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. 

 

 

 

The Banishing

While this story is my own, I have changed the names of those involved to protect their privacy.

Growing up with Wiccan high priestess, Lady Rhea, for a mother made for an interesting time.  Aside from glittering Enchanted Candles, crafting perfumes, and giving clients psychic advice, my mother occasionally performed banishing rituals to remove negative energies from close friends’ houses.  This was much different from the spiritual cleansings that she did to purify a space.  These spells involved deeper, older magick.  For those of you who don’t know, Wiccans and Pagans often spell magick with a “k” to differentiate from the stage “magic” that magicians use as entertainment.

When I was a teenager, a close family friend of ours, started experiencing a lot of problems.  Anne had a big house with several people living there.  Over a few months, her family experienced a slew of bad luck with illnesses, financial setbacks, and a rise in heated arguments.  While various circumstances could lead to this happening, Anne felt that something in the house was “off,” so she asked for my mother to give her a reading to see what was going on.

Mom shuffled her cards and turned them over.  Taking a final drag of her cigarette, she shook her head.  “Oh, no…This is not good.”

“What is it?” asked Anne.

Mom turned over more cards.  “What I’m going to say might sound ridiculous, but I need you to listen to me.”  Anne nodded.  My mom paused before continuing, “The cards indicate that there is something inside of the house that is causing the problem.  It’s a negative entity of some sort.”

Anne’s adult son, Peter, who was also seated at the table turned his head at this news.  He said that he had recently woke up and saw an apparition of a bat-like creature with a human face hovering over his bed.  He hadn’t mentioned it before because he thought it was just a nightmare.  Mom looked back at the card reading.  She turned to Anne’s son.

“Can I see your room?”

He nodded.  Even I tagged along upstairs.  After hearing Peter’s story, I didn’t want to be left alone.  Mom entered the room.  After a minute or two, she nodded.  “Yes.  Whatever it is, it’s upstairs and it generally stays in this room.”

We went back downstairs.

“What can we do?” asked Anne as she made more coffee.

“You can light some white candles and incense to help cleanse the space, but ultimately, I’ll have to do a banishing spell for you,” said my mother.

I almost choked on my soda.  Mom always prescribed candles, prayers, incense, that sort of thing.  She only spoke about conducting rituals for serious problems.

“Great,” said Peter.  “I’m staying downstairs on the couch until this thing is gone.”

After Peter went to hang out with some friends, Mom asked Anne about the history of the house.  A large, three-story, white, Victorian house, it was the kind that you see iced with snow on picturesque Christmas cards.  The house had been remodeled in the years following an older relative’s death.  Mom asked if there were any strange events that had happened in the house.  Anne said that there was one.

The last owner of the house had met a tragic end.  Two hours before his daughter’s wedding, he had excused himself saying that he would be right back.  While everyone was in the house getting ready, he left the car engine running and sealed himself inside the vehicle with the windows shut.  Without any warning to his friends or family, he had committed suicide on the day that his daughter was to be married.

“Why’d you even buy the house?” I asked, after Anne was done telling the story.  I was about fifteen then.

“TARA!” Mom glared at me.

Anne laughed.  “It’s okay, Rhea,” she said.  “We didn’t find out until years after we bought the house.  Some neighbors told us.”

Later on, I shivered as we got into the car.  Even though I had been over Anne’s house hundreds of times, I was afraid that the ghost of the dead man was going to jump out at us in the driveway.

“Could Anne’s neighbors have made up that story?” I asked.

“Perhaps,” said Mom, “But I don’t think so.  That negative spirit has caused trouble before.”

“What are we going to do?”

“It’s okay,” said Mom.  “We’re going to get rid of it.”

“How?”

“You’ll see.”

The first thing Mom did was call our coven members.  She told them that she needed their help doing a special favor for a dear friend of hers.  They all knew about Anne and were happy to help.  I had already been initiated and since we needed as many people as possible, Mom decided to bring me along.

A few days later, our coven met at Anne’s house.  We went upstairs to the second floor where all of the bedrooms were located.  My mother turned off the lights and then lit some candles.  She and her partner cast circle to help protect us during the ritual.  Then we all started running clockwise to create a cone of power while chanting a Wiccan banishing spell that is sacred to my mother’s coven.  As we did this, we were running past the bedroom doors which were all standing wide open.

At one point as I was running past Peter’s room, I saw a pale face glaring back at us from the dark.  The apparition was about three or four feet off of the floor.  The face glowed white and had three dark spaces where the eyes and mouth should be.  I didn’t dare break the chain and by the time that I had come around again, the thing was gone.  After the ritual was done, I mentioned the incident to my mother.  One of my older friends who was also in the coven turned to me.

“You saw it too?”

In addition to the banishing spell, we also said prayers that night to help the previous owner’s spirit move on to the light.  After the ritual, everyone was much more at peace in the house and Anne’s family life returned to normal.

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. 

A Grave Message

Thanks to Linda from New Jersey for this story!

As mentioned in an earlier Ghost Post, Her Daughter’s Guardian Angel, Linda has psychic abilities.  This often results in prophetic dreams, which frequently spook her family.  This particular incident happened when Linda was in her late twenties.

In St. Raymond’s Cemetery in Bronx, NY, there is a mausoleum that holds several generations of Linda’s family.  Linda’s great-grandfather, Carmine, set this up so that the family would always stay together.  Great-grandfather Carmine’s son, called Papa Nick, was deeply fond of his daughter-in-law, Vera.  Vera is Linda’s mother.  Even after her mother and father divorced, Papa Nick stayed close with Vera.

One night, Linda had a dream where she heard Papa Nick call out.

“Vera, help me!  I’m drowning!”

This dream occurred two times in a row.  When she mentioned the incident to her mother, Vera said that Papa Nick must be trying to tell them something important.  The most confusing part was that while Linda was the one having the dream, Papa Nick kept calling for her mother.

After the second dream, Linda called her father to ask how Papa Nick had died.  Was it at sea or on a boat?  He answered that her grandfather had died of a stroke.  When he asked her what had brought this question up, Linda told her father about the strange recurring dream.

“Maybe you’d better go visit Papa Nick in the cemetery and see if everything is okay.”

Her father promised that he would go check.  The next day he called and explained what had happened.  He had gone to the cemetery to find that a sewer pipe had backed up and flooded the mausoleum floor.  One of the coffins floating in the water was Papa Nick’s.  Thankfully, they found out in time and none of the coffins were damaged.  It just goes to show you that when spirits want to make contact, they will find a way.

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. 

Legends of CMSV: Sarah’s Story

My alma mater, the College of Mount Saint Vincent, has several ghost stories.  One of the most beloved is about a ghost named Sarah.  Sarah is believed to have been one of the orphan children that the Sisters of Charity cared for during the late 1800s.  After she died from a sudden illness, her spirit stayed on the campus.

Sarah’s favorite place to haunt is Hayes Auditorium.  A big fan of the theater, she likes to make herself known during performances and events.  While I was there, the students had a tradition of greeting Sarah whenever they entered or exited the building.  It was considered bad luck not to do so because then Sarah might decide to play a prank on you.  There were a few people who didn’t do this, but I always did out of respect.  Sarah didn’t mind if you didn’t believe in her because that didn’t stop her from existing, but she didn’t take kindly to people making fun of her.

When I was an Orientation Leader in 2005, one of the new resident directors completely dismissed her when we told him about the legend.  He laughed at us for saying “Hi, Sarah,” when we entered the auditorium.  Later on, he was briefing us about what to expect when the orientation students arrived.  As he was talking, he went to lean back against a table that was set up on stage when it completely collapsed beneath him.  We tried to warn him that he shouldn’t have messed with Sarah, but this did nothing to change his attitude concerning ghosts.  Perhaps he just wasn’t a good fit for our college.  He didn’t even make it a full year as resident director.

Sarah could also be helpful.  During college, my husband (then boyfriend) was a resident assistant.  One of George’s residents told him this story.  The student had lost his security badge somewhere in the theater.  After spending almost an hour looking, he was about to give up, when he asked out loud, “Sarah, please help me find my badge.”  Suddenly he heard something drop from the dark alcove above.  At his feet was the ID badge.  Picking it up, he said, “Thanks, Sarah,” and quickly left the building.

My own encounter with Sarah was equally strange.  I was taking photography in my Senior year.  I had just come out of my class which was in the library.  CMSV is particularly picturesque, so I always loved snapping pictures of the campus. The library is across the road from the auditorium.  Aiming the camera at the circular window of the top floor, I said jokingly, “Smile, Sarah.”  Hours later when I was going through the images, I noticed what looked like the face of a little girl sticking her tongue out at me.

What do you think of the pictures?  Is it a trick of the light on old glass or perhaps a real ghost image?  Let me know what you think in the comments.

 

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Hayes Auditorium, College of Mount Saint Vincent
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Possible Ghost Image of Sarah – Hayes Auditorium
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Possible Ghost Image of Sarah – Hayes Auditorium

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. 

 

 

Her Daughter’s Guardian Angel

Thanks to Linda for this story!

Linda gave birth to her daughter, Amylyn, in December 1974.  Linda’s Aunt Vicky, who also happened to be her godmother, had requested to be the new baby girl’s godmother.  Linda spent seven days in the hospital after giving birth.  While she was there, Linda found out that even though there was a horrible snow storm going on, her aunt and uncle had come from Bronx, New York all the way to Connecticut to see the baby.

When Linda spoke to Aunt Vicky on the phone, she said she was annoyed that they had driven so far and had not even bothered to come and say hi to her.  Her aunt’s response was chilling.  She said that she had wanted to spend time with her new great-niece because this was the last chance that she was going to have to see her.  Linda dismissed this, saying that Aunt Vicky was going to be the godmother and that the baby would be home in a few days.  There would be plenty of time to get to know Amylyn.

Two days after they got home from the hospital, Linda’s mother was over her house when suddenly the phone rang.  Linda has psychic abilities and often has prophetic premonitions.  She gasped, telling her mother not to pick up the phone.

“It’s bad news about Aunt Vicky.”

The phone continued to ring.  The caller rang for a total of three times.  Finally, Linda’s mother said that her daughter was being ridiculous and picked up the phone.  It was Aunt Vicky’s husband on the other end of the line.  He had called to tell the family that she had committed suicide.

A couple of years passed.  Amylyn was now two years old.  One night, her parents heard her crying, so her father went upstairs to see if she was okay.  When he came back, Linda saw that he was shaking and his face was paper white.  When she asked him what was wrong, he said that he wanted to throw up and described to her what he just witnessed happening upstairs in their daughter’s bedroom.

“There’s an angel upstairs rocking our daughter to sleep.”

Linda nodded.  “Uh huh.  You’re crazy.”

“Go and see for yourself.”

Sighing, Linda went upstairs to Amylyn’s room.  She froze at the door.  Aunt Vicky’s spirit was sitting in the rocking chair, holding Amylyn in her arms.  Her husband had never met her aunt, so he didn’t know what she looked like, but Linda recognized her immediately.

When Amylyn was in her mid-twenties she had to have a hysterectomy.  Her parents and in-laws were all in the hospital waiting to see her when she came out of surgery.  During her daughter’s operation, Linda started praying to Aunt Vicky, asking her to watch over her and help her come through the procedure safely.

Fortunately, the surgery was a success.  Later on in the recovery room, Amylyn told her mother that she had had a dream when she was under the anesthesia.  Aunt Vicky had appeared by her side at the operating table.  Taking her goddaughter’s hand, she had said, “I will protect 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! 

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

When Strange Winds Blow

Thanks to Amy from West Virginia for this story!

Amy grew up with her grandparents in an old coal mining town.  Her grandfather built the house with his own hands using leftover wood from the church.  Amy’s grandfather passed away before she was born, but she heard plenty of stories about him.  A coal miner, he had also been a heavy smoker and had a reputation for being a curmudgeon.  Amy never felt her grandfather’s presence in the house while growing up, nor did she experience anything paranormal or out of the ordinary.

However, something strange did happen on the day of her grandfather’s death.  Unknown to Amy’s grandmother at the time, he had been crushed between two mining machines.  It was a terrible accident.

Amy’s grandmother was home alone when suddenly the back door flew open.  The gust of wind tore the curtains down in the living room.  When it reached the other side of the house, the front door opened inward, as if someone had pulled it open from the inside.  Then the wind exited the house and everything was still again.  Later, Amy’s grandmother discovered that this incident had occurred at the time of her husband’s death.

Amy still lives in her childhood home.  Things were fine until she did some major remodeling to modernize the place.  Every so often, a great wind blows through the house.  She has checked it out and there are no sources for these drafts.  She has also occasionally seen a shadow.  She is unsure whether the apparition’s presence makes her feel uncomfortable because of a vibe that it is giving off or if it is because of the background knowledge that she has about her grandfather.  Both Amy and her husband have sensed the spirit.  Sometimes the wind leaves the scent of tobacco in its wake, but no one in the house smokes.

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 House Next Door

Thanks to Stacia from Pennsylvania for sharing this story with me!

Stacia comes from a psychically gifted family.  They always knew that the house next door was haunted.  Former occupants had suffered from drug abuse and suicide, among other trials.  After it was abandoned, Stacia and her family would sit on their front porch and listen to the echo of the doors banging opened and closed throughout the empty house.  Their dogs refused to go anywhere near it and growling could be heard coming from inside the house.  Despite these occurrences, Stacia’s family bought the place so that they could knock it down and extend their property.

After the house had been stripped, Stacia and her three siblings went into the front room to see if they could make contact with whomever was in the house.  Standing shoulder to shoulder, they took each other’s hands.  Almost immediately, the closet doors started repeatedly slamming open and shut.  It was then that they knew that they weren’t dealing with a trapped or sad ghost, but some sort of dark presence.  They quickly exited the house.

Sometime later, Stacia returned with one of her sisters.  They brought along a cat ball toy that had a little bell inside of it to see if they could get the spirit to interact with them.  Stacia took the ball and threw it at the top of the stairs.  The laws of physics should have caused it to fall down and roll around.  Instead, the ball looked as if it was caught in mid-air by something unseen and then it dropped straight down to the ground without any movement at all.  Realizing that they must have found the entity’s location, they went upstairs to investigate.  Once again, the upstairs closet door began rapidly opening and closing of its own volition.  Stacia and her sister ran out of the house.

Stacia was in the house one more time before it was torn down.  She and her sister went down into the basement to start the demolition.  Lying on the floor was an old Maxwell House coffee can that had been cut out on both ends so that you could actually see through it.  Picking up a hammer, they started taking down a wall when a cat-like shriek sounded from their right hand side, followed by punching and banging to their left.  Whipping around, they saw the coffee can rolling along the floor by itself, as if it was being pushed by an invisible hand.

After the house was taken down, Stacia and her family had the ground blessed in an attempt to calm any remaining restless spirits.  Whatever was in the house has apparently moved into the tree that still stands on the former house’s site.  Sometimes at night, if Stacia goes too close to the tree, it will come out and chase her back to her house.  Stacia told me this story while standing by what she calls “the damn tree.”

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.