something far beyond my understanding.

IMAGINATION, DRUGS, BOOZE, STRESS, ECT., ECT.....

I cannot explain them as a dream, for I was not asleep. I cannot explain them as the results of being under the influence of some mind altering substance, for I neither drink, or do drugs. And during these few strange occurrences, I was under the influence of nothing, but clear and cognitive thought, tethered neither by undue worry, in time of stress, or psychological strain. And those who know me, know well too, that I am not one who is prone to wild fits of imagination.

But before I can tell you what happened to me, a little history of other paranormal experiences witnessed by some other members of my family. Some I can find a logical explanation, others, I can't. First my grandmother....

My mother's mother, was born in the year of 1877, in a small village in north-eastern Italy. In her long life she had experienced incredible amounts of history first hand. She witnessed battles of the Great War. She suffered the concern for a husband at the front, and the worry of protecting her children when the Germans broke through her village.

THEY FOLLOWED HER HOME

When she was a teen, she remembered running through the woods at night, through a trail that was surrounded by a swamp, to get to a house in the country. She recalled that she ran because she was being followed by several glowing balls of light. These lights, she was convinced, were the souls of the dead coming to get her. We can assume that these were most likely balls of glowing swamp gasses.

GHOST RIDERS IN THE SKY

During the Great War, she and other villagers had witnessed a strange and frightening sight. Soldiers marching in the sky. These simple peasants assumed that they were watching the souls of dead soldiers going to heaven, and they fell to their knees in prayer. This was quite a story in our family and very convincing. It wasn't until years later that I found out that the same thing had happened during the battle of Waterloo. Apparently, my grandmother and others, were witness to a freak natural phenomenon, in which conditions were just right, that the sun had reflected up the images of soldiers marching on the ground, some distance away.

THE LADY IS WAITING

When she was in here 20's, her mother-in-law had died. And in those days the custom was to lay the dead person out on their bed on display, as if they were sleeping. My grandmother was the one who washed the body, fixed her hair and dressed her in her funeral gown. She was now all laid out on the bed, her eyes closed, as her head rested on the pillow as if in sleep, and her arms were folded over, as her hands held a Rosary. A kerosene lamp dimly lit the room. My grandmother then went to others and told them that they could now come in to visit the body and pray. When they got to the door, they were shocked by a frightening site. Her dead mother-in-law had turned her head toward the door, opened her eyes, and her right arm lay out stretched, as if to beckon them all to enter. Most likely Rigamortis . That is why they used to put coins on the eye lids. Something she obviously didn't do.

DON'T OPEN THE DOOR

Then there was a strange and repeatable example of a unexplainable paranormal phenomenon. It involved a man in her village that had been murdered. The killer had severed his victim's head, and then placed it on a shelf in a closet of the victims home. For a period spanning a decade, on every anniversary of his death, a vision of his head would reappear on that shelf. There were many witnesses to this, including my grandmother. The local priest would be called and he would bless the area with holy water and prayer. The head would then fade away, until next year. Eventually it never came back.

THE BRIDGE TO THE OTHER SIDE (A PREMONITION OF DEATH)

When she and her children were refugees before the Huns, at the fall of Caporetto, she struggled in the masses of other refuges, young and old, in the rain, along the winding muddy roads, and open fields, with a single Oxen pulling a small cart, in which held all their worldly possessions. Her children holding on to her long dress so as not to be lost in the great mass of Humanity, slowly moving away....away to what they hoped would be safety, but for many, it would turn out to be an eternal journey into the unknown.

Their journey had reached the Tagliomento River, and the large long bridge that crossed over it. The river. A symbolic natural obstacle, deep and wide, that, once crossed, brought a sense of well being, as one could imagine a mote to a fortress. Night was falling, and just as she and here children were about to go on the bridge, she stopped! A sense of dread had come over her. Her conscience told her to stop here, and to go no further. But why? Safety was on the OTHER side, not here! Not now! The Germans were over running the area. She would soon be IN the battle. She stood on the side of the road and watched as the endless masses of people struggled to get on the bridge. She looked around for some other shelter, and in a field saw a large stone barn, with a great iron door. She rushed with her children to it. There she was confronted by the sights and sounds of wounded and dying soldiers, lying in the barn. She remembered how some of them called out to their mothers.

As she found a corner for herself and her children to rest in the dark, the great door was closed and locked behind her. No sooner had this been done, when a massive explosion rocked the barn, and the force blew open the great door exposing all to the darkness of the night. For one brief moment there was stunned silence. And then it began. As if a thousand souls cried out at once, the mournful wail of the injured and dying, drifted through the door. And then they were told. A massive shell had landed on the bridge, destroying it, and killing all those who were on it. The river was said to have run red with the blood of hundreds. Why didn't she go on the bridge? Why didn't she cross over, "to the otherside"??

My grandmother was a very kind woman. She moved in with us after my grandfather had died. A very religious person, she had no doubt that there was a life after death, but she kept her deep religious beliefs to herself. Never trying to convert anyone, never preaching. She would just silently open her prayer book and read, while the family was sitting around in the evening watching TV. And she went to church every Sunday. My sister shared a bedroom with her upstairs, each having a single bed positioned against the opposite sides of the room.

Then the fateful day had come. Old and just plain worn out, she was dying. She was falling into a coma, in her EZ chair in the living room. We had relatives visiting from Canada at the time, and we tried to wake her. She murmured, "I'm tired, let me sleep.". We decided to carry her to her bed. I picked her up and carefully carried her up the steps to her room. As I did so, with her eyes closed she whispered her last words, which were, "So soon, So soon." Her breathing became very loud and labored. The house was now full of family, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins. Many crying. A female cousin brought a small electric lamp to place at her bed side, while the death vigil continued. The doctor was called, and my mother wanted her to go to the hospital, in hopes of saving her. The doctor said that it was of no use, and that it would be best if she passed away in peace surrounded by loved ones.

It wasn't long before the death rattle was heard. I remember my sister and one of my brothers kneeling at the side of her bed saying the Rosary, and crying their hearts out. We had her laid to rest in a grave next to Grandfather. And we tried to get back to a normal family life.

GRANDMA COMES HOME

One night about a week after the funeral, we were all awakened by a loud blood curdling scream that came from my sister, up stars in her bedroom. Shocked, I jumped out of bed, threw on my paints, and rushed out of my room. My dad was rushing out of the master bedroom, and we headed across the house, for the door that lead up to my sisters bedroom. Something was wrong. We opened the door and started running up the stairs, only to be met by my sister, white as a ghost, running down the steps in total fear. She was crying hysterically, as we sat her in a chair at the kitchen table, trying to calm her down. My mother warmed some tea, and had her slowly sip it, to relax her. When she regained here composer, and as her hands were shaking, she told us what happened. She said that while she lay in bed trying to sleep in the dark, she felt the presence of grandma standing over her bed. She says that she could hear her breathing, and she said that the breaths came closer and closer, until it was only inches from her face. That's when she screamed and ran out of the room.

Well, we tried to convince her that she just had a bad dream. She insisted that it wasn't a dream, and that she wasn't asleep. Sleep or no, she would never step foot in that room again. Fine. I was convinced that she just had a wild dream, and nothing more. She moved into my room. I moved in with one of my brothers.

Several months later I left for the service, and came home 6 months later after Tech School. I was full of self confidence, and afraid of nothing, least of all a sister's "bad dream". So I decided I would stay in her old room, the one she had shared with my grandmother. So that night, closing the door behind me, up the stairs, and down the dark hall I went. I got to the bedroom door, and opened it, reached for the light switch, and entered. There, the room was as it was the day my grandmother had died. Her old bed was still there, opposite my sister's old bed. I turned off the light, and settled down in my sister's old bed. And then something happened. With in a moment or two, while laying on my right side, facing my grandmother's bed, as my eyes were open in the dark, and I waited for sleep to come, I heard a very faint sound of someone,...someone breathing. It was coming from my grandmother's side of the room, where her bed was. I remember quite clearly, listening to this sound, not sure of what it was at first. I lifted my head so both ears could pick the sound up. And it slowly got louder,...and louder. That's when hit me, it sounded exactly like my grandmother's labored breathing, just as the day she died! I flicked on the small lamp above the bed board, and leaned up on my right elbow, to listen. More stunned than afraid. It continued to get louder and lasted about 4 or 5 minutes or so. Strong and clear. And I sat up, listening intently, amazed at what I was hearing. Then it started to slowly fade away into a whisper, and then it was gone. Well, that was enough for me! I got dressed, exclaiming out loud, "What the hell is this?!...WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!", while utterly astounded at what I had just experienced. I no longer doubted what my sister had heard. The room was now abandoned as a bedroom, and used for storage.

But that wasn't he end of Grandmother. My dad worked nights and didn't get home until 1:30 or 2:30 in the morning. He would then sit in the living room, have a snack, and watch the late, late show. My wife and I lived with my folks for a year, until we got settled in an apartment.

The rest of the family would go to bed about 11:30 PM, and I would stay up alone in the livingroom, watching the Tonight Show until 1 AM. The TV was positioned in the room so that when I was watching the tube, just to my front right of vision, I could see through the foyer into the door that lead from the kitchen to the hall that went to the first floor bedrooms.

On many occasions, always around 12:30 AM, I would get the visual sensation of something moving in the corner of my eye, moving from the kitchen, and through the door that lead to the bedrooms. It got to the point that I expected it, and was ready to look over as quick as I could, in hope to see what it was. And on several occasions I was able to get a fleeting glimpse of my dead grandmother walking through that door toward where the rest of the family was sleeping. I told my dad about it, and he told me that he had seen the same thing as I had. But kept quite about it because he didn't want to upset my mother.

My mother never experienced anything unusual in her life, nor have my brothers.

Years later my folks sold the house to a single middle aged woman who taught school in Detroit. She lived there alone as she had no family that I am aware of. She had a garage built in the back yard, and put on a new roof. I also heard that she had the upstairs bedroom remodeled. I was told she did a beautiful job.

About five years after, I had visited the neighborhood, and talked to my old next door neighbor. I noticed that the my old house was closed up tight. My neighbors told me that the woman who bought and moved into our old house, had lost her mind, and went insane. She was committed. And the city took possession of the house. I will always wonder if she slept in the bedroom upstairs, and if grandmother had paid her a visit in the night.

The house is now sold to a young couple with children. And as far as I know from a relative who lives across the street, everything is fine.

MOTHER SAID GOODBYE

My dad's mother got stomach cancer at the age of 35, in the 1920's. She was operated on, and things were alright for about a year, when it came back. And in those days, there was nothing the doctors could do. My grandfather found a "doctor" who claimed that he had a cure for cancer. A one time injection, that would cost my grandfather about a years pay. My grandfather was desperate, and agreed. The quake injected her, and my dad's family hoped for the impossible. She just got worse.

She could no longer keep food down, and her weight dropped dramatically. Bed ridden up stairs, she suffered through terrible pain. Literally bending the metal bedposts out with her bare hands. An exposed water pipe ran along the wall of her bedroom, down through the floor, and against the wall in the kitchen below. There, when my dad, his brother, and my grandfather, were down stairs at the kitchen table, they had to listen to her moans and cries of pain, that would travel down the pipe like a stethoscope. She finally passed away some weeks later. But the night before she passed, three knocks where heard at the front door, but no one was there. They laid her out in a coffin placed in the living room, as they did in those days. She had lost so much weight that they had trouble keeping her wedding ring on her finger.

After the funeral, family friends who owned a farmhouse up north, invited them to come and stay for a week and rest. This my grandfather agreed to do. And so that night, at the farmhouse, as they were all getting ready for bed, my dad heard his dead mother clearly call out his name. He told me years later that he never told his father or brother, because he didn't want to scare them.

A week later they went home. And as they sat at the kitchen table that evening, they were shocked to here their mother's moans and cries coming through the pipe that lead to the upstairs bedroom where she died. My dad said that there was no doubt what they heard. It was his mother crying in pain. It continued on to the next day and neighbors were called over to hear it for themselves. Soon the house was full of people amazed at what they were hearing. A priest was called, who blessed the house, the bedroom and the pipes. And the cries and moans stopped, never to return.

Many years later, I was visiting my grandfather with my dad, and my uncle. When the conversation came up about the night they stayed at that farmhouse, "after ma died". My uncle said that when the were getting ready for bead, he heard his dead mother call out his name! My dad and I looked at each other, surprised at what he had just said. My dad then told him, that at the same time, HE had heard their mother call out HIS name too! But they only heard their own names called. My grandfather listening, said that he had seen her that night float across the bedroom as they were getting ready for bed. Each had kept their experiences to themselves, so as not to scare the other. And that was that.

_____________________

History was my college major, and a life long interest. As such, as a pastime, I enjoy going to the library and researching the original locations of the first homesteads in my area. The earliest pioneers settled here during the 1820's. The research amounts to studying the first plat maps of the areas, that pin-point the exact locations of these structures, along with the first initial, and last name of the original owner. I acquired permission from the State DNR, to excavate homesteads that fall on state park land. I then physically search for the location on foot, and once pinpointed, photographing the area, and sketch the location of the remaining foundations, ect. I then take a metal detector and search the area for evidence of their past habitation, looking for artifacts that will give me and the local historical association, a better understanding of who these people were, and how they lived.

In this way I have researched many difficult to reach, old deep wood and isolated homesites, far from the beaten path, and where no one goes, the vast majority without incidence. But there were two that I remember well, not only for the artifacts uncovered, and history discovered, but for something else. Something, that may be still there now,... waiting.

THE GIRL IN BLUE

The first, was a homesite about a mile off the trail's end. That I had found one September, 15 years ago. Alone, I started my search of the grounds. When I looked up I was stunned to see a girl dressed in light old fashioned blue dress, by herself, about the age of 16 or so. standing in a field about 50 yards in front of me. This made no sense. What was she doing way out here?? By herself. She stood straight and motionless, with her arms at her side, just standing and staring at me, her long light brown hair gently moving in the breeze. I felt uncomfortable. It was a very odd place to find anyone, let alone a young girl by herself, watching. So I said "Hi!" She didn't respond. She just stood there and stared at me.

Now this was getting really awkward. And I remember thinking I might as well walk over to her and make conversation. Tell her what I was doing there, and ask her if she had seen any other signs of old habituation, such as old foundations, ect. I put my head down, looking at the ground before my feet, as I made my way toward her. I looked up about 20 yards from her, and she still didn't move. I could see her very clearly now. She wore a long dress, light blue in color, of plain Jane looks, without make up, and just starring without any expression on her face. I again said "Hi!". She again, said nothing. I thought "this-girl-is-strange!" I put my head down again for just a moment, as I continued toward her, saying aloud that "I was researching the area for old home sites...." and before I finished my words, I looked up again, and she was gone. I thought, "What the..." And looked around, she was nowhere. And I could see far in all directions, and she was nowhere. Where did she go?! There was no direction she could have gone without me seeing her leave. But she was gone, just plain gone.

A VOICE IN THE WILDERNESS

The last experience I had, and the one that still sends a chill up my spine to this day, happened about 8 years ago. I had located on a map, the exact location of a lost and forgotten settlement, deep in the forests of the County. This small settlement consisted of 5 homesteads, built in a circle. It was very early, predating any roads. The settlers used a now extinct branch of a river, (now drained down to swamp of muck) to reach this place. Later during the Civil War a now abandoned and overgrown railroad track crossed about a half a mile away. I drove my truck down an old narrow and long abandoned dirt road. This was very desolate area. No homes for miles. I parked as close as I could to the approximate area, and had to walk the rest of the way. I was totally alone. No life anywhere, except for myself the sounds of the birds in the woods. Looking back, what I had done was stupid. I neglected to bring my cell phone. My wife knew what I was doing, and the county I was doing it, but she had no idea where. Once in, if I had become seriously hurt or injured, they would have never found me, until some hunter might have stumbled over my body come hunting season.

Anyways, I got by gear together. Strapped my backpack and detector over my shoulders, and with my compass, map, and walking stick, made my way. After walking several hours, and following old dear paths when I could, and then hacked and clawed the rest of the way. I eventually found what appeared to be a row of old oak trees, obviously planted by man, long ago. There were crumbled old stone foundations everywhere. I had found the settlement.

The day was gray and cloudy, and under the cover of the forest, it was darker still. I unpacked my gear and got to work. Later on, I unearthed several old pieces of 19th Century Silverware, with the monogram of 'E.K.', engraved on the handles. I knew that one of the settlers there was named 'R. Kinsman'. I assumed that "E" might have been his wife. Located an old war of 1812 button (regiment of rifles), near the entrance to where one house had stood, along with a Seated Liberty Dime. Then a brass Corn Husker dated '1862'. After several hours I was startled by the sound of a woman's voice clearly calling out the name "ELISA!". She said it only once. This shocked me! I froze. Stunned that I wasn't alone, so very far into the forest. There were no trails here. How did she get here?! I looked around but saw no one. I waited, for her voice again, as I visually scanned the area around me. There was nothing. After a few minutes, I continued on about my business, thinking of what I heard, and the odd name "Elisa". I thought some mother must be looking for her child. But it made no sense, as the area was too isolated, too difficult to get to.

Twice more that day I heard this woman voice call the name "Elisa". Each time stunning me to attention from my work. The second time I heard her, was with a sound of panic in her voice. The last time, she called the name, it was with a sound of extreme disappointment or sadness. After a long pause I continued on.

Some time later, I then found a Civil War large 'A' for Artillery, Eagle coat button. Scraping the ground further, I found a large horde of buttons, both glass, and brass, dating from the late 18th Cent., to the mid 19th Century. I then found the cover of an old copper sewing box. It had something scratched on the top. It looked like writing, and I got my brush and cleaned the dirt off, to reveal writing in the style of a woman's long hand, neatly scratched into the cover. The words were "Elisa M. Kinsman".

And thus ends my personal life experiences into what could be the paranormal. I know of no other explanation. And I keep my mind open to all possibilities. I feel this is an area that needs further research, as I and we, look for answers.

Well, it's time you turn off the lights and went to bed...Don't you think??.....PLEASENT DREAMS.

Spend enough time at Gettysburg and you'll believe in ghosts.

ping

Re the re-enactors:

The Way Through the Woods

They shut the road through the woods
Seventy years ago.
Weather and rain have undone it again,
And now you would never know
There was once a road through the woods
Before they planted the trees.
It is underneath the coppice and heath,
And the thin anemones.
Only the keeper sees
That, where the ring-dove broods,
And the badgers roll at ease,
There was once a road through the woods.

Yet, if you enter the woods
Of a summer evening late,
When the night-air cools on the trout-ringed pools
Where the otter whistles his mate.
(They fear not men in the woods,
Because they see so few)
You will hear the beat of a horse's feet,
And the swish of a skirt in the dew,
Steadily cantering through
The misty solitudes,
As though they perfectly knew
The old lost road through the woods . . . .
But there is no road through the woods.

-- Rudyard Kipling

Thank you, CurlyBill! It's just what I needed!

Add me to your ping list pretty please....with a cherry on top. :-}

I love this stuff (and have a couple of first-hand stories I can share one of these days!). Can you please add me to your ping list? Thanks!

Oh! Add me to your PING list!

I can share the stories of my house, here in PA!

May proved to be an active month for the courthouse ghosts

This whole building was full of lawyers. Lawmakers. . .They were the ones that hanged everybody.

Please add me to your ping list for ghosts.