There
was about thirteen couples of us, and we took a notion to walk out plumb
to the Mountain City Blue Heights Church to a box supper.
Well,
we all were coming, and there was about thirteen couples I guess,
and we started back up th'mountain and in th'dead of winter.
Awful cold, but y'know we were young and didn't care much, and we
were all coupled up together, and me and m'husband; of course-we
weren't married then.
But
there was a little girl there. And there was a family that
lived about a mile and a half from th'church back up th'mountain on
that old road, and they was pretty well-to-do people. And I
thought strange about them a'lettin' that child go-them leavin' that
child at th'church.
So
we started from th'church and this little child-it looked t'be about
four year old and it was barefooted and it had on a white
dress and a little band in it like they use t'make'em , and it had
blond colored hair and curls plumb down t'its shoulders-it walked
right at my heels every step up that mountain.
And
I just thought ever' one of th'rest of'em seen it, and I just
thought those well-to-do people had just left this child in
church. Just went off and left it t'sleep there.
It
kept right at my heels. It didn't walk at th'side a'my
husband. It walked right at my heels all th'way up that
mountain to a branch. And just before we got t'th'branch, why
that child fell down and spread out its arms thataway and was just
as gone as gone ever be. I said, "Lord have mercy,"
I said t'my boyfriend. The instant I said that, there wasn't a
thing there a bit more than nothing in this world.
That's
th'reason I believe in ghosts.
I
wouldn't have found out such a thing as that if I hadn't see'd it
with my own eyes. But of course I wasn't a bit afraid, y'know,
because they'us about thirteen couples along in front. But
that little'n had walked right at my heels ever' step up that
mountain till we got t'th'branch, and my mother always said that a
ghost wouldn't cross water.
Her
and my father used t'live right on up above there in a house, and
she said every morning there was a naked baby sittin' on th'chimney.
She's told us that so many times, but I didn't see that. I'm
just'a'tellin' y'what I see'd. It might have been th'same
thing, but this child was dressed in white. But I wouldn't
have thought of a ghost, and hadn't thought of one, if I hadn't
see'd it with my own eyes.2
Who Was at the Cottage Door?
- A true story by Jane Roberts
This
event took place about 35 years ago and it still gives me the creeps every time I think of it.
It
was the beginning of August and extremely hot and humid. My
husband and I had spent the weekend on a lake just outside of Bangor,
Maine. It was a great place we happened upon accidentally,
and we would have stayed longer except there were no
vacancies for the coming week. We decided to head back into New
Hampshire and go to the North Conway area where a friend of ours owned
a restaurant and some cabins.
I
don't remember how long it took to travel from Bangor to North Conway,
but I do know it seemed to take forever traveling on the old country
roads in a steamy hot car. We stopped only twice along the
way. The first stop was at a very tiny restaurant out in the
middle of nowhere. I remember the place because it was so small
- a tiny counter and four stools - and the best homemade pie I have
ever had. The second stop was to cool off in the river that ran
along the side of the road.
We
arrived at Fred's cabins around four, hot and exhausted. Fred
was in the kitchen at the restaurant getting ready for the evening
rush of transients and campers for his "all you could eat
spaghetti and meatball dinner for $2.99". Such a bargain!
As
always, he was glad to see us if not somewhat surprised. Usually
we called ahead and booked a cabin. He had to check the front
desk to see if he had anything available for us.
We
walked with him to the front of the restaurant and followed his gaze
as he glanced at the board behind the desk where he kept the keys to
the cabins. There was one left - # 11.
Fred
seemed a little hesitant in reaching for the key, but at the time, I
didn't think much of it. He handed us the key, cracked a few
jokes, and told us we could settle up in the morning, once we decided
how long we were going to stay.
We
drove the car to the cabin and brought in the luggage. It was
really stuffy and hot inside so we opened the windows, took a shower
and got dressed for dinner. It was a little after five as we
walked back to the restaurant, and after a delightful meal we spent a
few minutes in the kitchen with Fred and his wife before heading back
to the cabin.
As
we walked we noticed most people staying at the cabins were sitting
out on the front porches. There were six or eight people sitting
in front of the cabin to our right and another four to our left.
It was now almost seven o'clock, the sun wouldn't set for at least a
half hour, and it was still hot and humid. We hoped the cabin
had cooled off a little and we would not have any trouble falling
asleep. We decided, on the trip to North Conway , to make an early
night of it after the long drive.
We
were surprised when we opened the cabin door. It was like
stepping into a freezer. It was so cold we had to add a couple
more blankets to the bed, and at that, I wished I had a couple
more. If there had been heat, I would have turned it on.
We
were only in bed a few minutes when I heard a strange noise. At
first I thought it must have come from outside, perhaps from someone
on the porch next door. Then I heard it again. It sounded
like something turning - then it stopped. A few minutes later I
heard it again - turning like someone turning the doorknob. I
nudged my husband.
"Did
you hear that? Did you lock the door? " I asked these
questions knowing the door was locked, that I hadn't heard anyone come
up onto the porch, and hoped I would get some reasonable explanation
that would put my mind at ease.
What
I got was, "Yeah! The door's locked, the key's in the lock, and
it's probably Fred being funny. Go to sleep".
A
few minutes passed and then the noise began again. I sat up in
bed and looked at the doorknob on the front door. It was
turning.
Once
again I nudged my husband. He sat right up, and I could feel him
tense as he saw the knob on the door turn.
He
jumped out of be and rushed for the door and unlocked it. When
he opened it, no one was there, the screen door was locked, and there
were no breaks in the screen. You couldn't even wedge a piece of
paper between the door and the frame. He assured me what we were
seeing and hearing must be from the building settling and got back
into bed.
Not
more than five minutes passed when the noise began again. This
time he grabbed my arm and I could tell he was as scared as I
was. The room was so cold you could see your breath and the
doorknob was turning back and forth. The sun had not set and
people were still sitting outside talking and laughing. Finally,
he got the courage to get up and get dressed. He unlocked both
doors and went out on the porch. He called over to the people on
both sides of the cabin and asked if they had seen anyone out on the
porch. They had not. He walked around the cabin.
There was no one in sight. He checked the car. It was
still locked. At last he came in shrugging his shoulders.
"It has to be Fred. What else could it be," he
asked? "He must have found a way to rig the doorknob.
We'll catch up with him in the morning."
If
this was his explanation for what had happened, it didn't set right
with me. Even if Fred had found a way to "rig the
doorknob", how was he able to get this cabin so cold?
This
time when my husband got back into bed, we did not hear anymore sounds
or movement from the doorknob. Maybe he was right. Maybe
it was Fred. It was also getting noticeably warmer inside the
cabin.
The
next morning we went over to the restaurant for breakfast. We
thanked Fred for his wonderful attentiveness and sense of humor and
asked if he was aware he'd done such a great job at scaring us.
If
he was acting, he was doing a great job. He looked totally
confused and asked what we were talking about. When we told him
in detail what we heard and saw and how we had reacted to his joke, he
just looked at us in amazement and said, "I would never play a
joke on any of my guests even if they are my friends. I will
tell you what I know about that cabin".
Fred
told us he bought the cabins sometime after he purchased the house and
the restaurant. They had been offered to him at a very good
price and thought they would be a good investment. After the
deal had gone through, someone in town told him there had been a woman
murdered in one of the cabins but he had never been able to find out
which one. Yet every time this cabin was rented, he would
would hear strange stories from the occupants. So he hung the
key on the board and stopped renting it. In fact the cabin was
cleaned everyday but had not been rented for several
years. When we showed up, he knew we would have a hard
time getting a room anywhere in the village on such short notice so he
decided to let us stay in the cabin. He apologized and didn't
charge us for the night. A few years ago, a developer bought the
cabins, restaurant, and the house and put in a shopping mall.
Whatever was there has long been forgotten except for the few of us
that spent a night in cabin # 11.
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