StarlightGuard's Blog

Ghost Stories All Around Me

(Sun 10/12/2008 03:22pm)

This state is replete with history. And the best way, I feel, to experience and learn this history is through ghost stories.

I have a friend in Germany who thinks a lot of these stories (i.e. all of them) are bunk. That's quite a statement from a young woman who is surrounded by an unknown amount of ghost stories from an even richer and older history than what we have here.

When and if I'm ever able, I plan to mount an air shuttle headed for Germany to tour all these haunted places, especially the castles. I'd love nothing more than to chase specters in those castles.

I've also asked her about Cologne, which is the site of the first official modern werewolf tale: Peter Stubbe. (Look it up, find a version of the tale translated into modern English. Make your own decisions on it.)

But when she came here, we toured various Frontier stops in Fort Smith. This is, as you likely already know, is where Judge Parker sentenced men to die by the noose. She and I entered the various locations and I, armed with my digital camera, was hoping to get shots of unexplainable happenings and goings on. She thought I was crazy.

There's also civil war battles that happened much further north of the old fort, up in Pea Ridge. It's said to be haunted as well, not sure about Prarie Grove though. It's been decades since I've been up that way.

There's also the haunted trolley tour in Fort Smith that goes through the, well, I guess it's a Victorian district in the older parts of Fort Smith. I've only traveled through that area once, and the roads are cobblestones I think.

There are also, of course, countless cemeteries in the area that, theoretically, could be the resting place of restless spirits. I know no tales to tell, though.

Well, that's not entirely true. I know of one, but it's a personal experience once told to me by a former practicing Wiccan girl I had the good fortune to be associated with in my French classes.

This story was told to me over seven years ago, so please remember that as the details have slipped my mind. But those are the minor details, I must point out.

You cross the river, and on the right is a rather large cemetery that runs right along the older four lane highway. As she explained to me, she was driving along one night in this old run down urban area and, for reasons I cannot remember, stopped alongside the highway at night.

How long she was there, I also cannot say. I do know a man knocked on her windows, and asked if she needed help.

She didn't.

Then he told her that a young woman shouldn't be out in a place like this after dark.

Her reply was obvious: "Then what are you doing here?"

"This is my home."

And with that he turned, walked into the graveyard, and disappeared.

There was also the almost Stephen King like nature of her life story in the house she and her family lived in when she was younger: the house was haunted by a man who hated children more than anything else, and she was the only one capable of perceiving him.

On one particularly violent night, she explained, that her unconscious sleepwalking sister came into her bedroom with a knife, with the obvious intention of doing serious harm. When her sister was brought back to consciousness, she had know idea why she was in her sister's bedroom, why she had a knife, and while shaking with fear recounted a dream that was all too similar to the actions that had just almost completely unfolded.

Another friend has been the victim of an entity we've only referred to as Bad Blood. What it is, I don't know. Why it's there, I cannot say. What it's done, well I'm sure I only know the tip of the iceberg.

I have had this experience with that mysterious force: I was at her house one afternoon, looking for the cat. My friend was in the kitchen, looking for matches that were supposed to be in that particular location.

I'm in the bedroom, and I lift up the bed to search for the cat. Instead, I find a box of matches. "That's an odd place for matches," I must've thought. So I pick them up, and carry them around the bend to the kitchen and proclaim "here's a box of matches for you. It was under your bed."

"I found the box of matches." She had lit a candle or something.

"But here they are." I handed her the box I found.

My friend looks at me like I'm crazy, and then looked to where she'd placed the box of matches she just used literally a second or two earlier. It wasn't there. She then explained "I just had those."

"I just found them under the bed."

It was weird, but that was the tame stuff from what I've heard.

When her grandfather died some years ago, she inherited his house. She moved out of that house as fast as she could and left it, essentially, abandoned save for one presence. She told me in those first few nights, waiting outside at a particular distance, was the shape of a man she knew was the same force she'd left behind at the other house.

But this house has a ring of protection around it. Natural springs, which are a source of natural magick in folklore, surround this house. The abundant woods also provide a layer of protection. And, off to the side, in the high hills and valleys that drop off very quickly before forming another hill there is a place that lightning is drawn to like a magnet, yet it is no higher than the surrounding land masses.

I mentioned in an earlier blog my experiences with defensive magick, and the abandoned house is a place where some of said magick what utilized. It was useful in knocking the power out of that entity, but couldn't make it go away completely. I told my friend she had to do it over and over, to keep building walls of protection in an effort to finally release its grip.

She refuses to set foot in that house. She even refused to simply visit for five minutes to light a few candles, spread some Holy Water, do a few rituals and then leave again. We did so once, and she sat next to one of the candles. As the flame danced on the small wick in a house devoid of any airflow, she felt that the presence was near, and no matter what we did wouldn't help one bit.

She wanted to leave then.

We blew out the candles, packed up my stuff, and left.

That entity is still there, but the complete absence of anyone has helped in one fashion: it's weakening. We could speed up that process, but she's not interested in going back.

And here's a few tales that are told over at Shadowlands, which can be found at:

http://theshadowlands.net/places/arkansas.htm