Kentucky Book of the Dead by Keven McQueen

Author:Keven McQueen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Arcadia Publishing
Published: 2012-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Reliable Wraiths

The problem with ghosts is that they are temperamental and keep their own hours. They never materialize when you wish them to; instead, they show up when they feel like it, generally when you are least expecting them and are therefore unlikely to be appreciative of their presence. A few Kentucky ghosts, however, allegedly kept regular office hours and thus scores of witnesses saw them.

One turned up at an exotic section of Garrard County: Bryantsville, seven miles northwest of Lancaster. About 125 years ago, there stood in this place a mansion, much the worse for wear and not lovely to the eye, but surrounded by majestic ivy-covered cliffs and the silent forest. Travelers on the Lexington and Lancaster turnpike were surprised to find that someone actually lived in the dilapidated house. He was Edward Ford, a man whose reputation for honesty was unsurpassed in Garrard County, and who allegedly saw a remnant of the restless dead on his property. This is Mr. Ford’s testimony:

[W]hile walking up a narrow, steep and road-beaten path at the rear of my dwelling, when about one hundred yards advanced, I met what I supposed to be a neighbor, but upon looking more closely I saw I was mistaken. By this time I was within ten feet of it. It stood still, and I spoke, but it made no reply. Then, for the first time, I saw that it wore a deathly pallor, and seemed not to be of flesh and blood. Somewhat nervously I returned to my house, and came back with a five-chambered revolver. It still stood where I left it, and I made ready to fire. Before doing so, however, I asked it to speak, if it were human, and if it were not, to quit my sight. It did neither, but began motioning with its hands and head for me to come nearer to it. Then I fired, and, waiting each time for the smoke to clear away, I continued to do so until I had emptied every chamber. When the smoke from the last discharge had passed off, it immediately vanished. I saw it no more during that day, although I hunted for each and every trace of it.

Next day, however, that is on Sunday, in company with four other gentlemen, namely, Robert Boker, Thomas Lane, David Owens and Samuel Newton, I went to the same spot, and we all saw the same I had seen the day before. To the best of our judgment it seemed to be a very old man, with flowing white beard coming almost down to his waist. It began motioning as before, with hands and head, but upon the first shot being fired it disappeared. I have seen it since in various places about my house and premises, but never fail to find it at that particular spot whenever I go near it. Others have seen it, and you can ask them about it also. I do not know what it is; I don’t pretend to say; but these are the facts.

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