Ghost stories, oh how I love them. The history behind the setting. The story behind the spirits reason to stick around. It’s all fascinating and one of my favorite past times is listening to what people have experienced. When readers send me emails and messages about their experiences it makes my heart do a happy dance. You know what makes me even excited, getting to share these stories. So after collecting several stories and putting into action a hopeful dream I’ve had for a while, here we are, Brandy’s Hometown Haunts.
I’m excited to share these stories and eager to receive more. If you’ve got a Hometown Haunt you’d like to share, email me here: email@example.com.
Story 1: How long can you haunt?
Hello from Nevada. My Hometown Haunt is about the time I visited my in-laws for two weeks and was sure I wouldn’t survive. My in-laws live in East Georgia where the sun shines a lot and the southern traditions are thick, as is their history. The house my in-laws live in is an older house, but not a Victorian like I’m sure you were expecting this story to state. Isn’t that the classic setting?
Our second night staying there I was walking up the stairs when something pulled on my shirt from behind. At first, I thought I may have snagged my shirt on something but there was nothing that could have done it. The third night, things started to get weird. I kid you not when I say the attic door opened and shut on its own one night when I made that middle of the night trip to the bathroom. While nothing life threatening happened, every night something would scare me to the point I was sure I would not survive the visit.
Safe back at my home in Nevada, where the doors stayed shut and nothing pulled on my shirt for funsies, I started researching my in-law’s neighborhood. Turns out that while it wasn’t the original home that once stood there, their house was built on the land where a safe house had been located on the Underground Railroad route. Twelve slaves had died in the attic of the home while waiting out soldiers who were in search of them. Some of these slaves had no recorded name.
It’s a sad story but I now understand why they are sticking around. They lived in fear with no one knowing who they were. They just want to be heard, even if it does scare the shit out of us.
Travel tip, if you’re afraid of visitors you can’t see, be sure to research the place before jumping on a plane. It’ll save you a lot of restless nights.
Author note: Thanks for sharing Brenda. I can understand. They deserve to be seen. And oh my word, the whole door opening in the middle of the night while holding a bladder of pee, um, recipe for disaster. Hope you made to the restroom just fine! ;)