As you plan your next vacation, you may wish to consult the Directory of Haunted Places which has listings for international as well as U.S. hauntings. If you live in or plan to visit the U.K., then you may find The Headless Horseman Online Guide to Ghosts of interest.
Wherever you go, safe travels……..bwahahahahahah………
I went outside about 5:30 this morning to empty my trash. On the way back from the dumpster, I looked up and saw this almost full moon. There is no way this photo can really capture the baleful orange glow. This is absolutely the most trippy thing I’ve ever seen in the sky (except for the UFOs I saw but that’s another story). This is the perfect Halloween moon!
(I am surmising that the smoke from the wildfires caused this effect.)
I ran inside and grabbed my camera. So there I was, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, in my pajamas, in the dark, snapping pictures.
THEN, to totally freak me out, I hear this very low, quiet voice say “Lori, what are you doing?” I jumped a foot and a half. The voice was coming from my upstairs neighbor who was sitting in the shadows of his veranda catching some fresh air. I suddenly realized I was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, in my pajamas, in the dark, snapping pictures. How embarrassing……..
Full disclosure: I adjusted this image to correct for some blurring around the edges of the moon and I increased the contrast and messed with levels a bit to bring it in line with what I actually saw. Other than that, this is what it was.
Lori Gloyd (c) 2007
This is the back of a 200-year old church. I really felt uncomfortable here and, sure enough, I picked up a bunch of orbs.
Lori Gloyd (c) 2007
What I write here, I am simply tossing out for your consideration. This is an account of my own experience accompanied by photographs. Both are open for whatever interpretation you care to give them.
The Queen Mary, the Cunard luxury liner that cruised the North Atlantic from 1936 to 1967, is now dry-docked in the harbor at Long Beach, California. She is a hotel, a conference center, a museum, and a “genuine haunted ship” (with her own paranormal research center).
It is said that the ship is home to about 150 separate ghosts, though I fail to see how anyone could actually ascertain that. But that factoid does add to the ambience of the ship. Actually, the ghosts legends have been turned into an on-board “Attraction,” complete with special effects and dramatic re-enactments of the hauntings. It is oh-so-Hollywood and has spoiled the place for real ghost-hunters who need peace and quiet to “feel the presences.”
Even though I am not a ghost-hunter or psychic, personally, I don’t care for the Attraction much either. There’s so much to be said about engaging the imagination and scaring yourself silly with a good old fashion ghost story —which is what I think happened to me a few years ago when I took one of the ship’s old “Ghost Tours” (before they made it an Attraction).
These tours (sans special effects and weird music) were simply a tour guide taking guests to all the supposedly haunted areas of the ship. There are certain areas of the ship where the hauntings are particularly pronounced. For example, we were taken to Cabin B340, which is no longer rented out by the hotel, because the cabin is subject to frequent poltergeist activity. When our group was toured through, I didn’t observe or feel anything unusual.
Another place of ghostly activity is the First Class Swimming Pool. It has been empty of water for more than 30 years, yet women and children in 1930’s bathing attire are frequently seen and heard around the pool. While we were taking the tour, we stood on the balcony overlooking the pool, in the dark, while the guide shared the spooky stories. (If you go to this image of the pool, you can see the railing where we standing). One of my friends, who is a photographer, had her camera with her. For some inexplicable reason, the flash unit on her camera unscrewed itself and fell from her camera over the railing and onto the deck of the pool. As you can see from the image that is quite a drop. The guide fetched her flash and amazingly it was not broken. Maybe she didn’t screw the attachment on properly? Maybe something broke its fall? We amused ourselves by speculating on the notion that a playful spirit was having fun with us.
However, the mood changed for me when we entered the Engine Room. The Engine Room had been completely gutted and was simply a huge empty space with a catwalk over it. During our tour, the guide stopped us on the catwalk and began to explain some of the history of this area. For example, during World War II, the Queen Mary had been used as a transport ship. It collided at sea with another ship resulting in the deaths of over 300 people. It is said that the ghosts of the dead sailors can be heard screaming in this area. Also, in the early 1960’s a young engine room technician had been crushed to death by the closing of a water-proof door. It is said that he is frequently seen walking to and fro on the catwalks in this area. As the guide was explaining this too us, I felt myself becoming more and more anxious. Perhaps it was just the power of suggestion, being in a dark creepy room hearing tales of gruesome deaths. All I knew is that I needed to get out of there fast and the guide was just taking too long!
Shortly after this the tour ended, but I still felt disconcerted and anxious. We left the ship, and proceeded to the Skorpion, an old Soviet Foxtrot submarine, also a museum, dry-docked and adjacent to the Queen Mary. (See the photo above). We started the self-guided tour of the craft, but shortly after we entered, I became overwhelmed with anxiety and had to leave the vessel. Did an entity follow me from the Queen Mary or was I merely having a claustrophobic episode caused by being on a very tiny submarine with a lot of tourists?
On another trip to the Queen Mary, just this past year, I and several friends went to Sunday Brunch in the Queen Mary’s Grand Salon, another reportedly haunted area. A “White Lady” is often seen dancing by herself when the Salon is empty. I brought my camera this time and took several pictures. Most of the pictures in the Grand Salon had orbs floating about. Below you will see some of the better one where I have circled the orbs in red. You might explain the orbs as pixilated dust particles or reflections from all the glass and brass; however, in the picture with the harpist at the far right you will see a beautiful brilliant blue-white orb—that just doesn’t look like dust or light.
So, a haunted ship, a tourist trap, overactive imaginations???— I leave it up to you to decide.
Happy Halloween, one and all!
Images and text: Lori Gloyd (c) 2006, revised 2007
Jane said she expected to see a ghost in the steeple. Take another look, Jane. It’s Mrs. Parsons! :)
Lori Gloyd (c) 2007
by Lori
It’s all a matter of perspective……….
Lori Gloyd (c) 2007
by Lori
This is a true story I wrote for last year’s Halloween blog. Be sure to read the new Postscript.
The church I attend meets in a wooden building that is about 60 years old. By the standards of the area, this is an ancient structure. It is a pleasant building in the day time— well-kept and conservative. When it is full of people, it is a cheerful place, as it should be.
However, at night, after the congregation has gone home and the lights are extinguished, the building sits in darkness, its bell tower and spire looming over the neighborhood. Several people have told me that they have seen the lights flipping on and off as they’ve driven by at night. Of course, this could simply be our pastor who comes and goes at all hours. Also, lots of people have keys to the place and being volunteers they work on their various projects and ministries whenever they can, including after dark. So it wouldn’t seem strange for lights to be flipping on and off at night.
Several people have told me they have heard all sorts of odd sounds in the building. Well, wooden structures creak, pop and thump with the temperature changes. Also, in the winter, when the steam is turned on, the pipes rattle and shimmy. Finally, the noises could be raccoons, possums and pigeons banging around in the walls of the church.
So you see, everything can be explained.
I’m one of those volunteers who sometimes works alone in the building, and for some reason I avoid going up to the sanctuary by myself. For reasons I can’t explain, I always have an odd feeling that I’m being watched particularly from the balcony. I keep looking over my shoulder. Perhaps I’m just remembering the story I had heard of the homeless man who broke in a few years ago and slept in the pews at night. One night, this homeless man leaped up and scared the pants off the pastor when he was discovered. Maybe that’s what I’m remembering.
Oh, did I mention that I am never, ever go up there alone at night. Ever.
One day, in late afternoon, just as darkness was falling, I was in the basement of the church, setting up for a meeting. I was alone. In the basement, I don’t get that same feeling of being watched–that feeling that someone else is there when they aren’t. So I was fine, happily setting out chairs and getting ready for the others who would be coming in another half hour.
A few minutes later, however, to my chagrin, I discovered that the laptop computer which I needed for the meeting was not downstairs. It was upstairs, in the sanctuary where I never, ever go alone at night.
I hesitated for a moment but then realized how incredibly stupid and silly I was acting. So I took a breath and charged upstairs. I hurried through the sanctuary, fumbled with my keys to open the appropriate doors as quickly as I could, grabbed the laptop and scampered back down to safety of the basement. See, silly, there’s no one up there, I told myself.
I placed the laptop on the table and continued to prepare for the meeting. I was there for just a little less than a minute when I heard a noise. I froze and caught my breath. Slowly I looked up at the ceiling. I heard the floor boards creaking above me as if someone was walking through the sanctuary. There were only a few steps, but they sounded like they were moving down the central aisle from the platform towards the narthex. Only a few steps. Then, nothing.
I felt my skin goose and the hair on my arms stand up. I had just been up there in the sanctuary. There had been no one up there! There were no other cars in the lot, and even if there were, no one would be coming in the upstairs doors-they would come in the downstairs entrance for the meeting. There should be no one up there.
Just as I was about ready to leave and wait in the parking lot, I heard a car door slam. To my relief, another committee member had arrived. When he came in I asked him if he had seen anyone leaving through the upstairs exits. He hadn’t. I was going to mention the noise but suddenly I began to feel silly and embarrassed again, and decided I wouldn’t mention it.
It’s just the physics of an old building I told myself.
But to this day, I will not go upstairs by myself. Never, ever, and certainly not at night.
Lori Gloyd (c) 2006, 2007
————————
Post Script: Our youth pastor read this to our youth group last year and I was told later that every one of the kids was spell-bound as the story unfolded. Now that was truly a compliment………
And, just two weeks ago, a bunch of us were chatting in the parking lot. One of our group pointed to a window on the top floor of the main building and noted that the light was on in storage room where the Easter and Advent decorations were kept. No one ever goes into that room except in Spring and December. This was August. I quipped that it might be the ghost. Funny, no one laughed.
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