When Josh asked if he had gone in to check out what was happening, Amin simply answered, “I don’t want to know.”
Despite some reluctance, Amin eventually agreed to Josh’s request to take him on an after-hours tour.
In the middle of the night, the two met up at the admin building then drove through the village. They heard the distant sound of a ringing telephone from one of the old period houses despite the fact that none of them had working phones. Amin began to have second thoughts and wanted to go back, but Josh insisted they continue. He wanted to take a quick visit to the Hawreliak house. Amin urged Josh not to go into the house, but when Josh entered anyway he followed.
Josh had been told by another employee that he should ask the “mother” for permission to enter her house. Although it had seemed like a silly notion during the day, at night it somehow made sense. He asked permission to enter and the door opened easily. The pair walked in and found the house to be empty and desolate. There was, however, a cradle in the middle of one room. Luckily, it wasn’t rocking and no sound came from within.
“Finished?” Amin asked, anxious to leave.
“I need to go upstairs,” Josh said. He had come this far. He had to go a little farther.
Amin refused to accompany him and waited downstairs as Josh climbed the stairs, which creaked and groaned as he made his way up. Josh looked inside the rooms. The beds were all made and period clothing was laid out as if someone was about to rise from a deep slumber and get dressed for the day.
Amin cried out. Something on the main floor had scared him badly enough to make him curse out loud.
Suddenly, Josh heard footsteps race down the hallway and one of the bedroom doors slam shut. He tried to open it but it wouldn’t budge. He’d seen enough. He and Amin got out of there. It wasn’t until later that Josh was told Vaselina wouldn’t tolerate cursing in her home. Although Amin didn’t tell Josh what had given him such a scare, it was safe to assume that his foul language had caused Vaselina to run down the hall and slam the door, scaring them out of her house.
The Hawreliak house isn’t the only building on the property that’s haunted. And the mother and baby aren’t the only ghosts either. Other staff members have seen salt and pepper shakers move on their own in the Pylypow house and heard ghostly tapping sounds on the windows. People have reported hearing footsteps and whispers in empty buildings, and have seen odd lights and shadows floating through the village.
Even the centre’s gift shop, which isn’t a historical building, is believed to be haunted. One night as a young employee was closing up, she heard the sound of heavy footsteps slowly approaching her. She looked up from her work just as a shadowy figure materialized out of thin air. It was a man in old-fashioned clothing. He silently stared at her through a glass cabinet. As fast as he’d appeared, he then disappeared. Feeling uncertain about what she’d just seen, she walked around the glass cabinet to double-check that no one was lingering in the shop. There was no one there. But then an invisible force rushed past her, spinning her around and nearly knocking her off her feet.
A few nights later she was alone once more, or so she thought. While placing glass figurines on display she heard the same heavy footsteps slowly approaching. This time they passed her. She followed the sound, and the man appeared again. After staring her down for a tense moment, he disappeared. But the woman could still hear him walk away. She followed the footsteps, turned a corner into the museum area, and caught sight of the man. He was now translucent, and he walked straight through a wall without hesitating or slowing down.
A different employee was responsible for restoring a period farmhouse. Much of her work needed to be completed after hours when the village was empty. As she swept the floor within the barn one night, she heard the sound of horse hooves on the dirt road outside. That didn’t make sense. No one else was supposed to be nearby, least of all any of the historical interpreters. Confused and intrigued, she stopped sweeping and stepped outside.
She saw the same man the other employee had seen in the gift shop. He was standing in front of a wagon that was hitched to two black horses. When he spotted her, he beckoned her to get into his wagon, but he didn’t utter a word. Oddly, the horses didn’t make a sound either. When the man gestured for her to get into his wagon once more, the woman panicked and ran back to the farmhouse. She grabbed a walkie-talkie, started to call someone for help, and peered back outside … but the man, the horses and the wagon had all vanished without a trace.
The dedicated, passionate team that work hard to maintain the Ukrainian Cultural Heritage Centre are proud to bring history to life each and every day. But many of them know that in this unique living museum, history never died.
THE MAN FROM THE MIST
Algonquin Park, Ontario
In the summer of 1980, Muskoka artist Doug Dunford spent two weeks in Algonquin Park, immersing himself in the natural beauty of the land. He was painting a new sign for the park, and he expected to capture the wildlife, the water and the trees. He never suspected he’d also capture a ghost.
Early one morning Doug walked down to the dock on Canoe Lake. A thick mist hung low over the water — it was eerily calm and quiet. For a long time he stood on the end of the dock with his camera hanging around his neck, enjoying the moment. But then the silence was broken. From somewhere within the mist, he heard the gentle splashing sound of a paddle breaking the surface of the water. A canoe suddenly became visible, steered by a lone man.
The two men made eye contact, and Doug was overwhelmed by the sensation of a strange energy. He raised his camera to his eye and snapped a picture of the canoeist. And then, without a word, the stranger turned his head away from Doug and disappeared.
The brief experience was so quietly unnerving, even mystical, that Doug quickly began to doubt it had happened at all. It made no sense. Why was someone out canoeing alone in such thick mist so early in the morning? How had he disappeared right in front of Doug’s eyes?
One thing Doug didn’t question — even though he had no reason to believe it — was that the man had been Tom Thomson. Or more to the point, the man had been Thomson’s ghost.
Tom Thomson was an artist famous for his sketches and paintings depicting the Canadian wilderness. He was also an outdoorsman who was skilled at fishing and canoeing. Although he died in 1917 before the establishment of the Group of Seven, he was friends with the artists who formed the group and is considered to be an unofficial member. For more than one hundred years, people have reported spotting Thomson quietly paddling across Canoe Lake, often on July 16, the anniversary of the day his body was found. It seems the artist hasn’t been able to leave the lake behind.
Thomson had died eight days before his body was found floating in the lake. He had set out on a fishing trip in his canoe, and many suspect that his death wasn’t an accident. His left temple was bruised and his left ankle was wrapped seventeen or eighteen times in fishing line. The blow to the head could be attributed to an accidental fall, perhaps, but the fishing line was harder to explain. Many people, such as Blodwen Davies, an official of the Saskatchewan Art Board who wrote a biography on Thomson, believe that he was struck on the head and that his body was tied to something heavy and dumped in one of the deepest parts of the lake. If this is true — if Tom Thomson was murdered — it would explain why his soul is unable to move on.
When Doug Dunford developed his photograph, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Thomson’s ghost had been captured on film. He felt drawn to paint the photograph; it was as if, as he says, the painting chose him. Once completed, Doug titled the watercolour The Return of Tom Thomson. He hung it in his art gallery six or seven years later. One day, a young man wandered into the gallery and was immediately drawn to the painting. He purchased it and left.
A year later Doug received a letter from the young man, explaining why he was compelled to purchase the painting. He had seen the exact same man in the exact same canoe on the same lake not long before and had
been convinced that he had seen a ghost. He couldn’t believe it when he spotted the painting, but he knew he couldn’t live without it.
They are far from the only people who have seen Tom Thomson’s ghost paddling across Canoe Lake. For example, in the summer of 1931, Mrs. Northway, who lived on the lake, her daughter and a guide were paddling on the lake at dusk when they saw another canoe approaching them. As they neared each other, the three saw that a solitary man was in the other canoe. Mrs. Northway raised her hand and called hello, but the man didn’t respond. At that moment he vanished into thin air, canoe and all, and the only sound remaining on the lake was the call of a loon in the distance. Once the initial shock wore off, the party was convinced they’d spotted Thomson’s ghost.
Every year on July 16, people gather on the shores of Canoe Lake, hoping to catch a glimpse of Tom Thomson, a testament to the impact his art has had on the country.
Tom Thomson in Algonquin Park, sometime between 1914 and 1916
AFTERLIFE LIGHTS
Port Hardy, British Columbia
The tires of Frank Chatain’s car slowly came to a stop at the side of the road. He killed the ignition and sat and thought and grieved. It was early morning. The sun had not yet fully risen and the land was dim in the grey light. Alone, Frank stared through the windshield, his attention and his sorrow both focused solidly on one of the utility poles across the road from where he had parked.
It was 1986 and his beloved daughter, Tara, had died tragically several days before. She had borrowed a family car and allowed a friend to drive it. The friend lost control of the car on a corner and drove headfirst into the pole. Tara died instantly in the crash, just two weeks before her seventeenth birthday.
As Frank stared at the pole and grappled with his sorrow, he noticed the street light bolted at its peak. The light was much dimmer than the others that lined the street.
Probably damaged by the collision, Frank thought.
The light went out and then, after a moment, came back on again.
An idea struck Frank. Is that you, Tara? he thought.
Immediately the light burned intensely bright, brighter than all of the other lights, and then returned to normal.
Frank was certain that his daughter was responsible for the changes in the light.
Are you trying to communicate with me?
Once again, the light answered. It pulsed brightly a few times, as if desperate to get Tara’s point across. After asking a few more questions and gauging the responses from the light, Frank had interpreted his daughter’s code. If she made the light turn off, the answer to his question was no. If she made it turn brighter, the answer was yes. Armed with this knowledge, Frank asked a few more questions.
Are you happy?
The light burned bright, answering yes.
Are you well?
Yes.
Wherever she was, Tara was happy and well. While that didn’t make up for the loss, it helped a little knowing she was all right. Frank drove back home.
Some time later Frank and his wife decided it was time to replace the car that had been destroyed in the accident. Unsurprisingly, the couple had no desire to go automobile shopping so soon after their daughter’s tragic accident. The salesperson showed them all of the cars that fit their price range, but the Chatains weren’t interested in any of them. Instead, they were drawn to a more expensive model — as if the car was choosing them rather than the other way around — and they decided to stretch their budget to buy it. Strangely, they had gone from dreading car shopping to being filled with happiness as they drove their new vehicle off the lot.
Before long, the couple were driving the new car on the highway between Campbell River and Port Hardy. Despite the fact that it was late, dark and raining, Frank was driving over the speed limit. Suddenly the headlights turned off. Frank couldn’t see where he was headed, so he immediately slowed the car down. As he did, the headlights began to flash on and off, until he finally came to a complete stop and the headlights turned on again.
As they sat safely on the side of the road, Mrs. Chatain had a sudden realization. Her husband had told her what had happened the morning he had driven out to the scene of Tara’s accident.
“Is that you, Tara?” she asked.
The headlights flashed off and on. Yes.
After the initial shock had worn off, Frank started driving again, but now at a much slower speed. Almost immediately the road turned sharply. Frank was certain he wouldn’t have been able to make the turn safely in the rain at the speed he had been travelling before Tara had slowed him down.
The Chatains then knew why they had been drawn to the car. For some reason, Tara had been drawn to the car.
For years after, as long as they had the car, Tara continued to flash the headlights whenever there were unseen threats ahead, such as another dangerous turn or a deer crossing the road. And Tara’s personality shined through from time to time, such as one day when her parents drove to the airport to pick up her brother, who was returning home for a visit. She flashed the headlights in excitement all the way to the airport and most of the way home, stopping only when her brother finally acknowledged her presence and said hello to her.
Some ghosts have the ability to appear in human form, while others look like shadows and mist. Others still, like Tara, seem incapable of being seen by the living at all and need to come up with other methods to communicate. So the next time you see a light flicker inexplicably, you’ll have to wonder if it’s simply an electrical issue or if it’s something more meaningful, perhaps more chilling. You’ll have to wonder if the dead are speaking to you from beyond the grave.
THE HAUNTED MANSION
Toronto, Ontario
In 2003 a woman visited The Keg Mansion, a restaurant located in an historic Toronto building, for a relaxing meal with a friend. She told her friend that she’d been there twice before and had enjoyed the food, but she’d also been disturbed by a presence she had felt in the old, gothic-style building. The presence had felt strongest in the women’s bathroom, so she’d asked the restaurant staff about it. She was told that Lillian Massey, a previous resident of the mansion, was one of the ghosts who haunted the building.
One of the ghosts? she had wondered. How many ghosts are there?
On this visit, the woman and her friend took a short self-guided tour of the building while they waited for their table to be ready. They were stopped when they reached the allegedly haunted bathroom. A little girl stood there.
“Are you talking,” the girl said in a hushed tone, “about the ghost?”
“Yes,” the woman said, seeing no reason to hide the truth.
The little girl stepped closer and lowered her voice further. She told them that a friend of hers always had a hard time entering that bathroom. She would feel eyes watching her.
On that disturbing note, the woman and her friend said goodbye to the little girl and went to see if their table was ready. Once they were seated and a third friend had joined them, the woman excused herself to use the bathroom.
As she pushed open the bathroom door, the woman instantly felt she was not alone. She glanced under every single stall. They all appeared to be empty. This didn’t make her feel any better; in fact, it made her feel worse. She was suddenly overcome by panic, as she began to suspect she was being watched.
She hurried into the final stall and locked the door. Her knees were shaking from fear. Then she heard something move in the bathroom and approach the door to her stall.
The woman forced herself not to scream. She tried to calm down, tried to convince herself it wasn’t really happening, tried to think of anything else, but then …
Then the lock slowly turned.
The door creaked open.
But there was no one there.
The woman stood petrified, feeling that at any moment she’d see the ghostly woman who had opened the door. She broke free from the terror that had ensnared her and bolted out of the stall and the bathroom
as if her life depended on it.
Once she had calmed down a little, she headed back to her table and her friends. But on her way, she passed the girl she had seen earlier. The woman started to tell her what had just happened, but the girl interrupted her.
“Did the lock pop open while you were in there?” she asked. “Because mine did.”
This woman and girl aren’t the only people to have experienced paranormal activity in the bathroom. Countless others have had nearly identical experiences, while some have also seen the toilet paper dispensers shake and have watched in horror as their personal items have floated in the air before being gently placed on the floor. And at least two people have seen the ghost with their own eyes.
The first was a woman who spotted feet in one of the stalls. A moment later the toilet flushed, the door opened … but there was no one in the stall.
The second was a woman named Mia who was dining in the restaurant for the first time. Mia went to the bathroom after her meal and felt like she was being watched the entire time. When Mia opened the door she saw a woman standing before her. She was wearing a beautiful, old-fashioned dress. The woman didn’t move and didn’t say a word. Mia said a quick “hello” that went unanswered. She had a weird feeling about the woman, so she hurried past her and down the stairs. On her way out of the restaurant, she asked the host about the woman.
“It’s only four male servers tonight, no waitresses,” the host said, adding, “and definitely no one in an old-fashioned dress.”
The mansion was built in 1868 by Arthur McMaster and purchased in 1882 by one of the most prominent families in Toronto’s history, the Masseys. Patriarch Hart Massey was an industrialist who helped found new buildings for the University of Toronto and the famous performing arts theatre that bears his name, Massey Hall. One of his grandsons, Vincent Massey, became Governor General of Canada in 1952, and another, Raymond Massey, was an Academy Award-nominated actor. Hart’s only daughter, Lillian, an educator and philanthropist, took over the house and ran the family interests. She gave the mansion its first name, Euclid Hall. She loved the home so much that it appears she has decided to remain there forever, scaring scores of women who use the second floor bathroom.
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