Stories That Begin With the Letter R

Randolph-Macon
The Rocking Chair
Running Indian

Recently, I submitted my encounter, which you can find under "Puma Ghost." This is a much more recent, albeit much less creepy, ghost.

There are two Randolph-Macon colleges in Virginia. One is all-women, and the other is coed, although it used to be all-male. Since I'm a guy, I had to settle for the coed one (heh). Located in Ashland, Randolph-Macon is about 15 miles north of Richmond, and has several buildings that are supposedly haunted. Mary Branch dormatory, the largest, all-female dorm has a haunter (or haunters) that like opening and closing doors, flipping the lights on and off, etc. You know, the typical non-aggressive playful spookstuff. Washington-Franklin Hall, home of the history department, is one of the older buildings on campus, and had at least two ghosts that the administration's receptionist, a self-proclaimed "psychic," claims to have exorcised. Before her psychic weavings, teachers (who had their offices on the second floor) said they heard footsteps and talking downstairs when no one should have been there.

I don't know about the dorm or the two ghosts that the receptionist got rid of, but I think Washington-Franklin Hall has at least one other ghost.

A little layout of Washington-Franklin Hall: when one walks in through the front door of the building, there is Washington hall and Franklin hall located immediately to the left and right, and a large staircase leads up to the offices of the history department. I can't remember which hall is which, but the left hall had been closed to students and faculty until late in my college years. When one had a history class, the schedule would simply say Washington-Franklin Hall, and not give any particular one because only one was open

I was attending a night lecture, held in the right hall, for some extra credit, and there had been a small reception in the left hall earlier in the evening to celebrate the hall's reopening. When the lecture was over, while faculty and others were congradulating the speaker, I decided to pop over to the left hall to see what was in it, since I had never seen it open before and I really had nothing else to do. I shuffled over before anyone else left the hall

The room of the left hall was not as big as the classroom in the right hall since the restrooms were directly behind it, and it was set up more as a lounge/sitting room. There was adequite light to see, but the room was exactly super-bright, either. Altogether, I didn't see classes being held here. (If this has changed, please forgive me: I haven't been in the hall since 1995). The cleaning crew had yet to come to take the snacks and appetizers back to the dining hall, so I helped myself to some cheese and crackers.

I wear thick glasses, and the light was coming in from such a direction that I could see a basic reflection of the room behind me. I was munching on my third or fourht cracker when I saw reflected movement behind me. Thinking someone, maybe a child who had come with his/her parents, had been hiding, I turned to see who was there.

In the second I saw it, it disappeared. Whatever "it" was, it was black, so much so that I could not see through it. To call it a blob or a shape would be too confining. It had no form as I could see. A patch of blackness is the best way to describe it. When it vanished, the hair on the back of my neck shot up, although I wasn't cold or scared. Granted, I was startled, but my reaction was much more on the side of "Hey, what the heck was that?" than "HOLY {loud repetition of six out of the seven words you can't say on television}!" Overall, I didn't feel threatened or scared, just startled.

In the days following the event, I did a lot of research on ghosts, much more so than I had done in years prior. I found that, in a number of cases where monitoring equipment had been used, some items registered fluxes of electricity, while other recording devices would suddenly garble, show snow, or have white noise. I tried to figure how something like that might apply to my encounter. Static, maybe? That would account for my hair standing on end. Maybe the ghost wanted to pat me on the back... heh.

Furthermore, the hall had been locked up when the receptionist "excorsized" the other two. Maybe she couldn't reach this ghost, and it had been cut off from the rest of the world when the doors were locked.

One note: Washington-Franklin Hall has a number of Masonic symbols (hammers, etc.) on the outside. Might this have something to do with the activity inside?

The Rocking Chair

Author:Dave de Montbrun

Email:demontbrun@hfx.andara.com

My name is David J. de Montbrun and I live in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada. Up until recently I have prided myself on being the very essence of rationality. Everything had an explanation for me. This changed one cold night in November, 1998.

My wife Mary and I had just moved into a stately house in historic Halifax. To those of you not familiar with Halifax, I will have to give you a little background into one of the most horrifying aspects of her past. During the close of WW1, Halifax had become a major port for the Allied war effort. Countless ships carrying heavy munitions dotted the harbour, and one morning, two munitions ships collided and consequently, one exploded. What happended became known simply as the Halifax Explosion, and it was the largest man-made explosion up to the time of the atomic bombs on Japan. It decimated the city, killing thousands and leaving many more homeless. However, back to my narrative. Mary and I had moved into a house in a historic part of Halaifax with our dog, Gene. Gene is a robust German shepherd. Anyway, we had been in the house about a week when I woke up in the middle of the night. This in itself is not a strange occurence, but what I saw later intrigued me. I heard a faint rustling downstairs, so I promptly went down to investigate. As I had surmised, it was only Gene moving around...but something just wasn't right about it. Gene suddenly stopped moving, sat down, and stared at the rocking chair we had in the corner of the living room. As he did this, I stared at him. He started to wag his tail contently while still staring at the chair, sort as if something (someone), was sitting their playfully engaging his attention. It was at this time that I looked over to the chair and distinctly saw it rock first backward and then forward, and repeat. This happened quickly and I looked to Gene quickly after that and he was on his way towards me, wagging his tail. It was as if whatever was in the chair had gotten up and left. Being the rational man that I am (was), I put it out of my mind and went back to bed.

Weeks went by without incident, although while I was at work, my wife called me a couple of times because she had gotten what she calls 'the willies' while at home. I asked her what she was doing when she got that feeling, and she told me that she was just reading a book on the rocking chair. I comforted her but said nothing of my incident. The next night is where things went crazy.

Again I was woken up in the middle of the night. Again, I heard noises downstairs and went to take a look. Gene was lying on the bed with my wife so I knew it couldn't possible be him. Everything was dark downstairs but I heard the rocking chair, squeaking on the hard-wood as it rocked. I stood there for what must have been minutes, listening to the chair rock. There was a window in the corner beside the chair, so I shifted sideways so I might be able to get a profile shot of the chair and what was in it. And there she was. She had gray hair from what I could tell, and from the profile I could ascertain that she was elderly. Her head turned toward me, but I could not see her face on account of the darkness. She continued to look my way for a minute or two. Far from being scared silly, I felt rather embarrassed, like I had interrupted her, whoever she was. I did not feel threatened or terrified by her at all. I heard someone behind me and turned...it was my wife who proceeded to turn the lights on and after she did this I turned back toward the chair. Nothing. Later I told Mary what had happened but it wasn't till I did some research at the Archives that I discovered who this woman must have been.

At the turn of the century the house was owned by a Reverend, one Morgan Boutilier. He lived there with his wife, Cody. In 1911, he had died and Cody was left to the house all by herself, without any children. She had many close friends, though, and I managed to contact a very elderly woman who knew Cody. I asked for Information about everything on her and the lady obliged. Near the end of her story, the woman said, "I'll never forget Cody, the way I use to come in to her house everyday and she'd be sitting on her rocking chair, reading a book and smiling." I smiled at this part and thanked her for her time. Anyway, Cody was in her rocking chair during the Halifax Explosion, for that's where she was found by rescuers. The house had been badly damaged and everything was thrown everywhere, but the rocking chair stayed where it was. The funny thing is, the rocking chair was there when we moved in, and when I asked the former occupants they said the same thing. "Ever thought of throwing it out?" I asked them, and they said "No." Neither had I. I still hear the chair rocking the odd night, and when I do I wish Cody a good night.

Running Indian

Author: Terri

Email: takers@(nospam)ivillage.com

Okay, this is my last experience to date.

My husband and I were in the beginning processes of building our house. Our land is back in the woods and you have to cross a good-sized creek to get to it. But there are two more houses back there with us, so it's not completely lonely. A very good friend of mine and her husband live in one of those houses back in the woods. David and I were going to visit them one night. We were coming up on the creek, which is at the bottom of two hills, in David's truck. We crossed the creek fine and then started back up the second hill. All of a sudden I saw someone run out in front of the truck! I gasped and grabbed the door handle. David slammed on the brakes so he saw it too. I was sure we were about to hit someone, but the person disappeared in the middle of the road (he never stopped running, he just disappeared in the middle of this action)!!! We were stunned. David asked me if I had seen it. YES!! What we saw is what looked like an Indian. He had no shirt on, and his pants were light colored and ragged. His hair seemed to be pulled back into one braid.

Okay, we got a hold of ourselves and continued on. Later at my friends house, they started relating stories of their house-building days. They happened to mention that when their well was being dug, they found a few clay pots and arrowheads! David and I gulped and looked at each other. So then we had to tell them what happened to us on the way over. I also wanted to see the things they had found, but unfortunately my friend have given the stuff to her father since he likes that kind of stuff.

Well, I haven't seen our Indian friend since then and our house has been built and we've been in it for two years now. But my husband claims to have seen him at least one more time. He says it was in the same spot, only this time he was sitting on a horse. :-) He also said he was facing the same direction (looking across the road) that he had tried to run across that first time we saw him. It was also night time, of course.

That's it! :-)

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