Mary's Bridge

There’s a rural bridge in Louisiana between the little villages of St. Martinville and Broussard with a terrible story attached, a sad tale of a young girl’s horrible death.  The bridge on Bayou Tortue (Turtle Bayou Road) crosses an eerie stretch of swamp where tall cypress trees draped with Spanish moss grow in profusion and alligators and deadly water moccasins wait for their next meal in the dark shadows.  But dangerous creatures of this world are not what keep the locals away from this particular bridge when darkness falls.

In the late 1940’s, a teenage Cajun girl named Mary was, against her parent’s wishes, dating a non-Cajun boy. Not only was he not a Cajun, he had an unsavory reputation for a bad temper and had been locked up in the county jail a number of times for minor, but troubling offenses. Mary was in love with him though and like a lot of teenage girls, thought her parents didn’t understand how much he meant to her. No matter the tension it created at home, she couldn’t stay away from her bad-boy paramour.

In spite of this, Mary was a good Catholic girl and wouldn’t give in to her boyfriend’s sexual advances. No matter how much he pleaded and cajoled, she always stopped him from going beyond what good girls should allow.  One night after meeting up with him in town, she consented to go for a drive. Cruising around the local dirt roads, the boy was drinking moonshine from a quart jar he pulled from under the seat. Mary demanded she be taken home, but as they came to the little Bayou Tortue bridge, her now dead drunk boyfriend stopped the car and demanded she give him what he wanted or he would throw her in the swamp. Poor Mary, totally frightened, began crying and begging for him to just take her home, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. When he reached out and tore the front of her dress, Mary jumped out of the car and began to flee.

As Mary ran across the bridge, her boyfriend managed to catch her and when she began to struggle against him, he smashed the heavy quart jar over her head, knocking her unconscious. In his drunken mind, he thought he had killed her and in an attempt to hide all evidence of his crime, he dumped her into the swamp. The water must have shocked Mary back into wakefulness and her moans let the boyfriend know she wasn't dead after all. As he tried to think what his next move should be, he heard several splashes from the banks of the swamp and saw a glint of light from the car's headlamps reflected in 2 pairs of eyes moving low in the water. Mary's screams indicated the alligators had not gone hungry on this night.

In spite of an intense search by police and volunteers, Mary’s body was never found.  The boyfriend was brought in for questioning, but even though everyone knew he was the last person seen with her when she was alive, police were unable to gather the proof needed to arrest him. Word got out that he had confessed the awful details of his crime to a confident, but bragged he would never be convicted because the police would never find Mary’s body. Several weeks later, the boyfriend himself mysteriously vanished, leaving behind all of his belongings at his parent’s house. It was widely rumored that Mary’s father had seen to it the boyfriend suffered the same fate as his daughter, but the police never saw fit to question him and unofficially seemed to say good riddance.

The case of missing Mary has never been solved or closed and nobody expects it ever will. To this day though, if you go to the bridge at midnight, the same time poor Mary was being thrown to the alligators, turn off your car and call out, “Mary, Mary, Mary,” your car will not start and you will have to push it off the bridge before it will start running again. That’s strange enough, but the locals say if you go there at midnight on the anniversary of her terrible death, you will see poor Mary frantically running up and down the bridge, wearing the long white dress she was wearing when she died, her soul forever imprisoned on the Bayou Tortue Bridge when her life was brutally cut short by a murderous boyfriend.

The Most Haunted House in America

There are many haunted homes in the United States and Louisiana seems to have more than its fair share. However, only one can legitimately lay claim to being “the most haunted house in America.” The Myrtles” has earned that title in part by being the abode of as many as 14 ghosts. Serving as a respected Bed & Breakfast establishment now, even without the ghosts, the place would be creepy merely due to its bloody history and the mysteries it holds secret.

In 1791, General Daniel Bradford, a hero of the American Revolution, was a leader of the Whiskey Rebellion, a violent protest of the new U.S. government’s imposition of a tax on whiskey. In July, 1794, a government militia force of over 13,000 men marched into western Pennsylvania to put down the rebellion and enforce the tax laws that were being protested by 500 distillers. Bradford decided discretion was the better part of valor so, after retrieving a small fortune in funds and leaving his wife and 5 children behind, he high-tailed it out of the government’s reach down to Spanish-held Louisiana.

In 1796, General Bradford purchased a 650-acre tract of land to begin a plantation and chose to build a large house on the highest point of the estate.  What he didn’t know, however, was that the spot was the exact site of an ancient burial ground of the Tunica Indians. It took several years for the construction crew and artists to complete Bradford’s mansion and for the plantation, which he named Laurel Grove, to be established. Stories handed down indicate that before building began and also during the construction, he spent a number of nights at the site. During those nights, his sleep was often disturbed by the appearance of a nude Indian maiden who would slowly shake her head from side-to-side while looking at him. He said he somehow understood the apparition was trying to tell him not to build on the sacred ground, but not believing in omens, he chose to ignore the warning.

In 1798, President John Adams pardoned Bradford for his actions in the Whiskey Rebellion. That same year, he travelled back to Pennsylvania and brought his wife and children back to live with him in Louisiana. They lived there, peacefully building a life together, until 1808 when Bradford died in bed. After his death, the house passed ownership to his oldest daughter, Sarah, who soon married a lawyer, Clarke Woodruff. Over the next few years, the couple had 3 children and owned a large number of slaves to work the plantation and take care of the house.

One of those slaves was a beautiful, young mulatto girl named Chloe who the master of the house forced to become his mistress. Clarke treated his slave mistress better than any of the other slaves, making her the family’s cook and the children’s nanny.  A year later though, Clarke took a different slave girl to be his new mistress and threatened to put Chloe back in the fields if she told anyone of their coupling. Being fearful of being relegated to backbreaking work in the fields or being sold and separated from her family, Chloe began listening at keyholes to her master’s private conversations for information concerning her fate. One day Clarke caught her and in a fit of rage, cut off her ear. She survived and for the rest of her life wore a green turban on her head to hide the missing ear.

Chloe was sure she would be dealt an even harsher punishment even as time passed so when an opportunity finally presented itself, she concocted a plan to get back into Clarke’s favor. The family was having a birthday party for one of the young daughters and she was instructed to bake a cake for the occasion. Chloe laced the cake with oleander, a poisonous shrub. She only meant to make the family sick so she could then nurse them all back to health and prove how essential she was. Unfortunately, she used too much poison and Sarah and 2 of their children died lying in their beds in spite of Chloe’s efforts to nurse them back to health.

The night of the funeral, Chloe was very distraught and when her fellow slaves asked her what was wrong, thinking they would keep her secret, she confessed to what she had done. However, in those times, a serious infraction of the law by a slave would bring quick and painful retribution not just to the perpetrator, but also to the other slaves on the plantation and Chloe surely had broken a major law of the white man.  Before a white mob could come for them in revenge, the other slaves decided to take matters into their own hands. Later that night, pulling Chloe from her bed, they dragged her to a tall oak tree near the house and hung her until she choked to death. Just before dawn when they were sure she was dead, they cut her down and threw her body into the nearby river and let it wash away.

After the death of Sarah and the two children, Clarke left the plantation in the hands of a caretaker and moved with his surviving daughter to Covington, Louisiana and in 1834, sold the plantation, the house and the slaves to Ruffin Stirling. Before he and his wife Mary and their 9 children moved in, they spent a considerable amount of money remodeling and adding to the original structure. Renaming the plantation & house to “The Myrtles,” by the time they were finished, the house was twice as big. No matter as the ill will of the house did not abate. Five of the Stirling children died in the house at a young age and Ruffin himself died there in 1854.

In the early 1860’s, the eldest surviving Stirling daughter, Sarah, married William Winter and in 1865, Mary Stirling, who had inherited The Myrtles upon Ruffin’s death, hired William to manage the plantation. William and Sarah lived in the house along with her mother. The Winters, not faring any better than previous occupants, had a daughter, Kate, who died at the house from typhoid when she was only 3. Facing hard times after the Civil War, the family was forced to sell The Myrtles in 1868, but William began making a good living as a lawyer, won several big cases, and they were able to buy the plantation back by late 1870.

The following year, a man on horseback rode up to the house and called to William for the purpose of hiring him as a lawyer. When Winter came out onto the porch, the man shot him in the chest and rode off into the night. William staggered back into the house and, evidently trying to reach his wife who was upstairs, began climbing the staircase. He made it to the 17^th of the 20 stairs where he collapsed. Sarah ran to him and cradled his head in her lap as he died. The sheriff and the doctor were summoned and when they arrived, they found a sobbing Sarah sitting on the stairs still holding the corpse of her husband. When his body was removed, a large pool of blood remained on the step where he died. The gunman was never found, the case never solved.

The bloody history of The Myrtles did not end with William Winter’s murder. William’s widow Sarah remained at the house with her mother Mary until she died there in 1878. Mary died in the house 2 years later in 1880 and the plantation went to her son, Stephen. By this time, the plantation was heavily in debt and Stephen sold it in 1886. Shortly thereafter, a man was stabbed to death in the hallway over a gambling debt. The Myrtles then changed hands a number of times over the next few years until in the early 1900’s, the land was divided up among the last buyer’s heirs after he died and the house itself was sold to a new buyer. In 1927, the overseer of the large house was stabbed to death during a robbery attempt. With its history of violence and death, the house changed hands numerous times, seeming to bring ill will to most of its owners until the 1970’s when James and Frances Myers purchased it. After extensive repairs and remodeling, they turned it into the Bed & Breakfast it is today.

With all of the deaths experienced in the house, it’s no wonder the home has earned its reputation as being extremely haunted. Not long after the death of the slave girl named Cloe came the first reports from residents and visitors of an apparition wearing a green turban. She apparently is still hanging around and still very active over 200 years later. Many guests have awakened from a sound sleep to see the green-turbaned specter standing over them. Often, a baby’s cry is heard when Chloe appears. By standing over the person’s bed and gazing down on them, it is thought she is still carrying out her duties as a nanny, checking on the children she used to care for.

Two other spirits are sometimes seen looking through bedroom windows or standing at the foot of beds in the dark of night – two blond-headed girls with long corkscrew curls wearing antebellum dresses. Children’s happy voices are heard playing in the hallway, laughing and squealing as they invisibly run from one end of the hall to the other. Sometimes, guests return to their locked room after the service staff has carefully made their bed only to find the bed clothes rumpled with the unmistakable indention of a child’s footprint, as if a child had been jumping on the bed. Apparently, Cloe’s young victims are still hanging around.

One of the most reported mysteries is a thumping sound, as if someone is staggering across the foyer and climbing up the stairs. The sound always stops on the 17th step and then the thud of a falling body is heard. Upon investigation, there is nothing seen, nothing at all, except for the dark blood-colored stain on that step, and no amount of scrubbing or bleaching has ever been able to remove it.

Other spirits seem to have made The Myrtles their home as well. Guests of the current Bed & Breakfast have told the owners they witnessed a lady softly playing the grand piano late at night. However, the owners do not know how to play piano and when asked, none of the other guests at the time claimed to know how either. A slender young man in a fancy vest and top hat has been sighted on numerous occasions wandering around the grounds. The clothes and appearance of the man exactly match the description of the gambler killed in the foyer over his gambling debt. There is also the female apparition dressed in a long black skirt who floats about a foot above the floor, dancing to music nobody among the living can hear.  Occasionally, after everyone has gone to bed and all is quiet in the dark of the night, the sounds of laughter, music, and the clinking of glasses can be heard coming from the parlor. Perhaps the ghosts are enjoying a lively social gathering.

The media has often reported on the many phantoms at The Myrtles. It has been featured in Life magazine, Southern Living, and numerous tabloids. A number of television documentaries have featured the old house and its stories through the years. With its location on a Louisiana bayou, surrounded by huge oak trees, Spanish Moss hanging from their branches providing an eerie atmosphere, it has even been featured as the setting for a number of big-budget movies.

A group of paranormal investigators recently spent time at the place and with their video cameras and assorted electronic sensing equipment, they succeeded in documenting several paranormal phenomena. Unexplainable drops in temperature, tape recordings of footsteps in empty rooms and on the stairs, strange whistling sounds emanating from unoccupied rooms and video recorded glowing orbs of bright light strangely whizzing around unseen by the naked eye were a few of the things they documented. Two of the investigators were returning to the house after walking around the grounds when they noticed a gray cat looking at them from the porch. Not knowing what it was at first, they shined their flashlights on it. The cat did not run away, it just sat there looking at them. One of them said, “That cat is creepy” and then both noted something really strange – the cat’s eyes did not reflect the light the way a normal cats would have. One of them grabbed his digital camera and took a picture of it. As soon as he did, the cat disappeared. Looking at the picture later, there was no cat, just a small white orb that seemed to be streaking toward the edge of the photo. When the owners were asked about the cat the next day, they reported it was a family pet named Mert. There was just one problem – Mert had died the year before.

The Bizarre Case of Alien Abduction in Italy

On the night of December 6, 1978 in Torriglia, Italy, a 26-year-old night watchman on routine patrol stumbled into a strange, terrifying encounter with alien lifeforms. The encounter would forever change his life and become the most infamous account of an alien abduction in Italy's history.

Torriglia

Pier Zanfretta, a husband and father of two, was navigating his patrol car along an icy road just outside the little mountain town of Torriglia heading toward the unoccupied country home of a client, Dr. Ettore Righi. He was just turning into the home's driveway when suddenly his car's engine, lights and radio all stopped functioning. When the confused Pier looked toward the house, he saw what he thought were 4 flashlights shining their beams around right next to the home. Thinking there were burglars attempting to find an entrance, he quietly exited his vehicle with his gun and flashlight at the ready. 

After slipping through an open gate, he bent low and proceeded toward the intruders while hiding behind a low rock wall that surrounded the property. Carefully peeking from behind the wall, he started to jump over in order to surprise and get the jump on the criminals, but just as he began his leap upwards, a hand grabbed his shoulder from behind. In spite of the tremendous shock, he twirled around with his revolver in hand, but it wasn't an ordinary person standing there. He was just inches away from "An enormous, green, ugly and frightful creature with undulating skin as though he was very fat or dressed in a loose tunic. The monster was no less than 10 feet tall, had points on the side of his face, monstrous yellow triangular eyes and red veins across his forehead."

  Pier was so startled that he dropped his flashlight, but as the creature reached toward him again, he had the sense to duck, grab the flashlight from the ground and, no doubt propelled by a burst of adrenaline, made a hasty retreat back toward his car. Afraid the being would be right behind him, he ran as fast as he could without looking over his shoulder. Just as he reached the front of his car and was reaching for the door, a brilliant beam of light appeared which illuminated everything around him as if it were a bright, sunny day. Shielding his eyes with his arm, Zanfretta dared a look toward the light source and saw a huge, triangular UFO slowly rising from behind the house. As it arose with a loud hissing sound, he could see the craft dwarfed the Righi home in size. Suddenly, Pier was hit by a blast of searing heat and the spaceship zoomed up into the sky at an unbelievable speed.

With all quiet now, he managed to get into his car and call the office on his 2-way radio. At 12:14 am, Carlo Toccalino, the security company's radio operator, logged the call. His report indicated Zanfretta spoke in a confused and very agitated fashion, almost babbling. Carlo had a hard time understanding Zanfretta, but he was able to figure out he was describing the appearance of strange creatures that were not human. When Carlo asked him who was attacking him, Pier shouted, "No, they aren't men, they aren't men! They are so ugly! My God, they are so ugly!"

The call suddenly broke off and Carlo, afraid for his officer, immediately dispatched another car with 2 guards as backup. Due to the icy conditions, the additional car took almost a full hour to reach Zanfretta. When the men arrived, they found Pier laying stiff on the frozen ground in front of the house. As they approached him, Zanfretta looked over at them, leaped up with a wild, scared look on his face and with eyes bulging, shined his flashlight on the men. More alarming, he also aimed his pistol at them. The two men, Walter Lauria and Raimondo Mascia, later said they were both shocked to see the normally timid and restrained man to be babbling irrationally, and despite having worked together for several years, showed no sign of recognizing them. When they began asking him to lower his weapon, he looked totally confused as if he didn't understand the language. When he continued to aim his gun at them, they split up and slowly advanced, one on either side of him, and were able to tackle him and wrench the gun out of his hand. They were both shocked to discover that although he had been laying on the frozen ground for over an hour, his clothes and body was very warm, almost hot.

The guards made a call to the police who were then dispatched to the scene to perform a thorough investigation. Much to their surprise, they found two very large, very deep unexplained indention's behind the Righi home. The indention's were measured to be 9 feet in diameter and shaped like horseshoes. The ground around the marks was found to not be frozen, but muddy from thawing. 

Over 52 calls from Torriglia citizens were received at police headquarters with all reporting seeing a bright light coming from the direction of the Righi home. Most of them reported watching the light ascend into the sky and all of them came in within minutes of when Zanfretta made his first call.

Before long, the press got wind of this strange tale and almost without exception proclaimed Zanfrettta must be either crazy or a liar. Pier shunned all notoriety possible and rarely left his home except for work. He refused offers of payment for his story and did not want his picture taken. He told all who would listen that he wished he had not had this awful experience, but he was neither crazy nor a liar. In hopes of proving himself to be sane and truthful, he agreed to be hypnotized.

On December 23rd, 17 days after the incident, Zanfretta submitted to the session at the office of Dr. Mauro Maretti in Genoa, a fully accredited psychoanalyst of high regard in the field. 

Under hypnosis, in addition to confirming he had seen beings from another planet, Zanfretta was able to recall that he had actually been abducted by them! He stated the beings had taken him into "a hot, luminous location" where they stripped and thoroughly examined him. He also reported the creatures did not speak Italian, but used a strange-looking device to translate what they said into thoughts which he could understand. They told him they were from the planet "Teetonia," located in "the 3rd galaxy" and that they want to talk to us and will "soon" return in large numbers.

Dr. Maretti later said on a personal level he, like everyone else, found Pier's story to be so incredible it was hard to believe, but on a professional level, Zanfretta's demeanor, his voice, his reactions - all indications were that he was telling the truth.

Just three days later at 11:45 pm on December 26, Zanfretta was back at work patrolling when he once again radioed into dispatch. He frantically told the radio operator that his car was driving itself and he could not get it to stop or respond to turning the wheel.  He said he was driving in the Bargagli tunnel near the Scoffera Pass when the car came under the control of someone else. In a panic-stricken voice, he described mashing on the brakes, trying to turn the steering wheel and even trying to turn the engine off, all to no avail. Emerging from the tunnel, the car swerved off the dark road and up a steep embankment. Suddenly, Zanfretta's voice became very calm and measured as he reported, "The car has stopped. The light is back. It has me. I'm getting out of the car now."

Like before, another car with 2 more guards was dispatched, but due to a pouring rain, it took a while to find the car. Finally, at 1:10 am, Sergeant Emanuele Travenzoli radioed in that they had found Pier's car, but there was no sign of him. The police were called to the scene and a few minutes later Sergeant Travenzoli said they had just found Zanfretta in an open field they had already searched before. First he wasn't there, then a few minutes later they saw a movement and he was standing in the middle of the field. Upon reaching him, the guards were astonished to find that despite the downpour of rain, his clothes were dry and very warm. They claimed he was in shock, his body quivering uncontrollably and he was crying. He said, "They say I must go with them, but I don't want to. What about my children? I can't leave my children!" He then began repeating over and over, "I don't want to. I don't want to. I don't want to."

When the police arrived and began investigating, they were astonished to see steam rising off the roof of Zanfretta's Fiat. They found that despite being in the heavy rain for an extended time, the roof was extremely hot. Inside, it was "hot as an oven," as if the heater had been on full blast, but the control was only in the low position and the car had been turned off for at least an hour or more. They then noticed the car was surrounded by very large footprints measuring 20" long and 8" wide, with a distinctive bare spot between the sole and the heel. Searching the field where Zanfretta had been found, they discovered his revolver, a Smith & Wesson .38 revolver laying in the mud. The gun had been fired 5 times, but Pier later insisted he couldn't remember who or what he had fired it at.

For the next 6 months everything was calm. Gradually, poor Pier began coming out of his house for an outing with his family or for drinks with the fellows at the local pub. He claimed he was relieved to have shed the notoriety. His request had been granted by his employer to be assigned to sectors in Genoa, far from the area of the encounters. Life was good. Until he once again disappeared. 

On the night of July 30, 1979, Pier was on motorcycle patrol in the residential area of Quarto in Genoa. Several residents reported seeing him riding down one of the streets, turning a corner onto a second street and then just vanishing! When he failed to report in at the scheduled time and couldn't be raised on his 2-way radio, a notice went out to the patrols in the area and the proper authorities were alerted. 2 hours later, Zanfretta was located on the top of nearby Mt. Fasce. There was only 1 road leading to the top with numerous houses along the route, but residents claimed they had not seen Pier or any motorcycle on the road. 

This time the shaken Zanfretta seemed to be more mad about the abduction than frightened. He insisted on another session with an expert of unquestioned credentials and he also insisted on being given sodium penathol, the infamous truth serum. Two days later, Pier was injected with the sodium penathol in a session with Professor Marco Marchesan at the Center of Medical and Psychological Hypnosis in Milan.

While under the effects of the truth serum, Pier claimed that he and his motorcycle were lifted into an alien spaceship by a green light. He said his abductors had stripped him and forced him to wear a strange helmet that allowed him to understand their language, but gave him a tremendous headache. He said he was then given a short tour of the spaceship accompanied by one of the large aliens. During the tour, he saw a number of large, clear cylinders filled with a blue liquid. In one of the cylinders was a large frog-shaped body. The alien told him it was "an enemy of ours from another planet." Another cylinder contained a large bird-like creature and a 3rd contained the body of a being that looked like "a Neanderthal or a caveman." The alien then told Pier that he needed to come with them, but Zanfretta told him, "No, I don't want to. I know you need me, but I have two children and I don't want to leave them. I don't want to go with you because you aren't human. You are horrible!" Pier then found himself on top of the mountain with no memory of how he got there. 

When the session was over, Professor Marchesan stated, "No human is able to knowingly lie while under sodium penathol so I have to say it is most probable Zanfretta had these encounters."

Four months later, at 10:30 pm on December 2, 1979, Zanfretta disappeared yet again. As before, he failed to call in at the appointed time and an alert was sent out. This time however, the worst was yet to come. This time, Zanfretta would not be the only one to have an encounter with the aliens.

While out looking for Pier in the hills around Genoa, four different guards claimed they had clearly seen a very large, strange craft floating above them before it quickly rose and vanished into the night sky. A few minutes later, two patrol cars were stopped next to each other to discuss matters when suddenly two rays of incredibly bright lights beamed down from a "strange cloud" illuminating the vehicles. Both car engines suddenly quit and the lights went out. Although frightened, the guards, Lt. Cassiba and Germano Zarnardi, got out of the cars and looked up. According to Zarnardi, Lt. Cassiba suddenly screamed in terror as he looked upward, pulled his gun and fired several shots at a huge craft that seemed to be hovering within the cloud. At this point, the lights were extinguished and the cloud and strange aircraft rose up "at an incredible speed."

A few minutes later, Zanfretta was again found. Standing in an open field as before with extremely warm clothes in spite of the winter chill, he was shaking and crying, "Make it stop! Make it stop!"

Both Lt. Cassiba and Zarnardi sought counseling after their encounter, but unfortunately, Zarnardi never seemed to regain mental stability. 3 months later while sitting in a chair at his home, Zarnardi took his own life by shooting himself in the head with his service revolver. A short note in his handwriting was found on the table beside the chair. "I saw it." was all it said.

 In the years since, Zanfretta reports he has been abducted a total of 11 times. He had to retire from his job as a guard due to the repeated disappearances and the notoriety resulting from 2 books which have been written and a 2-part documentary broadcast on Italian television. In his last hypnosis session, Pier said he warned the aliens, "I know you are trying to come more frequently, but you have to stop. No, you can't come to earth; people get scared when they look at you. You can't make friendship." Evidently they listened because they did not appear again.

At least not until recently when Pier reported, "They're back. I'm not sure what for."

Goatman and the Haunted Bridge

The Old Alton Bridge

The one-lane, wooden-floored "Old Alton Bridge," as it is now known, was constructed in 1884 to connect the Texas towns of Lewisville and Alton. It well served the communities and surrounding farms until it was replaced by a new bridge in 2002. My family and I lived just a few miles from the old bridge and before it was replaced, often drove over the creaking, rather scary structure to visit friends on the other side of the creek. Although the bridge shaved three miles off the closest alternate route from our friend's house to ours, I rarely drove over it after dark. 

For several miles the little 2-lane black-top road on either side of the bridge goes through an isolated area with almost no houses and no street lights to break up the dark. Large trees grow in thick profusion on both sides of the roadway and their tops have grown together above it so you feel as if you are driving through a dark, forbidding tunnel in a jungle. Very pretty in the daytime, extremely spooky in the dark time. The bridge itself takes courage to drive an auto across. The bed is made of wooden boards laid crosswise and you have to steer your car just so to keep your tires on the thick lengthwise boards. While you cross, the bridge creaks and pops, the boards moan and you see water rushing by in the creek below through the spaces in broken slats. It's impossible to not hold your breath and clench your hands on the steering wheel until you reach the far side. Unsettling in the daytime, positively unnerving in the dark time.

One night, for some illogical reason, I did dare to drive that spooky route. As if to prove to myself that I'm not afraid of the dark, I stopped my car on the road just before reaching the bridge. As usual, there were no other cars in sight and it was extremely dark as even the moonlight was blocked out by the overhanging trees. I turned off the headlights and rolled down the window, but even though my car was rather new and the engine was very quiet, its hum was all I could hear so I turned the key off. The silence in that blackness was total; no birds chirping, no dogs barking in the distance, no traffic noise on some distant road, no nothing. I marveled at how loud silence can be. 

Suddenly, there came a noise from the woods and it was very close! It sounded like some animal, maybe a coyote or a feral pig skulking through leaves. It was just a short sound and before I could react, all was quiet again. I looked as closely into the woods as I could, all my senses on high alert, but for a number of seconds there was still no sound. The seconds seemed to be minutes until with no warning, I heard a sound like a twig breaking under a footstep and then a rustling of leaves several times in procession. It sounded for all the world like somebody, a 2-legged somebody, was slowly walking through the leaves in that black jungle. I didn't wait to see if I could find out what it was. It took about 2 seconds for me to start the car and begin rolling up the window, put it in Drive and get the heck on down the road!

I made it to the bridge and didn't take my foot off the gas even where it is usually prudent to slow to a crawl to be sure your car is situated correctly on the boards for the drive across. Fortunately, I made it over safely, fearing at any moment that something, man or beast, would pop up in front of me at the end of the bridge. That was the last time I ever drove that route after dark. I decided to see what I could find about that bridge and the area around it. I figured it was just too spooky to not have some kind of history associated with it. I figured right.

Graffiti under the bridge

In the early 1860's as the Civil War raged, a bunch of area cowboys took it upon themselves to punish an slave goat-herder named Jack Kendall for some offense which has been lost to history. They tied one end of a rope around his neck and the other end around a sturdy tree limb  of a large oak tree which was growing next to the creek right where the Alton Bridge would later be built. They drug him to the top of the creek bank and threw him out toward the water. It was a long fall and the rope used was thinner than it should have been so when poor Jack Kendall hit the end of the rope, his head was severed and his body dropped into the creek. Stories of a headless apparition wandering up and down the creek, apparently in search of his missing head, have been told for over 150 years now.

The story which has taken hold and gained the most notoriety though is of Oscar Washburn, an African-American man who gained a reputation in the 1930's as an honest, dependable business man who raised and sold goats and goat products. He and his wife and children lived in a small cabin in the woods a short distance from the Alton bridge. He was popular with many of the locals for the quality of the goat meat, milk, cheese and hides he sold at a very reasonable price. To help the unfamiliar easily find him, he hung a big sign on the end of the bridge which read, "This way to the Goatman." Unfortunately, this popularity came to the attention of the local Ku Klux Klan who didn't take kindly to a black man taking away business from other local goat raisers.

The middle of the bridge where the Ku Klux Klan put the
noose over the Goatman's head and threw him over.

One dark night in 1938, with their car's headlights off, the Klansmen drove across the bridge to the Goatman's little cabin and dragged him away from his wailing wife and crying children. They took him back to the middle of the bridge to a noose they had prepared ahead of time and after roughly slipping it over his head, flung the pleading Goatman over. Much to their surprise, they heard a watery splash below the bridge and when they looked over the side, they were shocked to see an empty noose and no sign of their victim. 

The Night Riders split up and quickly ran to both ends of the bridge where they scrambled down the embankments to the water's edge. After frantically searching for half an hour with no sign of their intended prey, they returned to the Washburn residence. After a quick search proved he was not there, the men barricaded the front door and with mother and children huddled together inside, the cabin was set on fire. They hoped the screams of his family would bring the Goatman into the open where they intended to capture him, securely tie him up and throw him alive onto the raging inferno, but their plan didn't work. The screams of the innocent mother and children were silenced as the burning walls crumbled.

Oscar Washburn was never seen again. Some believe that just like poor Jack Kendall, the Goatman's head popped off that night when he was hung and his body was washed away by the quickly flowing waters after it dropped through the noose. Others believe he survived the botched hanging and ran far away from the area, leaving behind his poor family to suffer a horrible death. To this day, what is certain though are the eerie and strange happenings on and around the Alton bridge. 

Many say the unforgiving spirit of the Goatman still haunts these woods. Locals warn to not cross the bridge with headlights turned off for if you do, you will surely be met on the other side by none other than the vengeful Goatman himself. There are persistent reports of a ghostly apparition herding a bunch of almost transparent goats being seen in the dark on the road leading from the bridge. The apparition and goats disappear as quickly as they appear. Others have seen a pair of unholy red, glowing eyes staring at them from the tree's or have glimpsed the fleeting image of a large goat-headed-man-beast in the shadows of the forest which is usually accompanied by the revolting smell of rotten flesh. Often there are tales of unexplained noises such as hoof beats of goats running across the bridge, loud splashing in the waters below the bridge or a low non-human growl coming from the trees near the bridge.

Graffiti under the Old Alton Bridge

There has been a rash of documented cases by the police where people have vanished with no trace around this seemingly cursed bridge. In the 1950's, a local high school boy and his girlfriend were reported missing when they failed to return from a Friday night date. The boy's car was found the next morning parked in the woods beside the bridge with both front doors open. They have still never been found and the case is a total mystery. On November 15, 1967, a Ford Mustang was found by police parked at the end of the bridge. They eventually found out who owned the car, but the person has never been found.

In 2002, a new road and bridge was built to replace the old one. The original Alton bridge is still there, but since then, the odd happenings and reports of strange apparitions and unexplained phenomena seem to have decreased some. Daring teenagers like to hang out there at night in groups, spray-painting graffiti and trying to scare each other. But even the most daring teenagers do not go there at night alone.

I don't know what I heard the night I stopped on that dark, lonely road. I didn't stick around trying to find out. One thing I do know for sure though, it wasn't just my imagination...something was out there.

Sounds In The Dark Woods

In the northeast corner of Georgia is Rabun County, one of the most rugged and isolated regions in the Appalachian mountains. Remember the movie "Deliverance" from the early 1970's? That will give you an idea - remote, untamed - a wilderness where if you have the nerve, you can go and not hear the sound of another human voice until you find your way back out - if you ever do. 

There are a few modern highways through the area, towns where condominiums and vacation homes and shopping malls have been built for the tourists and retirees who have started arriving with their demands for fast food and convenient 10-Minute oil changes. In spite of this recent invasion, there are still places in Rabun County where the wilderness prevails; places uncharted and unvisited for hundreds of years. There are still backwoods trails that lead toward remote ridges and caves, trails that simply disappear as you go deeper into the smoky mists of the  dark woods.

Old Indian legends tell that fire-breathing devils dwelt in these lonely hills and woods; that "little demons" stood guard over sacred caves and strange stone cairns hidden in the forest. They said the area was haunted by powerful spirits and even the bravest warriors refused to venture into certain regions. For hundreds of years, there have been outsiders who scoffed at these old legends; outsiders who went hiking into the woods where they simply disappeared with no trace of them or their bodies ever being found.

Longtime residents living in the back hollows and deep among the mountain ridges of Rabun County are familiar with strange sounds coming from the woods. Over the years it has become known as "music of the bald." These self-sufficient folks say the sound is less like music than like trees falling or large boulders crashing deep in the woods. A few have said it sounds like cannon firing. They swear the sounds are always proceeded by screeching or noises like babies crying. It is most often heard in the dark of night, but every now and then it is heard in broad daylight.

Although it is told the "music of the bald" has been heard for hundreds of years, the first written account was in an issue of the Monthly Weather Review that was published in 1897.  Two "reliable men" were camping one night on top of Rabun Bald, the highest peak in the county, when they were awakened by "eerie, haunting melodies" coming from the woods. After some time, the melodies were replaced by sounds which reminded them of cannons being discharged in the distance. These noises went on for several minutes and then began getting closer and closer to them. Finally, the sounds seemed to be coming from deep in the ground right beneath their feet! The men later said they weren't afraid, but they were very deeply perplexed. The sounds traveled on into the distance over the next few minutes and they were able to hear it for most of the night. The men reported this strange phenomena the next day to the sheriff who told them it was probably caused by bears rolling small boulders off the mountainsides while searching for worms and insects to eat. The boulders would sometimes roll downhill or off cliffs which would create the explosive sounds. The men were unconvinced as this explanation didn't account for the eerie melodies or the way the noises traveled through the woods and it certainly didn't explain how the sounds came from under the ground beneath their feet. The same sounds continue to be heard today, long after nearly all of the bears have been killed or driven away.

Scientist have been called in to investigate the noises. After many studies, they in general attribute them to settling within the ground or boulders shifting on their own accord and the haunting screams and eerie melodies dismissed as screech owls or other wild birds and animals. These explanations sound reasonable, unless you just happen to be one of the many hikers or hunters who have given frightened reports of hearing the sounds and then feeling the hot breath of "something evil and strange" on the back of their necks. All reported they had to run as fast as they could through the woods to escape a powerful presence that did not appreciate them being there and had come for them.

Answers, comforting and acceptable answers anyway, are no closer today than they were when the Indians roamed through these mountains and woods. Screams echoing across the lonely mountains and hollows, eerie, haunting melodies coming out of the woods, unexplained rumblings coming from beneath the ground - probably just more of the sometimes disturbing phenomena in nature's mysteries. Or could it be something else entirely?

Court Is In Session And The Gallows Await

It was an unusually hot day in Fort Smith, Arkansas. A crowd had gathered to watch the spectacle and as they impatiently stood in a semi-circle facing the large wooden structure, the sun beat down on the men's hats and the ladies parasols and a hot wind swirled dust across the children's bare feet as they played chase. Finally, a group of armed lawmen led by the sheriff escorted six dirty, unshaven men from the jailhouse. Four of the men had faces filled with fear, one of them openly crying, while the other two men had a bearing of insolence and pure evil as if they didn't care what happened to themselves, much less anyone else. All had their hands securely bound behind their backs and leg chains fastened around their ankles.

The six men were led up the wooden stairs and onto the wooden-planked floor of the gallows. The crowd of spectators was quiet as the condemned men stared back at them. The one among them who was crying, the youngest one, kept repeating, "I'm sorry, Mama! I'm sorry!" The ropes were placed around their necks while a preacher prayed aloud for their souls. Without warning, the hatch underneath each man's feet opened and all six dropped to their deaths. Five of them hung there limp in a quick death from the broken neck caused by the hangman's noose, but one of them, the young crying man, twitched and kicked for several minutes until, unable to breath, he joined his fellow murderers and rapists in death. It was 1891 and such was the fate of men who broke the law in the "Hanging Judge's" territory.

Fort Smith Courthouse where Judge Parker dealt
harsh punishment to criminals.

For 21 years, from 1875 - 1896, Judge Isaac Parker was the federally appointed judge for the Fort Smith territory. This territory stretched across the western half of Arkansas and all of Indian Country, what is now Oklahoma. During this time, Judge Parker would preside over 12,000 cases. Of those who came before him for sentencing, 160 were slated to die at the end of a rope. 81 of those either were spared with long prison sentences or died of other causes before they could be hung, leaving 79  to end up with a noose around their necks. Judge Parker was actually against the death penalty, but his hands were tied when it came to murderers and rapists as the law then had only one punishment for such crimes and that punishment was death. 

Fort Smith Courthouse. Jail cells on bottom floor is
where condemned men waited to be hung on the
gallows (in background).

Perhaps his guilt over ordering the death of so many is the reason he still haunts his courthouse and gallows. Thousands of visitors now come to see the preserved courthouse and gallows in Fort Smith, to stand and see where so many men were executed. Many of them report odd feelings, an uneasiness while walking the grounds, especially when standing on the gallows where so many condemned souls once stood and breathed their last.

Many of the employees and volunteers manning the historical site tell of seeing the ghost of Judge Parker sitting at his desk as if waiting for the next case. The sound of his gavel slamming down is often heard when there is nobody in the courtroom. One former employee told of the experience she had which caused her to quit and not return. She was working by herself late one evening, closing up the courthouse and cleaning in preparation for the next day's visitors. After completing her duties and making one last round to ensure nobody was still in the building before locking the doors, she was turning off the lights when she came to the courtroom. Just before flipping the light switch, she heard what could only be the sound of a gavel being repeatedly struck against Judge Parker's bench. She quickly turned to look, but saw no one. She felt a cold draft of air wash over her and then, distant voices began to be heard. Slowly, they became louder, the voices of angry men. They were shouting and she clearly heard the sound of the gavel banging down over and over. She whirled around and around desperately looking for anyone in the room, but there was nothing except those sounds. Then she was startled to see a heavy mist forming around the defendant's table and as it became heavier, it began to spread across the whole room. Just before the mist reached her, she bolted out of the door, down the hall and out of the building. Not even stopping to lock the outer door, she ran through the dark to her car and drove straight home. She called her supervisor and told him what happened. He agreed to meet her in the parking lot of the courthouse where she gave him her set of keys to the building and left. Her supervisor told her later he had gone into the building to check it out and all was quiet as a mouse, but she refused to ever go back.

Another employee named Jessica told of her own experience at the gallows one day. She was standing just below the structure keeping an eye on the tourists, making sure nobody defaced or damaged it. She caught a movement on the gallows itself out of the corner of her eye and when she turned to look, she gasped as she saw a man there hanging from the middle of the hanging beam with a noose around his neck. He appeared to be in his 30's wearing dirty clothes, dusty, worn-out boots and was obviously dead. At first, her mind told her it must be an actor, they must be doing a reenactment, but then surely, she thought, they wouldn't have such a gruesome display where children were running around.

Behind that wooden fence is the gallows where 79
men dropped to their death and the jail cart
which brought them to Judge Parker's court.

She watched the hanged man for a minute and then looked around to see the reaction of others, but realized nobody else was looking at him. It became obvious she was the only one seeing this ghostly image of death as she watched several tourists walk right through the man. For several seconds Jessica held her breath and simply stared at the specter with his head tilted at a grotesque angle where the noose had snapped his neck. Even though they were outside, the air seemed to have been sucked away. The birds stopped chirping and all sound disappeared into complete and total silence. Suddenly, the dead man's eyes opened and he was intently looking straight at her! Jessica tried to scream, but no sound came forth. She tried to run, but her legs wouldn't move. The long-dead outlaw then slowly began to grin; a hideous sideways smile showing his blackened teeth and wormy tongue. This horrified Jessica so much that she was finally able to look away. When she got the courage to take a peak again, the apparition was gone.

Judge Parker and the men he hanged obviously still inhabit the area, forever damned with no possibility of parole to a better place. With all of the death and anguish that took place on these grounds, there can be no doubt there is a horrible scar on the fabric of time. If you have the courage to visit, be sure to obey the laws. The punishment around here can be severe.

Well Preserved Julia

The Mount Carmel Cemetery is located in the Chicago suburb of Hillside and is the forever resting place for many of Chicago’s gangsters, including Al Capone. Consecrated in 1901, there are over 200,000 people buried there.  In spite of the many notorious bad men laid to rest within its grounds, Mount Carmel is most famous for the spirit known as “The Italian Bride.”

Born in 1892, Julia Buccola Petta died at the age of 29 while giving birth to a stillborn son 10 months after getting married. Her funeral is held 2 days later on March 19 and she is laid to rest wearing her wedding dress and holding her son in the crook of her right arm.

Five years later, her mother, Filomena, and father moved to California. It was during this time that Filomena began having nightmares about Julia. Every night, Julia would come to her begging to be dug up.  The dreams disturbed Filomena so much that she couldn't sleep and began having health problems. She almost had a nervous breakdown thinking her daughter had been buried alive. She traveled back and forth to Chicago several times over the next year to get an order of exhumation.

In 1927, more than 6 years after Julia’s death and burial, her grave was opened and the deteriorated coffin unearthed.  To everyone’s shock, Julia’s baby and her right arm which held the baby were both badly decomposed, but the rest of her body was in perfect condition; as if she had just laid down to take a nap. Even her cheeks retained the rosy red color they had before her death. The wedding dress she was buried in remained as white as the day she was laid to rest. There was no evidence she had been buried alive, but she looked so “normal” that several people in attendance reached out and actually touched Julia’s skin. They reported that although cold, it was still soft. To document this miracle, a picture was taken of the body as it laid in the mud-caked coffin.

An elaborate new monument with a life-sized statue of Julia was commissioned by her brother later that same year. Engraved on it are two messages from her mother, Filomena. The message on the front states, “Filomena Buccola Remembrance of my Beloved Daughter Julia Age 29 yrs.” On the back, in Italian is carved, “Filomena Buccola I offer this gift to my dear daughter Julia.” Embedded in the monument are 2 pictures of Julia wearing her wedding dress on her wedding day and the picture taken of her well-preserved body when her coffin was opened.  For some unknown reason, only Julia’s maiden name and not her married name of Petta is engraved in the monument.

Shortly after Julia was exhumed, stories of her ghostly presence began to circulate. Numerous cemetery night watchmen and policemen patrolling a beat around the cemetery have reported seeing a white mist or fog which hovers around Julia’s grave but nowhere else in the graveyard. Mysterious orbs of light have often been observed floating around her monument.  Cemetery visitors with no knowledge of Julia’s story have reported the strong smell of roses as they passed her grave, but there are no flowers are in evidence on or anywhere nearby. One of Julia’s favorite pastimes as she was growing up was working in the flowerbeds around her parent’s house where she tended her mother’s rose bushes.  An apparition fitting the description of Julia wearing her flowing white bridal dress and wandering around her grave has been reported so many times that the cemetery caretakers are no longer surprised and don’t even bother to investigate. One family told of attending a late afternoon burial ceremony and through miscommunication and misplaced understandings, a young 4-year-old boy was left behind for a few minutes. Once they reached the car, the realized the lad wasn’t with them so they rushed back to the cemetery grounds only to be totally surprised to see their son walking down the path toward them and holding the hand of a beautiful, young woman wearing a white wedding dress. As the young boy saw his parents, he let go of the lady’s hand and rushed toward them. When the parents and older children looked up to thank the lady, she had disappeared without a trace. The little boy told of being alone and crying because he was scared and then a kind lady came and told him to not be afraid, she would take him to his mommy and daddy.

Some spirits appear quiet happy and content to remain a part of this mortal realm. One day, Julia will no doubt move on to the next phase, but until then, it seems there is nothing to be frightened of in Mount Carmel Cemetery. Even the notorious bad boys are resting in peace there.

Haunted Fort Concho

Fort Concho, located in what is now the middle of San Angelo, Texas, was originally  built in 1867 to protect settlers when the area was still subject to Indian attacks. The fort was actively used until it was decommissioned on June 20, 1889.

The original plans called for the construction of 40 buildings situated on 40 acres with a large, open parade ground in the middle. When the first soldiers began trying to construct the buildings with pecan wood as planned, they found the wood to be too hard and difficult to work with so they switched to using adobe bricks. However, none of the soldiers had any experience with making adobe bricks so they were mighty disappointed when almost 2 months of hard work making bricks and starting to construct buildings with them proved to be wasted when the bricks literally melted in a heavy rain storm. It was finally decided to use sandstone from several nearby quarries and to import stone masons from the town of Fredericksburg. 

The parade ground of Fort Concho

Once the Indians had been effectively removed from the area, the fort was decommissioned and abandoned and the buildings fell into disrepair. It was during this time the first reports of unexplained activity began to be heard - mysterious lights floating in and around the buildings even though nobody was there; the sound of horse's marching in the night, vague men's voices shouting commands. Before long, nobody would go near the ruins after the sun set.

Old ruins along Officers' Row

In 1935, the city was able to purchase the old fort and began to save the 23 buildings deemed to be salvageable and started reconstruction of the other 17 from old photos and the layout of the ruins. The workers told of tools left overnight that disappeared with no trace only to mysteriously reappear several days later in the same exact spot where they had been left. In 1961, Fort Concho was declared a National Historic Landmark. Once the buildings were opened to the public, people began reporting ghostly activities mainly in 3 of the buildings; the fort's headquarters, the officers' living quarters, and the fort chapel.

The current site of the visitor center and museum is
the area where the ghost of Sergeant Cunningham
is often seen.

Although the soldiers posted at Fort Concho were active participants in several battles against Indians and Comanchero's (Mexican and American traders conducting illegal profiteering, kidnapping and looting), the battles all took place in the surrounding area and the fort was never itself attacked. Due to this, there was only one casualty recorded in the fort. Second Sergeant James Cunningham, a hard-core alcoholic, did not die in battle, but rather from cirrhosis of the liver. In spite of his nightly drinking, he had managed to report for duty each morning and was by all reports, a good soldier who was well liked by his fellow soldiers. Unfortunately, the alcohol finally caught up to him and upon being informed by the post doctor that he had only a few months to live, he was removed from active duty. A few weeks later, Sergeant Cunningham returned to the fort and requested he be allowed to spend his last days at the headquarters so he could be with his colleagues and friends, the only family he had. His request was granted. Six weeks later, he died in his sleep. A uniformed soldier has been seen walking near and even inside the old fort headquarters which has been converted into a museum. In nearly all cases, the apparition appears for only a few seconds, but the smell of whiskey will linger. Witnesses who see the ghost consistently pick out an old photograph of Sergeant Cunningham, apparently still hanging around the last earthly home he knew.

Officers' Row

Officers' Row is the 2nd area of Fort Concho that is known to be haunted. Benjamin Grierson, the regimental commander of the 10th Calvary, lived in one of the quarters with his wife and young daughter, Edith. Shortly before Edith's 12 birthday, she became very ill and died in the upstairs bedroom. Since the building was restored, many people have told of seeing a young girl sitting on the floor of an upstairs bedroom quietly playing jacks. The game was known to be Edith's favorite and her grieving parents placed a cloth sack containing a small ball and jacks in her coffin before her burial. The bedroom where she is seen was the exact room in which the little girl breathed her last. The apparition usually appears to be oblivious to anyone who sees her, but occasionally she will look up and smile before slowly vanishing. Visitors often state that room is colder than any of the others even when no ghostly visitor is seen. 

Colonel Ranald MacKenzie
(historical photo)

A 2nd ghost associated with Officers' Row is thought to be Colonel Ranald MacKenzie, the commanding officer of the fort when it was decommissioned. In letters and records, Colonel MacKenzie often stated he found Fort Concho to be one of his favorite duty stations. In fact, Colonel MacKenzie retired as the fort was decommissioned and he elected to remain, living in his home on Officers' Row until he died several years later. One December several years ago, a female staff member was working in the Mackenzie house preparing for a Christmas event. She said she heard the sound of footsteps behind her and turned to see who was there, but just as she turned, she was pushed up against the wall by a strong hand and felt a blast of cold air. Seeing nobody in the room with her, the frightened woman stood there for several seconds trying to make sense of what had just happened when she heard the sound of knuckles cracking. Before she could bolt from the room, a misty, almost transparent figure of a man in soldier's uniform materialized in front of her. It seemed to somehow be floating just above the floor and as the woman looked down, she noted the apparition seemed to be invisible below the knees. As abruptly as it appeared, the misty man disappeared. Colonel Mackenzie had been known for the habit of cracking his knuckles. There was no doubt the lady staffer had come face to face with the fort's last, and perhaps forever, commander.

 The 3rd haunted building is the chapel. The chaplain, George Dunbar, was said to be a very devout Christian, a loving, devoted husband and a dedicated father to his 6 children, all of whom lived with him at the fort. He was known to get so involved in his sermons that his voice could be heard all across the fort on Sunday mornings shouting that week's message of God. After several years at Fort Concho, the chaplain was transferred to Fort Sill. It was unsafe for his wife and children to accompany him however as Fort Sill was often being attacked by renegade Indians. His family was allowed to stay at Fort Concho until it was safe for them to travel to Fort Sill and as he left one morning, he promised them he would return. Several months had passed when a messenger arrived with sad news from Fort Sill. While under attack by a large group of Commanches, one of the soldiers inside the fort had been mortally wounded. As he lay dying, Chaplain Dunbar ran to his side and began praying over him. While comforting the dying soldier, the chaplain was himself killed. He was eventually brought back to Fort Concho where his wife claimed the body and a proper burial was conducted. Today, visitors and staff report of hearing a loud and powerful male voice delivering a sermon. There have also been sightings of a soldier in uniform kneeling in prayer inside of the chapel.  Occasionally, a female voice is heard accompanying the male voice, speaking quietly, perhaps in prayer. The staff likes to think this is the good chaplain's wife, the two of them spending eternity together.

Floating balls of lights, the sounds of horses being rode as if in a parade, men's voices in the middle of an empty parade ground, and even an occasional unexplained loud boom as if a ceremonial cannon has been fired are still heard today. There were no large battles with horrible loss of life at the fort, no unsolved ghastly murders, no desecrated burial grounds, so It is unknown why Fort Concho is so haunted. Perhaps not all ghosts are tortured souls unable to cross over. Perhaps Fort Concho simply was the place of good memories or circumstances in the souls of the dearly departed and it is where they are content to spend eternity. Only they know for sure.

Ghostly Blue Lamp

Carlisle Hall

There is a home in Perry County, Alabama known as Carlisle Hall. A fine mansion of a home built in 1858 on a 440 acre parcel of land, it was constructed in a unique Gothic design with Romanesque arches, a Japanese temple-style hanging roof made of copper and a Moorish-type balcony rail. It was designed by a well-to-do cotton farmer and merchant named Edwin Kenworthy Carlisle who lived in the house with his family until he died in 1873. 

After Edwin died, his family moved away and the house sold. Over the years, a number of people owned the house, but none stayed for long and rumors of ghostly doings began to circulate. Reputable witnesses told of seeing through the windows a pale blue lantern light floating around the bedroom previously occupied by Mr. Carlisle. Families who bought and lived in the house told of hearing footsteps coming down the stairs accompanied by what sounded like petticoats swishing and of mysterious cold spots on and around the stairs. Everyone thought it must be Edwin's beautiful daughter who fell in love with a Union Colonel she met when he was stationed in the area after the Yankees had driven out the Confederate forces during the Civil War. Her father did not approve of the relationship, but with the war going on, could do little about it. Every time the Yankee Colonel would come calling on the young Ms. Carlisle, she would put on a fine dress and rush down the stairs to meet him in the parlor. After the war, the Colonel left without her, but apparently she continued to rush down the ornate stairs long after the young lovers had parted this life years later.

In the late 1930's, the house was purchased by A. S. Hill right after he retired from the navy. He continued to live in a nearby apartment while repairing and modernizing the house. Before the repairs were completed and Mr. Hill moved in however, World War II broke out. The patriotic Mr. Hill went back into the navy and sailed off to fight on a warship in the Pacific ocean. Unfortunately, he didn't make it back.

The house sat empty until the late 1940's when it was purchased by a wealthy bachelor, Mr. W. E. Belcher. Mr. Belcher spent most of his time traveling and the house once again fell into disrepair. Squatters and vandals broke in and stole all of the furniture, paintings, books, and even the curtains. They broke all 56 windows, punched holes in the walls and broke the marble fireplace mantels. They even trampled and destroyed all of the flowers and plants in the formerly beautiful flower beds and gardens and uprooted trees for fires in the winter.

After one of his extended trip overseas, when Mr. Belcher returned home and saw the horrible condition of the house, he hired a family to live on the property and to begin repairs in order to sell it. Only three weeks after moving in, the caretaker's only child, a little 1-year-old boy, was killed when he fell down the stairs. A bloody stain was left on the floor at the foot of the stairs where his little body came to rest. Less than a month after the accident, the caretaker family left after telling of seeing the misty apparition of old Mr. Carlisle roaming around the upstairs hallway and then walking through the closed door of the room he used to sleep in. They also told of seeing a beautiful young woman dressed in a beautiful 1800's style dress who on most nights would glide down the stairs seemingly without touching the steps; the same stairs which killed their son.

After that, nobody was willing to buy the Carlisle Mansion, even at a drastically reduced price, so it sat abandoned until the late 1950's when a teacher, Ms. Kay Klassen, purchased the crumbling house just before it was condemned by the authorities and torn down. With her parents help, she spent over 7 years repairing and modernizing the home to bring it back to its previous splendor. As part of the repair work, they sanded and repaired every inch of the wood floors.

At some point before Ms. Klassen purchased the property, evidently both Edwin Carlisle and his daughter found their way to the other side as Ms. Klassen stated she has never seen Mr. Carlisle or his daughter or any mysterious blue lights. There was one thing that bothered her and couldn't be explained though. She found one particular section of the floor which had a curious nasty stain. She scrubbed it and sanded it until the stain was gone, but within 2 days, the stain reappeared. This was repeated numerous times over the course of several months with the stain always reappearing. She finally had to cut out the stained section and replace it with new boards. Today, if you take one of the guided tours of this restored mansion, look closely and you can see where the replacement section is located - at the foot of the stairs, at the exact spot where a dying baby's little body came to rest and he breathed his last breath all those years ago.