Episode 42…The Trippers’ Haunted Agenda

 

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Episode 42…The Trippers’ Haunted Agenda

A few days before their big summer adventure, the Trippers get out the big board and set their agenda out.

After talking for a few about Christopher Balzano’s recent legend trip in the Myakka River State Park, he and Natalie Crist argue about the best way to go about tripping the locations picked out for their Summer18 trip.

They discuss the ghosts in Astor, DeLand, Silver Springs, and Oviedo. They also establish their first contest with the prize being a valued copy of Haunted Objects.

You can follow the trip at #TOLSummer18 and #hauntedlove.

You can contact us with questions, comments, and your favorite legend or tidbit of folklore at spookytripping@gmail.com.

We’re still knee deep in the #hauntedlove project, so we’re especially looking for ghost stories with a love twist.

Listen to the episode…

Keep visiting the site for the trip log of our travels and other urban legends at:
www.trippingonlegends.wordpress.com

Follow us at: www.facebook.com/trippingonlegends

Twitter: @naynaymyfriend @SpookyBalzano

Instagram: @SpookyTripping

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Episode Page Episode 16…How Pukwudgies got Wikied

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Episode 16…How Pukwudgies got Wikied

In preparation for their summer trip, Natalie Crist and Christopher
Balzano look into the origins of the Pukwudgie legend.

puk7Now one of the most popular figures in the supernatural world, Balzano goes into his early research into the legend and how it came to grow and become what it is today. They explore some of the early references before tackling some of the errors in the lore that have
twisted in recent years.

 

In fact, since the beginning of Tripping on Legends, the creature has been making guest appearances from time to time, from an odd story coming out of Astor, Florida, to a potential transformation into an animal in Indiana.

Watch an interview with a recent Pukwudgie experience in Indiana…

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Excuse the section on Harry Potter…something unseen decided to chime in and was caught on tape.  See if you can figure out what it’s saying.

If you hear more than we do, e-mail us at spookytripping@gmail.com.

Keep visiting the site for the trip log of our travels and other urban
legends at: www.trippingonlegends.wordpress.com

Follow us at: www.facebook.com/trippingonlegends

Twitter: @naynaymyfriend @SpookyBalzano
Instagram: @SpookyTripping

 

Little Brothers and Little Cars

This story is more than ten years old, and although I have picked it up several times and tried to get it right, this is the first time I think I have done it justice.  One day in the summer of 2007 I received a phone call from a crying woman.  She lived in a nearby town and wanted to share her story with me.  I remember sitting on the toilet in the bathroom, the only place you could smoke in our apartment, and writing down what she was saying frantically.  The call was over an hour, most of the time spent with her trying to convince me she wasn’t crazy and that everything she said was true.  The way she relayed the details and the emotion in her voice gave me no doubt she believed the events had happened.  

I asked to call her back the next day and follow up on some of the details.  She agreed but never picked up the phone again or returned my messages.  It seems that like her brother who had died the year before, she needed to get it out and then move on.

 

Brother and sister relationships are never easy. They can be as varied and complex as the people who are involved in them. The seesaw exists between those moments you want to kill them and those moments you’ll defend them with your life. You compete for the attention of you parents and spend quiet moments whispering about how to get one over on them. Through it all, in most cases, is an undying love built on shared experiences, close proximity, and a whitewashing of battle scars smoothed over by adulthood and the medicine only time can provide.

There is no doubt that Emily loved her brother Greg even though age had done nothing to encourage him to become responsible or take anything seriously. She had spent most of her life coloring within the lines and making sure she arrived 15 minutes early for every appointment. He spent his time making sure he didn’t have appointments. “I was always jealous of him,” remembers Emily. “He just didn’t care. Everything came easy to him because he had no pressure to do anything right, or do anything the way people thought you should do it. He just blew in like a tornado, made everyone laugh and cheer, and then blew out. But never on time.”

She remembers one time as a teenager when her car broke down a mile off the highway. She called him from a pay phone and he said he was on his way. After an hour of waiting for him, she called again and woke him up. He had hung up the phone and fallen asleep. When he finally arrived over an hour later he had stopped off at a local donut shop to get her a dozen of her favorites before picking her up. They laughed and ate the whole way home, and she totally forgot he had arrived so late and had taken a nap before picking her up.

“Everyone loved him. They knew he couldn’t be relied on for anything or to not loan him money if you wanted it back, but his spirit infected everyone he met. You just couldn’t help smiling when he was around, and when he wasn’t you swore about him up and down.” By the time she had married and had her first child, Greg had found his calling as a mechanic but has done nothing to become more responsible outside of work. Her son, Jeff, was the pride and joy of Greg’s life. “You knew he would eventually get married, but it was not something he looked for. He was a bit too irresponsible to be a good dad. He was a great uncle.”

Near perfect, says Emily. He still would forget to show up to birthday parties or make plans to join them at the beach and then never make it. When the two boys were together, they were inseparable, but Greg was still too much of a free spirit to write down the appointments and Jeff was too young to have expectations of his uncle being there. As he grew up, however, the young boy began to ask where his favorite relative was when the family would get together.
That’s what made his seventh birthday party so special. They were having some of his friends and the whole family over for a big barbecue, and Jeff had asked for a confetti cake with chocolate frosting because he knew it was his uncle’s favorite.

“I begged my brother for two things; get to the party on time and make sure he had a present. I even offered to get one and put his name on it. He laughed. He said he already had one bought and wrapped, which I knew had to be a lie. It was a week before the party and my brother never got anything ahead of time. He’d just show up with something he picked up on the way, unwrapped with the price tag still on it. No matter what it was, it was Jeff’s favorite gift. I remember that used to piss me off. There was no thought behind it. He just knew the exact thing that would make him happy and always seemed to find it on the road between where he was and my house. Of course, part of it was that Uncle Greg had bought it.”

The Saturday before the party she called him at home to make sure he remembered the barbecue was the next day. She joked she would come and pick him up, and he could spend that night at her place so he wouldn’t be late. He said he had some things to do that night, but he promised he would be there.

When her phone rang a little after 1:00 am that night she had just gotten to sleep after cooking for the party the next day and finishing some last minute wrapping of her son’s gifts. It took her a while to fully understand what her mother was saying on the other end of line.

“He was always a crazy driver. We all thought he would die in an accident because he drove too fast and too crazy. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that though.” Coming home from a friend’s house after a night of poker, Greg was hit by a teenager who ran a red light and was killed on impact. He had not been drinking or driving recklessly, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The next day most of the family walked around like zombies, tired from staying up all night to handle the details of the accident and stricken with grief. They had thought to cancel the party, but rationalized that Greg would have wanted them to celebrate his favorite person in the world. “I felt like he was there with us. I knew it was in my head, but I felt he was with us. ” Jeff asked where his uncle was, and Emily told him he had been called into work and might be there later. He was visibly disturbed by it, but asked them to save him plenty of cake.

Emily’s idea that her brother was in the house might have been an abstract idea, something more like his spirit was in their hearts and minds, but when she tried to light the candles on the birthday cake, the idea became a little more concrete. When she lit one candle, it would go out like someone was blowing it out. When she almost got them all lit, something unseen blew them out again, except they went out one by one. “It was just the kind of crap he would pull. He was always doing those little brother annoying pranks to get under my skin. Never anything too bad, just little things that would make you laugh thinking about them after. But the candles blew out one at a time. There’s no way the wind or something else would put them out like that.”

She finally laughed and told her brother to stop it. She was then able to light them without any trouble. Like her son had asked, when everyone was gone and he was put to bed, she took one slice and left it out for her brother to let him know how much everyone was thinking about him. The next morning the cake was gone, and no one in the family every confessed to having eaten it or having thrown it away.

The next few days were full of plans, and Emily found some comfort in that. Instead of crying herself to sleep and grieving her brother, she threw herself into handling all of the details of his wake and funeral. She spent time carefully writing his obituary and making reservations at his favorite restaurant for a get together after the burial. She deflected Jeff’s questions about why she seemed so sad and where Uncle Greg was. She finally sat her son down Wednesday morning to explain to him as best she could that he would not be able to Uncle Greg anymore.

“How do you explain that to a seven year old. I tried my best, but I know I fumbled it. I was not in a place to tell him. I knew I had to, but I didn’t do it right.” Her son just stared at her and walked away. By the time she dropped him off for school he seemed to have come to terms with it and said he would miss his uncle as he kissed her goodbye and got out of the car.

That day was another storm filled with details and plans and running around town trying to make sure everything was just perfect for the wake and funeral. By that night she had run herself ragged, and when she got home late that night she found her husband had put Jeff to bed and fallen asleep himself. She slumped in the chair and opened a bottle of wine and allowed herself to really think about her brother and how he was now gone.

“I was having my own personal wake for him, remembering some of the dumb things he did over the years.” Between the wine and the running around over the last three days, she closed her eyes and started to fall asleep.

“I can tell you, as clearly as I am talking right now, that phone did not ring. I was right next to it, and it would have woken me up. That phone did not ring. ” Instead her sleep was broken by the beep of the answering machine. She had one new message.

“It was his voice. I could barely hear it, but it was his voice. He was laughing, that stupid laugh he used to do when he had done something wrong and I was called on it. I remember he called me ‘Em.’ He never called me that unless he was trying to keep me from getting mad at time.” Time has changed some of the details of that week for her. She doesn’t remember most of the things that were said to her by people consoling her or what kind of flowers were at the funeral. She does however, clearly remember what her brother said to her in that fifteen second phone message.

“Em, I told you. It’s in the closet near the front door. I told you.”

Emily still cries when she says the words, even all these years later. “He told me it was in closet. I had no idea what he meant, but I knew it was him.” When she went to listen to the it again, the machine said there were no messages. She rewound the tape and tried to play it again, but it was gone.

The next day was the day of the wake. She had taken the day off of work to settle some details but still dropped Jeff off at school. Her brothers words continued to play on her mind until she could not longer ignore them. She stopped by her brother’s apartment and used her key to get in. The place was a mess, just how she imagined her bachelor brother would have lived. She knew it would be her job in the coming days to go through his possessions and clean the place up, but today she was only concerned with the closet.

“When I opened up the door it was on top of a bunch of blankets. He had done the worst job of wrapping it, but there it was with a little name tag made from the leftover wrapping paper and a bag of Skittles taped to it.”

She sat down in the middle of the apartment and cried, talking to her brother and thanking him for the present. Thinking back on it years later she felt she was talking to the air. For the first time since the birthday party she didn’t feel the presence of her brother with her. “He had done the last thing he needed to do. Right there I felt he had moved on.”

Jeff didn’t fully understand what was happening at the wake. Instead of spending time in the room with the casket and the crying relatives, he mostly stayed in the room attached to it where people signed the book and went out to take a breather. The whole time he played with his new Matchbox stunt track and four shiny new cars, a present from his favorite uncle and munched on candy. When people would ask him what it was he would stop and hold up the cars, bragging that Uncle Greg had bought it and had worked on a car like the one he was holding up.

“It was the perfect gift. It was what the two of them shared. They loved to talk cars and play with those damn things. Whenever I stepped on one I knew it was a 50/50 chance Greg had left it there on the floor. He was like a kid sometimes, but that’s what you had to love about him.”

 

The Lady in White

This story appeared, although a little differently, in my first book Ghost Adventures.  As a few more details have come out over the years, as well as being further removed from the situation, I’m now able to reveal that this story takes place in my old house.  The people involved are my parent, but I had changed their names in an attempt to avoid that old idea that peole who look into ghost stories ALWAYS have stories that involve their experiences.

Linda and Leo lived in their Goffstown, New Hampshire, home for eighteen years.  Located in a rural section outside of Manchester, it seems the ideal sight for something supernatural to happen, but it wasn’t until the death of a close family member that they were visited by a mysterious and comforting presence.

IMG_E4678“It wasn’t her.  Even when she was young, Millie had a chubby face.  Always had that heavy look.    She was dainty.”

Shortly after the death of Leo’s aunt, Linda was lying on the couch in the den when she felt someone in the room with her.  After a few seconds she looked up to see a young woman dressed in white standing at the doorway, looking up with a blank expression.  “She looked like she was lost and she didn’t realize what was going on.”  After a few minutes, the woman moved a little backwards and disappeared.

Linda described the woman as all in white, wearing a nightgown of see-through linen.  She was in her thirties, was of average height, with long curl red hair that came out the bottom of a scarf or something else on her head.  Linda most remembers the expression on her face, “like she was just passing through,” and the fact she could see through her.

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The location of the stain…and me back in my rock and roll days.

Over the next year and a half Linda saw the woman about ten more times, always at night, always at the doorway of her den.  “I would stare at her.  I would try to figure out what she was doing there and then she’d be gone.”  Linda says there was nothing that would preface the woman arrival and it happened during any season.  She would just appear.  The woman never tried to talk to Linda.  In fact, Linda says the woman never seemed to see her there and never tried to interact in any way.  She does say that the appearance of the ghost was comforting and soothing.

Linda had had other experiences but she had explained them away.  Once, when her husband was in trouble while taking a trip in West Africa, she had sensed something was wrong and, “sent my guardian angel to help him.”  When he arrived home safe he said he had felt something at the moment she had sent it.  Then there was the mysterious stain on their ceiling that remained although they painted over it several times, bleached it and investigated to find no pipes or trails of water leading to it.

Leo, who is in security, is much more of a cynic and still has trouble explaining away his experiences with the woman in white.  He saw her several times, at the foot of his bed and in the same den and his description of the woman is the same.  She never looked at time but stared straight ahead, with a blank expression, and then be gone in a few seconds.  He doesn’t like to talk about it.  Neither Leo nor Linda mentioned it to until they moved to Nashua, New Hampshire, two years after the appearances started.

Village-Augustina-Postcard-2.pngBoth feel if they had not moved, the woman in white would still visit them.  This leads me to believe the spirit must have something to do with the sight.  When Leo and Linda moved in the house was only two years old.  The first owners have moved out shortly after moving in, but Linda claims it was not under any unusual circumstances.  Before that, the land was undeveloped and owned by a local Catholic school.  The school had a convent which housed several dozen nuns although over the years their numbers have reduced.

goffstownCould one of the nuns who enjoyed walking in the woods behind her convent still remain tied to the land?  Linda feels this might be a good explanation, but is quick to dismiss the head piece as a habit, or the woman, while comforting, as particularly religious.

The current owner of the house says the only trouble with the house has been trying to plow the rock driveway in the winter during their early years there.  They have added a garage to the property and have nothing but good things to say about the property.

The Backroom

Back in the day I posted stories of my experiences or rumors I heard about haunted locations throughout the state.  Eileen (I’m pretty sure that’s not her real name, but more than 15 years later I have a hard time remembering what it might actually be) e-mailed me concerned over strange experiences she was having that she had no real frame of reference for.  It was my first time talking to someone who was coming to me for help, and it was a trial by fire to get to the heart of what was happening while trying to confort her and help her understand what might be going on.

 

Eileen belongs to a generation that sees the paranormal as fiction.  Ghosts are fine for the movies and eerie stories on Halloween, but the only true spirit is the Holy Spirit and tales of demons and things that go bump in the night are more cautionary tales for people who invite bad things to happen to them.  She believes there are powers that cannot be explained, but if it happens to you then you wanted it to or it is a sign that something is wrong with you.  That is what her Catholic upbringing taught her, and that is what she believed until she started to experience things that challenged what she felt about the other realm.

Eileen moved into her three family duplex in Chelsea 23 years ago with her small daughter and husband.  Almost immediately she experienced things.  The first night she had trouble sleeping and sat awake next to her husband.  She was beginning to dose off when she noticed a figure in the room.  Although there was no sound a dark shadow figure moved into the room and to her husband’s side of the bed.  Although she could make out no features on the form, she got the feeling it was female as it bent over, picked up her husband’s pants and went through the pockets.

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Although Eileen noticed something odd about the feeling of the house, it was not until her three year old daughter began to tell her there was a ghost in her room that Eileen started to get suspicious and remember that first night.  She would run from her room screaming, Ghost in room.”  Soon after her daughter developed an imaginary friend named Ekky who spent four or five years with them until she “moved to Florida”.  Eileen did not think too much of it because she understood it was normal and healthy for a child to have such friends.  Over the years her daughter would bring up the subject of the ghost in a nonchalant way, Eileen believes mainly because people did not believe her and Catholic did not believe in such things.

But other unusual things happened.  Items would disappear and things would be misplaced and Eileen would tell herself it was her own fault.  She had just forgot where she put it down.

Eileen’s daughter entered her late teens and she became more and more uncomfortable in the room.  She refused to sleep sometime, never saying why, but it was clear there was something there she did not like.  Once when she was twenty she went to sleep in her mother’s room.  When they woke in the morning there was a cat at the foot of the bed although they did not own a cat and the house was locked up and secure.  They opened the door and shoed the cat out with a broom.

IMG_4281.JPGIn 2002 Eileen moved into her daughter’s old room and the occurrences began to happen more and more.  One time she woke up to find her house sweltering.  Sometime during the night the thermostat and been turned up and the cover had been thrown across the room.  Another time she came home to find the orange juice she had left out spilled over her calendar and some papers she had on the kitchen table.  The table was soaked but the glass was sitting straight up.

Although she does not feel the ghost is threatening, it has recently began to touch her.  Once she felt her hair being lifted as she lay in bed.  The most disturbing incident involved another night time meeting.  Eileen was again lying in bed when she felt her leg being lifted up by her big toe.  She closed her eyes and regained control of her leg.

There have been renovations that might account for some of the occurrences.  The duplex is three floors and has been shared by family members over the years.  At one point the house was gutted out and evidence of a fire was found, although she has not been able to find any account of it in old newspapers.  There has also been construction on the second floor as her brother prepares to move in, although he is now giving it second thoughts.  He led Eileen on a few goose chases after making up stories about the ghost in the house, but now he is finding it more and more uncomfortable to do the work to repair the house.  He will not say why, but he does not like to be in the house alone.

IMG_4297Either does Eileen’s daughter.  She still gets uncomfortable in the room, although she does not feel afraid.  According to Eileen, she seem more upset by the whole thing, as if she had convinced herself that the things that had happened to her as a child were her imagination.  To hear Eileen now talk of those things makes it seem more real.

They have reversed roles because Eileen does not fear the female spirit in her house.  Nothing has happened in a while and the spirit is most obvious when she is not thinking about her.  Eileen wants to talk to her, but does not know what she will say.  She is now convinced she is not going crazy in her old age but that now, maybe because everyone has moved out, she has found a new roommate.

Scary Story a Day: The Boys are Outside the Window

Old true stories that are meant to just give you a little chill as you go about your day…
Keep checking in to see the new one every day…
These next few we’re going to call the Jenna Chronicles.
 Jenna was my roommate for years and got this whole thing started for me.  We sat down together that first night and set up http://www.geocities.com/chrisandjenna441/Massachusettsghostsandlegends/, the precursor of Massachusetts Paranormal Crossroads.
In addition to being willing to talk to anyone and egg me on to do the same, Jenna was a magnet for activity. She was part of the background for the Mr. Mustache story and the Haunted Majestic legend and experienced the FedGov and Charlesgate cases with me.  By the time we made our first trek into the Bridgewater Triangle to look into haunted Rehoboth, she had already experienced enough odd things to fill a book.
If you have a story or legend contact us at spookytripping@gmail.com.

 

This story took place near Dallas, Texas.

Jenna’s best friend in high school was Nicole.  The relationship between each member of Nicole’s family was tense, and there was always a heavy feeling in the house.  It felt as if things could explode at any time between them.  “Her house was always kind of weird.”  This could be explained, but the other things the two girls felt in the house couldn’t.  There was often banging coming from other rooms, especially the parent’s bedroom, when no one was around. Sometimes there was a feeling of covers being pulled off in the middle of the night.  Once Jenna was in the bathroom and thought she saw something sitting on the toilet behind her through the mirror.  When she turned around she saw an elbow and arm turn to go out.

Things came to a head though one weekend when Nicole’s parents went away.  She and Jenna had decided to stay in the house.  Like the background of a horror movie or urban legend, there were reports of break-ins and people casing the neighborhood.

While watching television a bowl of popcorn went flying off the table six feet towards Jenna.  They tried to recreate the situation to see how it could possibly happen, but their attempts to make it happen again failed.

Then Nicole’s bird started to go wild in his cage.  “We couldn’t figure out why.  We would go into the room and there would be nothing wrong.”

There was banging from the parent’s room upstairs.

They tried to ignore it, but the idea of burglars stayed in their minds.  They were sitting on the couch in the living room when they heard something coming from outside on the sliding glass doors.  “It sounded like someone banging it with their fist.”  They looked quick to see what it was, but there was nothing there.  They ran into the garage and got an ax and a bat, but when they came back there was no damage to the window and no sign of anybody.  They called 911, but when the police arrived and checked the house and yard they found nothing.

The next night they decided to have their friends sleep over, about eight in all, among them a cousin of Nicole’s named Mallori.  Mallori had lived in a haunted house most of her life and had spent time developing her psychic abilities.  She kept in contact with several spirits, including her spirit guide.  As soon as she entered the house she was uncomfortable.  She suggested they use the Ouija board to try and make contact with the spirit.  They used the board near the sliding glass door.  Then Jenna noticed a figure standing in an entry way twenty feet away.  It was small and outlined in a green glowing light.  Someone else saw it too, but not in green.  They got off the board and turned different lights on and off to try and find what could be causing it.  They were unable to get anything and moved the board over.  The board started to quote the bible and didn’t make sense, so they moved it back.

What they contacted was a eighteen year old girl named Nina who had died in a car accident.  She was disoriented and scared and this was causing the disturbances in the house.  As she talked, the glowing figure came back and would change color.  “It would fade in and out and get brighter the more frustrated she’d get.”  She tried to tell them that she needed help, but she didn’t make much sense.

Then she started to move swiftly across the board.  “She started to spell out 15, 16, 15.  Guns, boys, 15, 16.  Mallori was nervous and sent her boyfriend and his friend out to check the yard.  After a few seconds, they heard him scream back, “Hey, get the hell out of here.”  When he came back in, he told them there had been two kids, about sixteen years old, walking around in the woods outside the house with a gun, trying to break in.

Mallori eventually helped Nina cross over to the other side, and as she did, Jenna saw the figure fade away.  They never heard from Nina again, and after that the noises in Nicole’s house stopped.

Revisiting Charlesgate

This was one of the first articles I wrote on Massachusetts Paranormal Crossroads, even before it was called that.  Part of this appeared in Jeff Belanger’s Encyclopedia of Haunted Places and was “borrowed”  by several other books.  Charlesgate is where it all started for me, so it holds a special place in my heart.
Two things hit me upon reading the article.  The first is that I hope my writing has become better since this was first published around 2002.  Not sure I can say that’s true.  The other is that so much of what I was putting out there about the building and its history was based on things I was told and information passed down rather than researched.  I think that works sometimes.  Natalie Crist of Tripping on Legends was going through the story and asked me questions about the dates and times things had actually happened.  I had no answers for her.  I don’t think I need them.  So much of the legend of Charlesgate comes things that cannot be verified.
Before I left Boston, I took a haunted tour of the city that went by my old dorm.  The person giving the tour retold my stories back to me, not knowing I was the one who had experienced them or at least had written them down.  They were mixed and matched, with details added that had never happened.   The Federal Government story was its centerpiece and almost none of the details were right.
In that spirit, I offer you the unedited original story.

 

The old Charlesgate Hotel is one of the most haunted buildings in Boston. Over time the building has taken on legend status, making it difficult to separate the truth from the mystique that surrounds it. It was built in 1891, supposedly by the Mafia, although there has been no connection between the original contractor and architect and organized crime. From the outside you can’t see the eighth floor, where some of the illegal activity was supposed to have happened. There are several areas that are boarded up or filled in, revealing hidden rooms that were once used but that you cannot see unless you follow the slight cracks in the wall. One such room on the sixth floor was the sight of a suicide. Walking through the halls, checking out the rooms and then comparing it to the original blueprints (on file at the Boston Public Library) shows many inconsistencies and points to potential areas of hauntings.

After serving as a hotel it was sold and sold again until it eventually became a BU dorm. The lore began with the influx of students. BU sold the dorms and it became a tenement, serving some of the worst tenants in Kenmore. At that time, students began to move in as well, often charged far more than the other people living there, creating an interesting mix of college kids and sketchy “adults”. Emerson College bought the building in the 1980’s and renovated it back into dorms, placing its foot firmly in the square and extending its influence in the city.

100_0170Some of the legendary spirits that walked the halls are very old. In the basement there are the spirits of horses that died when there were stables there. There is a little girl that haunts the elevator where she died. Often people had seances and weird things would happen, and more than once magic and black magic had been practiced in the dorm rooms. But there were other strange things that went on. Often at night there was scampering in the ceilings, too small to be people, but too big to be rats. There would be voices and light problems. Some student would see a gurney roll by their room.

Suicide plays a major role in the mythology of the building, often being the root cause of things that cannot be explained. In the 1970’s there was an alarm clock in a room where a supposed suicide had occurred that would go off at 6:11 am although it was not set. Another time 3 girls moved into a room on the 6th floor. Although each of them wanted the big closet upon moving in, they all had unusual sensations when they approached it, deciding it was better to let someone else use the closet. Research discovered another suicide in that closet. Once a student woke up to see a spirit hovering over him. The ghost was also seen by the RA who ran in to see why the student was screaming.

cgate3It was a hotbed of activity, and if you used a Ouija board anywhere in it, you’d get results (See the Federal Government story).  One night we got an answer to some of the activity. We contacted a spirit that called itself Zena that would clearly write out answers to our questions and offered a detailed history of its existence. It was not a normal spirit because it had never lived, but was more of a spell that had been cast on doorways by one of the original builders to protect those inside. They saw everything and tried to help people and often communicated on the board as different people to make them do what they thought was right. They told me of a spell placed on me by someone that was later confirmed by two psychics who had no idea what I was going in for. It knew things only the people themselves would know, and made a believer out of more than one skeptic that would try the board.

After we left the dorms it was sold again, and one person who lives in the building says he never has had anything happen. I think back to a rule of Ouija boards though. If a spirit is on the board and it is not cleaned, and it is destroyed somehow, the spirit is said to escape. If there was something in those walls, I wonder what might have happened when they gutted the place out to make the condos.

100_0175Recently, while taking photographs for a new book coming out I evaluated some of the designs at Charlesgate. I had lived in the building for two years, but I had never noticed the faces, some obvious and other not so obvious, around the windows and in the rest of the metalwork. There were also scratches which appeared random, but upon zooming appeared to spell things out. Some of the expressions I found, hidden in the beauty, were “No Exit”, “Hell”, and “Gone”.