Stalking Shadows (10 page)

Some people have reported walking around the house, and when they looked into one of the living room windows, they noticed a white mist in the shape of a partial body. They could make out the arms and the outline of the head. They also reported that the white mist appeared to float across the living room before disappearing entirely.

I couldn’t get the house out of my head all day, and I knew that any attempts at sleep would be futile until I satisfied my curiosity. That night, I slipped out of my mom’s house and drove to Maggie Johnson’s house.

Armed only with a flashlight, since I hadn’t planned on ghost hunting while up north, I cautiously made my way through the tall grass and weeds that surrounded the house.

I paused by the large living room window, and as I went to peek inside, something pushed me hard away from the house, causing me to fall to the ground. I leaped to my feet and shined my flashlight in all directions, but no one or nothing was in sight. In addition, if someone had been there, I would have heard them walking through the tall grass and dead, crunchy leaves that littered the area from the tall trees surrounding the property.

As much as I wanted to investigate this event further, I didn’t want to trespass into the house, and I was completely alone in the middle of the night on an all-but-deserted street, where the houses are miles apart. Furthermore, whatever pushed me obviously didn’t want me there, and I interpreted the mild attack as a warning that I should leave.

I made my way to my car and looked back at the house. In the upstairs window, I saw an eerie light that appeared to move around the room. I knew there was no one in the house and had no explanation for the light. The area around the house is quite deserted for miles and there are no streetlights. The night I was there was a cloudy night, with no moon.

On several occasions while at the property, I’ve felt ice-cold breezes push against me when I was right next to the house. It appears that Maggie Johnson is still living in the house, long after her death, and doesn’t want anyone to disturb her or her property.

Several times since that night I’ve visited the home, but, not wanting to upset whatever spirit is there, I haven’t made any attempt to enter the space.

The house has fallen into a horrible state of disrepair and someone has boarded up the windows on the first floor, which has done little to deter intruders who have decimated the place.

The Jenkins House

On the outskirts of a small harbor town, nestled on the shores of Lake St. Clair in southeastern Michigan, sits a pre–Civil War, two-story farmhouse. There’s nothing really unusual about the appearance of the white clapboard house from the outside … unless you count the old woman sitting in the front window. Funny thing about that woman—she died more than fifty years ago.

The many owners of the property, most of whom are descendants of Matthew Jenkins, the original owner of the home, have observed many paranormal events.

One woman remembers living in the house as a child, when one night she and her sister went downstairs to get a drink of water. As they passed by one of the parlors, they saw a soft light emanating from the room.

When they peered into the parlor, they were shocked to see a large table sitting in the middle of the room, which shouldn’t have been there, as they didn’t even own a table like that. What was even more astonishing is that a dead body was lying on the table. The room was filled with a lot of people dressed in black clothing, in a fashion that was common during the Victorian era.

Rooted to the floor by fear, they stood transfixed by the scene before them. Then they noticed that all the activity in the room had ceased, and the phantom apparitions were staring at them! Not wanting to see what was going to happen next, they raced up to their bedrooms. The next morning, everything was back to normal in the “funeral” parlor.

The same girls also reported seeing a gorgeous young blond woman standing in their bedroom one night. The ghost was holding a candle and motioned for the girls to follow her, but they were too scared to do so. They turned on a light and the vision disappeared.

Unable to resist such tempting tales of paranormal activity, a friend of mine we’ll call Monica and I decided to conduct our own investigation into the paranormal activity at this house.

After getting permission from the current owner, a man from out of town, to enter the property, we spent considerable time exploring the house’s many rooms. At this time the house was vacant, because the current owner was in the process of renovating it. Over time, the house had fallen into a state of great disrepair.

As we walked through the house, we couldn’t help but feel we were being watched by someone or something unseen. When we were on the second-floor hallway, I heard Monica scream! When I turned around, Monica was gone and there was a gaping hole in the floor!

“Monica, where are you? Are you okay?” I yelled frantically.

“I’m down here. I’m fine!” she said.

“Where’s here?” I asked.

“I don’t know!” Monica replied.

“Hang tight. I’ll find you.” I scrambled down the stairs and looked around the house, but I couldn’t find Monica.

“Bang on a wall,” I yelled.

Monica start banging and I traced the noise to the large closet under the stairs that led to the second floor. I flung open the door; the closet was empty, but I could hear Monica close by.

I started banging on the walls of the closet, and the side wall, which I quickly discovered was a hidden panel door. Finally it yielded and swung open—it was on hinges! Monica came scrambling up two stairs to freedom.

We then returned to the small room she’d fallen into, a room of approximately ten feet by fifteen feet. The walls were constructed of fieldstone, and were held in place by mortar or some other type of material. On the sand floor sat benches that went around almost the entire room. We’d heard that the Jenkins house might have been on the Underground Railroad, and now we were pretty sure we had proof. We asked the remaining family members about the hidden room, but they denied any knowledge of it.

We spent a couple of days doing research on the house and came to the conclusion that the woman many people reported seeing in the front window was the mother of one of the former owners. Apparently, she died in the exact room the apparition appears and was known, when alive, to sit in front of the window for hours.

On another occasion, Monica and a friend of hers went back to the house to conduct some more research. They were on the second floor and when they walked by one of the bedroom windows they saw a large, glowing white figure run across the front yard of the house. At that very same moment, they heard a man’s voice yell, “Get out! Get out!” from the same room they were in. It sounded as if the man was standing right next to them! Not wasting a moment, they fled from the house.

Monica and her friend went back to the house a couple days later and found an old book in one of the upstairs bedrooms. The book contained the genealogy of the Jenkins family.

Wanting to make copies of the book, Monica, without asking permission, took it home with her and spent almost the entire night reading the book. The next day, Monica and her friend drove by the house and stopped in front of it. She saw a large man with a full beard and mustache staring down at her. Monica knew it was Matthew Jenkins, due to the pictures we’d found while conducting our research into the history of the house.

From the moment they saw the man, they both became very ill. They experienced unexplained nausea and vomiting. It went on for a couple of days. During that period, I talked to Monica and she finally told me about the book they’d found, the man they saw at the Jenkins house, and how sick she was.

“It’s the book,” I told her. “You’ve got to put back the book. I’ll meet you at the house.”

A few minutes later, I pulled into the driveway of the house and found Monica waiting for me with the large book in her arms. Monica looked pale and weak.

We both gazed up at the house and in the far left, second-story bedroom window, I saw the apparition of the man Monica told me about.

“He wants the book back,” I told Monica. “You stole part of his family.”

“I didn’t steal anything,” Monica said. “I borrowed the book.”

“Without permission,” I explained. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“I’m not going in there with that man in there.” Monica shook her head.

“Give me the damn book,” I sighed. “I’ll do it. Where did you find this book?”

“In the room the man was in. It was on the stop shelf of the closet,” Monica said.

“Fine! But don’t ever take anything from any house again. Got it?”

“Got it,” Monica said, handing me the book and the key to the house, which the current owner had given us.

I let myself in the back door and made my way through the large kitchen area to the staircase at the front of the house. I tentatively climbed the stairs to the second floor.

“Mr. Jenkins, I know you’re upset about the book being taken, but I’m here to bring it back. My friend didn’t know what she was doing, and I’m very sorry. Nothing like this will ever happen again,” I explained to the spirit as I walked toward the bedroom.

I peered into the bedroom, but didn’t see or feel the spirit. I walked across the room to the big closet and put the large book on the top shelf. I pushed it as far back as it would go—virtually hiding it from sight. When I turned around to leave the bedroom, I felt the spirit standing in front of the window on the opposite side of the room.

“Goodbye, Mr. Jenkins. I hope you find peace,” I said, as I walked out of the bedroom toward the staircase. I let myself out the back door and rejoined Monica by the cars.

“I’m keeping the key to the house,” I told her. “I’ll get it back to the owner of the property.”

“But what if I want to go back in the house?” Monica said.

“You’re not going back into the house. Your exploring-
haunted-houses days are over, unless you’re with me. You just can’t seem to stay out of trouble,” I teased her.

“True.” She gave me a wry smile.

We both got into our cars, took one more look at the house, and drove away.

That was the last time I was in the house. The owners of the property spent several months lovingly restoring it to its former glory. They report that the paranormal activity has all but subsided, with the exception of one thing.

They always find the window open in the first floor bedroom—the very same room where the woman died—where she sits and stares forlornly out the window, into the front yard of the farmhouse.

While the current owners are aware of the history of the house, to them the rich history of the property makes the house more desirable. Monica spoke to the new owners after contacting one of the surviving relatives of the original owner, and verified as much information as she could.

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Chapter 8

The House of Horrors

To the casual observer, the old abandoned farmhouse that sits in the middle of nowhere, in upstate Iowa, wouldn’t even register in their minds as being a place of interest.

However, to those who have lived in that farmhouse, or crossed the threshold at one time or another, it is a house of terror-filled nights and tense, uneasy days. You see, the land and the house that no one really pays any attention to, are among the most haunted places I’ve personally ever heard of.

In all fairness, the house itself is not to blame. Before this house was built, another stood in its place. However, when the original house was torn down, the basement wasn’t removed, and the current home stands on the original foundation.

The catalyst that set off the tragic chain of events throughout the years all began with the land itself. Long ago, there was a Native American encampment in the woods behind where the house now stands. While history doesn’t tell us what exactly happened, it does tell us that the Native Americans were massacred.

The event was so traumatic that there have been reports of people seeing the ghosts of Native Americans still crossing the property. It’s my belief that this catastrophic event caused the land itself to become stained or cursed.

When this happens, any building or other structures and the people who inhabit them will also become victims of the massacre that took place so many years ago.

The land itself now holds the house, three silos, an old barn that pre-dates the house, a garage, and a long-abandoned chicken coop. There have been reports of paranormal activity occurring everywhere on the property, with the exception of the chicken coop and silos, as far as I know.

The long list of horrors that occurred after the massacre started when an influenza outbreak raced through the area in the mid- to late-1800s. At that time, there was a family with eight children living in the original home. Seven of the children died during the plague.

That house was eventually torn down and the existing house was built on the old foundation. According to lore, two little boys drowned in the ditch that lies at the front of the property during a flash flood. To this day, the spirits of the two boys can often be seen in the ditch, reliving the tragedy that befell them all those years ago. No one is quite sure when this happened, but it’s believed to be sometime in the 1940s.