Underestimating Ghost Stories
I am contacted a lot concerning haunts and paranormal activity. When I am contacted people want one of two things. Number one being, someone to listen to them, or in my case, someone to read all about their paranormal problems. Number two is that they want someone to come to their property so others can witness what they are experiencing or make them feel “not so crazy” about of course, a crazy situation. As an investigator, I take the time to read/listen as much as possible. At this point in my life, I am able to decipher if someone just wants attention or if there is truly something going on. No matter what people tell me, they are telling me a ghost story and I love every moment of it, no matter out outlandish it may be.
The good old fashioned ghost story is underrated these days. The beauty of story telling and people being able to tell a story for the sake of the story is a forgotten art. I always smile when people start to share their tales with the sentence “You are going to think I’m crazy” or the ever so classic “You are not going to believe this”. I smile because those typically are the start of a great story. People that deny their supernatural events, in my opinion and experience are those that potentially have had something unexplainable take place. When the human mind starts to doubt the event, it’s a sure sign that something unexplainable probably took place.
There are many types of ghost stories, but as most of you will and can agree (once you think about it) that people do not forget the magic of a ghost story. Ghosts stories turned into movies that we will never forget because we have had the visual stimulation to encourage the thrill of the tale. Can you remember a part of a movie or film that continues to haunt you, even if it was from your childhood?
This particular 1984 TV show had a moment that has haunted me for a long time. Showing my age, this one scene has made me afraid of small closets, even to this day. ha! What is in the closet? Not a ghost, but this is a great example of the visual influence of ghosts and pretty much anything paranormal. As an adult, I have met other adults that recall this exact TV moment and they too have a fear of little closets. Yes, it’s funny and I’m a goofball for even posting this, but I have a feeling that some people can relate to this episode. For I am not alone….
People remember ghost stories, mainly because they make us question our faith, beliefs and skeptical outlooks which in turn is our overall sense of intelligence! How dare they make me question myself! Without the visual stimulation of film, I ask that you reach way back, even to your childhood to recall a good ghost story. Did you ever attempt to venture into the abandoned house at the end of your neighborhood, challenge your friends to go peek inside and you recall them running away in terror? I do. I have many stories like that from my childhood. I recall those moments vividly as the fear became a part of me in that exact instant. I will never forget the fear, the furious bike ride home and the laughter from my friends as we recapped the scary moment. A few days later, we returned and did the same thing, just a different kid of course. The power of a ghost story is just as haunting as what took place. How you tell it can make or break you on your sanity meter.
My first recollection of a ghostly moment was when I was a very small child. I was with my family, my mom was even there. We all witnessed it and we all ran out screaming. I will post the tale of Ol’Doc Littles Pond this week. Until then, I ask that you reach back, as far back as you can in your mind and share your very first and perhaps only ghostly encounter. If you don’t have one, I invite you to share a tale that was perhaps told to you or you have seen somewhere that has embedded itself into your subconscious mind for the rest of your life.
Never underestimate the power of a ghost story. No matter if it’s true or not, most people have one. I would like to read yours.
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Gettysburg Experience
Without a doubt, what is one of the most amazing events in my life happened at Gettysburg. Not even the fact that a little over twenty years have gone by, can dilute the memory.
I understand that the story has been making the rounds for some time. I even read a version of it published in one of the several booklets having to do with phenomena on the battlefield. What I heard and read is not the correct and full version of the story. So, after some prompting by others and careful consideration, I decided to tell the story just as it happened and set the record straight.
The story begins on a Friday evening on a July 4th holiday. Two others and I were on our way to Gettysburg to take part in a small reenactment and encampment. As we all had to work that day, we got a late start. We didn’t leave New Jersey until nine o’clock.
After stopping for gas and a late dinner we arrived at Gettysburg at 1 in the morning. The fact that it was the first time I had ever been there, and the fact that it was dark; held me spellbound as I observed the silhouettes of the cannons and monuments. I was impressed!
We parked in the lot over by where the National Tower used to be, and changed in to our newly purchased uniforms. The three of us began to make our way down the road to where the encampment was; by Meade’s Headquarters on Taneytown Road and Hunt Ave.
Our reproduction brogans with their metal heel plates made a “clack-clack-clack” sound with each step we took down the poorly maintained road towards the encampment.
Let me digress here by stating that it was a beautiful evening. It was cool, but not uncomfortably so, being July. Not a cloud was in sight; the moon was full and shone like a beacon in the sky.
As we walked down the road a thick, a white mist coalesced some distance in front of us. None of us thought it strange. Rather, we were curious as we watched first one then two other figures walk out of the mist toward us.
The figures got closer; close enough to us to where we should have been able to pick out clothing details and features. But all we saw were just silhouettes in the darkest ebony.
It didn’t dawn on any of us that something was amiss. We just watched the figures turn around to walk in the direction they seemingly came from, only to disappear around the bend up the road.
Not quite knowing how far down the road the encampment was, we thought we might hurry up around the bend and ask these guys how much further we had to walk. But, of course, when we rounded the bend, no one was there.
Our first reaction was that someone was playing a game with us. Where could they have gone? We looked carefully around the immediate area thinking that three reenactors would pop up out the darkness, laughing when they scared the crap out of us.
Again, nothing.
I then pointed out that I thought it was strange that the figures made absolutely any sort of noise moving down the road; that all we saw were dark figures. Refusing to jump to any sort conclusion that would make us look ridiculous, we decided that there had to be some sort of logical explanation. Those three were somewhere, and we were going to find them. We decided to walk back to the car and retrace our footsteps.
Once more, we moved down the road; this time in a column some distance apart. I was the second man in the group, and watched the first guy disappear around the bend. A moment later he called out to me telling me to come quickly.
As I rounded the bend I could see three figures leaning against the post and rail fence ahead, on the left side of the road, smoking. We could see the small, bright orange dots of light.
The two of us ran back to hurry the last guy along, but when the three of us rounded the bend in the road, the three figures were gone once again!
I suggested we walk up to the fence to see if we could see them lying down in the field that it bordered, trying to hide. When I walked up to the fence I noticed that it had wide-gauge chicken wire stapled to the outside of it. That meant, of course, that the figures would have to be leaning through the chicken wire! I pointed this out to the others. We just stood there for a few moments staring at each other. It had become very apparent that we had witnessed something very unusual.
Wordlessly, we moved down the road to where we could finally see the dying embers of the campfires. A sentry stood by a fire on the edge of the road.
“Hey. What’s up? Anyone about?”
“No. Everyone is in camp, asleep.” He replied.
“Really!” I said as I looked at the others. “We’ll be back with our stuff in a bit.”
With that we turned around and walked in the direction of the parking lot. Passing the field on our right, the three of us drifted up to the fence. We peered in to the field and discussed we had we had just seen.
Just as we turned to heads back towards the station wagon, I heard some noises in the grass in front of us.
“Guys! Do you hear that?”
We all peered in to the grass. Our eyes must have bulged out of their sockets as we watched an invisible presence creating a line of footprints in the grass.
We screamed curses to make a sailor blush as we bolted up the road toward the lot and the supposed safety of the wagon. It turned in to a footrace. The three of us knew that there was only room for two to stretch out in the wagon. One of us was going to lose and be forced to sleep outside on a cot.
Yours truly lost the race.
Needless to say, I quite literally shook in my brogans!
I remember my first ghost story book from the 3rd grade…I still have it “So Once was I” by K.M. Peyton”…I have experienced, told and collected ghost stories ever since. Love your blog post. I never really gave WHY I love these stories much thought. Thanks for writing this!
I love a good ghost story and can’t wait to hear more of yours.