American Ghost Stories

Way down south in Georgia, in a railroad settlement on the edge of the Altamaha River Swamp, people talked about the Surrency ghost as if its reign were only yesterday. But it was more than a century ago, in the late 1870s, that the hotel of the Allen Surrency family – the family for whom the town was named- became center stage for one of the most spectacular hauntings in American history. In less than a decade, news of the strange happenings at the Surrency home had spread all across the country with thousands of journalists, scientists and curiosity-seekers pouring in to investigate.

Diaries, books, newspaper and magazine reports and hundreds of personal accounts vividly describe the unearthly activities that occurred in that house:

tables and chairs flying through the air, mirrors exploding in hallways, clocks running wild, hot bricks raining from the sky, mysterious noises ranging from sorrowful weeping to sadistic bursts of unexplained laughter.

Only a handful of oldtimers are still around who actually saw the house; fewer are alive today who witnessed the spooky manifestations before the structure went up in flames early one Sunday morning in 1912. Those who remember speak nostalgically of their town’s infamous ghost, pleased at the attention their community once received.

Phillip Dukes, who ran a local grocery store until his death in 1985, did not believe in ghosts. But in an interview with an Atlanta newspaper right before he died, the elderly Surrency native said he didn’t “doubt for a moment” the veracity of accounts handed down to him from his grandmother. “She used to spend the night at the house often, because she was Mrs.Surrency’s sister. A lot of times when she put her shoes under her bed at night, she’d wake up next morning and find them out in the hallway. That happened so many times she came to expect it every night. She never figured out what caused it, so she thought it must have been the ghost.”

The late Hershel Tillman, a longtime postal carrier for the Surrency district, was also convinced that ghosts were responsible for the haunting. As a boy he visited the Surrency house many times, but it was stories related to him by his father, uncle and other relatives that convinced him there was more to the Surrency ghost than just talk. “No doubt about it, a ghost was involved,” Tillman said. “I wasn’t old enough to understand, but the poor people who lived in that house always had trouble going to sleep once the ghost invaded the place.”

Directions: Surrency is located on Highway 341, South East of Baxley

Additional Links:

http://www.beyond-the-illusion.com/files/History/Ancient-Civilizations/bright.txt

There have been quite a few sightings of The White Screamer. Listed below are the few that have been recorded.

Occurence One

There was a man who lived on Taylor Town Road He had gone deer hunting earlier in the day and had killed a nice buck. He had gutted him and had him hanging high from a large tree in the back of his home. The guts had been placed in a wash tub and was sitting out near the woods to be disposed of later.

That night was rather cool and the man was restless; he grabbed his guitar and was sitting out on his front porch strumming quietly. He was known in the area for having some excellent coon dogs. He had them penned up behind his home as well. As he sat quietly playing the guitar, an uneasy feeling came over him. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t place what it was. He stopped playing and just sat listening. He realized there was no sound other than his breathing. The crickets and frogs and all the night creatures had stopped moving. There was dead silence. Suddenly, the dogs came running from around the back of the house. This was strange because he knew they were locked up tight. There was no way they could have gotten out. He laid his guitar down beside him, and started to get up. Upon further inspection he saw that his hunting dogs had their tails tucked under their bodies. They went straight to the opening that leads under the house. He looked in the direction from which they had come and suddenly their appeared the most horrible thing he had ever seen.

The street light illuminated a creature that was nearly as tall as the basketball goal. It had long white stringy hair. No sooner had he seen it than it let out a cry like a baby that grew in intensity. The hair on the back of his neck was standing on end. The scream was now a high pitch. The thing was after his dogs and was headed straight for him. He was frozen in fear. He tried to move but his body was as if he were paralyzed. The white creature was moving toward him slowly at first. Then his greatest fear was realized, the creature stopped and looked straight at him. At this point he knew if he didn’t move this thing would be on him in a matter of seconds.

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A well-dressed woman has been reportedly seen walking down a dark highway in the middle of the extemely dense Congaree swampland near Columbia, SC. A couple riding by passed the woman and stopped to offer her a ride. The young woman accepted the ride explaining that she was on her way to Columbia to visit her sick mother.

The couple resumed driving and talking. The wife asked the young woman a question and when she received no response she turned around and discovered that she had vanished into thin air, leaving behind a eerie vapor mist in her seat.

Hysterically, the couple drove the rest of the way to Columbia. The wife was so upset that her husband had to take her to the hospital. Remembering the address of the young woman’s destination, the husband made his way to Pickens Street. An older lady answered the door and knew immediately why he was there. He was one of many people to have picked up the woman in the swamp only to have her disappear. As it turns out, the lady from the swamp and the woman on Pickens Street were sisters. The disappearing lady from the swamp was killed in an auto accident. Every year on the anniversary of her death she appears on the swamp road where she lost her life, still trying to find her way back home.

If the passing tourist could get a good look at the General Jonathan Moulton house which is practically hidden by trees near where Drakeside road runs off the Lafayette highway in the south part of the village, they would find it a very handsome old mansion and also a very peaceful one. But 150 years ago and more, ghosts were dwelling in it — ghosts of the General and his first wife. They frightened the wits out of the servants in Col Oliver Whipple’s household (he being then the owner); and even before that, there had been a horrible affair in Moulton’s second-wedding night.

Not until the minister came and “laid” the ghosts was there any peace in the place.

Gen Moulton — or Colonel as he was until later life; how he got the “General” title doesn’t seem to be of record — Gen Moulton was a very wealthy man. He was so rich that inevitably the story was told that he had sold his soul to the Devil for gold; and when his house burned down everybody knew that the Devil had done it because Moulton had tried to trick him.

But the General built himself an even finer house (that which stands here now)[212 Lafayette Road] — and his first wife having died in 1775, he married again just a year later.

The wedding was a very gay affair, it seems. Mr. Harland Little, who with his two sisters now lives in the Moulton house, handed me a letter dated Hampton Falls, Sept. 15, 1776. It was written by Nathaniel Weare (son of Gov. Weare of the Weare house, which is still there at Hampton Falls [13 Exeter Road], and is addressed to his brother Lt. Richard, who was with the American forces at Ticonderoga. Richard was afterwards killed, and the letter came back among his possessions.

“I have not much News if any to write you,” began Nathaniel, in the way of letter-writers before and after him. “except that the Privateers continue to bring prizes from the West Indies bound to England. Col Moulton was married last week to Miss Sally Emery; had the honours of being at their Wedding which frolick lasted three days. . .”

Even while the gentry frolicked, the townsfolk talked — whispering that it was mighty suspicious about the first wife’s death . . . and now here he was marrying this handsome young woman. (The fact seems to be that he was 50 and she about 35.)

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A ghost named max stays in this house to protect it from his evil sister, who altered his will so she could inherit the building. The German’s guttural voice, groaning sounds, and shuffling footsteps have been reported by tenants for many years. Max explained his motivation at a seance arranged by the current owners.

Directions: Harrison is in north-west Virginia, at the junction of I-81 and U.S. Highway 33. The house is a private residence, at 537 Layman Ave., Harrisburg, VA 22801

Additional Links:

http://www.rootsweb.com/~varockin/HRHS/cem/dovel_stephens.htm

Source:

http://www.penguinputnam.com/Book/BookFrame/0,,,00.html?id=0142002348

In the early 1800s, John Bell moved his family from North Carolina to the Red River bottomland in Robertson County, Tennessee, settling in a community that later became known as Adams. Bell purchased some land and a large log home for his family. The Bells quickly made many friends and gained prominence in the community. John Bell acquired additional land and cleared a number of fields over the next several years.

One day in 1817, John Bell was inspecting his corn field when he encountered a strange-looking animal sitting in the middle of a corn row. Shocked by the appearance of this animal, which had the body of a dog and the head of a rabbit, Bell shot several times to no avail. The animal vanished. Bell thought nothing more about the incident–at least not until after dinner. That evening, the Bells began hearing “beating” sounds on the outside walls of their house.

These mysterious sounds continued with increased force each night. Bell and his sons often hurried outside to catch the culprit but always returned empty-handed. The noises were soon followed by more problems. The Bell children began waking up frightened and complaining of sounds much like rats gnawing at their bedposts. It wasn’t long until the children began complaining of more terrifying things–having their bed covers pulled and their pillows were tossed onto the floor by a seemingly invisible force.

As time went on, the Bells began to hear more strange noises. Only this time, they sounded like faint, whispering voices–too weak to understand–but sounded like a feeble old woman crying or singing hymns. The encounters escalated, and the Bells youngest daughter, Betsy, began experiencing physically brutal encounters with the entity. It relentlessly pulled her hair and slapped her, often leaving visible prints on her face and body for days at a time. The evil disturbances escalated over the next year to the point it was time for John Bell to share his “family trouble” with his closest friend and neighbor, James Johnston.

Johnston and his wife spent the night at the Bell home, where they were subjected to the same terrifying disturbances that the Bells had been. After having his bedcovers repeatedly removed, and being slapped, Johnston sprang out of bed, asking, “I ask you in the name of the Lord God, who are you and what do you want?” There was no response of any type, but the remainder of the night was peaceful.

As word of the Bell disturbances spread throughout the community, so did the entity’s antics. Over time, the its voice strengthened to the point it was loud and understandable. It sang hymns, quoted scripture, carried on intelligent conversation, and once quoted, word-for-word, two sermons that took place at the same time thirteen miles apart. During none of this time did anyone know who or what the entity was, or its purpose for tormenting the Red River Settlement.

Word eventually spread outside the settlement, even as far as Nashville, where one Andrew Jackson became interested.

John Bell, Jr. and Jesse Bell fought under General Andrew Jackson in the Battle of New Orleans, and had developed a good rapport with him. In 1819, Jackson got word of the disturbances at the Bell home and decided to pay a personal visit. Jackson and his entourage, consisting of several men and a large wagon, journeyed from Nashville to the Bell home. As the entourage approached the Bell property, the wagon suddenly stopped. The horses tried pulling but to no avail–the wagon simply would not move.

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The “Third Eye Man” was first spotted on November 12, 1949, on the campus of the University of South Carolina. According to school records, a strange man dressed in bright silver was sighted opening “a manhole cover on the corner of Sumter and Green Streets, directly opposite of the historic Longstreet Theatre.” At 10:43 p.m., two male students watched as this man entered the sewer portal, and diligently pulled the manhole cover into its proper position. One of the students, Christopher Nichols (class of 1953), wrote for the Gamecock and immediately spread the news of this “Sewer man” — as he was called in the article. After a few weeks, any interest in the “sewer man” died down.

Almost six months later, on April 7, 1950, this “sewer man” was spotted again. A university police officer on patrol came across two mutilated chickens behind Longstreet Theatre. Feathers and chicken parts were strewed all over the loading dock of Longstreet. Believing that this mess was left by fraternity students or some other pranksters, the officer walked back to his car to report the scene. After calling into the station, the officer returned to the loading dock only to discover a silver man huddled over the chicken pieces. Immediately, the officer turned his flashlight on this man who looked up at the cop. In the beam of the light, the officer could make out a very disturbing face, grotesque in color and shape, and in the middle of this man’s forehead, a third eye! It wasn’t a large eye, but nevertheless, there was a third eye starring back at the cop! The policeman retreated from the scene and called in back-ups. When other officers arrived on the scene, there was nothing left on the loading dock except a few scattered feathers and bones. Of course, the cop who witnessed this “third eye man” was in hysterics, and was never able to convince the other officers of what he saw.

In the late 1960’s, the “catacombs” or underground tunnels at the University, were a favorite place for students. These tunnels connect most of the University. One night in early October, a group of fraternity guys decided to take three pledges down to the tunnels for a challenge. Entering the tunnels from the basement of Gambrell, the group of guys headed west towards the horseshoe. As they rounded the first corner, they were met by a “crippled looking man dressed all in silver” (according to police reports). This bizarre looking man charged at the students with a lead pipe, and suddenly the frat boys realized that this was no prank. One of the pledges, Matthew Tabor, was knocked to the ground by the creature, and suffered “minor cuts and minor shock.” Two of the older boys immediately went to the police department, and that evening, the first “third eye man-hunt” took place. After hours of searching the tunnels, the police came up with nothing. However, they did take precautions by sealing off most of the entrances to the catacombs, and by declaring the tunnels off-limit to any person, student, or faculty member.

According to one of the maintenance men who still works at the University today, “we don’t use the tunnels unless it is absolutely necessary.” There have been several sightings in the late 80’s and early 90’s, though most were dismissed by the University Police force. Those who are adventurous enough to climb down into the tunnels risk being suspended from school. Students WILL find a way into the catacombs from time to time, but there is always the possibility that they will come face-to-face with the ominous third eye man.

Our story begins in the mountains of North Carolina, just south of Asheville in the town of Fletcher. Two young lovers had just gotten married when the War Between the States broke out, and the young man went north with a small band of Confederates to join the army.

Late one night soon afterwards, the new bride received a knock on her door. Dread filled her heart as she opened the door, and her worst fears were realized as she saw on her doorstep one of the young men her husband had gone off with to war, now barely recognizable through his bandages. The soldier handed her a letter her husband had written just a few days previously, as well as the Confederate cape that her husband had worn into battle, her husband’s sole possession at his death. Inconsolable, she took to wearing the cape where ever she went, and died of a broken heart just a few months later.

Her spirit made its first appearance back in 1865, when she led a troop of yankees into an ambush near the town. The yankees had followed her along the road near the Calvary Episcopal Church, which was known to be used as housing by the Confederate soldiers. Though the yankees were soundly routed from the town, the retreating union soldiers were given orders to locate the young woman in order that she might be prosecuted for her treachery. While they had no luck, the soldiers may not have searched all that long, as the survivors of the ambush reported that the woman in question just vanished in front of their eyes as soon as the Confederate troops opened fire.

Townspeople said she acted in revenge of her husband’s death, and they say that she can still be seen out on the road near the church, her Confederate cape draped around her shoulders.

Directions: Take Exit 50 off of I-40 in Asheville, so that you are headed South on Highway 25, AWAY from the Biltmore House. The exit for 25A (to bypass Skyland), headed south, will work too, but I forgot to write that exit number down, sorry. Anyway, about 8.5 miles south on Highway 25, also called Hendersonville Road, you’ll cross over into Henderson County, and you’ll see a traffic light just ahead. The Calvary Episcopal Church is on your left just before you get to the light. The light is at the intersection of Hendersonville Road and Old Airport Road, and as you’ll realize if you go, neither road is a terribly good place to try riding a horse these days….

The Story of the Fletcher Church Ghost

Additional Links: http://ncghosts.batcave.net/fletcher.htm

There are many different versions of this story. The first tale relates to the Payne Plantation, one of the largest homesites in the area. The plantation owner, Mr. Payne built the place on a valley with steep hills on all sides, and the mansion was situated on the north hill so that he could overlook the entire plantation. Slave shacks scattered the hillsides, and a creek ran through the center of the valley supplying water to the entire plantation.

A small chapel was located 250 yds and 45 degrees to the right of the mansion, and the main field was located 900 ft directly in front of the mansion. The slave shacks were located about 100 degrees to the right of the mansion, and then 200 yds in front of the house lay a small bridge, just large enough for one carriage.

This first story goes that Payne, the father of four girls, was an extremely racist man. The girls grew up isolated from the outside world due to Payne’s over-protectiveness. They grew to despise their father as well as to despise his cruelty to his slaves. Payne eventually learned that his oldest daughter was pregnant by one of his own slaves, and Payne quite literally lost his mind. He cursed the Lord and turned to devil-worship, brutally sacrificing the slave to the evil now within him. Then just a few months later, he learned that his youngest daughter was also pregnant by one of his slaves, and he then cracked once and for all. Payne brutally sacrificed that slave and began to storm through the shacks with anything he could lay his hands on, everything from sticks to muskets to farm tools. Then, in his maddening rage, he murdered his own family. Soon afterwards he burned just about his entire plantation, killing almost all of the remaining slaves. This is supposedly why the trees on Payne Road are so young and the grave stones are charred.

The second story is that of a 1933 or 1936 Ford, 3-window hot rod. The driver wrecked on Payne Road on the second to last curve, the sharpest, at almost 180 degrees. The curve is also located 45 degrees to the right of the old mansion site, in the same spot of the chapel (where Payne once worshipped Satan) stood. The driver is said to have died a slow death as bystanders stood by helplessly, watching the flames consume his car.

Many people today claim to see the rounded lights of the Ford following their car on Payne road all the way to the old chapel site, only to disappear as they cross over the bridge.

Another story simply tells of a man who lived in an old farm house on the site with his wife and four children back in the early 1800s. Yes, yes, obviously this story conflicts somewhat with the aforementioned Payne plantation.

One night, after once again arguing bitterly with his wife, the husband decided that the root of all his marital problems stemmed from his children. So he bound his wife to a chair in front of the fireplace and gagged her. He selected his biggest carving knife, then brought the oldest girl downstairs. “Kiss your mother goodnight” he told her, and as she did he went behind the girl with the knife. He then dispensed with his children one by one in this manner, finally going upstairs to get his last child, his infant daughter. But as he looked down at the little girl, he realized he couldn’t bring himself to slit her throat like he had done the others. So he decided instead to throw her down the well in back of the house. As he walked out the back door, the mother finally worked her way free of her restraints. She jumped up and ran out the front door, down the road, and grabbed her baby daughter from her husband’s grasp. Unfortunately, however, her husband managed to catch up to her at the bridge and neatly lopped her head off with his knife. Then did away with his daughter as he’d planned and finally grotesquely, he hung himself at the bridge.

Supposedly, if you go to the bridge, stop your car and whistle “Dixie” (you’ve got to love these North Carolina ghost stories), you will soon make out the shape of the murdered woman’s ghost approaching your car, holding her head in her hands. And your car will not start when you try to restart it. Plus, if you walk up to the back of the house, you can hear the cries of a baby coming from the old well.

The last story involving an old barn where kids used to go to “watch the sailboat races” (I mean this figuratively!! and if you still don’t get it, come back when you’re older, dang it!). One prom night two kids didn’t come home after the party, and friends told their folks that they’d gone out to the old Payne Road barn. The parents drove down and saw the boy’s car parked outside. When they went in, they found the teenagers hanging from the rafters, still in their formal attire.

Directions:

You’ll need to get to Rural Hall, a small town just north of Winston-Salem. In the middle of Rural Hall, Route 66 intersects with Route 65. From that intersection, begin traveling North on Route 66. You won’t go 2/10ths of a mile before you cross the railroad tracks, and immediately after the tracks you’ll see Edwards Road on the right (a little further up 66 you’ll see the new section of Payne Road on the right as well, but, like I said, don’t bother with it). Once you’re on Edwards Road, just follow along with the story above, but drive carefully! The roads are steep and with plenty of curves.

Additional Links: http://ncghosts.batcave.net/payne.htm

As the story goes, three teenage boys were ran over by a logging truck on an empty stretch of road about twenty miles south of Charleston. The boys were buried behind a Baptist Church located along the same road. It is said that if you knock on the church door three times, and say “We want to see the lights” then repeat this process three times, the lights will appear to you on the stretch of road.

A newcomer to the area was told of the lights, and became curious to see them for himself, or to see if there was any truth in the story. So one night he went to the church with some friends at about 11:30pm. He went through the whole knocking procedure, and then they all went back out to the road to wait for the lights. There were several cars already parked on the side of the road, and a few came out of the church-yard after they did. About 12:30am, his friends in the car, all started freaking out. At the same time, the cars in front of them all took off. He looked up the road, and saw only what appeared to be a car (from a distance, the two headlights of a car appeared to the one light – this “one light” was what he saw). He yelled “It’s just a car”. His friends were visibly shaken. The guy in the passenger side just pointed down the road toward the light. He looked again, and this time almost wet his pants. The light had separated, not into two lights, but into three lights. The were lined up side by side, like three motorcycles getting ready to race. After that, they got out of there quick!

Additional Links:

http://www.hauntedamerica.com/ghost/sc/sc_ravenel.htm