The Presence

Thanks to Regina for this story!  To read Regina’s first story, please see A Medium’s Rite of Passage.

Most of the houses in Regina’s neighborhood in North Philadelphia were built during the early 19th century.  It was rumored that some had been constructed over an old cemetery, so there was no surprise that the town had a reputation for hauntings.  Regina was about eight when she started noticing strange things happening in her house.

The previous owner of Regina’s home was an alcoholic who died while living in the house.  Sometimes, Regina would see a male apparition.  One day, Regina came home and saw a man sleeping on the couch.  At first glance, she thought the man was her father.  Then she watched as the figure got up, walked through the closed door, and down the block before fading away.

The dining room was also known for strange activity.  Sometimes in the middle of the night, disembodied voices could be heard among the tinkling of the chandelier as it swayed back and forth.  The floor had a mysterious stain that couldn’t be removed.  Regina’s parents constantly tried to cover the dark mark, but it always managed to come through whatever carpet that they laid over it.

The eeriness permeated the rest of the house’s atmosphere, but only Regina and her sisters seemed to notice.  As a young child, Regina was afraid of going upstairs by herself, especially at night.  There were two chips in the paint that looked like gaping eye sockets.  Even with her back turned, she felt like they were watching her.

Her parents’ closet door would open on its own.  Outside their bedroom was a perpetual cold spot about five feet in diameter.  It didn’t matter what time of the year it was, the iciness was always there and light always left the hallway in shadow.

One Easter, there was a terrible fire next door that caused extensive smoke damage.  Regina’s family decided to move a few months later.  A suffocating, almost violent feeling hung in the air as they packed up their belongings.  Regina’s father went to drop some things off at the new house.  On his return trip, Regina decided to go with him.  Her mother, Rachel, and brother, Janiero, stayed behind.

After Regina left, the temperature in the house continued to drop until it was so cold that her mother and brother’s teeth were chattering.  Janiero had to use the bathroom.  They heard a creaking noise coming from upstairs.  Looking up, mother and son watched as Regina’s bedroom door slowly closed on its own.

If you have a real ghost story that you would like to share with The Ghost Post, send an email with your contact information to Tara Theresa Hill at theghostpostreporter@gmail.com to set up an interview. 

I’m always in the mood for a good ghost story! 

Follow Tara Theresa Hill on Facebook and Twitter at @TaraTheresaHill for more updates and paranormal phenomena!

 

Nightfall at Pennhurst Asylum

This past summer, my husband and I won two tickets for a public ghost tour of Pennhurst State School and Hospital from the Pennhurst Paranormal Association. Timothy Smith runs Pennhurst Paranormal Association and maintains Pennhurst, conducting ghost tours and teaching visitors about the asylum’s tragic history. Tim and the staff of Pennhurst Paranormal Association are experienced, professional paranormal investigators. Everyone was kind and patient in answering both my questions and those of other tour members. The tour was focused on finding evidence of hauntings through the use of ghost hunting equipment, which they also showed us how to use. Pennhurst Paranormal Association hosts both public and private ghost tours of Pennhurst State School and Hospital.

The drive through the picturesque historical town soon ended, bringing George and me to a stop on a dark, country road next to a water tower. Thankfully, Tim sent one of his team to come and find us because we might have never found the place in time for the tour. Pennhurst Asylum was designed to be an isolated location, which undoubtedly helped in keeping the truth behind it a secret for many years. We had to drive down a winding path through the woods just to make it onto the campus, and it was already after dark.

I felt a shift in the atmosphere from the second I saw the dimly lit structures of the buildings looming above. I was thankful that there was a large touring group that night. After having done some preliminary research online, I was anxious about going. Before now, everything that I had done with ghosts had been low-key or happenstance. This was my first time being with a professional group of paranormal investigators that had ghost hunting equipment. We toured two buildings that night, Mayflower Hall and Devon Hall.

In the first building, we went into a kind of common hall where patients used to congregate. Paint was peeling off the walls and water pooled on the floor in some areas from recent rain. Members of the Pennhurst Paranormal Association told us background history about Pennhurst. The place was known for “womb to tomb care.” Many of the occupants spent their whole lives in Pennhurst, whether they needed to be there or not. Family members were encouraged to drop their children and relatives off and told not to look back as return visits might only upset the patient and disrupt the treatment.

Images of people being abandoned by their families, helpless to stop any ill treatment that might befall them filled me with unspeakable horror. I asked why these spirits were still here. Why hadn’t they moved on after so many years? Pennhurst was officially closed down in 1987. This prompted a discussion about hauntings and whether the spirits see the place as we do now.

Without proper funding, Pennhurst was understaffed, poorly managed, and incredibly overcrowded. This allowed for the medical staff to abuse their patients and for patients to accidentally harm themselves or each other. Severe punishments even included surgically removing the patient’s teeth so that they could not bite in defense. This was done without anesthetics. The mentally disabled were not seen as equals and it was easy for the staff to disregard them.

One story that was told to me was about a telephone lineman who was working on repairing the phone system when a patient came up to him and started swaying. After a few minutes, the patient began banging his head into the doorframe. The lineman hailed a nurse who was passing by for help, but she said that she didn’t have time to take care of the patient because she was so overwhelmed with work already. Meanwhile, the patient that she refused to help had blood pouring from the self-inflicted gash on his head.

We had been in the common room for a few minutes when I felt someone take my hand. Thinking it was my husband, I turned around to see that he was standing a few feet away from me. There was no one standing either next to or behind me. I jumped, pulling my hand back. When I brought this up to the tour guides, they said that people often reported being touched or having someone grab their hand in that room. They said that teenage boys used to be here in this section and that was their way of showing affection. We also got some cold spots in that room.

Next, they brought us to Emily’s room. Emily is the spirit of a sweet, thirteen-year-old girl who has the mental capabilities of a five-year-old. There were various dolls and stuffed animals on her bed. We communicated with her via an EMF (Electromagnetic Field) reader which spiked every time she got excited or came near us. She seemed to prefer females and enjoyed when the female tour guides and I took turns singing nursery rhymes to her.

While I was standing in that room, I suddenly saw a small, green orb. I followed it into the darkness down the hallway into another room, but it disappeared. I came back to Emily’s room. At that point, we said goodbye to Emily and went back outside to join other group members who were planning on visiting Devon Hall. Devon Hall is known for having great EVPs (Electronic Voice Phenomena). Tim, the association’s leader, took us there.

At one point, I remarked that I kept hearing what I thought to be footsteps following behind us. Tim said that while that was possible, it was more likely that I was hearing the steady dripping of water down the wall. He was accustomed to hearing these noises, so he could debunk them. He even showed me where the water was coming from so that I could see for myself. While we had sufficient light to see by, this was mostly provided by flashlights that we carried along with us during the tour.

First, we went upstairs to inspect some bathrooms in Devon Hall where they had gotten great EVPs in the past. I sometimes get mental flashes of spirits when I enter rooms. It kind of reminds me of taking a picture because I only see the ghost for a second or two before they vanish. When we entered the bathroom, I saw an image of a little boy sitting in the bathtub. I grabbed George as he went to lean against it.

“Don’t sit there!” I hissed. He had no idea what I had seen until I told him later. I didn’t want him to upset the spirit.

Tim showed us how EVPs were made. He had a recorder that would only record when someone was speaking. He would ask a question, wait twenty seconds, and then ask the next question. Later, when he would play the recording back to the group, the ghostly voices would show up in between Tim’s questions. Since the recorder only records when someone is speaking, in theory, there should have been no gap between Tim’s questions during the playback.

The bathroom was a horrible place. Tim asked if the ghosts were repentant of what they had done during their lives, but they seemed to be proud of how they molested and raped young boys. They staked out claims on stalls and threatened to harm Tim if he entered them. Clutching my St. Michael pendant for protection, I envisioned a circle of white light around our group. Thankfully, I had managed to convince George to carry a protective talisman as well. The creepiest thing about this whole situation was that while I didn’t hear anything while I was standing there, Tim’s EVP recordings showed that there was someone in the bathroom with us. This someone was getting angrier at what they took as an intrusion of their territory.

We trudged down to the basement. At this point, I was looking at the cracked plaster and broken sinks and thinking to myself that I should have brought a face mask since I am super sensitive to dust. We entered another bathroom. Apparently, they are a great source for EVPs. We had a brief discussion about whether this was because the water is a good source of energy for spirits. Then we started another EVP session.

Tim made contact with another spirit who obliged us by reading the writing that was on people’s shirts to show that he was there. Then Tim asked if he would go and see if he could get Dr. Fear for us. That was actually the man’s name, although it would have been an appropriate nickname for him as well since he instilled fear in his patients. His soul apparently came here after his passing. I wondered how this was an appropriate punishment for his evil deeds since he seemed to be able to lord over the suffering souls that were still trapped here.

Moments after Tim called for Dr. Fear, I got a flash image of a spectacled man in a lab coat walking over to our group. In my vision, he came over and placed his hands on both a young woman’s and my husband’s shoulder as if he was peering over a group of medical interns. Just then George and the young woman complained of feeling a cold spot right where I had seen Dr. Fear appear.

Tim began asking Dr. Fear questions. Dr. Fear stated that while he remembered who Tim was, he didn’t really care about his presence one way or the other. One of the female tour guides asked if he was a real doctor. The ghost half chuckled into the EVP recorder. Of course, he was a real doctor. The way that he said it made it seem as if he thought she had asked a stupid question. She had been trying to insult him, but he had dismissed it.

One of the things we had discussed were the missing bodies of patients. Patients had died or gone missing and their bodies had never been accounted for. It was thought that they might have been buried somewhere on the campus in unmarked graves. Tim asked Dr. Fear what happened to the bodies.

“I burnt them,” crackled over the recorder, followed by low, eerie laughter.

I felt cold all over after that. Tim offered to keep taking us around the buildings. The next stop would have been back to the Mayflower building. There was the ghost of a nurse on one of the upper floors who was reported to administer ghostly shots to people. George and I decided to leave. We still had a three-hour drive back home and I felt emotionally and spiritually sapped after that encounter in the basement.

I was exhausted for days following this visit, even with my spiritual cleansings. Tim later told me that was one of their strongest EVP sessions. While I don’t consider myself a Medium per say, I do feel like spirits tend to manifest strongly when I’m around. This was easily the most terrifying ghostly encounter that I have ever had. There is nothing like being in a silent, near pitch dark room and having someone who you cannot see answer you.

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Emily’s Room – Mayflower Hall

If you have a real ghost story that you would like to share with The Ghost Post, send an email with your contact information to Tara Theresa Hill at theghostpostreporter@gmail.com to set up an interview. 

I’m always in the mood for a good ghost story! 

Follow Tara Theresa Hill on Facebook and on Twitter at @TaraTheresaHill for more updates and paranormal phenomena!

 

 

 

My Haunted Vacation

Dear Readers,

Happy Haunted Holidays from The Ghost Post!  Please be advised that this will be the last post for 2016 as next Sunday is Christmas.  The Ghost Post will resume posting new stories on January 2nd, 2017.  I have a lot of new things in the works for 2017, including a ghost story magazine.  Please stay tuned for more real ghost stories!

Best,

Tara Theresa Hill

For our five-year wedding anniversary, George and I decided to go to Washington, D.C.  We both love history and he wanted to see the space exhibits at the Smithsonian.  Since hotels outside of D.C. were cheaper, we stayed in a hotel in Virginia and drove into D.C. each day.  I can usually count on at least one ghostly encounter per trip.

One of the attractions that we did was called Monuments in the Moonlight.  This was a nighttime trolley tour of D.C.’s national monuments.  Some of the scheduled stops let you out to explore.  The tour included a drive through Arlington National Cemetery.  Since it was already dark, they didn’t let us get out of the trolley.  The trolley was an open-air one, so that you really got great views and pictures as they coasted by the monuments.

I was leaning with my fist on my chin, gazing out at the cemetery.  My reverie was broken by the appearance of a glowing figure.  At first, I took it to be a statue of a Civil War soldier that had been lit up somehow.  I saw the uniform with the buttons down the front and the cap.  I even noted that he had a handlebar mustache.

“That’s an amazingly detailed statue!” I thought to myself and shifted around in my seat to get a better look.  The figure was gone.  We had only just passed by it, so I should have been able to see it.  I turned to my husband.

“Did you see the glowing statue of the Civil War soldier?”

“No.  What statue?”

I pointed behind us.  “There in the woods.”

“Honey, statues don’t generally glow.”

Then it hit me.  I hadn’t seen a statue at all, but a full-blown apparition of a Civil War soldier on the eve of the 150th Anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg.

 

Black Socks

Thank you to my mother, Lady Rhea, from Bronx, NY for this story!

Rhea was born and raised on Cruger Avenue in the Bronx.  After she got married, she moved into her first apartment in 1970.  Her parents lived in the same building directly across from her.  They could peer through their windows and tell that she was awake if they saw her lights on.

Rhea used to go downstairs to do her laundry at her mother’s because her parents had a washing machine in their apartment.  She would then carry the laundry back upstairs to hang to dry in her place.  Since her husband, David, had an office job in Manhattan, Rhea was always washing black dress socks.

A few months had passed since Rhea and David had moved into the apartment.  Rhea was doing the weekly laundry.  She had laid out six pairs of black socks on her white bedspread in two neat rows.  She grabbed three pairs to put them in the drawer and then turned back for the remaining three.

Only two pairs of socks were left on the bed.  Rhea paused.  “Where the heck did the third one go?  I know I had two rows of three,” she thought to herself.

After searching in vain for the missing pair, Rhea shrugged, and finished putting away the laundry.  She was home all alone.  She didn’t have a cat or dog that could have stolen the socks while she wasn’t looking and her husband was out on an errand.

Two weeks after this incident, Rhea came home to find the missing pair of black socks sitting on top of her bed.  She always made the bed before she left for work in the morning.  Freaking out, she ran downstairs to her mother’s apartment and told her what had happened.  She thought that perhaps her mother had found a pair of David’s socks in her apartment from the last time that she had done the wash down there and had returned them to her.

“Did you go into my apartment while I was out, Ma?”

“No, Dear.  I only go up there when you’re home.”

“Well, David is still at work and he left before me, so he couldn’t have done it.”

Her mother shrugged, ever the realist.  “Maybe you just forgot that the socks were there.”

“I would have remembered if I had left a pair of black socks in the center of my white bedspread.  No, they definitely weren’t there before I left this morning.  Someone or something put them there.”

Rhea already knew that her apartment was haunted.  Friends who came over would comment on seeing the shadow of an old woman sitting on her couch.  Rhea describes her as being mostly see through, like a photo negative, rather than a solid, full-blown apparition.  Some thought that this could have been the spirit of Rhea’s grandmother, Rose, who had also lived in the same apartment building until she died.

Rhea was right about the sock incident.  This wasn’t the last time that things would vanish on her only to show up months or even in some cases, years later.  But that’s another story!

If you have a real ghost story that you would like to share with The Ghost Post, send an email with your contact information to Tara Theresa Hill at theghostpostreporter@gmail.com to set up an interview. 

I’m always in the mood for a good ghost story! 

Follow Tara Theresa Hill on Facebook and on Twitter at @TaraTheresaHill for more updates and paranormal phenomena!

The Ways of Ghosts

Thanks to Don from New York for this story!

Don lived in the same house in Williamsburg, Brooklyn from 1980 until this past June.  The house is estimated to have been built no later than 1812.  It has three floors, a sub-basement, and is connected to a separate brick building.  Don’s landlord lived in the brick building.

Once when the landlord was away visiting family, Don heard footsteps coming up the stairs.  Thinking it was someone attempting to break in, he armed himself with a bat and went to investigate.  Creeping along, he finally reached the stairs only to find that no one was there.  After a few more repeats of this event, Don started saying hi to the invisible spirit whenever he heard the footsteps.

Don’s girlfriend, Alyssa, had a different encounter with the ghost.  Alyssa is the thirteenth generation of psychics in her family.  One day, she told Don that the ghost in the house had come to her and complained about what was going on in the sub-basement.  Don wasn’t aware of anything happening, but he decided to mention the incident to his landlord.  The landlord was astounded.  As it turned out, he had been setting off bug bombs in the basement and the ghost had not approved of it.

Three years after he had been buried, Alyssa’s uncle’s body had to be exhumed.  Noting that he looked better than he had when he was alive, Alyssa asked Don for a reading to see how her uncle was doing on the Other Side.  Everything went fine during the reading.

Later that night, Don was awakened by the presence of someone lying beside him.  Don jumped out of bed to find the spot next to him empty, except that the blankets seemed slightly raised.  Don and Alyssa mentioned the incident to Alyssa’s aunt who was then ninety-eight years old.

She laughed at them.  “Don’t you know better?  Doing readings about the dead draws them to you.”

If you have a real ghost story that you would like to share with The Ghost Post, send an email with your contact information to Tara Theresa Hill at theghostpostreporter@gmail.com to set up an interview. 

I’m always in the mood for a good ghost story!

Follow Tara Theresa Hill on Facebook and on Twitter at @TaraTheresaHill for more updates and paranormal phenomena!

If you enjoyed this article and would be interested in supporting my work, please check out my Patreon page. 

 

 

 

The Haunts of Lorain County

Thanks to Michelle from Ohio for this story!

Michelle comes from a psychically gifted family that is of French, Native American, and Irish descent.  She lives in a house in the countryside in Lorain County, Ohio.  While the house is relatively new, she believes that the ground might be cursed because of the swirling energy vortex at the bottom of the house and the high levels of spirit activity in the area.  Older buildings and farmhouses surround Michelle’s home.  There is a cornfield and creek nearby the house, as well as an old church on the corner.

Odd things have happened in Michelle’s house.  Her phone continuously malfunctions for brief periods of time.  She has had the phone inspected, but has not been able to find a reason for the strange reoccurrence.  At times, a growling can be heard coming from under the family table when there is no dog or other animal present.

Two apparitions have also been seen.  The first one is of a little blonde-haired boy from the early 1900s.  Locals believe that he is the ghost of a young boy who died mysteriously somewhere on the property.  There is also the figure of a woman wearing a dress from the 1920s who first appears to be waving, but then a look of shock comes upon her face.  Some think that these two ghosts share a connection of some sort, although the exact story is unknown.

Within a mile of the family’s house is an intersection of highways that are the cause of many accidents.  People have seen various ghosts and entities along this road.  There have been reports of Native American spirits, shadow people the color of translucent smoke, orbs, and gremlin-like creatures.  This strip of highway is thought to be a portal that spirits use to cross over into our world.

If you have a real ghost story that you would like to share with The Ghost Post, send an email with your contact information to Tara Theresa Hill at theghostpostreporter@gmail.com to set up an interview. 

I’m always in the mood for a good ghost story! 

If you enjoyed this article and would be interested in supporting my work, please check out my Patreon page. 

 

The Fighting Spirit

Thanks to Dan from Minnesota for this story!

Our friend, Dan, came to visit from Minnesota recently.  He and my husband, George, grew up together in New Jersey.  A fellow writer, we were talking about our current writing projects when I asked him my favorite question: Do you have any good ghost stories?

Dan used to be a Loyalist Revolutionary War reenactor.  One time, his unit was set up in Mount Holly, New Jersey to reenact the Battle of Iron Works Hill.  This was a battle fought during the Revolutionary War that included the Loyalists, Hessian soldiers, and the American Revolutionaries.

Sometime before the performance, the Loyal American Regiment and some of the Hessians had a falling out.  This resulted with the Hessian Jaeger reenactors not being present for this battle because the Loyal American Regiment was the unit hosting the event.  While a part of the infantry during the Revolutionary War, Hessian Jaegers specialized in being scouts and snipers.

Dan’s group, the 4th New Jersey Volunteers, became a flanking unit to make up for the other soldiers’ absence.  As he was going down the side streets, Dan caught a glimpse of Hessian Jaegers marching behind him in the rearview mirror of a car.  Hessian Jaegers wore green coats with red facings on the cuffs and a red trim on the sides of the jacket.  When he looked back, he saw that they were not there.

“Must have imagined it,” said Dan to himself and continued with the battle.

The atmosphere was so intense that day, that even some townspeople started joining the Revolutionary reenactors shouting, “The British are coming!  God save the King!”  After the fight was over and the American Revolutionaries were defeated, Dan and the other Loyalists cried out, “Huzzah!  God save the King!”  Out of the corner of his eye, Dan caught the distinctive red and green marks of the Hessian Jaegers again.  Turning around, he saw a whole group of them cheering on the British.

Dan leaned over to a friend of his, “I thought the Hessian Jaegers weren’t coming today.”

“What are you talking about, Dan?  They’re not here.  They never showed up.”

When he went to point them out to his friend, the Hessian Jaegers had disappeared.

If you have a real ghost story that you would like to share with The Ghost Post, send an email with your contact information to Tara Theresa Hill at theghostpostreporter@gmail.com to set up an interview. 

I’m always in the mood for a good ghost story! 

If you enjoyed this article and would be interested in supporting my work, please check out my Patreon page.