I was shocked when Molly and Kevin came into the coffee shop and sat down across from me.
I was having my coffee and a blueberry muffin while working on my laptop. My ghost hunting friends were busy doing other things and we hadn’t planned to meet at the coffee house. I thought this would be a good time to catch up on my websites.
Molly and Kevin came to my table, sat down and began talking. No preamble of any kind. It was a bit unnerving for me to have a young couple sit down and begin talking as though they knew me … and I them.
It was as though I should have know they spent the weekend in San Francisco and took a tour of Alcatraz and the prison.
Kevin was very precise about mentioning the prison hospital. In particular, the pharmacy. I immediately felt a cold chill run down my spine. There was something in his eyes and demeanor that told me the impact of that tour disturbed him.
I was immediately drawn into what Kevin had to say. I glanced at his wife Molly who was quietly sipping her coffee.
Very quietly, Kevin said, “I was touched by something in that room.”
I turned to Molly, who remained quiet.
Although there were many on the tour, Kevin insists he wasn’t the only one who felt something. Several cried out, announcing that they had been stabbed. The room became freezing. Many ran for the exists, insisting that some sort of riot was about to take place. They felt an urgency to escape.
Cell Block D, solitary confinement, was also a place where people felt uncomfortable. There was a sense of hopelessness that disturbed many.
They heard scuffling of feet throughout the prison, but discounted it, thinking it could be other tourists.
There was a paranormal investigation group there who were given permission to use their equipment to measure room temperature and set up voice recorders and cameras. Some tried to make contact with entities. Some recorded EVPs, but there were no ghostly apparitions caught on their video cameras. This I found out from other ghost hunters who networked with other ghost hunters to find out who had visited Alcatraz that weekend.
Molly finally spoke, “I saw something out of the corner of my eye. It wasn’t of this world.”
I waited for her to explain, but she said nothing more. I wanted to question her, but I knew she would speak when she wanted to share without any prompting from me.
Quite frankly, I was feeling creeped out by the couple sitting with me. I wanted to bolt out of there.
Suddenly a college student working on her lapgop shouted, “Stop touching me!” She was sitting near the back wall, quite a distance from us. It was impossible for someone to be behind her, but she looked behind her anyway and waved her hands above her head. She got up and left the coffee shop with all eyes following her out. Molly’s eyes followed something invisible to the rest of us walking out the door, following the college student.
It became clear to me that something followed Molly and Kevin from Alcatraz.
Both Kevin and Molly became much more animated and spoke about their trip to San Francisco, but said nothing more about Alcatraz. Whatever possessed them, evidently released them.
I was worried about the college student who just left. I hadn’t seen her before or since.
I did ask the barista about her, if he remembered her. He said she was in a few times before her outburst that morning. The few times he walked by her, she would close her laptop so he couldn’t see what she was looking at, then she started sitting with her back to the wall.
I inquired if she ever came in with friends. The barista couldn’t remember anyone ever sitting with her. She spoke to no one and ordered regular coffee, black.
A few days later, couple of college students came forward to join the barista and me. “Shelley’s her name,” one said. “She was in my abnormal psych class.”
“Was?” I inquired.
“I haven’t seen her since she lost it here that morning.”
“She was weird,” volunteered her companion.
“Weird in what way?” I asked.
He shrugged and said, “Just weird.”
“She was interested in serial killers. Always wanting to know what made them behave as they did. She studied them constantly. That’s probably what she researched here each morning with her coffee.”
It seemed to fit that her interest in murderers and the entity that followed Molly and Kevin from Alcatraz could hook up.
I didn’t say anything to the barista or the young couple about what I was thinking.
I left the coffee shop and the young couple followed me to my car.
“I did see her wandering around campus a few days ago, muttering to herself,” he volunteered. “She looked awful, like she hadn’t showered or washed her hair or changed her clothes.”
The only name I had to go by was Shelley. I tried locating her with the help of friends.
I knew she needed professional help.
It’s unfortunate that there are entities among us that are waiting for a perfect prey to possess. They seem to hitchhike with those who don’t protect themselves with a white light. They can also get into objects and hide out in them. That’s why everyone has to cleanse everything they purchase before bringing it into their house or wherever they’re staying.
A couple of years later, I heard about Shelley. She frequented the mental ward of the hospital. She knew how to play the system and was usually released after a week. She would show up there monthly. Then, she stopped coming in. Many speculated she finally succeeded in committing suicide, but there were no police reports.
Upon further investigation, my friends told me she left the area. They contacted others to see if she was in a mental ward of a hospital, but it seems she succeeded in disappearing.
I haven’t seen Molly or Kevin for years. I don’t know if they’re avoiding me or if the entity is back with them and tormenting them when Shelley seeks help. Or there could be more than one entity.
I have no desire to visit Alcatraz. There have been many reports that the place is haunted and there are many people who have had scary experiences there.
I do hope you enjoyed this Real Ghost Story and will tell your friends and family about TwoCansOnAString.com
If you’ve been to Alcatraz and have a true paranormal story to tell, please leave me a comment or email me admin@twocansonastring.com
Our local library has a colorful history of being haunted.
Two librarians died in the library under unusual circumstances. One hung herself from the attic rafters and another was battered to death by a book cart. Spend a little time there and you’ll hear footsteps, feel as though you’re being watched, see ghostly apparitions browsing the stacks or sitting and reading, see runaway book carts and ghostly children sitting with young children during story time.
It’s a lively place with a history that very few people discuss. On overcast rainy days it’s not a place where you want to be — yet it is ideal for relaxing with a good gothic tale — especially with what is going on in the library. Seriously, I prefer being home on such days in my comfortable chair with a lap robe and my Kindle, but I digress.
I was at my local coffee shop on such an overcast rainy day and I met Graham who had a story to tell about his college library.
He and four of his friends worked at the library. They were given the task one evening after closing to clean the third floor, which was believed to be the most haunted area of the library. They did split up to cover the area.
Immediately Graham felt a kind of static electricity surrounding him. He was uncomfortable, but he didn’t want to alert his friends.
When the lights started blinking, Graham and his friends became concerned.
“Maybe we should leave,” one of his friends said. “I don’t want to be stuck up here in the dark.”
He was teased a bit about being afraid of the dark, but they all felt the cold air that blew throughout the area. Graham looked around and saw a middle aged man dressed in a dark suit carrying a couple of books and looking in the stacks.
When he first started working in the library, the librarian told him about an English professor who haunted the library. At the time Graham accepted it, but didn’t think much of it. He believed in the paranormal, but he didn’t think it odd that college professors wouldn’t be haunting the library from time to time or the lecture halls or classrooms. So when he saw the gentleman ghost, he assumed it was the English prof.
As the spirit moved around, the lights blinked. The elevator chimed and the doors opened. Graham and his friends stood still watching and listening. No one came out of the elevator and no one went in, but the doors closed and the elevator moved down.
Books were falling from the shelves from various areas. Graham wondered if a group of spirits got off the elevator to mess with them. A book cart slowly rolled towards them. When Graham reached out to stop it, it picked up speed with Graham taking a ride on this runaway cart. It headed for the elevator. When Graham thought he would crash into it, the door opened. On the ride up and then down he could hear soft laughter. He wondered if this was an reenactment of a fraternity hazing that happened a number of decades previous.
He tried to remember this particular incident. Did it happen in the library? He remembered that it did involve books, but a book cart . . . Graham closed his eyes to think. He took a few deep breaths. When he opened his eyes he had a vision of a young man blindfolded with hands and feet bound with a rope. He was on a book cart, bumping along a path pushed by young men in long coats. Each one yelling insults at the one on the cart.
Upahead near a tall tree was another man making a noose from a coil of rope.
“What do we have here, boys?” he said.
“A horse thief,” was the reply.
“Well now, you know what we do with horse thieves, don’t you?”
The noose was put over the young blindfolded man’s head. He was removed from the book cart and raised just a few inches in the air. If he stretched out, his feet would have touched the ground, but he was so scared . . .
The cause of death was not hanging, but . . . could one die from being scared to death? That seemed to be what happened.
From the research Graham did, he found that each of the young men involved in this hazing incident all died within a year. Was this revenge . . . or guilt?
Of the six fraternity brothers involved, two fell down the elevator shaft, three hung themselves on the third floor, and one was crushed to death under the weight of fallen bookshelves.
They were destined, so it seemed, to play out their deed for eternity.
Residual hauntings can’t harm the living, but they can be frightening. I’d rather see the old English Professor than these frat boys any day.
Lizzy Borden’s life and trial have been discussed over the years with divided beliefs of her guilt in murdering her father and step-mother that fateful day in August, 1892.
In 1975 there was a movie made with a possible means of how Lizzy Borden committed the crimes and was able to leave no evidence behind for the authorities to find.
I got caught up in it once again by watching a variety of YouTube videos to get a clear picture of what happened. My quest started when I watched a Paranormal Investigation of the Lizzy Borden Bed and Breakfast.
But for this post, I believe it is best to begin with a documentary of Lizzy Borden.
It’s always important to discover what was going on in the Borden residence prior to the murders.
Each documentary brings forth evidence regarding Lizzy, but is that the complete story?
I do like the dramatization of this documentary . .. but some aspects of the story seem to be left out . . . Lizzy and her thoughts and feelings.
Later on you’ll hear some EVPs that state Lizzy was “spoiled”. Wouldn’t that indicate that she always got her way and thus would have no reason to murder her step-mother and father?
And what is the truth . . . something we’ll never know for sure.
Lizzy Borden Documentary:
Did Lizzy murder her step-mother and father? Was it motivated by greed?
Given the “personal” nature of the attacks, it seems likely Lizzy Borden did do the deadly deed . . . But what is the truth?
Paranormal Investigators FAM and Lou Rock decided to visit the Bed and Breakfast to see what they could learn from the haunting that seems to be taking place.
There is definitely some creepy stuff going on and the spirit box EVPs do give one a bit of a chill.
The Paranormal Investigation Video
What do you think?
There were definite disturbances in the basement.
It has been documented that Mr. Borden had once been in the furniture business and later became a mortician.
However, there is no evidence that he conducted any “mortuary” business in his home or that his home had ever been a mortuary.
That would be too easy to explain the “hauntings” . . . Yet, I do wonder what spirits came into the house when the home across the street had been burned own. It is said children came to stay, but was there more?
Did something evil come into the house — maybe possessing Lizzy?
No offense to these paranormal investigators, but I decided to go a bit farther and wanted to see what Amy Allan and the Dead Files had to say about Lizzy Borden and the house that was turned into a Bed and Breakfast.
This took a bit of a turn to my way of thinking.
It does shed more light on Mr. Borden and how he ran his home.
Dead Files Investigate The Lizzy Borden House
What wasn’t Amy revealing?
Lizzy Borden Documentary:
Does this add clarity or muddy the water a bit more?
I believe more information is necessary in the form of another documentary.
This documentary discusses Lizzy’s life after the trial and how she and her sister did move to a mansion on the hill. Lizzy named it Maplecroft and this was where she could live a lavish life — evidently the life her father could afford, but didn’t want to live — even for the future welfare of his daughters.
It also debunks Lizzy’s killing of animals in order to hold a funeral — and all the implications associated with harming animals to a criminal mind.
Yet, what is behind the statement that Lizzy was “peculiar” or “odd” what was the evidence of this? Was it how she was raised . . . yet she did church work . . . or was this after the trial? Or was this because of her shoplifting?
You can decide later what is truly relevant and what isn’t in order to seek the truth about Lizzy Borden and the murders of 1892.
In light of all of this . . . I’m wondering . . .
Emma may have had a lot of resentment of having to care for her sister, or she may have welcomed it.
Yet both women didn’t have the opportunity to meet gentlemen and back then, the only way for a woman to leave home was to marry. So, both Lizzy and Emma may have resented their father for not allowing them to attend fancy balls or for their father to host one.
Without a mother — a true mother who would have seen to it that her daughters were given every opportunity to meet suitable suitors, these women were really nothing more than house servants in their own home.
If there had been “abuse” in the home, then it seems reasonable Mr. Borden would want to hold a tight rein on his daughters — to keep his secret . . . or was it the sister’s secret . . . or was something else at play in the house . . .
I can understand how Lizzy Borden could have gone “mad” . . . but why continue living in that small town — or did Lizzy Borden have something to prove to the townfolk?
And what did she prove?
I would suggest that instead of asking Lizzy if she did the crime, why not ask her for her story and who she was with her goals and aspirations . . . Her feelings of how everything went terribly wrong . . .
I believe there is more to this story. And I believe this rings true with the second Biographical Documentary. There are definitely more questions that haven’t been answered.
Yet I do believe, too, that Lizzy and others who “haunt” the bed and breakfast are tired of being asked the same questions over and over again . . . and may just say “yes” to commiting the murders in order to be done with it.
Thanks for stopping by and please leave a comment.
Sharon
But wait . . .
And what could be said for Maplecroft — Lizzy’s last known residence?
Surely Lizzy Borden would haunt that place moreso than the residence where her father and step-mother were murdered.
I would definitely not want to haunt the old house, but haunt my home, the home where I was free to live and entertain as I pleased.
I would think Mr. & Mrs. Borden would haunt the bed and breakfast and Lizzy would haunt Maplecroft . . . but what do I know . . .
Maplecroft:
A beautiful place, but I don’t know if I’d like to live there.
I don’t know about operating a bed and breakfast out of Maplecroft Mansion, but I think a quaint little paranormal bookstore would be lovely selling crystals and other items of interest.
I wouldn’t really want to do seances in the home other than to discuss Lizzy’s life without mentioning the murders.
As I mentioned earlier, I believe the Lizzy Borden story is a lot more interesting than the murders and the trial.
I’m going a bit soft on thinking of buying such a house with a history . . . it could be a selling point or drop the price down . . . I do wonder what stories this house has to tell . . . since there were several previous owners . . .
Just something to think about . . .
Thanks for indulging me in my search for the Lizzy Borden story.
There is a common belief that 12 midnight is the bewitching hour when ghosts, spirits, poltergeists, what have you will appear.
For ghost hunters, many have day jobs and night is the best time for them. I believe it is spookier at night and having some nice scary pictures to go along with your explorations doesn’t hurt. I believe it adds atmosphere and gets you in the mood. It is also a reminder to be alert.
Remember when you were a kid and how the creepy old house down the street was creepier at night? It may also have something to do with Halloween when we dressed up in costumes and went trick-or-treating in the dark. Maybe at that time in our lives we were only interested in the candy and seeing our friends, but if you remember back it was so very quiet. You could hear your footsteps echoing behind you. The silence was only broken by the occasional chorus of voices calling out, “Trick or Treat!”
There were the creepy lit jack-o-lanterns that adorned porches and fence posts casting an eerie glow to the yard. Some played scary organ music with occasional screams, rattling chains and moaning wind. Things may have changed over the years, but the basic atmosphere and our enthusiasm hasn’t.
In the “still of the night” has been an ideal time to hunt for ghosts.
It is obviously quiet and you have a better chance of picking up something on your recording devices. It appears ghosts don’t like being in crowded places, if they are at all aware of their surroundings. There are haunted houses, hospitals, restaurants, libraries, and open spaces.
There was a mall in a neighboring town that lost its anchor stores and soon became a “ghost town” of sorts. I’m not saying it was “haunted”, but I did feel uncomfortable walking around in there during the day. Others had remarked that they got spooked walking through the empty mall one night after a meeting. So I suppose ghosts prefer to be where we don’t like being.
One personal experience I had recently was at a well known slaughter house in town.
Just the idea of a slaughter house would instantly make one think it would be haunted. The thing about this place is that there have been stories, many have been proven to be hoaxes perpetrated by local teens having fun and perhaps wanting to create an urban legend of sorts.
Well, it wasn’t my intention to go to the slaughter house, but I was out with friends and we saw something that came whoosing out of the sky at us. We followed it to the old slaughter house.
I tried to convince everyone it was an owl, but they gave me reasons why it couldn’t possibly be. So there I was walking along this empty field late at night to this building that had a questionable reputation. The old brick building had been broken into numerous times over the years and visitors would take a brick as a souvenir.
Hoax or not, this was a creepy place. There was this unsettling scent in the air — like death, but the slaughter house hadn’t been used for decades.
The air had a chill in it I didn’t notice until I got closer. I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular, just placing one foot in front of the other, not wanting to fall into a gopher hole and twist my ankle.
All of a sudden there was an ungodly screech and this black mass with a white skull face came swooping down upon us! I took off running! The others followed.
Pity no one had the peace of mind to take a picture, but we’re not the bravest souls who go off exploring in the dead of night.
While in high school, I did house sitting and dog sitting. I had another job at a local flower shop.
The local flower shop would hire high school students from time to time when volume was high — Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day — graduations and weddings. Then, there were funerals.
As you may have gathered, I was drawn to doing flower arrangements for funerals.
I also pretty much specialized in doing casket sprays and gravesite bouquets. There are many people who want to have fresh flowers on their loved ones graves, but they aren’t in the area to do it. So, I’m hired. Sometimes various cemeteries need someone to put flowers on graves for special occasions. I’m hired for that, too.
While everyone else was into the “fun” floral arrangements, I was into the funeral and gravesite floral arrangements. My friends worked “normal” hours, I worked “after hours.” I enjoyed the solitude, but the flower shop was spooky.
There was nothing specific at first. Just random noises: knocks on the walls, footsteps, scraping sounds of something being moved and doors opening and closing.
I could ignore it most of the time when I was especially busy, but then I’d get a cold breeze on the back of my neck or a whisper in my ear that I couldn’t understand I would get a bit spooked, but I knew I had a job to do and couldn’t run out screaming.
I could hear people talking. I thought customers got in, but when I’d check, no one was there.
The real problem was the mood swings I noticed with the owner and the various florists. Sandra, the owner, claimed I left the back door unlocked when I left. I know I locked up. I kept the door locked when I was working. Then there were the suppliers who didn’t want to make deliveries or claimed Sandra cancelled a delivery. She claimed I was sabbotaging her business, that I was setting up my own flower shop and turning the suppliers against her. I had little contact with the suppliers. I had no idea how she got such notions. I offered to quit, but she cut my hours, instead..
That didn’t work out for her because I was making a reputation for myself with various mortuaries and cemeteries. It seemed funerals were a big business. People were asking for me, which made Sandra furious.
She did fire me, which was good. With the help of my parents, I was able to buy out an old floral shop in town. The man and his wife were very generous and helpful in getting me started.
I specialized in funerals, of course. I sent customers who wanted other floral arrangements to Sandra, but she became more and more angry with me. Just the mention of my name was enough to set her off.
She came into my shop one afternoon accusing me of vandalizing her shop. The police arrived to make her accusations official. Fortunately, I had an alibi. I had several witnesses who could account for my whereabouts on the night in question. I had three big cemetery jobs to do. I worked at night getting the graves dressed for Memorial Day. I worked from 6 in the evening through the wee hours of the morning. I wanted everything done when visitors would be coming to the cemetery. There was the caretaker at each location who let me in and out. There was also the evidence that flowers were placed on the graves. Fortunately, each cemetery was miles away from Sandra’s shop.
As my business was booming, Sandra’s declined.
I heard rumors that she was rude with customers and no one wanted to work for her. I knew something wasn’t right at her flower shop. It had to do with the paranormal. Some force was causing Sandra’s problems.
Then, the unthinkable happened, Sandra’s flower shop caught fire while she was inside. Her husband claimed he received a frantic phone call from Sandra saying she was trapped in the shop, she couldn’t get the doors opened, but the firefighters said the doors were unlocked.
I did the flowers for her funeral. Once a week I put flowers on her grave. I do hope she has found peace.
The lot that was once Sandra’s Flower Shop has been sold and a beauty shop was there for awhile, but it was sold and made into a dress boutique, which was sold and made into something else. It is now empty. It seemed no business lasted over six months at that location. Whatever’s there doesn’t want to be disturbed.
Just to clarify, I’m still doing funeral and gravesite floral arrangements. A business that seemed to find me has continued for more years than I want to admit. I have, however, sold my shop. I am on call for “emergencies” when mortuaries need casket sprays.
I do wonder if it had anything to do with the night my brother and I had our little adventure in the cemetery after dark. You can read about it here.
I have met some interesting “ghosts” over the years. But that’s another story for another time . . .
Have you ever seen someone who seemed a bit out of place?
I’ve mentioned before how I’ve talked to spirits thinking they were real or saw something that really wasn’t there, but I know what I saw. Well, Janet was working in a nursing home. Basically she would claim she had seen just about everything and nothing in the realm of the paranormal surprised her. But what she saw one particular day did make her take notice and still gives her an uneasy feeling to this day.
This happened a couple of years ago in a nursing home in northern Alabama, but quite honestly, it could happen anywhere. And it probably has.
The nursing home was built in the 1960’s and has always been a nursing home. Prior to it being built, it was farmland and had been for years. Janet had worked at the nursing home for over 25 years when this incident happened.
Janet and a few other coworkers were in the dining room cleaning up one afternoon.
She had just finished cleaning the last table and turned around. She saw a figure dressed in black: a black suit, a black cape, wearing a black top hat. The odd thing was that the figure was either a skeleton or very gaunt. She remembers besides being dressed all in black, there was a mixture of beige, yellow and gray mixed in there, too. She did a double-take, but the image was gone. She mentioned it to one of the other women, on the off chance that she saw it, too. She hadn’t, but she believed Janet. The cook commented, “We see strange things all the time. It was just your turn to see something today.”
Seeing something strange was odd enough, but the unsettling part for Janet was that the woman who sat right across from this figure passed away before dinner. She seemed to be healthy for a nursing home resident. Her passing was a surprise to the nursing staff and other residents.
Janet is convinced she saw “the grim reaper.” Why she happened to see “him” that particular day, she doesn’t know, but she doesn’t want to see him again.
Quite honestly, Janet was afraid for her own life. It wasn’t that she wasn’t feeling well or had any health issues, it was just the idea that she saw “the grim reaper” and no one else on the staff saw him . . . or admitted to seeing him.
She had seen “shadow people” scurrying about at various times, but nothing like this figure dressed in black. She had also seen a “lady in white” floating about the hallways and slipping in and out of rooms, maybe making her rounds checking on patients, but none of these sightings foretold of death.
There has been a resident ghost at the nursing home since before Janet started working there.
Many believe it is residual energy. It’s a woman who always would sit outside her door, waiting for the nurse to come to her room to check her temperature and blood pressure. She had to know, first thing in the morning if she had a temperature and if her blood pressure was normal. It became an obsession with her. It was something she needed to know before she would dress in the morning or eat breakfast. She insisted it be taken precisely at the same time every morning. Well, even during her after-life, she’s waiting for her temperature and blood pressure to be taken.
One of the nurses thought it would be interesting to take this ghostly apparition’s temperature and blood pressure, but on several occasions when approaching “it” . . . “it” vanished.
I suppose one of the ghost nurses needed to accommodate her . . . and there seemed to be ghost nurses hanging around the nursing home, too.
I hope you enjoyed this real ghost story and will leave a comment or share this website with a friend or two.
