Brutus wished that they weren’t all scared of him. He wanted someone to talk to him and tell him that they cared about him and missed him now that he was gone. Somehow, he felt like when that happened, he’d be able to move on to the next phase of not living—whatever that might be. But unless he got that closure, he just might be forced to return to that hated chair every Halloween forever.
Just then, Phyllis walked in the door. She was dressed as a nurse for the Halloween party and Brutus thought she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. He hoped maybe she would be the one, but after ten years he was beginning to lose hope. After all, Phyllis hadn’t even known him when he was still alive. She had moved to Paris just a few months ago and so was on the outside looking in, much like Brutus had been. She hesitated after walking into the room then finally came over and sat down in the chair next to the one in which Brutus was sitting.
Brutus’s ghost. (Photo courtesy of Price Huston)
Some of the other kids noticed her choice of a seat, but no one said anything to her. She seemed nice enough, but the rest of the kids had known each other all of their lives, something she would never be able to share.
The jukebox started playing music, and couples filed onto the dance floor. Brutus sat where he was, as usual. Phyllis sat beside him, and after a while Brutus began to think that she knew he was there. She kept shooting sideways glances at him. The strange thing was, when she looked at him, Brutus began to feel more “real” as if he weren’t a ghost. Finally, Phyllis cleared her throat and said hesitantly, “I’ve never seen you here before.”
From across the room, it looked as if she were talking to an empty chair, but the other kids were too absorbed in each other to notice. In a rusty-sounding voice, Brutus told her that he only came to the Halloween parties now. He asked her if she liked Paris.
“Well, it’s all right, but I wish we still lived in New York,” Phyllis replied wistfully. “I had a lot of friends there, and it isn’t easy fitting in here. So few people move here that they just don’t seem to know how to deal with new kids.”
Brutus nodded. He had once been a new kid, too, and even death couldn’t make him forget how hard it had been. “I know it can be hard, but if you can just stick it out, in a year or two it will be a lot better as everyone gets to know you and you make some friends,” he said hesitantly.
Phyllis looked sad and her lip began to quiver. “I don’t know if I can stand another year,” she said softly, almost to herself.
But Brutus heard her, and it brought back memories of how he had felt his last few days on earth—hopeless and sad. “You know, things will get better, and then you’ll look back on this and be amazed that you were so upset,” he said quickly, the words coming fast now without the rusty sound. In fact, I’ve been watching the other kids over there and that guy named ‘Mike has looked over here several times when he thought you weren’t looking. I think maybe he likes you.”
Phyllis glanced furtively across the room to where Mike was sitting with a couple of other boys. “Do you really think so? I like him. He’s in my English class, and I think he’s cute.”
Already the sadness was fading from her voice and Brutus hoped that he had made her feel better. He knew, though, that the improvement would be only temporary until she made friends in her new home.
Just then, the music started again and the lights dimmed as the juke box began to play a slow tune. Mike got up from his chair across the room and started to walk toward the chairs where Phyllis and Brutus were sitting. They both held their breath, although Brutus just sort of remembered how it felt to hold his breath since air was one of the many things he no longer needed.
Mike stopped in front of Phyllis. “Would you like to dance?” he stammered.
“Yes, thanks,” she replied. “And thanks to you for making me feel so much better,” she whispered to Brutus.
“Who are you talking to?” Mike asked her.
“Why, to that nice boy there in the chair,” she said, glancing behind her as she headed to the dance floor. She stopped in amazement as she saw that the chair was empty.
“I must have been dreaming,” she thought, but wisely decided to keep that to herself as she and Mike began an awkward first dance that would one day lead to love.
20. “Renovations Awaken Mischievous Spirit”
Nelson County
There are things that happen in Ernie and Susan Powell’s South Third Street home that cannot be explained. Closet doors have flung open, trinkets and books have moved when no one was in the room.
“We bought the house from a woman whose mother had passed away,” Susan said. “The day we signed the papers the woman sat back in her chair with a look of relief and said, ‘I am so glad to get rid of that house.”’
The Powells couldn’t understand why anyone would want to get rid of a beautiful, historic home. The house is on a lot purchased from Bardstown’s founder, William Bard, in 1797. They believe a log cabin may have been on the land before their home was built in 1880. The Powells bought the home in 1991.
“When we asked her why she was glad to get rid of the house, she told us strange things had been happening there,” Susan said.
According to Susan, the house had been empty for a while after the woman’s mother’s death. The daughter was responsible for moving furniture and antiques from the house before it was sold.
“She told me the lights and fans would come on by themselves,” Susan said.
Susan said she and her husband didn’t think much about the woman’s comments. “I was the most skeptical person in the world,” she said.
Susan’s skepticism lessened when she and her husband began to renovate the house. The first strange occurrence happened while Susan and a friend were painting the dining room. “He was in one corner and I was in the other. We had our backs to each other and a bucket of paint was on the table in the middle of the room,” she said. “There was a crash and the paint fell off the table, ended up on the floor.”
Susan and her friend could find no explanation as to why the paint spilled or why her friend’s glasses, which had been on the table, were on the floor with both lenses popped out.
Later during the renovation, the Powells took down a chandelier from the dining room and placed it in the front room of the house. One evening Susan was startled by an unexplained sound. When she went to find the noise she saw two glass globes on the chandelier had shattered, but others were untouched.
Throughout the renovation, the Powells would come home and find their lights and fans on when they were certain they had turned them off before they left.
One feature in the house that has the most unusual activity is an antique lawyer’s bookcase in the dining room. “This part of the house was added on,” Susan said. “It used to be part of the courtyard.”
One evening, Susan meticulously arranged books and other items on the top shelf of the bookcase. She left the room and when she returned, one of the books had been moved. Susan could not understand how the book was out of place. “I put it back and made sure it was even with the others,” she said.
But when she came back later, the book was out of place.
“I was home alone and I was tired,” Susan said. “I screamed at it to stop and it did.”
While the Powells had no other occurrences that night, another strange event happened later. The Powells had vacationed in the Caribbean and brought home a sixteenth-century Dutch gin bottle. Susan placed the bottle at the back of the top shelf and put other items in front of it.
One night another crashing sound brought Susan back into the dining room. The gin bottle was shattered on the floor, but all of the items in front of it were untouched.
The renovation process took the Powells about three years. When renovation stopped, so did the ghostly occurrences—until April of 1999.
Ernie Powell, a collector of movie posters, decided to bring a part of his collection into the house because he was thinking of selling them. The Po
wells put the posters on the top shelf of the closet in their bedroom.
“In the middle of the night, I heard a boom,” Ernie said. “It was like an avalanche.”
When the Powells turned on the light, they were shocked to see both of the closet doors open and posters scattered across the floor.
“We were certain the doors were closed before,” Susan said.
Who is this mischievous ghost on South Third Street? Susan Powell isn’t sure she wants to know. While she thinks neighbors would know if someone died in the house, Susan doesn’t want the answer.
“Sometimes I act like things don’t really happen,” she said. “I used to be scared a lot. I would wait for things to happen, but not anymore.”
21. “The Disappearing Ghost”
Caldwell County
Just outside the city limits of Princeton stands a big, old, deserted mansion. This mansion stands on a dark, lonely hill grown up with weeds that gives it the picture of weirdness.
The overgrown path leads you to a door with creaking hinges. As you ascend the old steps, the loose boards groan with the weight of your footsteps. The dark mysterious stairs wind to the sky and you can see the cobwebs and crawling insects that live in the old house. The furniture, covered with white, gives a ghostly appearance to the eyes. The old clock, now run down with the years, stands on the dust-coated mantle. The “drip, drip” of the faucet in the kitchen rings like an alarm bell in the dense quietness of the night. The night cries of the animals float in through the windows sending chills up your spine. As your proceed further up the stairs and into the hall, a weird cry is heard. The wind, blowing through a broken window, cries like a tormented child. Beneath the house lie many secret tunnels and passages that provide flight after a crime of evil-doing has been committed. In this old, dark deserted house on a dark, stormy night these secret tunnels were used by the owner of the mansion.
Early in the evening a gay party was in process. The leading residents of Princeton were present to celebrate a new industry which had come to Princeton. The women were dressed gaily and were enjoying themselves. The men were congregated in the library discussing the new industry and its possibilities.
As the evening went by everyone pretty well got drunk. One by one the guests began to leave. Finally, all but a few of the men had left. They were discussing politics. The discussion became very heated between the host and one of the guests. It finally broke into a fist fight. The guest drew a knife and went for the host. They fought for a few minutes. Then, as the other guests tried to separate them, the host slipped into one of the secret tunnels. When everyone finally quieted down, they noticed he was gone, but they didn’t know how or where.
The police were called in, but they could never find any clues or any of the secret tunnels. To this day, this man has never been seen again. No one knows where he disappeared to or even if he is dead or alive.
The people of Princeton were shocked by this experience and nobody ever goes near the mansion for fear the host may appear. There are many tales of his appearing around the house in the night, but he always disappears when one tries to move closer. Whatever really became of this man, no one may ever know.
22. “Mysterious Ghostly Noises”
Barren County
When I was in grade school, we lived in a house here in Glasgow at the corner of Liberty Street and West Washington. Both the bedrooms were upstairs, and they had winding steps that went up to each of them. We had to go through the living room to get to one of the bedrooms and through the den to get to the other bedroom. At the bottom of the stairs there were doors with locks on the bedroom side that we would shut and lock at night. They were the kind of locks that had the straight bar that you just slid into the notch. My bed sat at the top of the stairwell.
While we were in bed one night, we heard something running across the floor downstairs. It was running so hard that it made the whole house jar. My dad got up and came to my room and was going to whip me because he thought I was up running around, but I was sitting up in my bed scared to death. He came in and sat down with me and we heard the same noise again. All of a sudden, the lock on my door started clicking back and forth like somebody was trying to open the door. Daddy went and got his shotgun, and we all went downstairs to see what was there.
All the windows were shut and locked, and so were the doors. There was nothing there. Daddy said if he ever lived in a haunted house, that was it. Later on, he found out that this house used to be the old courthouse of Barren County, where they used to hang people.
23. “The Jones House Footsteps”
Lyon County
The Jones house is a dark and mysterious building sitting silently upon a small hill in Lyon County. It is hidden by large, sheltering trees as if it holds a secret it does not want to share. This old house, empty and dark, stands locked inside itself and lives only in the memories of witnesses. To this day, a haunted soul walks through the Jones house searching for a way out. Could it be trapped there by an unfulfilled need, a tragic death, a life cut short? What keeps this soul wandering within the walls of the Jones house? Its not easy to believe the stories about the Jones house, but if you were there, if you heard, its impossible to forget.
The Jones house is a small four-room home built in the 1940s. It has a small front room which opens into the kitchen. In the back corner of the kitchen stands the door to the basement. The old squeaky basement door opens to a dark, empty hole accessed only by a simple wooden plank stairway. It is here where my story begins. It is here where I became a believer.
It was our senior year in high school. Jamie Bundren and I set up our weight equipment at the Jones house. One night while lifting weights we heard sounds over our radio coming from the basement. It sounded like furniture smashing against the walls. One crash after another in an empty basement made our hair stand on end. The sounds grew louder and louder; we were so frightened we ran from the house.
We returned the next day to inspect what had happened in the basement. I worried in fear that someone must have been in the house trying to get out through the small basement windows. As we walked down the wooden stairway into the basement, we were amazed and frightened by what we saw. No furniture, no boxes, just empty space and tightly locked windows. Only four damp concrete walls stood witness to what took place the night before.
Contemporary generations have experienced ghostly footsteps and other sounds in the Jones House. (Photo by Wade White)
A few nights later, we were working out again at the Jones house. After a few minutes we heard noises in the basement. We listened, intent upon pinpointing the cause of the sounds. But next, we experienced what has become the Jones house phenomenon. Someone was walking up the stairway! It was as if silence had fallen upon the world as the loud footsteps on the wooden planks approached the basement door. We heard nothing but the footsteps, which had us frozen in fear. We couldn’t move; we couldn’t run! But just before the footsteps reached the basement door, we ran from the house in pure terror. The sounds we heard were so real, yet so unex-plainable, we no longer wanted to be at the Jones house at night.
Two weeks later, during daylight hours, we were taking down our weight equipment to move it to a new location. Jamie and I were in a small room off the kitchen when we heard someone walk into the house. We looked at each other wondering who it might be. The footsteps walked through the front room and stopped just short of the kitchen. We were only eight feet from where the footsteps had stopped. Just around the corner someone stood silently, or so we thought. We were not afraid at first, but when no one answered my call, we began to worry. So, to see who was there, Jamie ran around the corner bedroom as I stepped into the kitchen. I knew by the sound of the footsteps that I would be face to face with the person who walked into the house, but no one was there. We searched inside and out but found no one, no cars, nothing. We knew something very strange had occurred, something that could not be explained. But this was only the beginning.
Tw
o friends from school, not knowing our story, went to the Jones house one week later. It was a cloudy, dark night. Outside they could hear an approaching thunderstorm. Through the windows, lightning gave brief glimpses of the old trees violently weaving in the wind. Thunder shook the walls like miniature earthquakes. Then, during the midst of the storm, they heard odd noises in the basement. They hoped it was the storm, the wind maybe. But the sounds were like furniture being dragged across the concrete floor. Suddenly, they heard someone walking up the stairway. They were shocked and terrified since no one was supposed to be in the house! Like thunder claps, they heard each step on the wooden planks. They ran out the door and pulled it shut, but something jerked the door back open from the inside. One of them grabbed the door again, and once more it was pulled from his hands. Believing someone was in the house, they ran to the car and quickly drove away.
A few weeks later, I was visiting the home of a man who lives near the Jones house. I told him that my friends and I were planning a small party to be held there over the weekend. He laughed and said that he wouldn’t want to go there at night. At first I thought he was teasing me about what had happened there the last few weeks. But then I realized that he probably didn’t know what had happened. I asked him why he said that, and he told me his story. By the way, his word is as good as gold.
He said that in the 1950s friends of his family lived in the Jones house. He and his family would visit them often and it was common knowledge that something very strange was happening in that house. The family living there told stories of objects missing for days and then reappearing in other locations throughout the house. He told about the old indoor cistern. In a small room of the house lies a deep, dark hole wherein its belly stands some thick, black water. The family told of how they could leave the cistern bucket handle turned a certain way and sometimes it would be turned in the opposite direction when they returned home. But when he began the story of the wooden stairway, my heart almost jumped out of my chest.
Haunted Houses and Family Ghosts of Kentucky Page 6