Archive for the ‘Ghost Stories’ Category

As we come to the close of October and Ghost Month, I’m leaving you with a little story that still sends a row of goosebumps up my spine.

Christmas Eve was an exciting time for my mother Joan and her brother Eddie.  Even though the family didn’t have a lot of money, somehow their father Robert always managed to find enough for the holiday.  Robert enjoyed spending all day on Christmas Eve shopping in town for his family.   When he arrived at home he was always in jolly good cheer *wink*, after spending the day in the stores and sharing his *cheer* with friends and family along the way.

Robert Rowland

My mother and her brother could hardly contain themselves as they waited for their father to return home every Christmas Eve.  His routine was the same, year after year and he always came home at the same time – just in time for a Christmas Eve supper.  One year, sometime around 1950 they became worried.  Robert didn’t show up.  It was getting later and later – the supper my grandmother spent all day preparing got cold – and Gertrude was about to fetch someone to go looking for him. (more…)


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This is a repost of a story that was published back in early July.  We have many new subscribers who might like to take a peek at it for our spooky season.

To view the photographs of the people mentioned in this story follow this link:  Rowland Family Photographs

The Pipestem Ghost Comes out of the Closet

  -told by Hertha Rowland

Granddad Bob, Kelly and Baz were working for the Ritter Lumber Company operation at Pipestem to cut a boundary of timber.  The boarding house was near the lumber yard.  I believe Charlie Garten was the person in charge of the boarding house.  The men lived there during the week and many of the men went home on the weekends.

Granddad Bob shared a room with Ed Pastor.  It was in the fall of the year and a very dry season.  When Granddad Bob would be awake at night he would always look out the window to check for fire in the lumber yard.  This particular night, he raised up in bed to look out the window and check for a possible fire.

When he laid down, he was looking toward a closed closet in the corner of the room.  Out of the closet came a woman wearing a dust cap and long gown.  The ghost floated between the beds, passing threw the window.  Granddad Bob said “Ed, did you see that?”  Ed replied “YES” and dived under the covers. 

Granddad Bob wasn’t the only one who witnessed strange events from this particular boarding house.  Basil said you could set your watch by the knocking noise.  Every night at 9pm there would be three knocks in the front of the house, then three knocks in the center and three knocks at the rear.   He described the knocks as if someone had dropped a bag of shelled corn and you could hear the grains of corn sliding down in the bag.

Uncle Kelly and several other men decided they would talk to the ghosts.  They entered one of the empty rooms to (more…)

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Joe Cook could tell a story.  He couldn’t just tell a story, he could calm an entire house full of rowdy children when he told his stories.  The thing was…. Joe wasn’t telling stories, he was telling about his life.  I wish now, I had listened to him a little more carefully.

What a colorful life he had running up and down the ridges around Pipestem and Lerona. For Joe, his brothers and the multitude of Farley, Ellison and Keaton cousins, Pipestem park and the areas surrounding it were their own private playground.   Many times, sitting around his dining room table in Princeton, I would listen – completely absorbed as he told the stories of ducking into tree trunks or sliding down a holler just in time to avoid the “law” who were trying to find his family jewel.  Of course, in the case of the Cook and Farley families, the jewel (more…)

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The stake in the grave

There’s a chill in the air on the east coast, darkness is beginning just a little earlier – pumpkins, ghouls, corn stalks and a few ghosts are gracing the front yards of my neighborhood.  What a perfect time to start off Ghost month with a few of our treasured tales handed down from generation to generation.  Don’t be shy!  Jump right in and post your own stories!  Especially you Marcheta – I know you have some great ones.

I’m going to start off with a story I heard for the first time just last week.  It was told to me by Barbara Ford Butler.  I may get some of it wrong and it might be embellished a little but hey – it’s a ghost story, anything goes!

Many years ago on a dark and misty night near the top of Bent Mountain, the Ford children, who lived in the Old Home Place at the time, were startled awake by the frantic screams of someone yelling “Help Me, They Done Got Me!”.  As you know, the Old Home Place was located  (more…)

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