Ghost Stories of Mansfield Reformatory
* Administration Wing
Visitors and employees have reported experiencing strong paranormal events in the administration wing where Warden Glattke and his wife Helen resided. The story is Helen, while reaching for a box in the closet, knocked a gun off the shelf to the floor, causing a bullet to discharge into her chest. She was rushed to the Mansfield General Hospital where she died as a result of her injuries.
Rumors ran rampant that Warden Glattke was responsible for Helen's death, but there was never any proof to substantiate such rumors. Ten years later Glattke suffered a heart attack and died at the same hospital where Helen died.
Some believe that Helen and Warden Glattke haunt the administration rooms to this day. The strong smell of Helen's rose perfume reportedly floats in and out of her pink bathroom. Visitors report felling a gush of cold air pass through them as the wander through this wing. It is not uncommon to hear of a jammed camera shutter, which unexplainably worked again once the visitor left the area.
Ted Glattke, the youngest son of Helen and Warden Glattke, has said that most of the information written about his parents haunting Mansfield Reformatory is based on sensationalism and inaccurate stories.
* The Chapel
The Chapel is suspected of many paranormal events and some believe it is nucleus for much of the prison's haunting tales. Rumors that the Chapel was first an execution room, where inmates were tortured and died slow deaths while hanging from the rafters, may account for the many reported orbs photographed and the strange recordings some say they have captured in this area of the prison. Visitors have reported seeing spirits lingering near doorways, only to vanish once their presence is detected.
* The Infirmary
The infirmary where many prisoners died miserable deaths is known in paranormal circles to set off EMF detectors and claims of clusters of orbs have been captured in photographs. There have also been several reports from visitors that they have felt unexplained gushes of air pass by them.
* The Basement
The spirit of a 14-year-old who was beaten to death in the basement is said to linger in the dark crumbling hallways, which twist around the dark decaying basement. Also, the spirit of a former Reformatory employee named George is said to haunt the basement halls.
* The Library
The Reformatory's library and a small inmate's graveyard are believed by some to be haunted. Visitors have reported seeing objects move in the graveyard and equipment failure is not uncommon in the library. Psychics visiting the library have reported seeing the spirit of a young woman, possibly Helen or a nurse who was killed by one of the prisoners.
* The Cellblocks
Prisoners told of feeling someone tucking them in at night and it was rumored that the ghost of Helen or the nurse would moved in and out of the cells, bringing a touch of comfort to the inmates with a simple tuck of a blanket.
* The Hole
The hole, located in the basement of the prison, was a place where prisoners who broke the rules were kept in one of the 20 cells. Inmates would be kept in the dark, dank, roach-infested cells, with one or more inmates, with little to eat and no place of comfort to sleep.
Bread and water was the common meal with a lunch provided every three days. The stronger inmates would take the food from the weaker, leaving many to suffer hunger as well as other hardships.
Many prisoners died in the hole and some believe that their tortured spirits remain, prompting reports of negative paranormal energy in this area.
Visitors to this area sometimes leave after being overwhelmed with nausea. Others feel chills run through their bodies. The feeling of being watched permeates in the rooms and some have even reported seeing glowing eyes peering at them from dark corners.
The Mansfield Reformatory Organization
Today the Reformatory is in the process of being restored. The Mansfield Reformatory Organization is working diligently to prevent any future deterioration.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Friday, October 1, 2010
New Ghost Story
Back when I was a young, broke college student, a friend and I thought we had stumbled upon the deal of a lifetime: A huge 5 bedroom house with 2 bathrooms for dirt cheap rent. The house was in a kind of out of the way place in Virginia, but it suited our needs and the rent was unbelievably cheap. Let me preface this by saying that in the Commonwealth of Virginia, there are no disclosure laws in real estate, meaning that the buyer/renter is not entitled to know the history of the house before signing on the dotted line.
Within a month of moving into this house, odd things began happening. The electricity didn't work very well. At first we attributed this to the fact that the house was very old, built in the early 1900's and the most recent re-wiring of the house had been done in the 50's. Also, the main breaker for the house was located outside in a barn that stood about 20 yards from the house itself and was connected by several crude-looking overhead wires. Whenever the breakers tripped (which was at least 4 times a week) we'd have to get the flashlight and go to the barn to flip them back on. The electricity wasn't the only problem. We had an answering machine that never recorded any messages. Sometimes the light would be blinking and when we'd push play, it was nothing but static. This was before DVR and we worked a lot of nights, so we would try to record our shows, but it never worked. Just static and white noise. We also found it odd that pictures never turned out in or around the house. We went though 13 rolls of film before finally giving up.
The first time we realized that we were dealing with more than just bad wiring was approximately 4 weeks after we moved in. As we were heading to the garage (which was only accessible through the door in the kitchen or the heavy old automatic door outside) we came to a dead stop. There was a man standing in our garage! He just stood there and was completely oblivious when we screamed. My friend slammed the door and locked it and called out to the man that we had a gun and were calling the cops. She retrieved the said gun and we opened the door again. The man was gone. Just poof, vanished. As previously stated, there were only 2 ways in - door through kitchen or automatic door outside. The automatic door was very noisy, so we would have heard it open and we had been in the kitchen all morning so there was no way he got in that way. We were baffled, but went about life like normal. That incident seemed to open the floodgates, because after that it really became obvious we were dealing with something not of this world.
We used to hear the sound of a baby crying, followed by the sound of a rocking chair up in the attic. We investigated and found nothing. Certain spots would always remain cold. Cold is not something you come across in Virginia in the summer. Numerous times we woke up to find all the contents of the pantry on the floor. There were dozens of other odd things that happened, but I'm just highlighting some of the more bizarre occurrences.
As things began to escalate, we got more and more nervous. The pinnacle was when we were sitting in the kitchen one evening, playing cards and waiting for some guests to arrive. Naturally, the lights went out, so we went out to trip the breaker. When we came out of the barn, we saw our friend running up the steps of the porch with a baseball bat. When we asked what he was doing, he told us that he saw a man standing in our living room then walk up the stairs! Scared, we crowded behind him and searched the house with the bat and a gun. Nothing!
About 2 weeks after that, my roommates boss asked her why she never returned his call about switching a shift. She said that she hadn't gotten any messages and he proceeded to tell her about the man that answered the phone and told her we were out! Upon further investigation, we discovered that several other people had the same experience when they called! We were thoroughly freaked out by this time, so we decided to ask some of the town's resident's about the house.
We found out that the house was always vacant within 6 months of it being rented out. Although we were scared, we still stayed because of how cheap it was.
One evening, we were in the living room watching TV. When we heard a huge thud against the basement door. When I say thud, I mean the whole wall shook and the door frame came loose. The door was locked, but we were scared and put a chair against it. We could hear growling on the other side and claws on the door, so we again got the gun. We figured at first that a wild animal must have gotten in there, so we went outside to check the entrance. It was bolted shut. We even checked the tiny windows, nothing broken.
We finally went back into the house and opened the basement door. Nothing there! I've never seen claw marks like that before or since. It was as if whatever had done it only had 3 toes! Besides, nothing that was indigenous to the area was 3 toed or could have gotten in there without opening the door or breaking the window! Not to mention, none of the local animals, say a bear, could have exerted that much force to warp a door frame! We moved a week later.
We could never really come up with any idea of what happened in that house or why. To this day, it remains a mystery. And to this day, nobody lives there for more than 6 months before leaving.
Within a month of moving into this house, odd things began happening. The electricity didn't work very well. At first we attributed this to the fact that the house was very old, built in the early 1900's and the most recent re-wiring of the house had been done in the 50's. Also, the main breaker for the house was located outside in a barn that stood about 20 yards from the house itself and was connected by several crude-looking overhead wires. Whenever the breakers tripped (which was at least 4 times a week) we'd have to get the flashlight and go to the barn to flip them back on. The electricity wasn't the only problem. We had an answering machine that never recorded any messages. Sometimes the light would be blinking and when we'd push play, it was nothing but static. This was before DVR and we worked a lot of nights, so we would try to record our shows, but it never worked. Just static and white noise. We also found it odd that pictures never turned out in or around the house. We went though 13 rolls of film before finally giving up.
The first time we realized that we were dealing with more than just bad wiring was approximately 4 weeks after we moved in. As we were heading to the garage (which was only accessible through the door in the kitchen or the heavy old automatic door outside) we came to a dead stop. There was a man standing in our garage! He just stood there and was completely oblivious when we screamed. My friend slammed the door and locked it and called out to the man that we had a gun and were calling the cops. She retrieved the said gun and we opened the door again. The man was gone. Just poof, vanished. As previously stated, there were only 2 ways in - door through kitchen or automatic door outside. The automatic door was very noisy, so we would have heard it open and we had been in the kitchen all morning so there was no way he got in that way. We were baffled, but went about life like normal. That incident seemed to open the floodgates, because after that it really became obvious we were dealing with something not of this world.
We used to hear the sound of a baby crying, followed by the sound of a rocking chair up in the attic. We investigated and found nothing. Certain spots would always remain cold. Cold is not something you come across in Virginia in the summer. Numerous times we woke up to find all the contents of the pantry on the floor. There were dozens of other odd things that happened, but I'm just highlighting some of the more bizarre occurrences.
As things began to escalate, we got more and more nervous. The pinnacle was when we were sitting in the kitchen one evening, playing cards and waiting for some guests to arrive. Naturally, the lights went out, so we went out to trip the breaker. When we came out of the barn, we saw our friend running up the steps of the porch with a baseball bat. When we asked what he was doing, he told us that he saw a man standing in our living room then walk up the stairs! Scared, we crowded behind him and searched the house with the bat and a gun. Nothing!
About 2 weeks after that, my roommates boss asked her why she never returned his call about switching a shift. She said that she hadn't gotten any messages and he proceeded to tell her about the man that answered the phone and told her we were out! Upon further investigation, we discovered that several other people had the same experience when they called! We were thoroughly freaked out by this time, so we decided to ask some of the town's resident's about the house.
We found out that the house was always vacant within 6 months of it being rented out. Although we were scared, we still stayed because of how cheap it was.
One evening, we were in the living room watching TV. When we heard a huge thud against the basement door. When I say thud, I mean the whole wall shook and the door frame came loose. The door was locked, but we were scared and put a chair against it. We could hear growling on the other side and claws on the door, so we again got the gun. We figured at first that a wild animal must have gotten in there, so we went outside to check the entrance. It was bolted shut. We even checked the tiny windows, nothing broken.
We finally went back into the house and opened the basement door. Nothing there! I've never seen claw marks like that before or since. It was as if whatever had done it only had 3 toes! Besides, nothing that was indigenous to the area was 3 toed or could have gotten in there without opening the door or breaking the window! Not to mention, none of the local animals, say a bear, could have exerted that much force to warp a door frame! We moved a week later.
We could never really come up with any idea of what happened in that house or why. To this day, it remains a mystery. And to this day, nobody lives there for more than 6 months before leaving.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Ghost Story
A Ghost Story
by Mark Twain
I took a large room, far up Broadway, in a huge old building whose upper stories had been wholly unoccupied for years, until I came. The place had long been given up to dust and cobwebs, to solitude and silence. I seemed groping among the tombs and invading the privacy of the dead, that first night I climbed up to my quarters. For the first time in my life a superstitious dread came over me; and as I turned a dark angle of the stairway and an invisible cobweb swung its lazy woof in my face and clung there, I shuddered as one who had encountered a phantom.
I was glad enough when I reached my room and locked out the mould and the darkness. A cheery fire was burning in the grate, and I sat down before it with a comforting sense of relief. For two hours I sat there, thinking of bygone times; recalling old scenes, and summoning half-forgotten faces out of the mists of the past; listening, in fancy, to voices that long ago grew silent for all time, and to once familiar songs that nobody sings now. And as my reverie softened down to a sadder and sadder pathos, the shrieking of the winds outside softened to a wail, the angry beating of the rain against the panes diminished to a tranquil patter, and one by one the noises in the street subsided, until the hurrying footsteps of the last belated straggler died away in the distance and left no sound behind.
The fire had burned low. A sense of loneliness crept over me. I arose and undressed, moving on tiptoe about the room, doing stealthily what I had to do, as if I were environed by sleeping enemies whose slumbers it would be fatal to break. I covered up in bed, and lay listening to the rain and wind and the faint creaking of distant shutters, till they lulled me to sleep.
I slept profoundly, but how long I do not know. All at once I found myself awake, and filled with a shuddering expectancy. All was still. All but my own heart -- I could hear it beat. Presently the bedclothes began to slip away slowly toward the foot of the bed, as if some one were pulling them! I could not stir; I could not speak. Still the blankets slipped deliberately away, till my breast was uncovered. Then with a great effort I seized them and drew them over my head. I waited, listened, waited. Once more that steady pull began, and once more I lay torpid a century of dragging seconds till my breast was naked again. At last I roused my energies and snatched the covers back to their place and held them with a strong grip. I waited. By and by I felt a faint tug, and took a fresh grip. The tug strengthened to a steady strain -- it grew stronger and stronger. My hold parted, and for the third time the blankets slid away. I groaned. An answering groan came from the foot of the bed! Beaded drops of sweat stood upon my forehead. I was more dead than alive. Presently I heard a heavy footstep in my room -- the step of an elephant, it seemed to me -- it was not like anything human. But it was moving FROM me -- there was relief in that. I heard it approach the door -- pass out without moving bolt or lock -- and wander away among the dismal corridors, straining the floors and joists till they creaked again as it passed -- and then silence reigned once more.
When my excitement had calmed, I said to myself, "This is a dream -- simply a hideous dream." And so I lay thinking it over until I convinced myself that it WAS a dream, and then a comforting laugh relaxed my lips and I was happy again. I got up and struck a light; and when I found that the locks and bolts were just as I had left them, another soothing laugh welled in my heart and rippled from my lips. I took my pipe and lit it, and was just sitting down before the fire, when -- down went the pipe out of my nerveless fingers, the blood forsook my cheeks, and my placid breathing was cut short with a gasp! In the ashes on the hearth, side by side with my own bare footprint, was another, so vast that in comparison mine was but an infant's'! Then I had HAD a visitor, and the elephant tread was explained.
I put out the light and returned to bed, palsied with fear. I lay a long time, peering into the darkness, and listening. Then I heard a grating noise overhead, like the dragging of a heavy body across the floor; then the throwing down of the body, and the shaking of my windows in response to the concussion. In distant parts of the building I heard the muffled slamming of doors. I heard, at intervals, stealthy footsteps creeping in and out among the corridors, and up and down the stairs. Sometimes these noises approached my door, hesitated, and went away again. I heard the clanking of chains faintly, in remote passages, and listened while the clanking grew nearer -- while it wearily climbed the stairways, marking each move by the loose surplus of chain that fell with an accented rattle upon each succeeding step as the goblin that bore it advanced. I heard muttered sentences; half-uttered screams that seemed smothered violently; and the swish of invisible garments, the rush of invisible wings. Then I became conscious that my chamber was invaded -- that I was not alone. I heard sighs and breathings about my bed, and mysterious whisperings. Three little spheres of soft phosphorescent light appeared on the ceiling directly over my head, clung and glowed there a moment, and then dropped -- two of them upon my face and one upon the pillow. They spattered, liquidly, and felt warm. Intuition told me they had turned to gouts of blood as they fell -- I needed no light to satisfy myself of that. Then I saw pallid faces, dimly luminous, and white uplifted hands, floating bodiless in the air -floating a moment and then disappearing. The whispering ceased, and the voices and the sounds, and a solemn stillness followed. I waited and listened. I felt that I must have light or die. I was weak with fear. I slowly raised myself toward a sitting posture, and my face came in contact with a clammy hand! All strength went from me apparently, and I fell back like a stricken invalid. Then I heard the rustle of a garment -- it seemed to pass to the door and go out.
When everything was still once more, I crept out of bed, sick and feeble, and lit the gas with a hand that trembled as if it were aged with a hundred years. The light brought some little cheer to my spirits. I sat down and fell into a dreamy contemplation of that great footprint in the ashes. By and by its outlines began to waver and grow dim. I glanced up and the broad gas flame was slowly wilting away. In the same moment I heard that elephantine tread again. I noted its approach, nearer and nearer, along the musty halls, and dimmer and dimmer the light waned. The tread reached my very door and paused -- the light had dwindled to a sickly blue, and all things about me lay in a spectral twilight. The door did not open, and yet I felt a faint gust of air fan my cheek, and presently was conscious of a huge, cloudy presence before me. I watched it with fascinated eyes. A pale glow stole over the Thing; gradually its cloudy folds took shape -- an arm appeared, then legs, then a body, and last a great sad face looked out of the vapor. Stripped of its filmy housings, naked, muscular and comely, the majestic Cardiff Giant loomed above me!
All my misery vanished -- for a child might know that no harm could come with that benignant countenance. My cheerful spirits returned at once, and in sympathy with them the gas flamed up brightly again. Never a lonely outcast was so glad to welcome company as I was to greet the friendly giant. I said:
"Why, is it nobody but you? Do you know, I have been scared to death for the last two or three hours? I am most honestly glad to see you. I wish I had a chair -- Here, here, don't try to sit down in that thing!
But it was too late. He was in it before I could stop him, and down he went -- I never saw a chair shivered so in my life.
"Stop, stop, You'll ruin ev--"
Too late again. There was another crash, and another chair was resolved into its original elements.
"Confound it, haven't you got any judgment at all? Do you want to ruin all the furniture on the place? Here, here, you petrified fool--"
But it was no use. Before I could arrest him he had sat down on the bed, and it was a melancholy ruin.
"Now what sort of a way is that to do? First you come lumbering about the place bringing a legion of vagabond goblins along with you to worry me to death, and then when I overlook an indelicacy of costume which would not be tolerated anywhere by cultivated people except in a respectable theater, and not even there if the nudity were of YOUR sex, you repay me by wrecking all the furniture you can find to sit down on. And why will you? You damage yourself as much as you do me. You have broken off the end of your spinal column, and littered up the floor with chips of your hams till the place looks like a marble yard. You ought to be ashamed of yourself -- you are big enough to know better."
"Well, I will not break any more furniture. But what am I to do? I have not had a chance to sit down for a century." And the tears came into his eyes.
"Poor devil," I said, "I should not have been so harsh with you. And you are an orphan, too, no doubt. But sit down on the floor here -- nothing else can stand your weight -- and besides, we cannot be sociable with you away up there above me; I want you down where I can perch on this high counting-house stool and gossip with you face to face."
So he sat down on the floor, and lit a pipe which I gave him, threw one of my red blankets over his shoulders, inverted my sitz-bath on his head, helmet fashion, and made himself picturesque and comfortable. Then he crossed his ankles, while I renewed the fire, and exposed the flat, honey-combed bottoms of his prodigious feet to the grateful warmth.
"What is the matter with the bottom of your feet and the back of your legs, that they are gouged up so?"
"Infernal chillblains -- I caught them clear up to the back of my head, roosting out there under Newell's farm. But I love the place; I love it as one loves his old home. There is no peace for me like the peace I feel when I am there."
We talked along for half an hour, and then I noticed that he looked tired, and spoke of it. "Tired?" he said. "Well, I should think so. And now I will tell you all about it, since you have treated me so well. I am the spirit of the Petrified Man that lies across the street there in the Museum. I am the ghost of the Cardiff Giant. I can have no rest, no peace, till they have given that poor body burial again. Now what was the most natural thing for me to do, to make men satisfy this wish? Terrify them into it! -- haunt the place where the body lay! So I haunted the museum night after night. I even got other spirits to help me. But it did no good, for nobody ever came to the museum at midnight. Then it occurred to me to come over the way and haunt this place a little. I felt that if I ever got a hearing I must succeed, for I had the most efficient company that perdition could furnish. Night after night we have shivered around through these mildewed halls, dragging chains, groaning, whispering, tramping up and down stairs, till, to tell you the truth, I am almost worn out. But when I saw a light in your room to-night I roused my energies again and went at it with a deal of the old freshness. But I am tired out -- entirely fagged out. Give me, I beseech you, give me some hope!"
I lit off my perch in a burst of excitement, and exclaimed:
"This transcends everything -- everything that ever did occur! Why you poor blundering old fossil, you have had all your trouble for nothing -- you have been haunting a PLASTER CAST of yourself -- the real Cardiff Giant is in Albany!
[Footnote by Twain: A fact. The original fraud was ingeniously and fraudfully duplicated, and exhibited in New York as the "only genuine" Cardiff Giant (to the unspeakable disgust of the owners of the real colossus) at the very same time that the latter was drawing crowds at a museum in Albany.]
Confound it, don't you know your own remains?"
I never saw such an eloquent look of shame, of pitiable humiliation, overspread a countenance before.
The Petrified Man rose slowly to his feet, and said:
"Honestly, IS that true?"
"As true as I am sitting here."
He took the pipe from his mouth and laid it on the mantel, then stood irresolute a moment (unconsciously, from old habit, thrusting his hands where his pantaloons pockets should have been, and meditatively dropping his chin on his breast), and finally said:
"Well -- I NEVER felt so absurd before. The Petrified Man has sold everybody else, and now the mean fraud has ended by selling its own ghost! My son, if there is any charity left in your heart for a poor friendless phantom like me, don't let this get out. Think how YOU would feel if you had made such an ass of yourself."
I heard his, stately tramp die away, step by step down the stairs and out into the deserted street, and felt sorry that he was gone, poor fellow -- and sorrier still that he had carried off my red blanket and my bath tub.
by Mark Twain
I took a large room, far up Broadway, in a huge old building whose upper stories had been wholly unoccupied for years, until I came. The place had long been given up to dust and cobwebs, to solitude and silence. I seemed groping among the tombs and invading the privacy of the dead, that first night I climbed up to my quarters. For the first time in my life a superstitious dread came over me; and as I turned a dark angle of the stairway and an invisible cobweb swung its lazy woof in my face and clung there, I shuddered as one who had encountered a phantom.
I was glad enough when I reached my room and locked out the mould and the darkness. A cheery fire was burning in the grate, and I sat down before it with a comforting sense of relief. For two hours I sat there, thinking of bygone times; recalling old scenes, and summoning half-forgotten faces out of the mists of the past; listening, in fancy, to voices that long ago grew silent for all time, and to once familiar songs that nobody sings now. And as my reverie softened down to a sadder and sadder pathos, the shrieking of the winds outside softened to a wail, the angry beating of the rain against the panes diminished to a tranquil patter, and one by one the noises in the street subsided, until the hurrying footsteps of the last belated straggler died away in the distance and left no sound behind.
The fire had burned low. A sense of loneliness crept over me. I arose and undressed, moving on tiptoe about the room, doing stealthily what I had to do, as if I were environed by sleeping enemies whose slumbers it would be fatal to break. I covered up in bed, and lay listening to the rain and wind and the faint creaking of distant shutters, till they lulled me to sleep.
I slept profoundly, but how long I do not know. All at once I found myself awake, and filled with a shuddering expectancy. All was still. All but my own heart -- I could hear it beat. Presently the bedclothes began to slip away slowly toward the foot of the bed, as if some one were pulling them! I could not stir; I could not speak. Still the blankets slipped deliberately away, till my breast was uncovered. Then with a great effort I seized them and drew them over my head. I waited, listened, waited. Once more that steady pull began, and once more I lay torpid a century of dragging seconds till my breast was naked again. At last I roused my energies and snatched the covers back to their place and held them with a strong grip. I waited. By and by I felt a faint tug, and took a fresh grip. The tug strengthened to a steady strain -- it grew stronger and stronger. My hold parted, and for the third time the blankets slid away. I groaned. An answering groan came from the foot of the bed! Beaded drops of sweat stood upon my forehead. I was more dead than alive. Presently I heard a heavy footstep in my room -- the step of an elephant, it seemed to me -- it was not like anything human. But it was moving FROM me -- there was relief in that. I heard it approach the door -- pass out without moving bolt or lock -- and wander away among the dismal corridors, straining the floors and joists till they creaked again as it passed -- and then silence reigned once more.
When my excitement had calmed, I said to myself, "This is a dream -- simply a hideous dream." And so I lay thinking it over until I convinced myself that it WAS a dream, and then a comforting laugh relaxed my lips and I was happy again. I got up and struck a light; and when I found that the locks and bolts were just as I had left them, another soothing laugh welled in my heart and rippled from my lips. I took my pipe and lit it, and was just sitting down before the fire, when -- down went the pipe out of my nerveless fingers, the blood forsook my cheeks, and my placid breathing was cut short with a gasp! In the ashes on the hearth, side by side with my own bare footprint, was another, so vast that in comparison mine was but an infant's'! Then I had HAD a visitor, and the elephant tread was explained.
I put out the light and returned to bed, palsied with fear. I lay a long time, peering into the darkness, and listening. Then I heard a grating noise overhead, like the dragging of a heavy body across the floor; then the throwing down of the body, and the shaking of my windows in response to the concussion. In distant parts of the building I heard the muffled slamming of doors. I heard, at intervals, stealthy footsteps creeping in and out among the corridors, and up and down the stairs. Sometimes these noises approached my door, hesitated, and went away again. I heard the clanking of chains faintly, in remote passages, and listened while the clanking grew nearer -- while it wearily climbed the stairways, marking each move by the loose surplus of chain that fell with an accented rattle upon each succeeding step as the goblin that bore it advanced. I heard muttered sentences; half-uttered screams that seemed smothered violently; and the swish of invisible garments, the rush of invisible wings. Then I became conscious that my chamber was invaded -- that I was not alone. I heard sighs and breathings about my bed, and mysterious whisperings. Three little spheres of soft phosphorescent light appeared on the ceiling directly over my head, clung and glowed there a moment, and then dropped -- two of them upon my face and one upon the pillow. They spattered, liquidly, and felt warm. Intuition told me they had turned to gouts of blood as they fell -- I needed no light to satisfy myself of that. Then I saw pallid faces, dimly luminous, and white uplifted hands, floating bodiless in the air -floating a moment and then disappearing. The whispering ceased, and the voices and the sounds, and a solemn stillness followed. I waited and listened. I felt that I must have light or die. I was weak with fear. I slowly raised myself toward a sitting posture, and my face came in contact with a clammy hand! All strength went from me apparently, and I fell back like a stricken invalid. Then I heard the rustle of a garment -- it seemed to pass to the door and go out.
When everything was still once more, I crept out of bed, sick and feeble, and lit the gas with a hand that trembled as if it were aged with a hundred years. The light brought some little cheer to my spirits. I sat down and fell into a dreamy contemplation of that great footprint in the ashes. By and by its outlines began to waver and grow dim. I glanced up and the broad gas flame was slowly wilting away. In the same moment I heard that elephantine tread again. I noted its approach, nearer and nearer, along the musty halls, and dimmer and dimmer the light waned. The tread reached my very door and paused -- the light had dwindled to a sickly blue, and all things about me lay in a spectral twilight. The door did not open, and yet I felt a faint gust of air fan my cheek, and presently was conscious of a huge, cloudy presence before me. I watched it with fascinated eyes. A pale glow stole over the Thing; gradually its cloudy folds took shape -- an arm appeared, then legs, then a body, and last a great sad face looked out of the vapor. Stripped of its filmy housings, naked, muscular and comely, the majestic Cardiff Giant loomed above me!
All my misery vanished -- for a child might know that no harm could come with that benignant countenance. My cheerful spirits returned at once, and in sympathy with them the gas flamed up brightly again. Never a lonely outcast was so glad to welcome company as I was to greet the friendly giant. I said:
"Why, is it nobody but you? Do you know, I have been scared to death for the last two or three hours? I am most honestly glad to see you. I wish I had a chair -- Here, here, don't try to sit down in that thing!
But it was too late. He was in it before I could stop him, and down he went -- I never saw a chair shivered so in my life.
"Stop, stop, You'll ruin ev--"
Too late again. There was another crash, and another chair was resolved into its original elements.
"Confound it, haven't you got any judgment at all? Do you want to ruin all the furniture on the place? Here, here, you petrified fool--"
But it was no use. Before I could arrest him he had sat down on the bed, and it was a melancholy ruin.
"Now what sort of a way is that to do? First you come lumbering about the place bringing a legion of vagabond goblins along with you to worry me to death, and then when I overlook an indelicacy of costume which would not be tolerated anywhere by cultivated people except in a respectable theater, and not even there if the nudity were of YOUR sex, you repay me by wrecking all the furniture you can find to sit down on. And why will you? You damage yourself as much as you do me. You have broken off the end of your spinal column, and littered up the floor with chips of your hams till the place looks like a marble yard. You ought to be ashamed of yourself -- you are big enough to know better."
"Well, I will not break any more furniture. But what am I to do? I have not had a chance to sit down for a century." And the tears came into his eyes.
"Poor devil," I said, "I should not have been so harsh with you. And you are an orphan, too, no doubt. But sit down on the floor here -- nothing else can stand your weight -- and besides, we cannot be sociable with you away up there above me; I want you down where I can perch on this high counting-house stool and gossip with you face to face."
So he sat down on the floor, and lit a pipe which I gave him, threw one of my red blankets over his shoulders, inverted my sitz-bath on his head, helmet fashion, and made himself picturesque and comfortable. Then he crossed his ankles, while I renewed the fire, and exposed the flat, honey-combed bottoms of his prodigious feet to the grateful warmth.
"What is the matter with the bottom of your feet and the back of your legs, that they are gouged up so?"
"Infernal chillblains -- I caught them clear up to the back of my head, roosting out there under Newell's farm. But I love the place; I love it as one loves his old home. There is no peace for me like the peace I feel when I am there."
We talked along for half an hour, and then I noticed that he looked tired, and spoke of it. "Tired?" he said. "Well, I should think so. And now I will tell you all about it, since you have treated me so well. I am the spirit of the Petrified Man that lies across the street there in the Museum. I am the ghost of the Cardiff Giant. I can have no rest, no peace, till they have given that poor body burial again. Now what was the most natural thing for me to do, to make men satisfy this wish? Terrify them into it! -- haunt the place where the body lay! So I haunted the museum night after night. I even got other spirits to help me. But it did no good, for nobody ever came to the museum at midnight. Then it occurred to me to come over the way and haunt this place a little. I felt that if I ever got a hearing I must succeed, for I had the most efficient company that perdition could furnish. Night after night we have shivered around through these mildewed halls, dragging chains, groaning, whispering, tramping up and down stairs, till, to tell you the truth, I am almost worn out. But when I saw a light in your room to-night I roused my energies again and went at it with a deal of the old freshness. But I am tired out -- entirely fagged out. Give me, I beseech you, give me some hope!"
I lit off my perch in a burst of excitement, and exclaimed:
"This transcends everything -- everything that ever did occur! Why you poor blundering old fossil, you have had all your trouble for nothing -- you have been haunting a PLASTER CAST of yourself -- the real Cardiff Giant is in Albany!
[Footnote by Twain: A fact. The original fraud was ingeniously and fraudfully duplicated, and exhibited in New York as the "only genuine" Cardiff Giant (to the unspeakable disgust of the owners of the real colossus) at the very same time that the latter was drawing crowds at a museum in Albany.]
Confound it, don't you know your own remains?"
I never saw such an eloquent look of shame, of pitiable humiliation, overspread a countenance before.
The Petrified Man rose slowly to his feet, and said:
"Honestly, IS that true?"
"As true as I am sitting here."
He took the pipe from his mouth and laid it on the mantel, then stood irresolute a moment (unconsciously, from old habit, thrusting his hands where his pantaloons pockets should have been, and meditatively dropping his chin on his breast), and finally said:
"Well -- I NEVER felt so absurd before. The Petrified Man has sold everybody else, and now the mean fraud has ended by selling its own ghost! My son, if there is any charity left in your heart for a poor friendless phantom like me, don't let this get out. Think how YOU would feel if you had made such an ass of yourself."
I heard his, stately tramp die away, step by step down the stairs and out into the deserted street, and felt sorry that he was gone, poor fellow -- and sorrier still that he had carried off my red blanket and my bath tub.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Coming this fall
Shane from Dark Figure Productions will be doing a haunted tour starting this fall. Locations and dates have not been completed yet but if you are interested contact us at darkfigureproductions@yahoo.com
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Bloody Mary
Ever wondered about the bloody mary legend. We have you all covered at darkfigureproductions.com
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
