I think we should tell spooky ghost stories. Or maybe even some not so spooky ghost stories. I’ll start with this: it appears we may have a ghost in our back yard.
I know, I know. It’s not much of a spooky story, but it just started yesterday.
I do, however, have some stories from Octobers past to remind you of.
Here’s the spooky story of my trip to Rhode Island.
Here’s a spooky story about the Stones River Battlefield.
Here’s a spooky story about a house my parents lived in. And part two.
Here’s a story about the ghosts of the Civil War.
Here’s a spooky story for my conservative fans.
So what I’m saying is that I’ve done my part, people of Earth. Now it’s your turn. Give me the willies.
Bonus points if you a.) know a story about Fisk or b.) know a story involving libertarians.
Tiny Cat Pants 
My hometown existed Pre-Civil war. And about a stones throw from my parents house, were 2 houses – one that was the oldest in town. Beside it, to the left was one of those large antebellum style houses that Mississippi is famous for.
The owner of the house, I’ll call him Mitchell, was one of those whacked out people that because of money are instead labeled “eccentric.” He had inherited it from his grandmother after her passing. I think 6 generations of his family had lived in the house. Almost all of those relatives had died in the house, and their funerals held within the home.
The house had sat empty for years when my parents built their house in ’77. I was 2 or 3 at the time. Work was done on the house for a few years, a kitchen and a few other rooms added to the back of the house, and then finally the family moved in.
As the daughter was a year younger than me, we ran around and played in the neighborhood together.
For years, I heard the ghost stories that were part of the old house.
One of the first incidents happened to a worker. On the third level of the house, was an attic with a single light bulb hanging from a wire. One day he was up there, and the light bulb started swinging on it’s own. The windows didn’t open… it was a hot, still summer day. The worker left and refused to enter the house ever again.
Like all old houses, this one had wood floors, and if a step was made in one part of the house, you could hear the sound all over the home. The primary entrance used was that of the door on the back of the house that entered into the newly built kitchen addition. The front door was rarely if ever used. Most of the time, it remained locked. Not long after the family moved in, the wife was in the house alone, in the kitchen. She heard the front door open, footsteps go up the stairs, and into the room on the back right hand side of the house. She called out for each member of her family. No one answered. She walked up and no one was in the house.
Then, there were the times when the family woke up in the morning to find the phone stretched all the way across the kitchen – it was one of those long telephone cords that was always tangled into a large knot when the phone was hung up.
In each room of the house, was a fireplace – as this was the only way to heat a home this large in the time it was built. A few original items were in the house – one of which was a glass doll about 6 to 8 inches in height, that sat on the daughter’s mantel, on the 3rd level, about 7 to 8 feet from the floor. The doll came apart at the waist to where the owner could place trinkets in the hollowed out portion of the hoop skirt. On more occasions than could be counted, my friend woke up to find the doll sitting in the floor of her room, the top and bottom half separated and the trinkets she had placed inside scattered on the floor.
There were also some old “granny boots”, cream in color, that sat in the front bedroom of the house – the boots had been part of the great-grandmother’s wedding attire. For years, they would find the boots thrown out into the front hallway of the house.
I don’t know if I could have lived in a house with all that activity, but the attitude of the family was that they were among relatives and didn’t feel threatened.
We lived with ghosts when we were in base housing in Nebraska.
One of them was a little girl who would come to our bedroom door in the middle of the night asking for her parents. Hubby and I both saw her several times. Neither of us mentioned it because we thought it was a dream — until we mentioned the dream and realized we’d had the SAME dream several times.
We also had ghosts downstairs that would turn on lights when we weren’t home. Our schedules were such that we left the house and returned at different times. Often one of us would leave first and return first — so we assumed the other person neglected to turn off a particular light. it wasn’t until I asked him to make sure he turned it off that he said he was — because he thought that on other days I’d been leaving it on… turns out we’d both been turning it off and finding it on when we came home.
The downstairs ghost also opened the front door on occasion — which was really annoying, as it happened in the winter. We ended up asking the ghost, in the most polite terms, not to do those things — and they stopped.
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I can’t remember if I told you this one or not at some point, so here goes:
I was born 10 months after my grandmother (my mother’s mother) died, so not only did i never meet her, I wasn’t even an embryo yet during her lifetime.
Fast forward to when I was 13. My mother and I were visiting her father, and she found some ceramic Christmas tree ornaments that Grandma had made in a drawer. No one remembered seeing them before. They appeared to be unfinished — they had been fired unglazed, and a few had been begun to be painted, but most had not.
In the course of cleaning them, my mother discovered each had a name inscribed in the back, one for Grandma, one for each daughter or daughter-in-law, one for each female grandchild. There were a few with no names, presumably for grandchildren yet to come.
And there was one with my name.
I know you’ve heard this one before, but this is my standard spooky story to share.
One of the years I was in college (not at Fisk so no bonus points) my dorm room was in a big old house, and as is required for big old houses that become dorms, there were several vague stories circulating about how and why it was haunted. The only story I remember about the why was that a husband and wife lived there with their only child and when the wife and child died from some illness, the husband moved away and left the house empty for a long time. I’m not sure if there’s any truth to that.
The room that I stayed in was supposed to be haunted, and people who had lived there seemed pretty convinced of that fact. I felt a little uneasy about it, but I made my uneasy peace with it. I didn’t look in the huge mirror that was original to the house after the lights were out and if I felt really uneasy I listened to music on headphones when I went to sleep. I was convinced if anything happened it would be at night, once the lights were out, so I had this little agreement in my mind that if I wasn’t looking at anything scary and was listening to music, nothing was going to happen and if it did I wouldn’t notice.
I had an internship at a government office near the school that semester, so I had to dress up three days a week. Both my roommates had early classes on those same three days (the Monday, Wednesday, Friday thing you get a lot at school) so I had the room to myself those mornings. One morning, I walked back into the part of the room to get ready. I opened my top dresser drawer and noticed I had two pairs of nylons. One was black and one was the color they like to call nude. They were both on the top layer of stuff in the top left corner of the drawer. I took out the nude pair and put it on the dresser and then I closed the drawer. Then, I turned around, went into the closet, and pulled out the skirt and blouse I wanted to wear. I walked back to the dresser to hang then from one of the drawers and finished getting dressed.
That’s when I noticed the nylons weren’t on top of the dresser anymore. They weren’t on the floor, around it, or anywhere in that part of the room. I looked all over several times, because I had put them on the dresser and they were nowhere to be seen. The dresser was flat, so I didn’t see how they could fall off, it was February so the windows were closed so there couldn’t have been wind, and it wasn’t like there was a windy heat vent there. It seemed like it would have taken a lot of wind to push nylons anyway. I hadn’t heard anyone come in, and if they had I couldn’t see why they’d want my nylons. I looked over at the door, but it was still locked, and you couldn’t lock it from the outside without a key and I hadn’t heard anyone come in, or a key in the lock.
I decided I’d better wear the black ones, so I opened the drawer but they weren’t there either. I couldn’t make any sense of it, but I decided it must be a day for pants and socks so I pulled a pair of socks out of the top layer of stuff in the back right corner of the drawer. That’s when I found both pairs of nylons, under several layers of socks in the back right corner of the drawer, opposite from where I kept them.
So, apparently, if anything besides me was there, it wanted the nylons back in the dresser on the bottom in the opposite corner of where I kept them. The whole thing was kind of freaky, but not frightening so after that I stopped avoiding the mirror and listening to music to fall asleep. I figured I’d passed the initiation and if there was anything there, we could be cool with each other and leave it at that.