Bleeding Corpses

Painting titled 'Bier Right' (1879) by Jeno Gyarfa

Today's blog post is a quick little fright bite on some interesting folklore I read about awhile back!

Cruentation (or bier-right) was a ritual in which a suspected murderer was made to touch the corpse of his alleged victim. If the corpse began to bleed, froth at the mouth, or otherwise show unusual signs, it was determined that the accused was guilty. The idea was that the corpse retained the ability to hear and see for some time after death and could identify their murderer.

 
This practice was most widespread in England and surrounding countries from the 1100s up until the 1800s and was brought to Appalachia by early settlers. And although in most places, cruentation couldn't be used to legally convict a murderer after the early 1700s, there were still cases reported of its use in the United States up through 1869. Here, in the isolated mountain communities of Appalachia, the practice was used as least through the Civil War, and is discussed further in such publications as Laura Wright's Appalachian Curiosities.

With Appalachia being such an isolated area, as well as one of great superstition, it just made sense that justice was sometimes meted out without the aid of formal law enforcement, who may take days (if not longer) to actually come investigate. And in the place of any living witnesses, who better to identify an assailant than the victim, living OR dead?

There is actually some science behind cruentation. It is believed that the 'bleeding' was actually the release of purge fluid, which looks like blood. This is the by-product of the putrefaction process and drains from the body's orifices, including nose and mouth

I can't think of a more disturbing image than a bleeding corpse somehow having the sentience to identify his or her killer, but the trope of a ghost (or otherwise deceased person) playing an integral role in bringing their murderer to justice is a common one in folklore. Whether or not this practice was actually effective or as widespread as we'd been led to believe is a moot point. What's important is that it makes for one heck of a scary ghost story and a warning to would-be murderers that what is done in darkness will eventually come to light, one way or another. 

The Fairy Stones of Virginia

Virginia has a rather unique state park. Located in Patrick County, Fairy Stone State Park is a magical place where remnants of the fairy folk can still be found and even collected as souvenirs. At least, that's what folklore tells us. 

Fairy Stone State Park was established on June 15, 1936 on land donated in 1933 by Junius B. Fishburn. For years, the area had been special for its abundance of 'fairy stones' or 'fairy crosses.' Science tells us these fairy stones are staurolite crystals. The crystals, which formed seven miles underground, have been pushed up to the surface of the Earth as the mountains themselves rose. 

Staurolite crystals are six-sided and will often show up as twin crystals, intersecting at a 90 degree angle. This causes the rocks to have a unique appearance. The fairy stones will show up as an X, T, or even cross shape. The crosses are the most sought after and appear in the varieties of Roman, St. Andrew's, and even the rarest---the Maltese Cross. More abundant are the single crystal bricks. 

According to folklore, when the fairies of the Blue Ridge region received news, via messenger, of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, the fairies wept. Their tears crystallized and became the fairy stones of today. Although the fairies themselves are said to no longer inhabit the area, the fairy crosses they left behind serve as a reminder of that sad day.  Some claim that the stones are lucky, and will protect the bearer from illness, accidents, and even witchcraft!

I became aware of the fairy stones thanks to an article I happened to stumble upon while looking up information on a completely unrelated topic. The Ceredo Advance featured an article on the fairies stones way back in 1906---thirty years before the park was established. It seems that a local man from Kenova, WV named A.J. Kelley was the proud owner of one such stone. Mr. Kelley was always glad to show off his fairy stone to anyone wanting to see it. 

After I started looking for pictures of these stones, I realized that I have actually seen them before, in crystal shops and rock shows. The small stones are often made into pendants or other jewelry, even as early as 1906. As I said, you can collect these for yourself! There are designated 'hunting' areas in Fairy Stone State Park, and guided fairy stone hunts. Tips are given on the website for where and how to find the stones, but any type of digging tools is strictly prohibited. 

All About Fairy Stones, from the Virginia Department of Conservation and Recreation

Fairy Stone State Park Website

Ceredo Advance
11 April 1906

Beware of Frau Perchta

Christmas is full of weird, spooky witches and monsters. From Krampus, to Hans Trapp, to Gryla and her demonic kitty and Yule Lads (more on those traditions in a later post!), there's plenty to keep one scared straight during the holiday season. However, the majority of these yuletide terrors are designed to keep children in line. While here in the modern USA, parents threaten their kids that if they don't behave, Santa Claus will NOT bring them presents. That's pretty tame compared to the European folklore of Krampus, who will either beat them with birch sticks or stuff them into his sack and drag them off to Hell. 

But what happens when its the adults who are naughty...particularly the lady of the house?  Enter Frau Perchta.

Frau Perchta is an interesting character. She goes by many names, arrives in various forms, and her tradition can be linked to a number of different legends and tales. She's most known, however, for being absolutely terrifying. 

Hailing from the Alpine areas near the Austrian and German border, Frau Perchta or "Spinnstubenfrau" (The Spinning Room Lady), acts as a warning for the womenfolk to make sure their house was not only spotless during the 12 Days of Christmas--from December 25 to January 6--but to ensure that they had all their spinning finished before the holidays. 

If a household heard a knock on their door on any of the three Thursdays leading up to Christmas (known as Berchtle or Knocking Nights), or on any of the 12 days of Christmas, the maternal head of home had better have it together. If the above-mentioned conditions weren't met, or if Frau Perchta had not been honored with a feast of porridge and fish, she may angrily set fire to one's unfinished fiber arts. If she was in a really bad mood, she might just withdrawal the long knife concealed under her skirt and slit you open, replacing your organs with rocks, straw, and even garbage. But, if you had been a good girl and got all your chores done, you might find a nice, shiny silver coin left for you.

In her 'evil' form, Frau Perchta appears as an old crone dressed in rags. You know its her by her large, beaked nose made of iron and her one non-human foot, often described as a goose, or swan foot. In her 'good' form, she shows up as a beautiful maiden dressed all in white, sometimes going by the moniker of Holle. Another interesting characteristic of Frau Perchta is that she is often accompanied by an unholy posse of unbaptized babies and the Perchten, which are a bunch of Krampus-looking demons. Any thunder or windstorms during this time are attributed to this band of creatures, and link the Frau Perchta legend to the Wild Hunt. 

There are way too many fine points and rabbit holes associated with Frau Perchta, so I'll let you run off to do your own research if you'd like to know more. But, just take this as a warning: make sure you have all your chores completed by Christmas. It might just save your life. 

Stay Spooky!

Links of Interest:

Bone and Sickle

Boroughs of the Dead

The Horse with a Halo

This spooky and strange tale can be found in Appalachian Ghost Stories and Other Tales, by James Gay Jones, originally published around 1975. If you'd like to hear me read the story in it's entirety, as written in the book, head on over to my TikTok account. But, read on for a more summarized version of this fascinating tale from the Leatherwood Creek area of Clay County, West Virginia. 

It seems that many years before the tale was collected, a family was being plagued by an odd apparition: a white horse with its head surrounded in a halo of ethereal light. One evening, this family was sitting on their front porch after dinner, enjoying each other's company and conversation. After awhile, they noticed the spooky horse trotting up the highway in front of their house. When it turned off the main road onto their lane, the family, understandably spooked, ran inside and took their positions at the windows to see what the horse would do next.

 As the horse reached the gate, it paused, snorted, then leaped over into their yard and on towards the house. By this point, the family was already getting pretty anxious. Some tried to get a better view out the windows, while others abandoned their post and started trying to find a place to hide! Meanwhile, the horse continued to approach the house, and within seconds had leaped up onto the porch. From this close-up view, the family could see that the horse was 'monstrously large,' had 'eyes shining like coals of fire,' and of course, the halo. 

The horse started stomping through the front door, sending the family fleeing out the back door and up the hill behind their house, where they hid behind the trees, waiting to see what else this fallen angel of a horse would do next. Fortunately, the horse did not pursue the family. Instead, it backed out of the house through the front door and into the yard. But, it didn't turn around and continue on down the road. Instead, it began to ASCEND into the sky, up and up until it had disappeared. However, it did leave a clue to it's existence. For some time after, a halo of light was observed around the moon. No one ever did figure out what this strange phenomenon meant, where it had come from, or where it went. 

Theresa's Note: This is an absolutely wild story to me, and I couldn't even begin to fathom what it all means, especially since we aren't given any more details about who the family was or what happened to them afterwards. Depending on your culture and interpretation, a white horse can symbolize death, but it can also symbolize purity and good fortune. The addition of a halo further denotes that this horse was a symbol of something divine, not evil, and some native tribes believe that a halo around the moon was either a sign of good luck or of change. Was it an omen foretelling the imminent death of a young and innocent family member? Was it a guide of sorts, guiding that soul to Heaven? Or did the family prosper following the sighting? Maybe it was just one of those weird things that aren't meant to be understood. 

What the Fetch? What IS a Fetch?

How They Met Themselves
by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1864)
Source: WikiPedia

What the fetch?? How's that for a throwback? The catch-phrase uttered by OG TAPS member and star of the original Ghost Hunters television show, Grant Wilson, was presumably a family-friendly (ratings friendly) way to say something a little more colorful. But, what if the meaning behind the phrase was actually paranormal in nature?

According to the Encyclopedia of Occultism & Parapsychology, edited by Leslie A. Shepard, in Irish folklore, a fetch is an apparition of a living person. Very much like a doppelganger, the fetch is generally regarded as a bad omen for the person who it represents.  Although occasionally it will appear exactly like the person in question, other times it will appear shadowy and ethereal in appearance...like a ghost. But, unlike the doppelganger, the time of day the fetch is seen COULD mean the difference between life and death. If the fetch is seen in the morning, that's actually a GOOD sign, meaning a long-life for the living counterpart. However, if the fetch is seen in the evening, a death is surely imminent. 

Etymologists aren't 100% sure of the origins of the term fetch, but one possible explanation may come from Richard Stanyhurst's 1583 translation of the Aeneid. The book mentions psychopomps, which are entities (creatures, spirits, angels, demons, etc.) that act as guides, escorting the living to the world of the dead.  In other words, psychopomps FETCH the souls of the dying. Since the fetch is seen as a harbinger of death, I guess it has been interpreted that it could be seen as a type of psychopomp, come to 'fetch' the soul of the living. 

Like many here in West Virginia and elsewhere throughout Appalachia, I've got quite a fair amount of Scots-Irish ancestry, and growing up I was both fascinated and horrified by some of the spooky tales told by older generations of my family. I don't remember all of their stories, traditions, and superstitions, but one belief that always stuck with me was the idea that seeing the ghost of a living person, especially if it was of YOURSELF, was a very, very bad omen, most often resulting in the death of that person. As I got older and started studying paranormal phenomena, I just tended to lump these types of stories and experiences under the term of doppelganger, but now I know that fetch is probably a little more culturally accurate! 

Luckily, I've never had a personal experience with a fetch and/or a doppelganger, but I HAVE had plenty of run-ins with another member of the doubles family---a strange thing known as a Vardoger. You can read about those experiences HERE. If you've had any experiences, good or bad, with any member of the doubles family of apparitions, I'd love to here them. You can comment down below, or find me over on Theresa's Haunted History of the Tri-State FaceBook page. Stay spooky, ya'll! 

Early Podcasting: A Friday Funny

I've seen this posted around social media a lot over the past week or so, and there is nothing more Appalachian in my opinion! So much of West Virginia's ghost lore has been passed down from generation to generation through oral storytelling, sometimes over a roaring campfire, sometimes while sitting around the fireplace on a cold, snowy evening, and sometimes...while undertaking those tedious chores like churning butter. 

Whether these tales were passed down as entertainment to drown out the monotony of a hard life in the mountains, or whether they held a more significant message, I really love the comparison to modern day podcasting. I'm grateful that so many wonderful spooky stories of West Virginia's strange and unusual history have been preserved in this manner, and are reaching a new audience through means like  modern podcasts and websites like Theresa's Haunted History!

So let me know in the comments below: What are some of YOUR favorite spooky podcasts featuring ghost stories, cryptid tales, and UFO encounters?

The Witch of Hooker Hollow

Today, I wanted to share with you a story I found in Fall 1985 edition of Goldenseal Magazine. It was told by Vernon O. Giffin and relates the tale of Mineral County's Witch of Hooker Hollow. Giffin was born in Brown, WV in 1915, but moved to Maryland in 1933 to marry. He served in the Navy during WW2. He is the author of several books about West Virginia folklore, including The Witch of Hooker Hollow, which was published in 1981. He passed away six years later, on December 30, 1987.

I've transcribed the story as it appears in Goldenseal. And, of course, you know I had to see what background research I could find. Unfortunately, nothing connected to any of the names given panned out. Still, it's an interesting tale of mountain witchcraft...or, alleged mountain witchcraft, at least. 

There is a road in the Allegheny Mountains in Mineral County that has two names.  At one end of the road the sign says "Limestone Road," while at the other end the sign reads "Hooker Hollow." Just where one ends and the other begins, no one this day and age seems to know. The local people say as long as they can remember it has always been that way.

Near the Hooker Hollow end of the road, some 40 years ago, lived a Mrs. Russel who proclaimed to the world she was a witch possessing great powers.  Most of the population thereabouts doubted her boasts. There were others that were not so sure. A man refused her a ride home from town one day, and for a week his cow gave bloody milk. She warned another family not to allow any of their children to run their lawnmower for at least a week. The family ignored her warning and the very next day their son Seth lost two fingers on his right hand when he caught them in the mower.

A family by the name of Robinson owned a small apple orchard there on the mountain. They had placed "No Trespass" signs everywhere, with no exceptions allowed. One day they found Mrs. Russel eating an apple as if she owned the place. She tried to tell them she was hungry and only wanted one apple. Mrs. Robinson informed her that she could care less about her being hungry and that those signs meant everyone, including her. Mrs. Russel climbed over the fence and turned and smiled out of the corner of her mouth at Mrs. Robinson.

"I see you're pregnant," she said. "Soon you will see someone a lot more hungry than I am now. I don't think you'll like the price you'll pay for your apples." She waved and grinned as she walked slowly down the road.

About a month later the Robinson's first child was born. It cried almost constantly. The doctor tried one bottle formula after the other. None seemed to work. One day the doctor told Mrs. Robinson the baby was starving to death and he had done absolutely all he could. As he left that afternoon, he picked up an apple from a nearby table and began eating it as he walked out the door. That caused Mrs. Robinson to remember the words Mrs. Russel had spoken in the orchard only a few weeks before.

The next morning she bundled up the baby and went to see Mrs. Russel. "My baby is ill, very ill," she said. "If you did cast a spell over him, won't you please take it away? I'm sorry the way I spoke to you that day in the apple orchard. You can have all the apples you want as long as you live. Won't you please help me if you can? He's our first child."

"I'm afraid you have waited too long with your apology," said Mrs. Russel. "Maybe, just maybe, I can help him. I'll try. Lay him out there on the porch so I can measure him. Measuring a baby can do a lot of good, you known. That's about the only thing I can do for him now."

She went into the house and came out with a cloth tape measure and measured the baby. She then made an "X" on the baby's chest with her right forefinger and told Mrs. Robinson to take the baby home, for she had done all she could do.

The next day the baby died. Whether Mrs. Russel was the cause of the baby's death or not, the Robinsons would think so as long as they lived.

In her later years Mrs. Russel's grandson, Jason Lambert, came to live with her. Jason was a quiet, likeable fellow in his early teens and slim as a rail. A new family moved into the hollow that summer who had a son, David, about Jason's age. The boys soon became good friends and spent many happy hours that fall roaming the hollow during evenings after school. David, of course, had heard that Jason's grandmother was a witch and one day asked him if it was so.

"Naw," said Jason. "I don't think so. But I'll admit she does do and say some funny things at times. You don't believe in witches, do you, Dave?"

"No, I guess not," said David

About the time school started that fall, Jason developed a dry hacking cough. David suggested he see a doctor, but Jason said his grandmother was taking care of him and he'd be all right. As the cooler weather of winter approached, Jason's cough became worse. One day David and his father insisted so strongly that he see a doctor that he finally agreed if David would go with him. The doctor diagnosed tuberculosis and suggested Jason go to a sanatorium immediately. When Mrs. Russel was informed of the situation, she simply shook her head, placed an arm around Jason's shoulders, and, in no uncertain words, informed anyone who cared to listen that she could take care of her own.

The day before school was to close for Christmas vacation, Jason was absent. That evening David went to see why. He found his friend in bed, face red and flushed with a high fever. He asked Mrs. Russel to please get Jason to a doctor, but she reminded him she had great powers and Jason would be up and ready to go rabbit hunting with him in a couple of days.

Snow began falling the day school closed and it kept falling for the next two days and nights. As the storm raged, David could not help but worry about Jason and hope he was better than the last time he had seen him. When the storm finally ended, the snow measured three feet on the level and six feet and more in some of the drifts. The road in the hollow was almost impassable. The next day it rained and turned bitterly cold. One could walk anywhere on the frozen crust and not break through.

Christmas day dawned clear and cold. As soon as David finished breakfast, he told his parents he was going to see Jason and take him a box of shotgun shells for a Christmas present. As he approached the house, he sensed something wrong. To this very day he cannot explain why he felt that way as he knocked on the door. Mrs. Russel opened the door and calmly invited him in.

"My, Davie, it sure is nice of you to come out in this cold to see Jason," she said. "I've got something I want you to help me with."

"How is he?" asked David as he removed his coat and threw it across the back of a chair.

"Oh, he died last night," she said. "But don't you worry none, Davie. You see, I'm going to take care of my grandson. You can bet on that. Come on, let's go see him. I'm gonna need a little help and you're just the one to help me.

"There he is stretched out on the bed just like he was asleep," she said as they entered the room. "Davie, I'm an old woman, witch if you will, and Jason is so young. He's just too young to die. So, what I aim to do is this. I'm gonna breathe my life into him, but you gotta help. I can do it, too. Just you wait and see. I guess I'm gonna die; and, if I do, don't worry none about me. It's Jason we gotta worry about now. Will you help me?"

By this time David was petrified. He had always thought she was at least half witch and now he was certain she was all witch. He was so scared he could not utter a word. He was afraid to refuse because of what she might do to him, so he slowly nodded his head in the affirmative.

"Good," said Mrs. Russel. "Now I'll tell you what to do. You hold Jason's nose closed, so when I breathe my breath into him by his mouth, it can't get out his nose. You'll have to hold it till he starts to breathe on his own."

"Oh! My God! Please, Mrs. Russel," wailed David. "I never touched a dead person before. Please, I'm scared. Do I have to?"

"Oh, for goodness sake," said Mrs. Russel, taking David's hand and placing it on Jason's forehead. "See, it's just like any cold piece of meat. Nothing to it. Now do like I told you so we can get Jason breathing again."

By this time, of course, rigor mortis had set in, but David shut his eyes and slowly began to squeeze on Jason's cold, stiff nose. He was shaking like a tree caught in a storm.

David opened his eyes for a second and the room began to spin. But he was afraid if he fainted she might take his life and give it to Jason. This brought him back to the world of reality in a hurry. He liked Jason, but not that much.

"Just can't understand it," said Mrs. Russel after awhile. "You can let go now. I know I can do it. They are not going to embalm him, Davie. They're just not. I just know I can give him my breath of life. I know I can. I guess I'll have to get word to a doctor and buy a casket. Will you do that for me and Jason? If I do get life into him, you can bury me in the coffin instead of him. And, Davie, just in case Jason's still dead this evening, will you come back and set up with him tonight?"

"Dad and I will take care of things," said David. "Someone will be here tonight to set up with Jason, I promise."

On the way home David's knees almost buckled under him a couple of times. He could still feel that cold, dead flesh under his hands and hear the voice of the witch. Yes, he was sure now she was one. No doubt about it.

For the next two nights David and a couple of his friends sat up with the body. Each evening as he approached the house, he half expected to see Jason wave from the door or a window. But Jason lay still and white in his coffin.

The day of the funeral arrived. David and his friends were pallbearers. They carried the casket out on top of the snow to the main road where a horse and sled waited. Some hour and a half later, the casket rested in the front of the Zion Church. There the casket was to remain open for viewing for the next 30 minutes. Then the funeral services would begin.

As David looked around the church, cold chills played cat and mouse up and down his spine. There, on a seat in the back row, wearing a long black cape, was Mrs. Russel. She was shaking her fist in the air but making no sound. The minister rose from his chair and took a step forward. As he did so, Mrs. Russel let out a bloodcurdling scream and ran forward. She threw her black cape over the casket and tried once more to breathe her life into Jason's corpse. It took two strong men to restrain the frail woman. Finally Jason was laid to rest in the church cemetery to be followed by his grandmother, Mrs. Russel, within a week.

As David walked away from Mrs. Russel's funeral, he was heard to remark, "Maybe she did breathe at least part of her life into Jason, after all."

Finding the Facts Among the Folklore

Library Research at the
Cabell Co. Main Branch

Nothing in the paranormal research realm frustrates me more than the following scenario: You're researching a haunted location with a complete back story as to who the ghost is and what tragedy occurred that sparked the haunting. Sometimes names of those involved are given. Occasionally, the storyteller may even have rough or specific dates of when the events happened. It's a damn good ghost story, complete with an actual location with alleged activity to investigate. 

As a paranormal investigator who specializes in historic research, I'm always excited when a haunted location comes complete with such an elaborate tale that explains why the location is haunted. But, I would be doing my field a huge disservice if I just took those ghost stories at face value and didn't try to verify and uncover my own documentation. That's where the frustration comes in. More often than not, I WILL FIND NOTHING. 

It's one thing to find historical records that dispute the widely accepted ghost stories and debunk the details behind the haunting. It can be disappointing, proving that the stories behind a haunted location that have been told for YEARS may not have any basis in fact---that Mr. Smith, who was said to have murdered his whole family in the barn before taking his own life, ACTUALLY died of rheumatism at the age of 85, and was outlived by all three of his children and wife. In rare instances, it's possible to find historical documentation that disputes the original story, but offers up details of an even stranger series of events that even more accurately fit the details of the reported paranormal activity. Either way, it's something I can work with. I can show tangible proof of historic details and go from there. And just because the back story to a haunting didn't happen the way folklore insists it did, doesn't mean that the location isn't haunted. As paranormal researchers and investigators, we have a lot more to learn about why some locations attract paranormal activity even without a tragic event tied to it. Further, lots of ghost stories and urban legends have at least a small grain of truth buried deep within, and it's always fun and rewarding to find that grain of truth and figure out how it relates to the story as a whole. 

What's frustrating is the finding of NOTHING---no historical documentation to disprove an event happened, and no documentation to prove it did. As I always tell my clients, just because I personally cannot find confirmation, doesn't mean that confirmation doesn't exist or that the story isn't true. And until I do find confirmation that an event took place or a specific person existed as described, that case is open to me. 

With any of my cases that I investigate, or even simply feature here on Theresa's Haunted History of the Tri-State, nothing is ever closed. As my historical research skills evolve, as my access to research materials increases, and as more resources are in general are being digitized and made available to the public, the more I discover about the many, many haunted places throughout West Virginia and beyond. 

My biggest fear is that with many of these stories, there never will be confirmation (or denial). Historic research can be a bit...muddled. For most of our history, it wasn't required to officially register things such as births and deaths. People signed official documents with their nicknames, not the names given on their birth certificates. Newspapers didn't always get their facts straight, and in some cases, made up stories for readership. Census takers often mis-recorded and misspelled information...and that was if they could even get the accurate information out of the family in the first place. Tombstones become lost or illegible. The digitization of records has opened up a lot of doors in the realm of research, but transcription errors and low-quality or damaged scans are a huge problem and have led to a lot of misinformation.

And unfortunately, some documents have been permanently lost to history. Courthouses burn down, destroying documents. Floods wash away important papers. Newspaper offices go out of business and chuck their archives. Natural and man-made disasters, not to mention just the passage of time, have erased any written documentation of a story, or any proof of the existence of those involved. All that remains is the folklore--the stories passed down orally through the generations. Some of these stories remain largely intact as to the original content, while others grow and change a little with each re-telling and each generation, trying to fill in the gaps and keep the story relevant throughout the years. And as a researcher, it frustrates the hell out of me. I love a good mystery, but I hate the idea of never knowing the truth. Just how accurate ARE those old ghost stories if I can't find any way to prove or disprove them?

It also leaves me conflicted. I want to do my due diligence. I want to bring legitimacy to the field of paranormal research and investigation. That requires finding out the truth, no matter what that truth may be. If I cannot find solid proof for or against, I feel like I've failed. I feel like I've failed my clients, my readers, and myself. More importantly, I feel like I've failed those whose stories are waiting to be told. But what about those stories? What value, if any, can be found in the tales told that cannot be authenticated?

The older I get, the more I appreciate how our West Virginia folklore, in particular our ghost lore IS a part of our history. Ghost stories serve as a reminder that none of us will live forever. They serve as morality tales, reminding us to act a certain way. They serve as a warning---here in Appalachia, it wasn't unheard of for ghost stories to be told as a means of scaring outsiders away from a well-hidden moonshine still, and certainly, throughout history, spooky stories have been told to children to keep them from wandering away and exploring areas where real life dangers abound. Ghost stories are a commentary on the values and beliefs of a group of people, and in some cases, are used to explain that which cannot be explained by normal means. 

Ghost stories also serve simply as a means of entertainment. Before the days of television, many dark nights were spent by the fire, telling and re-telling spooky stories. Most of us still love reading/hearing a good ghost story, or watching a spooky show on television to pass the time. Ghost lore is a part of our collective history, and therefore, despite my dedication to the truth, I strongly believe that our ghost stories and related folklore should be preserved and studied, whether or not they can be verified to be historically accurate. Long-time readers to Theresa's Haunted History might notice that I've always tried to represent both sides. I've always told the popular ghost lore and shared the ghost stories of each haunted location I feature. Then, I share any historical research I've uncovered, whether it backs up the stories or disputes them. I try to do the same for my clients; I will make sure to document the stories that are told, but present historical documentation illustrating my findings. 

This marriage of fact and folklore is the basis for this blog, and as my work as a paranormal investigator. I believe I owe it to this field of study and to my readers/clients to present the facts and documentation. I believe I owe it to our 'ghosts' to tell their stories as truthfully as possible, and ensure they are not forgotten. But, I believe I owe it to our collective history and culture to also document and share the stories that cannot be historically proven, as there is just as much to learn from them as any verifiable source. 

Stay spooky, y'all. 

The Ghost Dog of Peach Tree

Brindle Plott Dog
Photo by Mary Bloom

In his 1975/2008 book, Witches, Ghosts and Signs, Patrick Gainer shares an interesting story told by 'Uncle' Bud Workman. The story comes from Peach Tree, a small mining community in Raleigh County, West Virginia, and deals with what locals believed to be a ghostly dog.

The event takes place over a three-week span in 1880. A very large brindle-colored dog suddenly showed up in town, only being seen by the townspeople after dark. Although it was said this dog approached a local house where its very presence sent the owners' dogs (noted as being the meanest in town) running to hide with their tails tucked between their legs, it was never know to show any aggression towards humans. Still, since no one knew where the dog had come from and why it only appeared at night, the townspeople were fairly well spooked. Most everyone avoided going out at night for fear of running into the ghost dog. 

However, some were brave enough to actually try to confront the dog. One person tried to throw rocks at it, but the rocks went right through it. A local preacher took things a step further at fired five shots at the dog from close range. The bullets didn't touch the dog, nor did it seem bothered by this attempted murder. 

Luckily for the people of Peach Tree, sightings of the phantom canine only lasted about three weeks. Then, the dog disappeared as quickly and mysteriously as it had appeared.  Never again did the phantom dog bother the people of that small Raleigh County community. 

I find this story really interesting because when you think of ghost dogs and supernatural dogs and superstitions surrounding dogs, rarely does a brindle-colored dog appear. Generally, black dogs (especially here in Appalachia) and occasionally white dogs are the subject of such rumors. There are also some elements of this story that are reminiscent of a similar tale from nearby Wyoming County, where a 'witch dog' was said to frighten passersby, and was even shot at to no avail.  Anyway, I'm glad no one was hurt in this telling of the tale, including the dog.  Please see the links below for more spooky tales of phantom dogs here on Theresa's Haunted History!

Witch of Wyoming County

Pt. Pleasant's Phantom Black Dog

Door Dogs

Schipperke
Source

I like to keep a running list in one of my many notebooks about topics I want to share here on Theresa's Haunted History blog. Some time last year, I added 'Door Dogs' to the list. I distinctly remember reading a quick blurb about the door dogs in a book (I'm pretty sure it was an e-book), but when I went back over my reading log for 2021, I could NOT figure out which one! So, I turned to the internet to help me out, and was really disappointed in the lack of information out there on what I consider a really cool piece of folklore. 

The concept of door dogs seems to be most prevalent in Tangiers, Morocco, but most likely has spread throughout Africa and into Europe as noted by William S. Burroughs, who wrote extensively about door dogs in his work, Western Lands. So what is a door dog?

A door dog is a death omen. During the weeks leading up to a person's demise, a small dog with a pointed nose is seen following them around. The dog is most often spotted when the person is crossing a threshold, especially as they enter through a doorway, giving the spooky little creature it's name! It's important to note that the dog, which is seen and never heard, is ONLY witnessed by others around the 'marked' person. You will never be able to see your own door dog. 

Although you could easily make the assumption that the door dog only heralds the upcoming death of a PERSON, my mom and I may have had an encounter with a door dog that served as a death omen for our dog, Captain. About two months before Captain unexpectedly passed away from kidney failure, my mom and I both saw, on several occasions, a jet black dog following him. Full disclosure, we actually HAD a jet black dog at the time named Nazy. But, there's no way we were seeing her. Nazy's fur was very short, and she had rather thin back legs and a thin, long tail. 

Whenever we'd see Captain's door dog, we'd always see just it's hindquarters, disappearing around the corner from the foyer into the living room immediately after Captain had walked through the area. We never saw the front of it, but we both described the back of it in the same way. This dog had fur that was way more...fuzzy...than Nazy's. It had strong, thick back legs and a fluffy tail that curled upward like a chow chow's. We both saw it maybe 3 times each before Captain crossed the Rainbow Bridge, and never saw it again. 

After the first time spotting it, my mom had a really bad feeling that this dog was an omen of something bad to come, and I tried to play it off as it simply being just another ghost that had wandered into our home and would soon leave, like so many others had. Even after Captain passed away, I really didn't give too much thought of it being connected, and sort of filed the situation away as just another weird thing. Even when I first read about the door dogs as death omens, I still didn't make any connections between what we saw and Captain's death. Until...

The Obscurban Legends Wiki Page was the best source of information I came across when preparing for today's blog. When describing the physical characteristics of the door dog, it mentioned that it had a pointed snout like the schipperke. Admittedly, I am not very knowledgeable about dog breeds and I had never heard of the schipperke. So, I looked up what this type of dog looked like, and lo and behold...the pictures that popped up were EXACTLY like the dog my mom and I had seen several years ago. 

*If you enjoyed this blog post, you might also like the story of my own 

FAMILY DEATH OMEN!*

My Weirdest Personal Experience

Illustration by Arthur Rackman

Can you believe it's already July 1st?! 2020 is half over (thank goodness) and to celebrate a new month and a new Ultimate Blog Challenge, I thought I'd start off with sharing a personal experience that I've never shared before. I'm usually pretty open about sharing my potential paranormal experiences, but this one is so weird that I've had a lot of trouble wrapping my head around it...

So, several years ago I was awake at the literal ass-crack of dawn. I had gone to bed early the previous night, so by 5 am I was up and ready to go. It was a school day so I decided to go ahead and get everything ready to send Luke off to school. But, I had left his backpack, with his student planner that needed signed daily and his lunchbox in it, in my car.

I opened my front door and walked out on my porch stoop, but before I could step down off the stoop and onto the short, paved sidewalk leading to the driveway, I was startled by some movement. I looked down, fully expecting to see one of the dozens of rabbits that live around my yard, scurrying away.

What I saw DID scurry away, but as hard as my skeptical brain tries to rationalize it, I'm not so sure it was a bunny.

Running from the direction of my house, across the sidewalk, and disappearing around the back of my car, was a small creature. It was a light brown/tan color, very similar to our local rabbits. It stood a little under a foot tall, from my estimation. Being a late Spring morning sometime between 5 am and 6 am, there wasn't full sunshine, but it certainly wasn't super dark out, either. Plus, the porch light, while not super bright, was still turned on.

Everything about this encounter screams RABBIT to my rational side. It was about the same color and size as a rabbit, which are especially plentiful in my area around that time of year. It ran away, like you'd expect a rabbit to do when a human suddenly pops up, and it can be argued that in the early morning light, I couldn't get that good a look at the thing.

But...I did. I was standing only about 8 feet away from the creature when it stopped and looked directly at me for what seemed like much longer than it actually was. I wasn't looking into the eyes of any rabbit species I've ever seen. What I saw was a fully formed little man. He was nude, except for what looked like a tattered loincloth-type garment that was approximately the same color as his skin tone. He was barefoot. He had a somewhat stocky, not quite muscular, build. While he didn't seem dirty, per se, he just seemed sort of...weathered.

I couldn't see what color his eyes were, although for a brief second, he did look me directly in the eye before running off, on two feet, obviously. He didn't have a beard, and he wasn't bald, but his hair seemed very sparse, very light, and very wispy. His face reminded me of a combination of Dobby the House Elf from Harry Potter, Hoggle from Labyrinth and the Russ troll dolls from my childhood. It was heavily lined and creased, giving the creature a very old and wizened appearance. He seemed as shocked to see me as I was to see him. I also remember that his nose, while not huge, seemed to be his most prominent facial feature.

Dobby is a great example of a Brownie

Honestly, the description of it reminds me of a type of house spirit known as a Brownie, or sometimes called a Robin Goodfellow. According to Spirits, Fairies, Leprechauns and Goblins, by Carol Rose, a brownie is defined as:

"A household spirit of northern English and Scottish folklore; in southern England goes by the name of Robin Goodfellow. The Brownie is described as being like a very small, brown, shaggy human, sometimes naked and sometimes wearing ragged brown clothes. Families were proud of their Brownies as they brought good fortune; to lose one was disastrous. Outside of the family, a Brownie was viewed with caution, as they were prone to mischief when annoyed.

In general, the Brownie was the most industrious of the household spirits, ploughing, reaping, grinding grain, cleaning the house and barns, churning butter-in fact, most of the tedious jobs he would gladly do. In return, the Brownie was entitled to a bowl of the best cream and new baked cake or bread, to be put within his reach. To offer the Brownie any form of payment other than this, especially to take pity and to give him new clothes, was an insult, and he would vanish immediately."

After standing there a few seconds in shock, I walked over behind my car where he had run off to, and couldn't find anything. No little man, no little bunny, nothing. I quickly grabbed Luke's school stuff out of the car and headed back in, telling myself I had just seen a rabbit, nothing more.

But, rabbits don't usually run on two feet and they certainly don't wear little loincloths. For several years, I've tried to convince myself that I must not have been completely awake, and simply imagined seeing what I saw, but on the off-chance I DID see something, I wanted to finally document and share it.

After all, its not the first time I've had something fae-related happen at this house! We owned the house for about 6 months before we could even move in. It needed a LOT of work, both inside and out, but as the renovations neared completion, we were staying much more often. One day, we noticed a very distinct fairy ring had popped up in the front yard. It wasn't huge, only about 4-5 feet across. If you've never heard of a fairy ring or fairy circle, it's basically a naturally occurring ring of mushrooms that take on a circle shape thanks to how the spores are released. But, they have quite a folkloric connection with the fae.

Fairy Ring, Source

It is said that anyone who enters a fairy ring may disappear, only to be lost among the fae world forever. Or in a scarier alternative, a child entering into the fairy world through such a fairy ring would be replaced by a changeling. So, when Luke saw the fairy ring and started running towards it like he was going to jump in the middle, the superstitious side of me overpowered the skeptical side and I plucked that kid out of air, mid-jump, and ushered him back into the house!

Those are the only two things I've personally noticed around here and I'm sure both have a perfectly natural explanation. However, I like to keep my mind open to the possibility of things surrounding our world that we don't quite fully understand. Let me know down in the comments, or join me over on Theresa's Haunted History of the Tri-State Facebook page if YOU'VE ever had an encounter with the fae!

Stay Spooky!

For more info on the folklore of fairy circles, check out the article 

'Never, Ever Step Into a Fairy Ring', by Marla Brooks

The Ghostly and the Ghastly: A Passel of WV Folk Tales

Like many paranormal enthusiasts in the Mountain State, part of my earliest exposure to West Virginia ghost stories came from the collected works of folklorist, Ruth Ann Musick!  I've read The Tell-Tale Lilac Bush and Coffin Hollow cover to cover multiple times, and both books are still a staple in my personal paranormal library.

Ruth Ann Musick taught mathematics and English at Fairmont State from 1946 until 1967 and during her time there, she started a folk literature class, helped revive the West Virginia Folklore Society, and founded the West Virginia Folklore Journal.  She also collected hundreds of ghost stories from around West Virginia, not all of which ever made it into publication!

Luckily, a handful of these forgotten tales has recently been brought to life by the students and staff of Fairmont State's theater department!  On Saturday, my husband and I attended a showing of The Ghostly and the Ghastly: A Passel of WV Folktales at Wallman Hall Theater.

The play takes a look at ten ghost stories through the eyes of a bored, chatty, and unprepared college folklore class. Their lecture on the preternatural takes on a spooky twist as their professor and fellow students share spooky stories such as Ida Crawford, The Witch and the Onion, and the Fate of Frank Collins.  Together, they learn the importance of folklore and oral tradition, and a little about the history of how their ancestors migrated to this area, bringing with them their own beliefs and culture, which helped to shape Appalachian culture (and ghost lore!) as a whole.

Overall, the play was really good.  Any date night with my hubby is special, but it is extra special when when I can share my love of West Virginia history and ghost stories with him!  The entire cast and crew did a wonderful job in recreating each story and although they were given a more modern context, you could absolutely still just FEEL that same vibe you get when reading one of Ruth Ann Musick's books.  Lighting and music combined with the acting to evoke a spooky Appalachian atmosphere---perfect for a 'passel of WV folktales!' It was apparent that the cast and crew really had fun with this project, and although the atmosphere was a ghostly one, there was plenty of humor thrown in to break up the tension.  I think Ms. Musick would have been pleased at how her (mostly) unpublished stories were portrayed.  According to a recent post by the theater department, over 677 people got to experience this portrayal for themselves through the public performances.

Unfortunately, Sunday was the last day of the play's four-day run, so if you missed it, you may be out of luck.  However, you can always follow me on Theresa's Haunted History of the Tri-State Facebook and Twitter---I try to share all the wonderful paranormal events held throughout the tri-state that I think my readers would have an interest in.  You can also follow the School of Fine Arts' Facebook page for articles, behind-the scenes photos, and more about this play and others!  Maybe if there is enough interest, we could see an encore of The Ghostly and the Ghastly or similar such works in the future!

Any chance you get, please come out and support events such as this that highlight West Virginia's paranormal history and heritage!

Appalachian Ghost Stories with Granny Sue!

I've always loved the work of Susanna 'Granny Sue' Holstein, the Appalachian story-teller and singer of traditional ballads!  Although I've followed her work online for quite some time, I'd never had the chance to see her in person...until last Saturday!

As part of the annual WV Book Festival in Charleston, Granny Sue presented a wonderful talk about some popular West Virginia ghost stories, some lesser-known spooky tales from our mountain hollers, and plenty of history and tradition.  She even sang several ballads to set the mood of an old-timey gathering.  Further, the stage was complete with some mood-setting chairs, tables, and some creepy old items that would later play a part in one of the stories told.

Among the many stories included in this particular program was the story of the Stocking Woman, a desecrated tombstone located in a Sistersville cemetery which is said to bring bad luck to all her touch her.  She relayed the story of Zona Heaster Shue, otherwise known as the Greenbrier Ghost.  She shared the saga of WV's last public hanging in Ripley. And, she told a couple of personal (and sometimes hilarious) 'ghost' stories, as well, which had me (and much of the audience) rolling.

Despite it being 9 am on a Saturday, and despite some of the controversy concerning a headlining guest of the festival, quite a few people made the trek out to the far end of the WV Coliseum and Convention Center to be a part of Granny Sue's audience.  Events like this warm my heart.  I absolutely love seeing so many people from so many different age groups and walks of life come together to appreciate a little dose of Appalachian culture.  Story-telling, especially the telling of ghost stories, is such an ingrained part of West Virginia's history and it is wonderful to not only see someone like Granny Sue working so hard to keep these traditions and folklore alive, but to see just how many people out there really appreciate this dying art form.  Over at Theresa's Haunted History Facebook page, I recently posted an article from the UK Telegraph about how social media is causing folklore to die out.  As long as there are people like Granny Sue out there, telling the stories, I think we'll be okay!

Anyway, after her presentation, Granny Sue went back to her table on the main festival floor, where she sold CD's of her work.  I took a detour and took advantage of the HUGE used book sale going on, and bought a couple of books of ghost stories and one about some local history.

I had an awesome time, and am so glad that I decided to get up early and drive into Charleston to see Granny Sue.  This was a FREE event and I hope in the future, the organizers of the WV Book Festival will continue to incorporate folklore, particularly ghost lore, in its programming!  And, although the event has now passed, you still have a couple of more opportunities this month to see Granny Sue:

She will be giving ghost tours in the Ripley area this coming weekend, October 11th and 12th as part of the city's Shocktober.  The cost is $10 and tours leave from the Jackson County Courthouse at 8 pm.  You can call 304-514-2609 to register.

You can also catch Granny Sue at Taylor Books in Charleston at 6 pm on Friday, October 25th.  She will be giving a presentation called These Haunted Hills: West Virginia Ghost Stories and Ballads. This event is FREE and open to the public!

The Floating Coffin of Monongah, WV

The original purpose of Theresa's Haunted History was to provide factual documentation and resources for haunted locations throughout WV and the tri-state area. I wanted to focus on places that could be visited, but more so, I wanted to focus on places that were verifiable---places where you easily pinpoint, find documentation for details such as the people involved, and hopefully, could still experience something paranormal for yourself. Over the years, however, my focus has changed slightly, and I've realized the importance of sharing personal experiences, vintage stories, and events that are probably more folklore than fact.

This story probably falls into that last category. I found it in the West Virginia Folklore Journal, Volume 19, Number 1. It was published in July of 1977. Floating Coffin was included in a section of ghost stories, and it is noted that it was submitted by the late Thomas M. Leeper of Monongah, WV. I've copied the text below exactly how it appears in the journal, but  this tale can also be found in Ruth Ann Musick's The Telltale Lilac Bush, which was published in 1965. In fact, you can listen to an audio version presented by the WV Network on YouTube! Please enjoy this wonderful old tale and let me know if there are any other stories you'd like to see featured here!

WV Folklore Journal Illustration by Don Mangone. I love this picture.
While I mean no disrespect to the wonderful artist, I can't help but think that it looks like the ghost is flipping the bird to those ladies.

About the close of the Civil War, "Hatter" Sam Cooper lived at Monongah.  During the winter he set traps for small fur-bearing animals, such as fox, coon, skunk, mink, muskrat, and opposum.  One day while going over his trap line on Booth's Creek near the cornfield where Captain James Booth was killed by Shawnee Indians, he found a very fine fur hat sticking in the crack of some rocks.  It was new and had a small bullet-hole through the rim, through the side of the hat and sweat band, but there was no hole to show that it had come out on the other side.

He took the hat home and reported what he had found so the owner could come and get it, but one one ever claimed it. It was rumored around that a Pennsylvania drawer had been murdered there for his money.

A short time after Cooper found the hat, Mrs. Hess Bender, who lived near Bobtown, was going home and stopped for a drink of water at the Smiths, who lived about half a mile below where the hat was found.  Mrs. Smith met her and it was not until supper was about ready, and asked her to come in and have supper with them, which she did, and then started on home.

She was gone about half an hour when she came back to the Smiths.  Said she had forgotten her bonnet and could not do without it.  Then she told them that as she was going along, about the middle of the stretch of road that lays along the edge of the woods on top of the creek's bank, she saw a coffin with a man sitting on it, rise up from the upper side of the road. She could not see anything or anybody floating near it. She said that it came up about as high as her head, went quartering across the road and disappeared over the creek bank.  She said she was scared and had come  back to stay all night.

It was said that Isaac Koon, an old farmer living a short distance away saw the same thing, and he said it went over the creek bank, about where the hat had been found.  Then two women who lived near Bobtown saw the coffin and man.  Several others reported that they had seen it and it always came up from the same place on the upper side of the road, crossed the road, and went over the creek bank at the same place, and was always seen about the same time in the evening.

About 1874 or 1875 on a Saturday, several boys from Monongah and Rhea Chapel were at Boothsville playing baseball.  A new road had been made up the creek but the old road was still open.  In the evening Tom Rhea, Barney Whaling, and Will Barnes were coming from the ball game on horseback and took the old road for it was shorter to their homes.  Tom was a few steps in front of Barney and Will. 

Barney called to Tom and said, "Say, Tom, right along here some place is where that dead man lives."

"Yes," said Tom.  "I wish I could see him.  I would whistle for him to dance."

Just then the coffin and man came up from the side of the road.  Tom's horse saw it, reared, and whirled to run.  Tom was a good rider or he would have been thrown.  Barney and Will watched the coffin and man cross the road and disappear over the creek bank.  Whaling lived at Rhea's and Barnes went there to stay all night.  They got to talking about how far the horse Tom was riding jumped.

The next morning, being Sunday, they went back to see.  The horse tracks were plainly visible. They measured the tracks and all claimed that the horse had jumped 19 feet.  That was the only time that I ever heard of a horse seeing a ghost.

All of the old people living around there have passed on and I have not heard a word about the man and coffin for more than fifty years.

The Liekkio--A Finnish Fright Bite

Omens of Death: The Liekkio, by sombrefeline

Have you ever heard of the Finnish ghost called a Liekkio or Liekko?

According to Peter Haining's Dictionary of Ghostlore, the Liekkio is the spirit of a child who was secretly buried in the woods.  Often these children were the result of unwanted pregnancies, abuse and neglect, and even....murder.  I can't help but think that Hansel and Gretel came pretty darn close to becoming a couple of Liekkios themselves!

Liekkio means 'flaming one,' and that is exactly how these spirits are said to manifest.  Much like the willow-o'-the wisp and the Jack o' Lantern, the Liekkio manifests as a dancing flame which lures travelers away to danger, and in some versions of the story, lures them to Tuonela, the Finnish realm of the dead.  Seeing the Liekkio, whether you choose to follow it or not, is often regarded as a death omen, and the area in which they are seen is surely to be the spot of an upcoming death.

Today, the same explanation for willow-o-the-wisp (and the many other similar ghost lights seen throughout the world) is given for liekkios---swamp gas!  Swamp gas is caused by the breaking down of organic matter in areas that are persistently wet.  So the next time you're hiking through one of Finland's swampy forests and see a dancing flame luring you off your path, just ignore it and keep going!  While it might not actually be a real GHOST, it might just lure you off into a dangerous area of the forest, filled with snakes, bugs, and other swamp-related hazards.

 What Causes Willow-o-the-Wisps?

Hartford-Shire Mowing Devil

Click HERE for transcription

When retired artists Doug Bower and Dave Chorely came forward in 1991 and claimed responsibility for hundreds of "crop circles" around England, the book was closed for many as crop circles being anything but a fraudulent hoax. Still, Bower and Chorely said they got the idea for creating the first simple, but increasingly elaborate crop art from a 1960s incident in Australia known as the "saucer nest case."  The saucer nest case involved a farmer finding a circular area of flattened crop in conjunction with a UFO landing sighting...but is there any earlier cases of a similar nature?

Yes!

A woodcut pamphlet was produced in 1678 telling of the strange tale of the Hartford-shire mowing devil.  According to the pamphlet, a laborer quoted to a farmer a certain price for mowing his oat field.  The farmer refused to honor that price, stating that he'd rather have the Devil himself come mow the field than to pay the poor laborer.

And, like in many cautionary tales, the farmer soon learned that you must be careful what you wish for.  That night, the oat field appeared to be on fire.  Suspecting his entire crop burned, the farmer returned the next morning, amazed to find the area perfectly mowed...TOO perfectly mowed for any man to have committed the act.

Credit for bringing this tale to light is given to historian Betty Puttick who submitted knowledge of this woodcut she ran across to Jenny Randles in response to Randles' 1989 book on crop circles.

Obviously, there is no mention of little green men from outer space, but many cereologists (the people who study crop circles) believe that this might possibly be the earliest recorded case of the modern phenomena.

A Prayer

I'm working on the research for several upcoming blog entries on haunted locations, but I wanted to take a second and share a quick anecdote about when I was a child...and faced with a perplexing dilemma!  I always find this tale amusing, and hope you do, too.

Growing up, my family wasn't really the religious type.  If I had to classify us, we were of the Christian faith with a belief in God, but it never was a big part of our lives.  I have very little memories of going to any type of church service or activity, and prayer wasn't something we really discussed or did as a family.  It wasn't that we rejected religion or anything, but it always seemed like it was something that we just never discussed.

Years later, when I was ten years old, we moved from Hurricane to Winfield, WV...and right into a haunted house.  Already at this point, I had an interest in paranormal research, and read any book I could find on the subject, which included several books on WV folklore and ghost tales.  A common theme in many of these stories was the power of prayer.  It seemed as if any time something paranormal happened that scared the crud out of you, all you had to do was say the Lord's Prayer and it would go away.

That little fact was heavy in my mind during one particularly frightening time period of activity in my house.  Whatever energies or entities that were there when we moved in were NOT friendly, and were quick to make their displeasure known to the living inhabitants of the home, especially me and my sister.  One night, I lay awake in bed, terrified at the sounds of boot steps clomping down my hall, accompanied by a horrifying sense of dread permeating the room.  Shadows seemed to dart around the room in an unnatural manner, and I was terrified, even more than usual.

I knew that the Lord's Prayer was supposed to alleviate these feelings of horror, which were quickly escalating, but there was a HUGE problem.  At ten years old, and with VERY little exposure to church or the Bible, I didn't know the words!

There was a children's Bible on my bookshelf, which I leaped out of bed and grabbed, but whether or not because it was dark, or it wasn't in there, or I was simply too frightened to think correctly, I couldn't find the Lord's Prayer anywhere in it.  In my semi-panic, the words to another prayer DID pop into my head:

Thank God for dirty dishes

They have a tale to tell

While others may go hungry, we're eating very well

With home, health and happiness, I shouldn't make a fuss.

By the stack of evidence, God's been very good to us!

This interesting choice of words to battle the paranormal came from a decorative plaque that my grandma had hanging in her kitchen--a place where I spent many happy days as a child.  I closed my eyes and repeated the poem over and over again, and within a few minutes, the foot steps in the hall quieted, the shadows receded, and the heavy feeling of fear in the room disappeared completely.

Even at that young age, I realized that it wasn't necessarily the WORDS that held the power, but the intent and the focus.  I probably could have sang Yankee Doodle and have it be just as effective....as long as I was focusing my energy and thoughts toward my intended outcome.  This realization carries over today in my work as a paranormal investigator when I'm asked about the effectiveness of blessings and cleansing rituals.  My answer always is along the same lines--whatever you do won't work unless you BELIEVE it is going to work.