Hello lovely readers. Please welcome Vance, from Juli Caldwell’s “Psyched.” He’s come to tell us a ghost story!
I grew up close to the Webster rural cemetery. I heard weird sounds when I was growing up, especially on moonless nights. My dad always said there was no such thing as ghosts. We’re church-going people, so he taught me to believe in guardian angels and stuff like that, but he always thought that a spirit had a mission to protect us. Keep us safe. He didn’t think it could get stuck here.
When I was younger, I walked home from school with my brothers—I’m the youngest of four boys. For some reason I had to walk alone one day when I was about 13. As you go around a bend and up a little hill before you get to my neighborhood, there’s an old stone cottage set back from the road a bit. Overgrown weeping willows kind of hide it so it’s not easy to see unless you know it’s there. That house always kind of creeped me out, but I’d never had to walk past it alone before. The house has this historic marker that I never stopped to read with my brothers around. They just wanted to throw stones and see if we could break some of the windows because the place has been abandoned for years, unless you count the occasional homeless squatter or pot party.
The sign said the house was one of the first built in Webster, back in early 1700’s, and it gave the names of the original owners. For some reason I said their names out loud. As soon as I did…wow. We’re not too far from a river where I live, and this little stone cottage is close to it. So this mist rolled in as I said their names, and at first I didn’t think much of it. I mean, it’s upstate New York. Storms roll off the lake all the time, and there’s often fog in the river bottom. I just wanted to hurry home so I didn’t get drenched when the storm hit. As I started to walk away, something in the upper windows caught my eye and I stopped to look. At first it looked like gray curtains blowing out a window, but as I looked closer I saw a face. The sad, crying face of a woman. The mist rolled in, blocking my view of the window as a ghastly shriek rang out, and the wind suddenly picked up. It’s a good thing I didn’t wet myself right there. I ran up the hill and once I got out of that little valley where the house was, the mist was gone.
I can’t even explain how much it scared me. Later, I looked up the name of the woman on the sign and researched her history. Turns out she died under suspicious circumstances. She was a newlywed and her husband had just finished building that house for her. Another woman in town wanted to marry her husband, and after the woman came to visit her in her new house, she got really sick. Rumor is she died of poisoning but no one could ever prove it.
It drives my dad nuts that I believe, but this stuff is real. That face I saw, she was so lost, so scared. If I can help just one lost soul find a way out, set them free, what I do as a ghost hunter will be worth it.