One Last Visit Home

It was raining on a dark, dreary night in mid-December when Nell was awakened at 1:30 by the doorbell in a familiar ringing pattern. She wasn't upset though as there was only one person who always used that particular pattern of ringing, her son, Jim. Nell knew this meant Jim had come home for the holidays!

Before she could jump out of bed to let Jim in though, her husband Charles told her to stop. "Hold on a second and let me check first," he said. After putting on his robe, he left the room headed toward the front door.

Charles was Jim's stepfather, not his real father. His real father had been killed while saving a wounded comrade in Vietnam when Jim was still young. Charles never took to Jim and Jim never seemed to accept Charles. It's hard raising another man's son, especially when that man died an almost mythical-sized hero in the son's eyes. The two had argued often and as soon as he graduated high school, Jim had left their home in that small Texas town for a college in a big northern city over 900 miles away.

Nell lay there in bed waiting for the angry voices to start. Charles would be upset at being awakened in the middle of the night and Jim would be tired and short-tempered after driving such a long distance only to be harshly greeted. For several minutes though, there was only the sound of the rain. When Charles finally returned, he said, "There was nobody there," as he got back into bed. Nell was sure her husband was lying. She couldn't understand how he could be so cruel as to turn away her son in the middle of the night in such a rain storm. She lay there fuming until the sun peeked over the horizon.

That morning, the rain had stopped and the clouds had gone away, but Nell was still furious with her husband. She burnt his breakfast toast, but he just left it untouched on his plate and didn't say a word before leaving for work. As soon as he was gone, she went to the front porch looking for proof that Jim had been there last night. She saw no muddy footprints on the clean boards around the door, but that didn't change her mind. Jim was the only person who ever rang the doorbell in such a rhythmic pattern so she knew he must have been there. She prayed he would not be so mad at the way Charles had treated him that he wouldn't return again later that day.

She had begun to clean the house when the phone rang. She hoped it was Jim calling from wherever he had spent the night to let her know he was on his way to visit. When she answered the phone however, she was stunned to discover it wasn't Jim on the line, but a police officer from the large city 50 miles away. He was sorry to tell her, Jim had been killed in an auto accident there and she was needed to come identify the body.

Nell's knee's went weak and she sank to the floor. Shakily she asked, "What time did this happen?"

"At 1:30 this morning, Ma'am," the officer replied.

It was the exact time the door bell had rang with Jim's special rhythm. And Nell knew for sure, it had been Jim after all, home for one last visit.

Hiram's House

Hiram Martin Chittenden

One of Yellowstone National Park's important early figures was Hiram M. Chittenden. Working for the Army Corps of Engineers, he spent two extended tours of duty in the park. A West Point graduate, he first came to Yellowstone as a lieutenant in 1891 and for the next 4 years was in charge of maintenance and construction of the roads and bridges. Like so many others, he fell in love with the clean air, beautiful scenery and wondrous sites he was exposed to every day. After 4 years there, he requested to remain, but it was not to be and he had to report to a post in the northwest.

In 1899, his request to return to Yellowstone was successful and he was overjoyed that spring when he was able to return. His return came with a promotion and he was assigned to the post of Engineer Officer. In 1902, the government gave him a larger budget and Hiram was able to turn his attention to new buildings and offices, including a badly needed new mess hall.  Later that year, with the planned arrival of the Northern Pacific Railroad to Gardiner, Montana at the park's northern border, he was able to convince Washington, D.C. of the need for a magnificent entrance to the park. 

Historical picture of the Roosevelt Arch at Yellowstone

On February 19, 1903, under Hiram's supervision, construction on what has come to be known as the Roosevelt Arch at the north entrance was begun. President Roosevelt was visiting the park when construction on the arch itself was started so he was asked to place the cornerstone. The stone he laid covered a time capsule containing a picture of himself, a bible, several local newspapers and a few other mementos of the time. The arch was completed on August 15, 1903 at a cost of $10,000. 

Roosevelt Arch as it looks today.

With the larger budget, Hiram was also able to have a new home constructed for himself. He personally oversaw the construction of his house which was located just east of the Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel. The house was a rather simple design and built of wood, but it fit him perfectly and was large enough to accommodate his family on their frequent visits. His wife Nettie and their children Eleanor, Hiram Jr., and Teddy remained at the family home in St. Louis during most of his various posts, but often came to stay with Hiram at Yellowstone for extended periods of time. He had one of the rooms in the house built as his office and he spent many hours at his desk smoking his cigars while reading, writing, and making plans for the future of the park.

The Chittenden home now serve as offices for several
park organizations.

In late 1905, he was given orders to a post in Seattle, Washington. After a total of ten years in his beloved Yellowstone, he was loath to leave, but he answered the call of duty and left behind his park and his home. He and his wife planned to return to Yellowstone in retirement to live out their lives, but in 1917 at the age of 58, Hiram contracted an illness and passed away without ever seeing the park again. At least not while he was alive.

The original Chittenden home is currently occupied by the offices of the Yellowstone Association and the Yellowstone Institute. The employees are sure old Hiram returned here after his death. Computers in the office sometimes shut down and then turn themselves back on while an employee is working on them. Repairmen cannot explain it because they can find nothing wrong with the equipment and when removed from the premises, they work perfectly. Overhead lights flicker on and off. Electricians have been summoned numerous times, but can find nothing wrong with the wiring. The employees are convinced Hiram doesn't like his home having electricity and is trying to let them know of his displeasure.

Could Hiram's spirit still be staying here?

Other than the annoying, but harmless pranks with electrical items, the employees consider Hiram to be friendly and even helpful at times. Doors often open and close by themselves. Upon entering in the morning, the employees will find doors that were left open will be closed even though the building was locked and no one had entry during the night. One of the managers tells how once he had forgotten a report he needed so he returned that evening to retrieve it. Upon entering the front door, he saw the door to his office, which he had definitely left open, was closed. As he crossed the room, his office door slowly swung open for him. After looking around to make sure nobody else was there, he retrieved the needed report and left, making sure to lock the front door behind him. He was the first to arrive the next morning and found his office door to be closed once again.

Hiram, Nettie, Hiram Jr., Eleanor, & Teddy

The conclusive evidence of Hiram's presence though is the aroma of his cigar. Smoking in public buildings has been prohibited for a number of years now, yet the smell of cigar smoke is often present in the room which used to be Hiram's office as well as a room upstairs which used to be his bedroom.

Shortly before he died, Hiram confided to a friend that his only regret was not accomplishing more while in Yellowstone. Evidently he has returned to spend eternity in the place he loved the most and perhaps to help guide those who are today working on the park and its future.

Maybe Henry Wordsworth Longfellow had Hiram in mind when he wrote, "All houses in which men lived and died are haunted houses. Through the open doors the harmless phantoms on their errands glide with feet that make no sound upon the floors."

Buffalo Bill's Irma Hotel & The Forever Guests

Buffalo Bill Cody

William Frederick Cody was born on February 26, 1846. He was born in what was called "Iowa Territory" and moved to Kansas when his family sold their farm and relocated to Fort Leavenworth. His father soon died and at the tender age of 11, with his family destitute, Bill Cody went to work with a freight carrier as a "Boy Extra" riding up and down the length of a wagon train delivering messages to the drivers and workmen. Two years later, he became a scout for the army and at the age of 13, killed his first Indian.

At the age of 14, Bill became a Pony Express Rider, a position he held until his mother became seriously ill and he returned home to care for her. She regained her health over the next several months and Bill left to work for a freight company delivering supplies to Fort Laramie. When the Civil War broke out, he tried to enlist in the army, but was refused due to his age so he continued working for the freight company until he was accepted into the army in 1863. Bill served until his discharge when the conflict ended in 1865. 

Upon his discharge, he made his way to Rochester, New York where he met and fell in love with Louisa Frederici. They married and eventually had 4 children, one of whom was a daughter they named Irma. After returning west to serve as a civilian scout for the army, Bill was involved in numerous battles with the Indians and he gained a reputation as a fearless combatant, even being awarded the Medal of Honor. The award would later be rescinded when the standards for receipt of the medal were changed to exclude civilians. When Bill wasn't fighting with the Indians, his job required him to hunt and kill bison to feed the army troops and workers for the Kansas Pacific Railroad who were building a rail line west. 

Buffalo Bill Cody in 1903

An expert shot and hunter, he killed 4,832 buffalo in 18 months, earning the nickname of "Buffalo Bill." A renown sharpshooter of the time, William Comstock, was traveling around the country performing shooting tricks under the name "Buffalo Bill" Comstock. The two Buffalo Bills agreed to a buffalo shooting contest to determine who would get to exclusively use the name. Over an 8-hour period, Cody shot and killed 68 bison to Comstock's 48. The legend of Buffalo Bill Cody had begun.

From 1872 to 1882, Buffalo Bill performed in his friend Ned Buntline's Wild West Show and in 1883, he created his own circus-like show he called Buffalo Bill's Wild West. With many of his friends like Wild Bill Hickock, Calamity Jane and Annie Oakley as headliners, the show was a huge success and traveled across the U.S., Great Britain and Europe. In 1901, a train accident resulted in the death of 110 of the show's horses and injuries to a number of the human performers. Annie Oakley was so badly injured she was told by doctors she would never walk again. Through sheer will and determination, she recovered and even eventually returned to performing again, but the show had to shut down for a while and never recovered financially. It finally went bankrupt in 1908. 

Irma Cody

 In 1895 during the off-season for his show, Buffalo Bill, impressed with what he saw as the growth and economic potential in northwest Wyoming, came to the area and was instrumental in the founding of the town of Cody. Each year afterwards, he returned to assist in the continued development of the town and in 1902, he opened a hotel he named "The Irma" after his beloved daughter. He had one of the suites, #35, built and furnished to be his private, personal room and office for when he was in town. He called his place - "just the sweetest hotel that ever was" and often said if he could choose where he would spend eternity, it would be at The Irma.

Buffalo Bill died on January 10, 1917. Historical records indicate that not long after Bill's death, guests and workers began reporting odd things happening in the hotel. The reports have not stopped. Today, after several renovations and additions over the years, The Irma is still in business with 39 rooms and guests may stay in 15 of the original rooms, including #35, Bill's private suite. Interestingly, the new rooms are apparently left un-visited by any entities from beyond, but not so in the original rooms or in the restaurant which used to be the hotel's bar.

Guests in Suite 35 have reported hearing people talking and walking around in the room above them. The problem is, there is nothing but a slanted roof above Suite 35. Hotel staff have repeatedly reported hearing voices and people laughing in the room as they pass by on their nightly rounds, but no guests are registered for the room and upon unlocking the door and looking in, the noise abruptly stops. After investigating, they invariably find there is nobody inside. In several of the rooms, most notably #35, #29, and #16, the cleaning staff has reported making the beds with clean sheets, turning their attention elsewhere and within seconds looking at the bed again to see the bedclothes turned down or rumpled. Pictures hung securely on nails are often found to be on the floor - on the other side of the room far from where they would have fallen if they had just somehow slipped off. The hotel has a picture a man took of his wife sitting on the bed in Room #16.  They were alone in the room, but when the film was developed, it clearly showed another woman in the room with them - floating in the air above the wife. 

The Irma Hotel in 1908

Guests staying in a room alone have reported being awakened in the middle of the night by being touched lightly on the face or arm by a cold hand. One lady staying by herself in Room #35 marched down to the front desk to complain because the covers on the bed were pulled down firmly enough to land on the floor. Night personnel are accustomed to guests in the original rooms coming down at night requesting to be moved to a different room for various reasons that are hard to explain - rocking chairs which start rocking on their own, the sound of swishing petticoats going from one side of the room to the other, TV's and lights turning on and off by themselves, water faucets turning on and off with no help from a living human hand, uncomfortable feelings of being watched and of not being alone and dark shapes "caught out of the corner of my eye." 

In the restaurant, staff have for years reported seeing a man walk in and take a seat in one of the booths, but when the waitress goes over to take his order, the man has disappeared. Numerous times, night staff have reported seeing a man dressed in old-west cavalry clothes moving in the halls of the original building. He seems to be floating however as only the top half of his body can be seen. No records of who he may be have ever been uncovered.

Perhaps old Buffalo Bill did manage to choose where he would spend eternity. Maybe he just occasionally returns to check on his investment. In its heyday, The Irma saw many of the famous and infamous as guests. Perhaps some of their spirits checked in, but never checked out of "just the sweetest hotel there ever was."

Author's note:

Front entrance of The Irma Hotel

About a year ago, this blog's author, with his wife and daughter, spent the night in room #29, one of the original rooms which is supposedly haunted. The room itself was furnished in period furniture with a number of interesting old photographs on the wall. The mattresses were new and very comfortable in their antique wooden bed-frames. The carpet was rather old and the floor took an unsettling rather sharp dip down along the entire outside wall.  Walking across the large room resulted in creaks, squeaks and pops from the wooden floor under the carpet.  After checking out everything and unpacking our overnight items, we left to explore the town and get some supper. 

The room the author & his
 family stayed in

Returning a few hours later, we found our room to be exactly as we had left it. Our teenage daughter settled in her bed on one side of the room with her iPhone and computer while we lay down on our bed with our books. After a long day of driving and walking around the town, it didn't take long for all of us to agree it was time to turn out the lights and get to sleep.

We had just gotten comfortable when from the enclosed bathroom just about 4 feet from us there came a loud noise. I got up to investigate and upon turning on the light in the bathroom, found my shaving kit to be sitting on the floor. There's nothing fancy or different about my kit than any other kit out there - a fake leather zippered bag just big enough to hold a toothbrush, a razor, a few toiletries and several other overnight necessities. When I had finished brushing my teeth that night, I had set it firmly on the back of the sink away from the edge where it might have a chance of falling off or getting knocked off, but fall off it did - evidently. I picked it up, took it back into the room with me, sat it on the dresser next to the bed and turned out the lights again.

A few minutes later, we heard another sound from the bathroom; like something had once again fallen. Feeling a bit more perplexed and yes, a bit more unsettled and wary, I carefully and slowly reached inside the bathroom and turned on the light. There in the middle of the floor was a packaged bar of Irma Hotel soap! There were built-in shelves to the side of the tub which held the towels and on one of the shelves was a little wicker basket holding a couple of bars of soap, and bottles of shampoo and conditioner. The basket, still sitting upright with all of its other contents in place, was deep enough that the soap was below the top edge and there was absolutely no way that bar of soap could have been jostled or tipped over and fallen to the floor. At least no way for it to happen according to the laws of physics as I know them! Plus, the soap was laying in the middle of the floor close to the door several feet from where it would have landed if it had just fallen out.

Note the shelves & basket with
soap & toiletries

I've never actually seen a ghost or a spirit, but at that moment in that room, I admit I was a bit unnerved. I picked up the soap half expecting it to feel really cold or hot or somehow different, but there was nothing remarkable about it. Before turning to leave the room with the soap in my hand, I did something I felt kind of stupid for doing - I said out loud, "Stop it! We just want to get a good night's sleep and we'll be gone in the morning so behave and leave us alone for the rest of the night!" My wife asked from the bed, "Who are you talking to?" "The ghost or spirit or whatever is throwing things on the floor," I replied. "Right, that will work" she said with a nervous chuckle.

It evidently did work though. We both lay there in the dark, holding hands, legs touching for mutual assurance everything was OK, but we never heard anything else or felt a cold hand on our faces. After what seemed like an hour or more, I could tell from her breathing my wife had fallen asleep. I lay there with wide-open eyes, listening for noises, waiting for something else to fall on the floor, all senses on high alert for the feeling of an unseen presence, some danger I would have to protect my family from. I'm not sure how long I lay awake, but sometime in the night I drifted off. The next thing I knew light was coming in the window and the darkness had passed. Leaving the door open, we quickly brushed our teeth and took care of all the other morning bathroom functions, but by mutual agreement, with the Psycho shower scene for some reason playing over and over in our heads, the wife and I decided we really hadn't gotten dirty yesterday and it would be OK to skip our morning showers. We'll take 'em tonight when we stop at some other place.

The bar of soap - touched by a spirit?

We gathered up our things and checked out. The front desk guy asked if we had had a good night. I answered, "Yes, everything was fine." He looked at me kind of funny so I said, "Why do you ask?"  "Oh," he replied, "sometimes our guests who stay in the same room you guys did report some strange stuff." "Nope," I lied, "nothing unusual at all. Slept just fine." "Very good," he smiled. And with that, we put the Irma Hotel in our rear view mirror.

I kept that bar of soap and brought it home with us. It sits on my desk in my home office. Sometimes I pick it up and wonder. It has never thrown itself down to the floor again and it still feels like just another bar of hotel soap. But I know it's not.

Lovelorn Light

Have you ever suffered the pain of being in love with someone who doesn't love you back? Those unfortunate souls know precisely what the term "holding a torch" means. For how long, though, does one continue to hold this torch? For some, like Ed Wilson, the answer is forever.

North entrance to Yellowstone near Mammoth Hot Springs

In 1885, Ed came to Yellowstone Park just 13 years after it was established. There were very few visitors to the park yet, especially during the bitterly cold, snow-bound winters. The U.S. Army guarded the park and there were few if any park amenities established other than the Army camps. Ed hired on as an Army scout. His duties were to guard against poachers and to provide the camps with fresh meat which he was authorized to hunt and kill. By all accounts, he was good at his job and took his duties very seriously. After catching and turning in several soldiers he had caught illegally hunting or shooting animals for sport, a few of the men didn't particularly care for him, but everyone respected him. He didn't make close friends with anyone as far as can be found. He had a reputation as being strange because he spoke of the mysterious and the unseen and, unlike the other scouts, he preferred to travel in the wilderness alone and at night. During the darkest and fiercest storms when everyone else would stay inside their shelter, Ed would always venture out to scout and never return until the storm had passed.

Mr. G. L. Henderson, a widower with 4 daughters and a son, was hired in 1891 as the Assistant Park Superintendent. He moved to the park with his children and established the Mammoth store and the post office within the park which his children managed. Ed met and fell in love at first sight with Mary Rosetta, Mr. Henderson's youngest daughter. In his own way, Ed tried to court Mary Rose to win her hand, but she didn't return his affections. She had no doubt heard the strange stories about Ed and being in his late 30's, he must have seemed ancient to the young and very beautiful Mary Rose. With her beauty and the lack of females in the park, Mary Rose had the pick of any young soldier and it soon became obvious to everyone that Ed had no chance.

On a warm day in July, Ed walked up the hill behind the Henderson's store and he didn't return. He had told nobody he was leaving and no one saw him go. Given his peculiar habits and his comings and goings while performing his duties, no one knew he was missing for several weeks. When it was determined he had not checked in and nobody had seen him for almost a month, his quarters were searched where his guns and other items he would have carried with him while out scouting were found. A group of soldiers was organized and a search was begun. After several weeks of intense searching and another month of looking with no results, the official search was called off due to the winter weather setting in.

The hill behind the store where Ed's remains were found and
where his light can still be seen.

A year had passed when one day several soldiers decided to enjoy the nice weather and a day off by hiking to the top of the hill behind the store. There they stumbled upon Ed Wilson's skeleton. Next to his remains still clutched in his bony fingers was an empty bottle of morphine. It was determined that Ed had committed suicide by poisoning himself.

Now, almost 125 years later, there's an unexplained faint light that many people have seen on the top of the hill behind the Mammoth Hot Springs Village store. Both employees and visitors have regularly reported seeing it, most of whom have never heard of Ed Wilson's story. Oh, it's not there every night, but sometimes when the clear night sky is especially dark and it seems there are a million twinkling stars shining, a door from Wilson's dimension opens into the dimension of the living. The light on the hill is where Ed sat and with a heavy, broken heart, decided it would be impossible to live without his beloved Mary Rose.

The Fiddler

Henry Albright moved to rural Arkansas when he was just a baby. As the only child of a middle-age couple who farmed and raised a few cows, chickens and pigs, he was terribly lonely as there were no neighbors or relatives with small children nearby. He played by himself, mostly with sticks and stones which he used to build make-believe castles. What Henry most liked to do though was read. 

His father had been a city man with a decent job at one time, that is until he lost his job and most everything else in the stock market crash of 1929. Unable to find work anywhere, he had moved his wife and baby son to the small frame house on a few acres of farm land which had been left to him by his grandparents upon their death. They could at least eek out a living and raise their own food there.  He had brought with them a number of books from the library he had owned when times were better and it was these books which became Henry's friends. He taught himself to read by sounding out the letters, asking his mother for help when he was stumped. By the time he started school, he was far ahead of his classmates. As he learned to better comprehend what he was reading, he went back and re-read all his father's books again.

Henry proved to be a very bright, avid student and almost always made the highest grades in his class. Unfortunately, he remained mostly alone as the other kids never could figure out what to make of him. He rarely took part in the games the other kids liked to play at recess and mostly spent his time in school sitting alone away from the others, reading books his teacher would bring him. When school was not in session and he was not needed to tend the fields at home, Henry roamed the hills and forests and noted all the things that change with the changing of the seasons.

One Monday in the fall of Henry's senior year, due to a teacher's convention, school would not be in session. As the crops had been gathered, he was not needed at home so Friday afternoon Henry packed his pup tent, a lantern, beef jerky, and a small cooking pot and set out for a few days of camping in the woods. As he left home, the air was clear and crisp, the sun bright and warm.

It was late afternoon and a number of miles from his home when Henry came to a small clearing in the woods and decided to camp for the night. He was only a mile or so away from Jeb Gibson's shack where he could buy some eggs and milk for his breakfast in the morning. Everybody knew and loved "Old Jeb," a life-long bachelor who had lived in his little house "since God invented dirt." Darkness had set in by the time Henry had finished his meal of the ham sandwich he had packed from home. With only a small sliver of moon in the night sky, he lit his lantern and began to read a book on philosophy his teacher had recently loaned him.

As his eyes began to tire, Henry turned out his lantern and lay down to sleep. Just as he got comfortable though, from out of the woods behind him came the sounds of a violin, sad, haunting clear notes that seemed to tremble in the air. At first he thought he must be imagining it as there was no house for miles around except for Old Jeb and he didn't play the violin. Henry climbed out of his tent and looked around. There was no light anywhere, but the music seemed to get louder, more insistent, drawing him to seek out the source. Who in the world would be out here in the cold, dark woods wondering around playing the violin?

For some reason Henry could not explain, he was compelled to find the source of such haunting music. He had walked a short way into the woods when he found a deer path. He followed it on silent feet, around boulders, deeper and deeper into the forest. At times, the music seemed to be right in front of him, but then in the next instant, it seemed to be further down the trail. Finally, in the distance, Henry saw a dim, stationary light. It became larger as he slowly crept up on it, until he came to a slight rise in the trail. He could see clearly now that it was not a circle of light as he had thought, but a rectangle which seemed to be glowing through an open door. He strained to see the building itself, but he could not make out walls, windows or even a roof. Yet from somewhere near the light came the sounds of the violin. It seemed to surround him, coming coming down from the night sky, from the trees, from the very ground he now laid on.

All of a sudden, the music stopped. Henry could see two women step into the doorway, one older, stooped with gray hair, the other young and beautiful. They were oddly dressed even for these Ozark backwoods, in long, full calico skirts and tight bodices with lace inserts. The young one reached over and placed a protective arm around the older one's shoulders. Somewhere off to the side, Henry heard an unseen horse whiny loudly. Both women looked toward the woods with a look of confusion on their faces. It seemed they were looking straight at Henry.

As he was contemplating whether they could actually see him or not, a shot rang out! Then another and another! The night was filled with the wild shrieks of the horse and a single scream from one of the women. Suddenly, there came another loud report and a blinding flash of fire. As Henry looked on with wide open eyes, he heard another shot and the young woman fell to the ground. The old woman seemed to bend down to help the young one, but another shot rang out and the old woman was also felled. Both lay in stillness that only death can produce. And then, appearing as if from nowhere, a young man ran into the doorway, leaping over the bodies of the women only to come back out a few seconds later holding a rifle. He shot again and again into the woods and as Henry lay there in fear, he heard the sounds of snapping twigs and the rushing footsteps of someone trying to run away. After a few seconds, Henry raised his head just in time to see the male defender fall to the ground next to the bodies of the women.

Henry hurried back to his camp, his mind playing over and over what he had seen. He intended to find someone in the morning to report the awful crime. Tired from the hike and with the adrenaline slowly reduced, he finally drifted off into an uneasy sleep. As the sun rose over the horizon, Henry was startled when he opened his eyes to find Old Jeb standing over him. Old Jeb sat down a quart of milk and 6 eggs next to him, said, "I figured you could use these" and walked away back toward his cabin. 

After breakfast, Henry began to doubt himself, to doubt what he had seen. Perhaps it was all just a dream and wouldn't he look the fool to report such a story to the authorities if it wasn't true. He decided to go back to ensure it wasn't just a trick of a tired mind. Although it wasn't easy, he managed to find the almost hidden deer trail again and then followed his tracks. By early afternoon he had found the cabin from the night before. At least he found what remained of the cabin. It had been a low, long structure with one room and a lean-to kitchen. The ridge pole was broken and the roof had caved in long ago. The remains of the door, its old buckskin hinges shredded with age, leaned open against the wall. Henry carefully stepped inside and found the floorboards rotten with weeds growing through the cracks. The fireplace mantle was covered with moss. Desolation and decay were everywhere. It was obvious nobody had lived there for many years.

Henry left and made his way back to his camp. He arrived just before the sun went behind the trees. In confusion, Henry ate several pieces of jerk and drank a cup of water from his canteen. After dark, he listened for the music, the sweet, haunting notes of the violin, but none came before exhaustion overtook him with sleep. The next morning, Henry awoke to find Old Jeb sitting on a log on the other side of the fire pit. He had once again brought milk and eggs for Henry's breakfast and this time he had brought enough for himself as well. After eating, Old Jeb brought out two corn cob pipes and a small sack of tobacco. He handed one of the pipes to Henry and after both men had gotten a good fire glow going, he sat back down on the log, looked Henry straight in the eye and said, "You heer'ed the music did'n ya?" 

Henry didn't know what to say so he remained silent. "You been to tha cabin in tha woods too, ain't ya?" Henry nodded in reply. "Course you don't know tha story 'cause you ain't really hill folk. My kin've been here many a year. I'm the last of the old un's. I reckon since you see'd it, maybe you won't think I'm just a crazy ol coot so I'll tell ya the story." 

"A hundred years ago a boy child was born in that cabin. His name was Daniel, but he was a strange one and never seemed to fit in anywheres. He hated farm chores and everythin' bout these hills. His kin worried bout him, but didn't rightly know what to do. Daniel always wandered 'round like he was dreamin or somethin, all fidgety-like ya know? Like he was always lookin' for something. And he hardly ever talked to nobody. He was a strange one, that's fer sure. Then one day he spied his dad's fiddle hanging over the fireplace mantel. He stood on a chair, got it down, and started playing that thing like he was born to it all natural like. He played such haunting melodies that the animals in the forest went quiet. The whippoorwill stopped callin', the wood dove stopped cooin', and the crickets stopped chirpin'. It was real strange how that boy could play like that and nobody could understan' it. 

Then one day a outsider fella came to the woods. Said he'd heer'd 'bout Daniel's ability an he told him about colleges and places to study music and such. Places an' things folks in this holla didn't know nuthin 'bout. Daniel got all kinds of excited 'bout it and his pappy said he could go. But then the sickness came through and his pappy caught it and died. Daniel had to stay to tend to the farm and help his mama. Daniel did what he had to do, but his fiddlin' took a turn. It sounded all sad an mournful, like he was poring out all his sadness and disappointment into his music. It 'bout drove his mama crazy and she would go hide out in the woods when she couldn't take it no longer.

A while later, one mornin' Daniel went to the barn and found a newborn colt one of the horses had given birth to the night befor'. For some reason, Daniel took a shine to that colt. They formed a real bond those two did, like they was growing up together. That colt grew into a beautiful filly and Daniel loved it more than jus' about anything. And Daniel's music turned all happy again and it made his mama happy and the animals got quiet to listen to it again.

Daniel didn't give up his dream of freedom from the farm and being able to make a livin' playing his fiddle, but as time passed, he found another love, a girl named Hattie from the next holla over. It was like he knew from the start he was s'posed to marry her and I reckon she did too. He knew if they married he'd never leave this hill country, but he din't pay it no never mind. He figured after they married, he'd play love songs through the cold winter nights and when the babies come, he'd put them to sleep with lullaby songs. Folks said it was just like God had planned it all along.

"Cept another man already loved Hattie. A mean bear of a man who promised a day of reckonin' if'n Hattie turned him down. But Hattie was a real hill girl, Henry, and they have no fear of nuthin. She told him outright she wasn' goin to marry him and she thought no more of it, didn' even tell Daniel.

The weddin' day came in October and after they was hitched, they went to Daniel's mama's place to live until they got a place of their own. They spent the evenin' laughin' and singin'. While Daniel played the tunes, Hattie sang the words in her beautiful voice. Come dark and Daniel and his bride were gettin' anxious to head to bed and enjoy each other's private company when all of a sudden a terrific noise came and like to shook that cabin all ta pieces! And then Daniel heer'd a horrible sound. A loud cry from his beloved filly was what it was. He rushed outside and found her dying, lying on the ground in a pool of her own blood. She'd been so scared of all the noise that she tried to jump the fence and a wood stake had driven' right through her. 

Noises came from the woods and Daniel figured out quick what was happening. It was a mob of men like them gangs of Baldknobbers or bushwackers that used to ride through the countryside killin' and burnin'. Nobody knew who they were or where they'd strike next. Praise ta God there ain't no more of that nowadays!"

Henry knew the rest of the story as he had seen it all himself with his own eyes, but he sat there still and quiet as Old Jeb knocked the spent tobacco from his pipe, carefully loaded it up again and got it fired before continuing.

"Daniel was real skeered, a course, for his loved ones and he ran back toward the cabin. Jus' as he rounded the corner though, he heer'd a shot and a flash of fire. Then he saw Hattie drop to the ground. Before he reached the doorway, there was another shot and his mama dropped beside Hattie. Daniel kept running until he reached the door of the cabin. He jumped inside, grabbed a rifle and came out shootin'. They say he musta opened fire in all directions, just firin' again and again in all directions. 

The next day, my pappy who had heer'd all the shootin' and commotion, and two other men crept in to tha woods to investigate. They got to tha cabin and found Daniel laying dead by the door next to his women folk with his rifle by his side. Evidently, the loss of everythin' he loved was more than he could stomach and he used his last bullet on himself. Five more dead men were found in the woods 'round the cabin with Daniel's bullets in 'em. One of 'em was the fella that'd made the threats, the one Hattie had turned down.

That cabin's full of haints now. It don't happen ever night, but when there ain't much moon and the wind is jes right, I can heer'd that fiddle music all the way down ta my cabin and then I can heer the shootin' an I know them haints is a livin' it all over agin. I reckon they's doomed to it till they ain't no more of these hills."

Without another word, Old Jeb knocked the ashes from his pipe, gathered up his milk bottle and began slowly walking back to his cabin. Henry packed up his belongings and headed back home. He wanted to be far away from these woods before the sun went down and sad, sad music from a haunting violin could be heard again.

Old Book and the Graveyard Elm

Peoria State Mental Institute

The Peoria State Mental Institute For The Incurable Insane was in operation from 1902 until 1973. In its first 25 years, over 13,500 patients had been housed there. Many of them died there. Because there were so many deaths, burial detail teams were established. This was made up of 1 staff member and 6 strong male inmates who, although insane, were competent enough to dig the graves and assist with the burial.

One of the gravediggers was a large, but very gentle man known as A. Bookbinder. He had suffered a mental breakdown while working at a printing house which had left him unable to effectively communicate. The police officer who had taken him in wrote on his report that the man was "a bookbinder" and a court clerk had written "A. Bookbinder" as his name on the intake form. Being unable to communicate, that is how he remained named for the rest of his life. After a while, he had gained the respect of the staff and everyone began to just call him "Old Book" or simply "Book."

Book was soon assigned to the burial detail. The staff found he was especially suited to the work. Normally, after digging the grave and placing the coffin on 2 cross beams over the hole, the workers would stand back a respectful distance until the funeral ended. They would then lower the coffin into the grave and fill it in. Almost every person who died was virtually unknown to the staff or other patients and if they were buried on the property, it meant no family claimed them. The funeral was mostly held out of respect for the deceased who were usually buried with only a patient number on their headstone since most arrived at the hospital with no known name. For this reason, everyone was surprised when at the first funeral he worked, Book removed his cap and began weeping loudly for the departed. He did the same thing at every funeral he worked; first removing his cap then he walked over and leaned against an old elm tree at the center of the cemetery and begin to loudly weep. When he did this several times in a row, he was assigned to each and every funeral and without fail, he would cry his eyes out while leaning against the tree.

A few years later, having attended several hundred funerals, Old Book himself passed on. The staff decided it was only fitting to bury him under the spreading limbs of the old elm tree where he always cried at the funerals for others. The news of his death got out and since he was well liked and had done such an excellent job on burial details, over 100 of the nurses, 50 of the male staff, and 200 patients attended the service for Book. The head of the facility gave the eulogy. When the service was over, 4 men each took the end of the ropes under the casket and prepared to lift it off the 2 crossbeams to lower the casket into the grave. At a signal given by the staff leader of the burial detail, the 4 men gave a mighty heave on the rope ends to lift the heavy coffin a few inches into the air so the other two men in the detail could remove the crossbeams. However, they were instantly all laying on their backs as the coffin easily lifted up as if there was no body within it! 

Of course this caused a huge commotion. The nurses screamed, the male staff was stunned, a lot of the patients began crying or hitting themselves in the head or simply fell to the ground moaning as nobody had seen anything like this happen before. Suddenly, above all the commotion, the people heard a mournful voice keening in despair and loudly crying. They all looked over toward the trunk of the Graveyard Elm where the sound was coming from and over 300 people witnessed Old Book, standing as always against the tree, weeping and crying out with even more earnestness than ever before.

After some seconds to recover from total shock and now convinced that Old Book absolutely could not be inside it, the doctor who had given the eulogy ran over to the coffin and ordered the 4 rope handlers to remove the lid. As soon as it was lifted, the wailing and crying completely stopped. Inside the coffin, seen by more than 100 nurses, staff and the head of the facility, lay the body of the very dead Old Book. When everyone looked back at the tree, the apparition was gone.

Only a few days later, the large old elm which had stood for over 100 years, began to die. Specialists were brought in to save it, but all of their efforts were in vain and within a year, the tree had died. The director ordered it cut down and removed. Three separate teams of men tried to cut it down, but all returned from their task saying they couldn't do it because every time they began to saw, the tree would cry out as if a human were in great pain. The city's fire department was hired to burn it down, but after 2 tries, the firemen stated they had to put out the fire as soon as they lit it because it sounded like a human inside the tree was screaming in agony and a human figure could be seen in the flames. After this, the tree was left alone.

 Over the years, the limbs of the tree rotted and dropped one by one until there was little left except the trunk. Shortly after it was announced the hospital was to be closed, lightning hit the trunk and all but a stump exploded and burned away. 

The buildings are vacant and abandoned now, the grounds deserted. There are No Trespassing signs posted on the property, but that doesn't stop everyone. Those brave enough to be in the cemetery at night have reported hearing a sad wailing and crying which seems to come from the area of the Graveyard Elm stump. A hasty retreat is always the result. Evidently, Old Book is still crying for all the unnamed patients buried on the grounds of the asylum.

The Woman in Blue

In the early 1600's, Spanish missionaries came to the Texas wilderness to teach the Indians about Jesus and God. They found the "savages" were already in possession of a number of religious material - a stone alter with Jesus on the cross, crude but recognizable paintings of several Catholic saints, and some who wore carved crosses on leather strips around their necks. And they all told of white-skinned gods who had once walked among them.. According to the Indians, these divine visitors had spoken to them in a language different from theirs, but one they could understand. These gods had come and gone in ages past, but all promised they would come again someday.

A common story which got the most attention from the missionaries was about a beautiful young white goddess who appeared among several different groups of Indians living in Texas and elsewhere in the southwest. The Indians called her the "woman in blue" because every time she came, she wore a blue cloak.

Intrigued and confused by these stories, the missionaries quickly informed the church back in Spain that something very strange was going on over here. It was a profound spiritual mystery - how could these pagan savages living on the far edge of a strange new world know about the Catholic doctrine and be in possession of symbols of Christian faith? In response, numerous more missionaries were sent to Texas by the church with an assigned task - solve the mystery of the "woman in blue."

One of these emissaries from the church was Father Damien Manzanet. By chance, Father Damien had recently read a new book titled The Mystical City of God. In the book, Sister Maria de Agreda, a cloistered Castilian nun who was then 29 years of age, told how she had been mysteriously transported to a remote wilderness on the edge of New Spain. There she had met a race of pagans and she introduced the Christian religion to them. The sister claimed to have made the mystical journey more than 500 times. She told how she had been well received by a tribe of dark-skinned savages who called themselves "Tejas" and that they had somehow understood her every word. She claimed her out-of-body travels occurred only as she slept when she would suddenly grow rigid in bed and a state of supreme ecstasy would seize her. She would then suddenly be whisked away at blinding speed to the wilderness where she worked and prayed with the naked savages. Most of her visits were with the Tejas tribe, but sometimes she would be sent to a different group of natives. Even though the different tribes spoke different languages, she claimed they all could somehow understand her. All of this was naturally looked on with skepticism by the church since Sister Maria had come to the convent when she was just 15 and had never been outside the convent walls since her arrival. 

The same year Father Damien came to this new frontier, about 50 Jumano Indians appeared at Isleta, a Pueblo mission near Albuquerque asking that missionaries be sent among them to teach them more about God and to baptize them. When asked why they wanted this, they explained that a beautiful white goddess had been coming to them for many years and instructed them in "the truths of Christian faith." She had recently instructed them to come to the mission and ask for missionaries to come to their village and baptize them. She had given them directions from their village to the mission over 300 miles away and had seen them safely during their journey through the territory ruled by the fierce Apache.

Texas Bluebonnets

During Father Damien's travels into and across Texas, he heard more stories about the lady in blue. One chief told how the lady had healed his mother by touching her brow. Another legend told by a number of different tribes was that delicate blue flowers, Texas Bluebonnets, always blossomed wherever she stepped. One old chief who's wife was near death asked Father Damien for a piece of blue cloth to bury her in. When asked why it needed to be blue, the chief explained "that was the color of the cloak worn long ago by the beautiful young woman who came to Texas to tell us about God."

The stories and legends told by so many different Indians and the similarities between them and what Sister Maria de Agreda claimed in the book led Father Damien to conclude that God had indeed sent her among the Indians in the new world to spread the Gospel. He eventually traveled back to Spain and met with Sister Maria. He found her to be extremely pious, always dressed in the white tunic and blue robe of her order, and physically very beautiful, just as the Indians had claimed. She accurately told him not only the names of numerous tribes, but even the names and descriptions of individuals. Nearly all of the tribes and most of the individuals she talked about were verified by Father Damien who had met them during his travels.

Isleta Pueblo where Franciscan friars first learned
about the "Lady in Blue" teaching God to
the Indians.

Sister Maria died of natural causes in 1665. After 244 years in the ground, her body was exhumed in 1909 and was found to have not decayed. She was placed in a glass-lidded coffin and moved inside the convent she had faithfully served for 45 years. Her body is still there and with permission, may still be viewed.

Today, there remains legends about the beautiful "goddess" dressed in blue who supernaturally roamed the southwest teaching Christianity. Some believe she still roams the hills and deserts causing flowers to bloom and bestowing love and riches on the unfortunate. Who's to say she doesn't?

Sister Maria almost 350 years after death

Doppelganger Teacher - A Most Curious Case

DO YOU HAVE an exact double somewhere in the world? Can a person be in two places at once? There are a number of creditable reports that some people do indeed have such an ability. In instances of bi-location, a person can either spontaneously or willingly project his or her double, known as a "wraith," to a remote location. This double is indistinguishable from the real person and can interact with others just as the real person would.

 One of the most fascinating reports of a doppelganger comes from the American writer Robert Dale Owen who was told the story by Julie von Güldenstubbe, the second daughter of Baron von Güldenstubbe. In 1845, when von Güldenstubbe was 13 years of age, she attended Pensionat von Neuwelcke, an exclusive girl's school near Wolmar in what is now Latvia. One of her teachers was a 32-year-old French woman named Emilie Sagée. Although the school's administration was quite pleased with Sagée's performance, she soon became the object of rumor and odd speculation. Sagée, witnesses said, had a double that would appear and disappear in full view of the students.

In the middle of class one day, while Sagée was writing on the blackboard, her exact double appeared beside her. The doppelganger precisely copied the teacher's every move as she wrote, except that it did not hold any chalk. The event was witnessed by 13 students in the classroom. A similar incident was reported at dinner one evening when Sagée's doppelganger was seen standing behind her, mimicking the movements of her eating, although it held no utensils.

The doppelganger did not always echo her movements, however. On several occasions, Sagée would be seen in one part of the school when it was known for certain that she was in another area at that time. The most astonishing instance of this took place in full view of the entire student body of 42 students one summer day in 1846. 

The girls were all assembled in the school hall for their sewing and embroidery lessons. As they sat at the long, wooden tables working, they could clearly see through the four open windows Sagée outside in the school's garden gathering flowers. Another teacher was supervising the children. When this teacher left the room to talk to the headmistress, Sagée's doppelganger appeared in her chair - while the real Sagée could still be seen in the garden. The students noted that Sagée's movements in the garden looked tired or slow while the doppelganger sat motionless. Two brave girls approached the phantom and tried to touch it, but felt an odd resistance in the air surrounding it. One girl actually stepped between the teacher's chair and the table, passing right through the apparition, which remained motionless. It then slowly vanished. The girl reported the figure itself felt like muslin cloth and the air was very cold as she passed through.

Sagée claimed never to have seen the doppelganger herself, but said she felt drained and fatigued  exactly when others said it appeared. Her physical color even seemed to pale at those times. She seemed to never have learned how to control the appearance of her doppelganger and had to go from one school to another to find employment as each school would end up letting her go when the stories became too numerous to ignore and worried parents began pulling their children out of school. Unfortunately, what became of Emile Sagée is unknown as she eventually disappeared from recorded history.

Strange Tale of the Possessed Raggedy Ann Doll

In 1970 a loving mother doting on her only daughter, purchased a Raggedy Ann doll from an antique store. The cute red-headed doll was a present for her daughter Donna who was at that time residing with her roommate Angie in a small apartment and preparing to graduate from college. Thinking nothing more of the doll than a sign of affection from her mother, she placed the doll on her bed in her room and basically forgot about it. And thus began one of the most unusual cases of a possessed object on record.

As time passed, Angie and Donna noticed a strangeness about the doll. The young ladies reported the doll would move, relatively unnoticeable movements at first, like a change in position, but as time passed, the movement became more noticeable. The doll was once found standing upright, leaning against a chair with its legs crossed. After awhile the girls said the doll would actually change rooms! It would be left in the living room before they locked up and left for work or school and upon returning it would be found on Donna's bed in her room. 

A few weeks later, Donna began to find penciled messages written on old-fashioned parchment paper. The alarming messages looked like they were written in the handwriting of a small child, scribbled and almost illegible. The messages clearly stated "Help Us" or "Help Lou". Donna didn't have any idea exactly who the "us" was and she had no clue where the paper came from as she had never kept parchment paper in the  apartment nor had she ever used that type of paper herself. Could it have been conjured out of the air by the doll itself? Could a cloth doll possibly be writing messages?

Donna returned home one evening to find the doll had moved once again. This time though, Donna felt as though something was really off. A menacing presence seemed to emulate from the doll and she had the deepest urge to inspect it. What she found would haunt her forever.

The doll had blood on it. Blood was on both the back of its hands and its chest. Now completely scared and desperate for help, Donna decided it was time to seek an expert.

Determined to get to the bottom of things, Donna contacted a medium who agreed to hold a seance. During the seance, it was revealed there was a spirit that had taken up residence in the doll. Her name was Annabelle Higgins. From what the medium could determine, Annabelle Higgins was a young girl of only 7 years when her lifeless body was found in the field upon which the apartment complex Donna resided in was built . The spirit basically took up residence with the doll and it wanted to stay. Upon hearing this, seeing no harm in it and feeling sorry for what the spirit had experienced in life, Donna agreed it could stay. The true nature of this entity however, had yet to be revealed.

Lou, Donna's boyfriend, was less than thrilled with the doll. On numerous occasions Lou warned Donna the doll felt threatening and sinister. Something was off and Lou knew it. Lou's dislike of the doll was well known. He was destined to have more than one terrifying experience with Annabelle.

Lou awoke one night from a deep sleep and in panic. Once again he had a reoccurring bad dream. Only this time somehow, something seemed different. It was as though he was awake but couldn't move. He looked around the room but couldn't discern anything out of the ordinary and then it happened. Looking down toward his feet he saw the doll, Annabelle. It began to slowly glide up his leg, moved over his chest and then stopped. Within seconds the doll was strangling him. Paralyzed and gasping for breath, Lou, at the point of asphyxiation, blacked out. Lou awoke the next morning, certain it wasn't a dream. He was determined to rid himself of that doll and the spirit that possessed it. Lou, however, would have one more terrifying experience with Annabelle. Preparing for a road trip the next day, while waiting for Donna to return from work, Lou and Angie were reading over maps alone in the apartment. The apartment seemed eerily quiet. Suddenly, rustling sounds coming from Donna's room aroused fear that someone had possibly broken into the apartment. Lou, determined to figure out who or what it was, quietly made his way to the bedroom door. He waited for the noises to stop before entering and turning on the light. The room was empty except for Annabelle whom was tossed on the floor in the corner. 

Lou scoured the room for forced entry but found nothing out of place. As he got close to the doll however, he felt that somebody was behind him. Spinning around he was quick to realize that nobody else was there. Then in a flash, he found himself grabbing for his chest, doubled over, cut and bleeding. His shirt was stained with blood and upon opening it, there on his chest was what looked to be 7 distinct claw marks, three vertically and four horizontally, all were hot like burns. These scratches healed very quickly, half gone the next day, fully gone by day two. 

Had the entity finally revealed it's true nature? Due to Lou's experiences, the doll was no longer believed to be a docile spirit but inhuman and demonic in nature. Donna decided to contact a priest, Father Hegan. With his help, their case was referred to the world famous paranormal investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren.

"Ed and Lorraine Warren immediately took interest in the case and contacted Donna concerning the doll. The Warrens, after speaking with Donna, Angie, and Lou, came to the immediate conclusion that the doll itself was not in fact possessed but manipulated by an inhuman presence. Spirits do not possess inanimate objects like houses or toys, they posses people. An inhuman spirit can attach itself to a place or object and this is what occurred in the Annabelle case. This spirit manipulated the doll and created the illusion of it being alive in order to get recognition. Truly, the spirit was not looking to stay attached to the doll, it was looking to posses a human host.

The demonic spirit was essentially in the infestation stage of the phenomenon. It first began moving the doll around the apartment by means of teleportation to arouse the occupants curiosity in hopes that they would give it recognition.Then, predictably, the mistake of bringing a medium into the apartment to communicate with it. The inhuman spirit now able to communicate through the medium, preyed on the girls emotional vulnerabilities by pretending to be a rather harmless, lost young girl which, during the seance, was allowed permission from Donna to haunt the apartment. It then set about causing negative phenomena to occur; it aroused fear through the weird movements of the doll, the symbolic drops of blood on the doll, and ultimately it even attacked Lou, leaving behind the symbolic mark of the beast. The next stage of the infestation phenomenon would have been complete human possession. Had these experiences lasted another 2 or 3 more weeks the spirit would have completely possessed, if not harmed or killed one or all of the occupants in the house."

An actual exorcism was performed on the doll before the Warren's left, hoping it would rid Annabelle of the infectious demon. At the conclusion of the investigation, Ed and Loraine decided the best course of action to prevent the spirit from doing further harm was to relieve Donna of its presence and take the doll home with them as they weren't completely sure if the doll had been exorcised of the entity.

If you want to visit Annabell, she can be found at the Warren Occult Museum in Moodus, Connecticut. There, housed in a permanently locked glass case, you will find Annabell. Be aware though, museum workers report Annabell still moves about occasionally and is known to make growling noises at visitors.