True Ghost Stories: Jim Harold's Campfire 1

by Jim Harold

  It was very bizarre. And so we sat there and listened, and then we went downstairs to check it out, and there was no one there. There was no sign that anyone had been there. No footsteps. Nothing.

  Well, we've talked about it in the years since we've lived there, since my parents sold the house. And we did learn that someone two doors down had shot themselves to death. Plus, I learned we were living on what had been Native American territory. That next morning after my girlfriend and I heard that woman crying and the man consoling her, there was a mysterious turquoise ring in the bathroom. There's an old story that there was a chief, Potawatomi, who had a daughter named Mequon, who ran off with her lover. I don't know; I don't know if that's a true story or not, but with that ring appearing from nowhere, it sure makes you think!

  -Kelly, Wisconsin

  64. Easy Rider on the Other Side

  I've had a very explainable, predictable life. But there are two events in it that I just definitely cannot explain. They occurred while I lived in Wessington Springs, South Dakota, a small farm town in the middle of the state. I had a great childhood. I tell you, the people there are great, salt-of-the-earth-type people. If you were going through a tough time, I'd say, "How's it going, Jim?" and you'd say "Great, how about you?" That type of people just didn't share these kinds of stories.

  The story I want to start with is about when I was driving my motorcycle out to a friend's farm, which is about two miles out on this paved and then gravel road. The gravel road had this ravine on the way, and if I went about 60 miles per hour across it, I'd feel a loss of gravity like the astronauts feel for about two seconds, and then I'd hit the road on the other side of the ravine. I tell you, when you're young, you're invincible. Although it was definitely fun, it was not smart. Well, that night, when it was time to go home, it was very dark and there was absolutely no moon in the sky. And when you're out in the country like that, there are definitely no lights. So the no-moon nights were black, like...well, it was really, really dark that night.

  So, I took off, and I was heading down that gravel road and got up to my 60 miles per hour as I headed up to the ravine, and all of a sudden my bike just died. I mean, dead as dead. I had no lights, and I had to slow the bike down and stop it. I stopped just before the ravine, and I said to myself, Man, I'm glad I didn't touch down in that ravine when that went out.

  I knew it was electrical, so I checked the levels on the battery and one other thing I knew it might be: the fuse. I couldn't see it, and I'd never changed one before, but I knew where it was. I knew I was going to have to push my bike back to the guy's farm and change the fuse under the farm lights. So, muttering—quite a bit—I pushed my bike the half a mile or more back to his farm, found the fuse, replaced it, and then started my bike again and took off. And I knew that was my last fuse, so I said to myself, I don't know what caused the first one to go out, so I'm going to take it nice and slow and worry about this later. So I was going, now, 15 to 20 miles per hour, and I got to that ravine. I headed down to the ravine at 15 miles per hour, and suddenly I locked on my brakes and stopped. And I tell you what, when people say the hair on your neck and arms stands up, I know exactly what that means.

  Right in front of me was a herd of cows that had gotten loose. And I tell you, if I had flown into that ravine at 60 miles per hour like I did the first time, I'd have gone right into the herd, and I'm sure that I would have killed myself. I've never had a blown fuse before on that bike, or after with that bike, or on any other bike. I'm telling you, if that bike had not died at the right time that night, I believe I would have died.

  Taking a different approach, when bad things happen to me I always think, Well, maybe it happened for a reason. So, it's changed the way I look at life sometimes.

  I also have another motorcycle-related unexplainable event to relate—and don't worry, when I got married I sold my bikes, to my wife's relief. This story I've shared with only one other person in my life, and that's because I'm still scared by it. I couldn't tell my family; my dad was a doctor, and my mom was against me buying a motorcycle because she was sure I'd kill myself. Little did she know. It reminded me of A Christmas Story. Remember when Santa Claus says, "You're going to shoot your eyes out with that BB gun"? Well, that's the same reason I couldn't tell my mom, because if I had ever told her this story, she would have taken away my bike and I'd be riding my tricycle still today.

  Well, I was riding in the gully area of Wessington Springs, and I went into an area where there were a lot of trees, and I went to duck underneath a branch, but I'd forgotten about that added height of the helmet, and wham! I was knocked off my bike and to the ground, on my back. As I lay there I heard my bike keep going for a little bit, tip over, and eventually I heard it die.

  I tried to get up, and I could not move anything on my body. I mean, nothing was moving. So I tried to speak, and I couldn't even speak, so I knew I was severely hurt, and thought I probably broke my neck. But the thing was, I felt absolutely no pain. And then I heard this dog behind me start barking. He was right behind my head area. I could hear this—and I was very happy to hear it, and I'll tell you why: I thought someone must be around with their dog. Well, there were six people, men and women in their upper 60s to 70s in age, dressed in '50s-era clothing (which is not unusual for my hometown anyways, even today) coming into sight, and they were leaning over me. Some were standing over me, and I still couldn't move or talk. As soon as they came into view, the dog behind me stopped barking. I never did see the dog. Now, when I saw them, they weren't like ghostly apparition-type things; they were clearly visible, but I could also see the trees and the sky, and these people had like a different tint to them. But they were clearly identifiable, and the one thing that was very unusual for me was—because in a small town you know everyone; sometimes more than you want to—I didn't recognize a single one of them!

  The first thing that came to mind was, I've died, I'm in heaven, and heaven is just filled with old people. Like Florida! I tell you what, man, I was really disappointed, because I was 16 at the time, and I thought, Oh, this is Heaven. And so I lay there, and this one old man knelt down and he was right over my face, and he was studying me. But no one ever touched me, and no one ever talked directly to me. He looked very concerned, and he was talking to the other people, and they were all talking amongst themselves, and they were all worried about me. And the old man said that it was my neck and I was hurt really bad. And the conversations, like I said, weren't really to me; they were debating, and some of them were saying, "Oh, he's going to be okay," and the others were saying, "No, he's hurt really bad. He's not going to be okay." And I'm thinking, Well, go get help. Do something. Don't just stand there talking about it. And I tell you, Jim, clear as a bell, I could identify these people today. Their faces are very clear to me as I'm talking today.

  And, well, there was one point when the old man reached some sort of conclusion, because he said, "Yep," and he stood up and he walked out of my view, and then each person sort of started walking off. And I remember the last old lady, she gave me just the saddest look, before she also went out of my sight. At that sad look, I got the feeling I was going to die, and that really bothered me. I wondered why they left me there, because they knew I was hurt, and it didn't seem to me that they were going to get help, and as soon as they were out of sight, the dog started barking again. In the same spot behind me.

  I thought, Oh my God, they left their dog there. It was a little confusing to me, and I don't know how long I was there, but I started eventually to be able to move my toes, and then I started moving my fingers, and then I moved my ankles. I didn't want to push anything, because I sincerely thought my neck was broken. Eventually I was able to move my legs, and then I thought, Okay, I'm going to try to sit up, and I sat up, and eventually I stood up and I started moving my neck. My voice didn't come back; I still couldn't talk.

  I know I had hit my head hard, and maybe it was all that, but I do remember hearing my bike continue on whe
n I hit the ground, and then I heard it tip over. So I was conscious for that. Then I heard it stop running. I know that I had no pain, and that I was conscious.

  Here's the part that still scares me today: I got up, and turned to look where that dog was barking, exactly where I heard that dog barking, and I saw a horrible sight, Jim, horrible. In the exact spot where I heard the dog barking, there, chained to a tree, was the corpse of a dog that had been there at least two weeks. It was a horrible death, Jim. I'm telling you, somebody cruelly chained this dog to a tree, and I could see the circular pattern the dog had made. It probably died of thirst. It was so horrible, I got over to my bike, and I got out of there. I was so scared by that, the whole mess, that I went straight to my home, and into my room, and I didn't go out until—I was hoping my voice would come back. After about two hours of being home my voice came back. So I knew I didn't have to tell anybody this one; I think I got a break.

  About two days later, Jim, I went back to that spot, and I looked at that tree branch, and I saw the dog's corpse again, and I said a little prayer for the dog. I had to go back there to make sure that I'd seen it, and it was true. I tell you, I'll never go back to that spot again in my life.

  I haven't researched the town since then. But they do have a museum now, in that town, and that's a great idea. I could go back and probably do some research, and I'm telling you I'd recognize the people I saw in a heartbeat.

  I know that dog was barking from that spot...I don't know about dog ghosts, but I do feel strongly that, for whatever reason, that dog was barking. And I don't know, it's just my gut feeling, but I feel those people were there for that dog for some reason, and then my issue took place. I don't know if they had any input on my being able to get up and walk again, because I've never suffered any critical problems since then. I have no clue, and that's why I'll say that it was one of the two unexplainable events in my life. I will tell you, it still scares me today.

  -Mark, Minnesota

  65. What Are the Chances?

  I had some good friends who moved to the southwest of England, down in Cornwall, and they invited me to go and stay with them for a bit. Eventually I got everything synchronized and I went down to see them. One of my friends said, "Well, we're going to take you out to an old smugglers' pub in Cornwall in Falmouth, and we're going to meet up with some friends that have just come back from holiday."

  I said, "Oh, that would be nice." So we went down to this old pub, and it's a real old one. It went back...gosh, centuries. Really great atmosphere. My friends went to the bar to get some drinks, and I was left with their friends, and it can be a bit difficult to strike up conversation. I remembered that I'd been told that they'd just come back from holiday, so my first opener to them was, "Oh, did you have a good holiday?" They said, "Oh, yeah, really marvelous." I said, "Where did you go?" They said, "We stayed in England; we went to see some friends and stay at their house in Hampshire." I said, "Oh, that's interesting. That's where I grew up. Whereabouts was it?" They said, "We were in a little village near a town called Petersfield." I said, "That's pretty much where I grew up. What was the name of the village?" And they said, "It was a very small place called Liss." I said, "Well, that's a big coincidence; that's the exact village where I grew up as a boy, and spent most of my formative years."

  I said, "Just out of interest, whereabouts were you staying?" They said, "Well, you go out of the railway station and head out of the village along such-and-such road, and it was up there somewhere."

  Now my interest was really piqued, so I continued my query. "Well, that's more interesting," I said, "because that's pretty much the area where I lived as a boy. So whereabouts was it then?" They said, "Well, it's a place on Rake Road," and I said, "That's pretty much where my parents' house was; which house was it?" They said, "Well, it's an old place called Thorn Cottage, set back off the road. Big old white house." I said, "Well, that's my old house!"

  I'd never met these people before. This is where it started to get spooky. I said, "Well, just out of interest, which room did you stay in?" They said, "Well, you go through the door, up the staircase, turn right from the staircase, and we were in that room." I said, "I don't believe this; that's my old room." And I started to feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up. They slept in my old room!

  This business about synchronicity that I've heard people talk about, it's just...you couldn't plan it, could you? It just happens, and when it does, it knocks you sideways. Like I say, these people couldn't have known all these facts about me. Even my friends wouldn't have known—the people that invited me to stay—they just couldn't have known the details. But that's the way it happened. My friends were obviously amazed, because these people were very close friends of theirs, and they just couldn't believe that it all fell into place the way it did. It just got spookier as the whole thing got around, because I was thinking, I don't believe this. I really don't. I felt I was being set up, but when I questioned them, "This isn't a setup, is it?" They were adamant it wasn't.

  -Tim, United Kingdom

  66. A Cold Blast on a Hot August Night

  My mother and I were coming home from the movies at about 10 o'clock in the evening. It was one of those August nights when it was still really horrible out even though it was late. We were just walking past this spot we'd walked past a million times because it's on the way to school, to the supermarket, to church, et cetera. We would literally walk past this spot six to eight times a day. This one night we were walking past and it was really hot and muggy and we both got a blast of cold air that made us stop dead in our tracks. We just looked at each other and said, "What the heck is that?" There were the railroad tracks elevated on an embankment on our right, an office building that was closed a few houses down the block, and nothing else. We couldn't figure out where the cold air was coming from, and then we noticed it was in a very confined space; you could wrap your arms around it like a column of cold air, straight up, straight down.

  Here we were in the 1970s like two crazy people with our arms out trying to get the circumference, the height, and how far the cold spot went down. We walked over to the building across the street to see if their air conditioner was on. The houses down the block were quiet and there were no air conditioners running. We could not figure out where it was coming from.

  Well, that particular spot was the site of one of the Long Island Rail Road's worst train wrecks, back in the 1950s—1950 Thanksgiving evening, I believe it was. There were 79 people killed when one train rammed into another. This cold spot was in that stretch of track. I went to try to research it to see exactly where, and it was between Jamaica Station and Kew Gardens, where there was a Richmond Hill stop that is no longer there. I believe it was closed because of that accident. And there were a number of railroad cars involved so the accident area kind of spread from where we were down to the point of collision. So the wreck was in that area; that's the only thing I could think of causing the cold spot. I never heard anything weird about it. The only thing people would say was, "Oh yeah, back in the '50s it was that really bad train wreck." It was just such an oddity!

  -Jean, New York

  PART FIVE: EATING MY OWN DOGFOOD

  At the beginning of this book, I mentioned that I have felt destined to be involved in the paranormal world. This feeling did not come only from my childhood fascination with programs like In Search Of or The Twilight Zone, but something far more personal. Experiences of my own and of loved ones have convinced me that there is something to all of these paranormal stories.

  My family is salt-of-the-earth, and certainly not the type to sleep with crystals under their beds to summon some universal wisdom or study their chakras. To them, a cigar is a cigar, and life is pretty straightforward. Yet, I grew up with supernatural stories and later experienced my own weird tales that solidified my lifelong obsession with the topic at hand.

  So, join me as I close this book by telling my own stories and "eating my own dogfood" around the Campfire.
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br />   67. It Lit Up the Whole Sky

  Chapters 67 and 68 are stories that my father has told me since I was a small child. I'm always fascinated by them.

  One night at about 11 o'clock we were back in the mountains on vacation and me and your mom decided to take a ride through the mountains, and we pulled off and went up an old log road and we stopped in there. We stopped for a while and I had a bottle of beer—which I know I shouldn't have been doing—and it was pitch dark. (This was 40 years ago, so I don't think the law is going to come after me.) You could hardly see anything. It was pitch dark. We were sittin' there talkin' and all of a sudden there was a light so bright, when it lit up, it lit the whole car up on the inside and everything around it. You could see the minute-hand on the clock in the car, it was so bright. It only lasted for about three seconds. You could see the background of the trees and everything; the side of the hills; everything. But it didn't last long. I looked out the side window and it seemed like there was a person standing there. He looked to be, maybe, shoulder-length to the glass in the side of the door. He looked like he had some sort of a welding mask on.