The Ghost of Season Hill
Posted: Thu Apr 07, 2011 3:51 am
Some folks in Anarcs ghost thread asked me to tell this story again. (Lost in the big crash at the other site.)
A few years ago I bought an old Antebellum farm house that was part of the Clay estate in Kentucky. The house started out as a log fort in the Indian Wars perpetrated by the British. The fort was built in 1788. The owner was killed by Injuns while he was getting water from the creek. The Clay's bought his interest and in 1792 turned the fort into the overseers house. The overseer was an ass and was killed in self defense by a young slave girl who was later acquitted by a jury of 12 white men. Henry Clays young nephew Cassius was a close friend of the girl and was devastated when his father "sold her south". It was that incident that turned Cassius to the anti slavery side.
When the house was sold to me, a disclaimer on the deed said the house was haunted. According to the real estate agent (who rented the place for a while) the ghost was a little girl who sang at the top of the stairs. My sister, who was to live in the place while I'm away, forbid me to tell her kids about the ghost.
The little ghostie proceeded to drive my sister bats. When the kids were away the ghost would pull toys out of the toy box and role them on the floor. I told her to get some jacks for the spook to play with. My sister was not amused. My mother (step mother, but she's my mom) arranged for three mediums to inspect the place. Each found the spook on the top of the stairs and said it was a small girl.
When Ash and I got married we honey mooned in the house, and Ash's sister in law asked if the place was haunted. Ash, not knowing my sister had forbid me from telling the kids said yes. My sis was about to blow her top when my niece said, "oh yes, she sings outside my door nearly every night." My sister nearly fell over, but it never bothered her after that.
A few nights later I was alone in the house in front of the fire when I thought I heard music upstairs. A few moments later I smelled a sticky sweet smell that seemed to pass by me.
Some day I will read Uncle Remus stories to her.
A few years ago I bought an old Antebellum farm house that was part of the Clay estate in Kentucky. The house started out as a log fort in the Indian Wars perpetrated by the British. The fort was built in 1788. The owner was killed by Injuns while he was getting water from the creek. The Clay's bought his interest and in 1792 turned the fort into the overseers house. The overseer was an ass and was killed in self defense by a young slave girl who was later acquitted by a jury of 12 white men. Henry Clays young nephew Cassius was a close friend of the girl and was devastated when his father "sold her south". It was that incident that turned Cassius to the anti slavery side.
When the house was sold to me, a disclaimer on the deed said the house was haunted. According to the real estate agent (who rented the place for a while) the ghost was a little girl who sang at the top of the stairs. My sister, who was to live in the place while I'm away, forbid me to tell her kids about the ghost.
The little ghostie proceeded to drive my sister bats. When the kids were away the ghost would pull toys out of the toy box and role them on the floor. I told her to get some jacks for the spook to play with. My sister was not amused. My mother (step mother, but she's my mom) arranged for three mediums to inspect the place. Each found the spook on the top of the stairs and said it was a small girl.
When Ash and I got married we honey mooned in the house, and Ash's sister in law asked if the place was haunted. Ash, not knowing my sister had forbid me from telling the kids said yes. My sis was about to blow her top when my niece said, "oh yes, she sings outside my door nearly every night." My sister nearly fell over, but it never bothered her after that.
A few nights later I was alone in the house in front of the fire when I thought I heard music upstairs. A few moments later I smelled a sticky sweet smell that seemed to pass by me.
Some day I will read Uncle Remus stories to her.