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She Was Locked in the Attic – Ghost Hunting in Laconia, NH

Over a hundred years ago, a woman was locked in the attic of a haunted Laconia (NH) home. She spent years up there, perhaps clawing at the walls and door. She may have died up there, and pieces of her body may still be in the home’s backyard.

These pictures are from a house near Laconia’s Parade Road. It’s a private residence, but in Colonial times, it had been a tavern.

Later, according to stories told by the homeowners, someone was locked in the attic, possibly for years.

I was fortunate enough to be invited – privately – to spend a few hours ghost hunting at this extraordinary site. Even in broad daylight, it was unusual.

And, the ghost stories at that site are credible.

There’s plenty of physical evidence of its turbulent past, including personal belongings from long ago. It’s difficult to tell which had been left there, abandoned by previous homeowners, and which belong to the current residents.

But few attics have so many marks scraped into the walls and door.

I’ve mentioned this house before, including in my review of Rue Cote’s book, Ghost Hunting in Tilton, NH.

The scratch marks in the Laconia home’s attic were among the creepiest things I’ve ever seen, ghost hunting in private homes. Those scratches are reminiscent of hash marks carved into prison walls, and in orphanages and some hospitals.

Here’s the evidence

The first photo shows the wall near the attic door, close to an old-school light switch. I’m not sure if the scratched-in date (near the top of the wall) says 1895 or 1896.

Probably the latter.

Either way, it’s creepy.

Laconia haunted house - scratch marks 1895 — Haunted attic in Laconia. Is that date 1895 or 1896?

Next, here are the marks on the inside of the attic door (by someone inside the attic). Some look like they may have been etched with chalk.

More hash marks and scratches inside haunted Laconia (NH) attic — Interior of the attic door, in that haunted Laconia house.

Next is a photo you may have seen before (in my article – Laconia, NH’s Ghostly Places) but this is a larger copy. It hasn’t been adjusted in any way, aside from reducing it to fit on this webpage.

Haunted Laconia attic, with lots of scratch marks. — Even more hash marks and scratches. Some look almost frenzied.

The fourth (next) photo shows an area just to the left of the previous photo. I did adjust the contrast (and I added an arrow) so you can see the date scratched into the wall: 1892.

Haunted Laconia - 1892 scratches in attic — The date is clear: 1892. So, was someone up there for FOUR years…?

If the photo at the top of this article shows 1896 scratched into the wood, it’s possible someone was locked in that attic for a very long time. Three or four years, at least. That’s shocking.

You can read more of my Laconia story – and more true, ghostly tales – in Rue’s book.

More ghost hunting opportunities, nearby?

For me, the most chilling part of this Laconia ghost investigation was what people said, afterwards.

I talked about this house with several friends in Tilton.

Every one of them had a story about a relative that had been locked in their family’s attic, years ago.

Or, they knew a neighbor or nearby cousin with a relative locked in the attic.

I understand that in the 18th and 19th centuries, mental health facilities could be barbaric. It may have seemed more humane to keep the person at home.

But, in an attic…? And for years…?

That explains a lot about why Tilton and nearby towns are so very haunted. If you’re ghost hunting in NH’s Lakes Region, Laconia and Tilton should be on your must-see list.

Franklin NH – Historical Society’s Ghosts

The Franklin Historical Society is located at Webster Place in Franklin, New Hampshire. The building is a Colonial-era home — once the residence of Daniel Webster — with a large Victorian addition.

After its years as an early American residence (owned by the Haddock and Webster families, among others), the home was used as an orphanage from 1871 through 1958.

Then, from 1960 through 2005, the site was the property of the Sisters of the Holy Cross.

More recently, the building was acquired for the historical society.

In the photo at left, taken on 7 October 2010, you can see just part of the older side of the building. Most of the picture shows the 1860 Victorian addition. (Yes, that is a large orb near one window on the middle floor. Some photos of the front of the building included orbs; most didn’t.)

I was attending a talk by EPNE. They described their experiences during a preliminary ghost investigation at the site, and shared some stories plus video and EVP recordings.

It was a relaxing evening, and a chance to see what’s going on in the field, in general.

After EPNE’s demonstration and a break for refreshments, I explored the building with friends (and fellow researchers) Sean Paradis and Lesley Marden.

Ground Floor: Warm Spot

First, we focused on a ground floor room with school desks stored in it. (From the front entrance, the room is immediately on your left.)

This is part of the Victorian addition to the Haddock-Webster mansion. The two-story addition was constructed in 1860 by Rufus L. Tay, who’d purchased the house and property from Daniel Webster’s son and heir.

(Daguerreotype at left shows Daniel Webster in 1847.)

One rocking chair seemed to have an odd warm spot while the chair next to it was as chilly as we expected, in that unheated room.

However, we hadn’t planned to investigate anything, so we didn’t have a thermometer to verify the effects.

Note: Some researchers believe that a cold spot indicates ghostly energy, but a warm spot suggests more dangerous energy. I haven’t explored either from a good/bad viewpoint.

Nearby, all three of us felt that one spot in the room had unusual energy, but those were merely odd sensations. Those are difficult to document. We detected no unusual EMF with a K-II meter or a hiking compass, at any part of that room.

Lesley and Sean checked the floor immediately upstairs, but the door to the room overhead — and all doors along that side of the house — were locked. They appeared to be used as offices.

The Mezuzah Room

When we explored the rooms that were open upstairs, one room was odd. We’re fairly certain it’s the room where EPNE thought a flashlight had responded to yes/no questions.

What seemed especially strange in Franklin, NH — particularly since it was a home for nuns for 40 years — was the mezuzah at the doorway.

According to Wikipedia:

A mezuzah is affixed to the doorframe in Jewish homes to fulfill the mitzvah (Biblical commandment) to inscribe the words of the Shema “on the doorposts of your house” (Deuteronomy 6:9).

Some interpret Jewish law to require a mezuzah on every doorway in the home apart from bathrooms, and closets too small to qualify as rooms; others view it as necessary only to place one in the front doorway.

I’ve seen many homes that feature a mezuzah at the front door. Others have additional mezuzahs throughout the home.

However, until last night, I’d never seen a home with a mezuzah placed at just one, interior doorway… and none anywhere else. There were no marks where other mezuzahs might have been, either.

So, why would a mezuzah mark the one, apparently most-haunted room in the building? Was it an attempt to keep something out… or something in?

It’s possible that, when the building was divided into apartments or rooms, that room was the residence of someone Jewish, or someone who respected related traditions.

Further investigation might clarify whether or not that room is actually haunted, and why a mezuzah is at that doorframe and no other.

Nevertheless, in a town like Franklin — and particularly in a building where nuns lived — it’s odd.

After getting our general bearings at a site that we’re investigating, the first thing we look for is what’s odd.

The Attic

Among other, lesser architectural anomalies, the attic level stood out as a floor with dark and foreboding energy.

The glow-in-the-dark crucifix on one wall was charming. The row of clothing hooks — at a height used by toddlers or small children — was a little disturbing. I’m not sure what small children would be doing in the attic, particularly with the steep, semi-finished stairway leading to it.

A storage feature in the attic also seemed unusually repellent. A further investigation of the site’s history might reveal more.

All in all, we concluded that the Franklin Historical Society has some odd features worth exploring.

However, it didn’t seem as if the society welcomed additional investigations; EPNE was allowed in as preparation for the historical society’s October presentation.

So, I can’t recommend the Franklin Historical Society’s building as a general research location.

The Window at the Front

After the event concluded, Sean, Lesley and I chatted outside the building. We were startled because we thought we saw a curtain open for a moment at an attic window.

Then, when I was taking pictures, the flash highlighted the actual scene. We realized that it was one of the windows that doesn’t have a curtain; it’s shuttered or otherwise blocked from the inside.

We’re not sure what we thought we saw, but each of us saw it, independently.

That’s the kind of anecdotal evidence that makes ghost hunting interesting, but, as scientific evidence, it has no merit.

The Window at the Back – Who Closed the Curtain?

Sean had parked his car at the back of the building, and Lesley and I felt that we should escort him to it. I’m still not sure why. At the time, it seemed kind of funny, both in an odd and in a ha-ha way.

As we studied the mixed architecture at the back of the building, all of us commented on another attic window.

It’s indicated by the red arrow in my photo at the right. That side of the attic has curtains, and one was open.

As we chatted, I took a few photos.

Most of my pictures, like the one at the right, aren’t noteworthy. It’s a typical New England house from the Victorian era.

However, as I studied the photos when I returned home, I kept looking at the window that troubled us.

Most of the pictures look like the following two.

(All of the following photos were adjusted to increase contrast and detail.)

I’ve included two of them, almost identical, so you can clearly see that the curtain is open.

(This is typical when I take photos. I try to take two pictures in a row, without moving. That way, if something is just a reflection or something normal, it’ll be in both photos. If it’s an anomaly, it’s more likely to show up in just one of them.)

Then, I looked at one of the next pictures. I’d walked a few feet to the right of where I stood for the previous photos. This one was taken with a slower shutter setting. It’s a little blurred, but the details remain fairly clear. (I’m testing the idea that the additional image content might give the spirits something extra to work with.)

As you can see, the curtain is closed.

There would be nothing unusual about that, except that the building was empty. Everyone had left and locked up, at least 15 or 20 minutes earlier… before I started taking pictures.

In addition, the window had appeared open. If I’d analyzed my photos on the spot, we might have been able to verify that. (Yes, we can see the vertical line. That may be from a window, but it could be a screen support or something else.)

Could it be a very odd reflection? It’s possible, but unlikely. As you can see from the contrast in the previous photos — even the first one that wasn’t adjusted for clarity — the opening at the window looked very black. I’m not certain that a reflection could completely offset that darkness.

Though I can’t recommend this exact location for investigations, it’s an interesting site in a town with many reminders of the past.

The Franklin Historical Society is at 21 Holy Cross Rd. That street is off Route 3, about 3 miles south of the intersection of Routes 3 South/3A North/11 and Route 127. Signs near the entrance indicate Webster Place Center and Webster Place Cemetery.

The cemetery is at the end of the road. It’s on private land, but the owners give permission to visit the cemetery, under certain terms. Please read the sign and follow their rules.

The road to the cemetery is a deeply rutted dirt road. I recommend parking at the side of the paved road, to hike in to the cemetery. It’s not a long distance, but cars with low clearance could sustain damage or get stuck, unless you drive very carefully on the dirt road.

Additional History

Webster Place Cemetery was previously known as Salisbury Cemetery, from an era before the town of Salisbury (NH) was incorporated as part of Franklin.

According to Wikipedia: While still part of Massachusetts, the town was granted as Baker’s Town after Captain Thomas Baker in 1736. After New Hampshire became a separate colony, the town was re-granted with the name Stevenstown. Additionally known as Gerrishtown and New Salisbury, the name Salisbury was taken when the town incorporated in 1768.

In 1746, this site was part of the northernmost fort of the Merrimack River, when Salisbury was called Stevenstown. The fort was built after the 1745 attack on the Call family, near the current location of the Franklin Historical Society.

The following excerpt is from The History of Manchester, Hillsborough County, New Hampshire. It describes an attack by “savages in the interests of the French,” a band of about 30 Abenaki.

On the 15th day of August [1745], they made a successful attack on our frontier, on the house of Mr. Phillip Call, in Stevenstown. This town was subsequently known as Salisbury and the attack was made in that part of Salisbury, west of, and upon the Merrimack, now included in the town of, Franklin.

Mrs. Call [Sarah Trussell Call], her daughter-in-law, wife of Phillip Call, Jr. and an infant of the latter, were alone in the house, while the Calls, father and son, and Timothy Cook their hired man, were at work in the field.

Upon the approach of the Indians, Mrs. Call the elder, met them at the door, and was immediately killed with a blow from a tomahawk, her body falling near the door, and her blood drenching her own threashold! [sic]

The younger Mrs. Call, with her infant in her arms, crawled into a hole behind the chimney, where she succeeded in keeping her child quiet, and thus escaped from sure destruction.

The Calls, father and son, and Cook, saw the Indians, and attempted to get into the house before them, but could not succeed. They were so near the house, as to hear the blow with which Mrs. Call was killed.

Seeing however the number of the Indians, they fled to the woods and the Calls escaped.

Cook ran to the river and plunged in, but was pursued, shot in the water, and his scalp taken.

The Indians, some thirty in number, rifled the house, took Mrs. Call’s scalp, and then retreated up the river.

The Calls soon notified the garrison at Contoocook of the attack, and a party of eight men followed in pursuit.

The Indians waited in ambush for them, but showed themselves too soon, and the English party taking to the woods escaped, with the exception of Enos Bishop, who after firing upon the Indians several times was at length taken and carried to Canada as a captive. “

According to the Rich History of Webster Place, “…Many of his [Webster’s] family, together with members of the pioneering Call family, are buried in the cemetery east of the house.”

If you’re researching the Call family and their graves, note that the Call surname was sometimes spelled Cole.

As you can see, a colorful history makes this general area worth investigating.

Recommended

If you’re researching haunts in this part of New Hampshire, stay at the 1875 Inn in Tilton, New Hampshire. It was featured on the Ghost Hunters TV show, Season Six, Episode 13 (aired 8 Sep 2010). It’s about 20 minutes from the Franklin Historical Society, on Route 3 in downtown Tilton.

Also, you may enjoy reading Ghost Hunting in Tilton, New Hampshire by Rue Cote. Lesley and I contributed stories to that book, and Rue’s research covers many other local haunts, as well.

References

The Rich History of Webster Place

Franklin Historical Society, Franklin, NH

Daniel Webster’s farm, SeacoastNH.com

The History of Manchester, Hillsborough County, New Hampshire

The History of Salisbury, New Hampshire

Koasek Traditional Abenaki Band – Timeline (from the Wayback Machine)

Phillip Call of Franklin, NH (genealogy notes)

Wikipedia: Salisbury, New Hampshire

The old families of Salisbury and Amesbury, Massachusetts

Portsmouth, NH – Real ghosts, private home – pt 2

[Part two of a true story that began at Portsmouth, NH – real ghosts, private home]

Often after this, I heard louder footsteps on the stairs to the second floor and upstairs, usually at dusk and for about thirty seconds at a time. I ignored them. Old houses make funny noises, I reminded myself.

It’s important to understand that I really wanted my own house after several years in rentals. Further, this house seemed such a great opportunity to buy a house at well below market value, I wanted it to work out. Also, I’d lived in a very haunted house in Northern California (which was later the subject of a Fate magazine article). I figured that it was highly unlikely that I’d ever live in a second haunted house.

When I couldn’t explain an odd event in the Portsmouth house, I ignored it.

But small incidents kept occurring.

FILE BOXES REARRANGED THEMSELVES OVERNIGHT

I kept heavy file boxes of papers and reference books near my work area in the dining room, and some mornings I’d find them rearranged.

I asked my family if anyone had been searching for something in my boxes, and they all said no. I wanted to believe them, but I also wanted the simple explanation that someone had been looking for something, and just didn’t want to admit it.

One morning, I found the white ceramic hippo that I kept on the center of the dining table, in one of my file boxes at the bottom of a stack. Annoyed, I brought him out of the box and replaced him on the table. That did not happen again.

The heavy, paper-filled boxes continued to rearrange themselves overnight, about once every ten days. I never heard this happening, though my bedroom was immediately above the area where the boxes were stored, and without carpeting, sounds traveled easily throughout the house.

A WARNING – THE SMELL OF SMOKE

A few weeks after the hippo incident, in the late afternoon, I started smelling smoke in the dining room, at the corner above the basement electrical box. I rushed to the basement, but the odor was not there. I went outside to see if a neighbor was burning leaves, or if a nearby chimney could account for the odor. The air was crisp and fresh outside.

In a panic, I had my husband check the box and our wiring as soon as he came home from work. He said some of it was old, but nothing looked particularly dangerous or in need of immediate replacement. Nevertheless, he did a little work on the wiring to the dining room, to put my mind at rest.

Soon after this, I paid to have an energy audit of our house, to lower our utility bills. The representative of the power company checked the wiring and said it was fine. He used a couple of devices to check for drafts in the dining room, and found that the area was tight so I probably was not smelling smoke from outside.

I was baffled, and these “little things” were starting to snowball. There were no single, frightening events at this point, but I began to have doubts about remaining in that house with my family. Something seemed not right, though I couldn’t say that a flying spatula, creaking floorboards, or shifting boxes were particularly frightening.

ANOTHER WARNING – DREAMS ABOUT A FIRE

Then I started dreaming about a fire. In my dream, could see the flames reflected in the rear window of the dining room. Sometimes I saw flames in the corner of the room. Generally, it was just heavy smoke and the reflected flames in the window. I don’t usually smell things in my dreams, but this was such a vivid nightmare, the acrid odor remained in my nose even after I woke up.

I mentioned this to my husband, who’s lived with me long enough to know that many of my dreams are prophetic. He looked anxious, but reminded me that there was no logical reason for a fire, and nothing we could do. We had a fire extinguisher in the kitchen, and he re-checked the electrical box and wiring, just in case.

The dreams persisted, as did the daytime smell of smoke from time to time. I started moving our belongings into a storage facility on the other side of town. This seemed silly since our huge attic was less than one-third full, and we also had a basement suitable for storage.

GHOSTS IN THE KITCHEN

I had located my writing area in the far corner of the dining room, where I could look out the window into our backyard, and also see the kitchen over my shoulder.

One early evening as I sat working, I saw something white pass through the kitchen. I looked straight at it, just in time to see (what I thought was) the back of a white shirt go past the doorway.

I thought it was my older daughter, and shouted to ask her if she had a new tee-shirt.

There was no answer. Then I noticed that she hadn’t turned the light on in the kitchen, and the afternoon light was fading fast. If she was cutting carrot sticks or another snack, I was ready to lecture her on safety.

I stood up to see what she was doing in the kitchen, but no one was there.

What had I seen that looked like someone in white, moving quickly past the doorway? I checked for a reflection from the yard next door, but the blinds at that side of the kitchen were closed. The window to the back was covered by a nice large ficus tree on the lower half. Light streamed in the top of the window, but only a foil balloon could reach high enough to reflect that kind of light,there. I returned to my desk, baffled.

Deciding that I’d been working too long and my eyes were tired, I left my desk and went out to the kitchen to start dinner. Everything seemed normal for the rest of the day.

However, over the next several months, I saw the “woman in white” more often. Many times, I was looking straight at her, and saw the filmy white shape of a woman in a long gown, float peacefully past through the kitchen. She was always going from the front hall towards the back door.

Less often I saw a man, mostly in brown clothing but still translucent as the woman was. He was sometimes on the stairs to the second floor, but usually followed the same path as the woman: From the front hall, through the kitchen, and vanishing towards the back door. Once, I thought I saw him at the window of the attic, but that may have been an odd reflection.

I still told no one about what I was seeing. I didn’t want to scare my children, and my husband was probably more afraid of ghosts than they might be.

THE GHOSTS APPEAR TO OTHERS

Finally, my older daughter announced firmly, “Mom, I saw a ghost in the kitchen.”

We exchanged stories and she had seen the same woman as I had: A filmy white shape in the kitchen, usually floating through the room.

I was relieved that someone else had seen her. But I was also concerned that my children were being affected by the energy–and perhaps spirits–in the house.

Next, more dramatic events lead to a decision.

Tilton and Northfield, NH – Ghost Hunting in the Rain

In Ghost Hunting in Haunted Cemeteries, I mentioned one eerie cemetery in Northfield-Tilton, New Hampshire. (It’s actually in Northfield, but the boundary between the two towns isn’t always clear. Technically, the river divides the towns, but the post office considers both towns as “Tilton.”)

Several graves in that cemetery indicate good activity.

rain-northfield-cem-night Last night, we took photos of rain orbs for my book, Ghost Photography 101.

Though most of the orbs in this photo are certainly rain, at least one might be something paranormal. I think you can see how different it is from the others, in the photo at right.

Of course, it’s nearly impossible to tell “real” orbs from rain orbs in photos, so I’m making no claims. However, we’ve seen consistent orbs around this group of graves.

When we arrived, the cemetery was too quiet. Even the rain seemed entirely silent, though we parked in a paved area. Also, though the area is lit by streetlights and light from neighbors’ homes, the back half of the cemetery always seems darker than it should be… even in the daytime.

I like cemeteries that feel as if you’re stepping back in time. This is one of them, and it always feels entirely separated from the buildings — and era — around it. Some might describe it as “creepy,” but I find it very relaxing and peaceful, despite the activity at some of its graves.

Here’s a “sneak peak” into another area of this cemetery, to check for elevated EMF, orbs, EVP, and so on.

You may be able to use this tip when you investigate cemeteries in your area.

nfield-3fingers Other researchers and I describe one grave as the “three pointing fingers grave.” You’ll know which one it is, as soon as you see it. Jacob Webber and his two wives are in that plot, and the headstone is unusual, showing three pointing fingers.

A finger pointing up usually indicates that the person ascended to Heaven. A finger pointing down usually suggests the hand of God, ending a life early… but it can mean something less attractive. (It doesn’t take much imagination to figure that out: Heaven: up. Hell: down.)

When we see an adult’s headstone with a downward pointing finger, we immediately add that plot to our list of graves to investigate. Those graves have a higher likelihood of activity compared with other, unremarkable graves.

I’m still investigating the spirits at the “three fingers” grave. I know the second wife feels that she had the “last word” with that gravestone, and her energy definitely lingers. With enough attention, she’s the kind of woman who might appear as an apparition.

There are several other active locations in this rural cemetery, and some may be even more active than the “three pointing fingers” plot. However, this cemetery – Arch Hill Cemetery in Northfield, NH – is near several homes, so it’s difficult to investigate without attracting attention.

The good news is, this cemetery seems to be active during the daytime as well as after dark. I recommend EMF meters and either a psychic, a Frank’s Box, or an Ovilus for research in this graveyard. You could also use a K-II (or K-III) meter for real-time dialogue with the spirits.

Visually, it’s a lovely location, but — so far — it’s been difficult to photograph reliable anomalies due to nearby lights.

If you’re interested in Arch Hill Cemetery, or you’re ghost hunting in New Hampshire’s Lakes Region, some of my stories were included in Rue Cote’s book, Ghost Hunting in Tilton, New Hampshire.

Rue’s research and ghost stories include Tilton, Northfield, and Franklin, New Hampshire. She also lists several haunts that are within an hour or so of Tilton.

Gilson Road Cemetery, NH – 4. Bloody Visions (Nov 99)

GILSON ROAD CEMETERY, NASHUA, NH – PART FOUR

(Continued from Gilson Road Cemetery, Part 3)

At that back wall of Gilson Road Cemetery, I was overwhelmed with visual images.

A psychic vision at Gilson Road Cemetery Here’s what I mean when I say that I “see” things like this: When I’m reading a wonderful book, and often when I’m writing, it’s as if there’s a movie in my head.

I never forget that what’s in my head is not what I’m seeing with my physical eyes. But the images I see intuitively, are nearly as clear as if I’d seen them happening right in front of me.

That’s how I “see” things in a spiritual context, too.

So, as I stood at that stone wall, I “saw” carnage. I saw Native people with hatchets or something. There were only about six or seven men close to me, but I knew more were nearby. I didn’t want to look around to see the full panorama.

I also knew there were fallen bodies and a lot of blood on the ground. I didn’t want to look at that either, so I didn’t. I didn’t get the idea that those were settlers on the ground, though. It seemed as if the battle took place when there were settlers in America, but in this vision, the Native Americans weren’t fighting the Colonists, from what little I saw.

Really, after years of dealing with this kind of “second sight,” I generally monitor my field of vision. If it’s too upsetting, I shut it out.

I did that a lot, at Gilson Road Cemetery.

ALAN EXPERIENCED THE BATTLE, TOO

Alan and I stood there for several minutes. I know that I mentioned the killing, the Native people, and that there were people dying as I watched. Most of the violence was already over by that time. Alan nodded, and added things that he perceived. It was a horrific scene we were witnessing, and it was far more vivid than any movie, or news footage.

Nancy approached us, and asked what we were “seeing.” She didn’t experience any of this herself, but she seemed driven to understand what we were feeling. She watched us closely, and asked several questions about what we perceived.

LEAVING THE BATTLE SCENE

After a few more minutes, we left the massacre and walked back towards the car. The dragging energy slowly released me. Once again, about ten feet from the wall, everything seemed fine. The surroundings looked lighter, sounds were clearer, and the air was fresher.

I turned to look back, and take a few photos of the woods. My camera, usually reliable, jammed. Unlike Halloween night, it wasn’t the flash that failed, but my camera didn’t want to advance. I pushed the rewind button and waited until I could remove the roll of film, which I tossed into my purse.

Alan stayed next to me, and explained that he could hear people talking or whispering nearby. He said that it’s like someone in the next room talking, where you can almost understand what they’re saying, but not quite. He said that he kept turning his head, trying to catch the words, but he couldn’t quite understand them. He said it was annoying.

I didn’t hear anything. I was still overwhelmed by the visual imagery I’d experienced. We walked back to the cars, and I paused to see what the others were doing.

OTHERS’ REACTIONS

By now, James, Jane, and Alice were at our cars.

Jane muttered something about there being people – not ghosts, but real people – in the woods across the street. She could hear their voices, she said. I asked if they were making a lot of noise and she said no.

She seemed convinced that they were going to bother us, and she seemed very agitated. She insisted that we had to leave immediately.

I remember thinking how it was all her imagination. If any living people were out there, they’d either have flashlights or they’d be making a tremendous amount of noise, tripping over fallen branches in the dark. I didn’t hear or see anything. I took a few photos of that area, just in case.

Alice was in her mother’s car and determined to stay there. I’m still not certain what she experienced at Gilson Road Cemetery, but she was clearly shaken. Illuminated by only the dim interior light in her car, I could see that Alice looked unnaturally pale and her eyes were too shiny.

Not everyone deals well with profound hauntings. That’s sensible. Sometimes I think that ghost hunters are foolhardy.

Or, perhaps Alice had a premonition of something that would happen, and soon.

James looked like he was trying to make sense of it, but he is a very level-headed kid… and generally a skeptic. He’s been around intensely psychic experiences, and he knows that nothing terrible happens in most cases. In a way, I think he enjoyed being the one that the others could rely on.

I glanced back at my own car. Alan was leaning on the trunk, as if he’d just run the Marathon. He slowly stood up and said something about having had enough for one night. I opened my car door, planning to leave before anyone really fell apart, and I saw a flash of light.

Nancy was still happily in the cemetery, taking pictures.

I said, “Just a few more photos,” and left to join her.

Next: A few more photos, and then the aftermath

Gilson Road Cemetery, NH – 3. Sparkles Surprise Us (Nov 99)

Alan looked a little dazed, but I didn’t plan to be at the cemetery much longer. I left him and continued taking photos.

SPARKLES

Then the sparkles started. I’d heard from other ghost photographers that, when the flash goes off, haunted cemeteries often manifest something like an array of twinkling lights. I never expected to see it.

Gilson Road Cemetery At least half the time that my flash went off, I saw an amazing display of sparkling lights in the woods at the back of the cemetery. At first, I thought it was wet leaves reflecting the bright light of the flash. Then I realized that we hadn’t had rain in several days. Besides, these weren’t quite like reflections anyway.

I took over three rolls of film that night, and when I saw the sparkles, it was like fireworks. Not the initial bright flash, but after the fireworks have exploded, and the remaining bits sparkle as they fall towards earth. That’s what it was like, looking through my viewfinder as I took each photo.

A few times, I didn’t look through the viewfinder, but just held the camera up and clicked. I still saw dozens of twinkling and sparkling lights in the woods around us. Some were about the size of a baseball, others were the size of a 1950’s Christmas tree bulb. The colors varied. They were white, bluish white, and pink-white. They faded slowly after each flash, as they fell towards earth. It was gorgeous, silent, and reliable: At least half the time I took a picture, I’d see the sparkles.

These were at least 20 – 30 feet away from us, in the woods in back of the cemetery. The lights weren’t bugs, pollen or dust in the line of the flash.

Jane saw the sparkles too, but not as often as I did. I think Alice did. Nancy and James did not.

THE HAUNTING BECOMES MORE OBVIOUS

Alan seemed to be trudging in circles. He’d walk deep into the cemetery, to the stone wall at the east side. Then it looked as if he was muttering to himself, as he walked purposefully back to the car. Finally, he’d return to the cemetery, and then head deep into the cemetery again. And then he’d repeat this.

I was a little concerned about him, but my goal was to take as many photos as possible. Besides, I was enchanted by the sparkling lights.

James indicated one headstone that he had a “good feeling” about, so I took three photos of it, one right after the other. Later it turned out that he was right. Every one of those photos has a great anomaly in it.

A few minutes later… I don’t know what it was. It was like a train had just passed me at an underground rail station, but the air hadn’t moved. I took a couple of photos, and I remember seeing something different and saying, “Whoa! What was that?” But I don’t recall what I experienced.

Then Alan returned from another one of his trips to the back of the cemetery. I took his photo as he walked towards me, just in case I’d capture something in that photo, too.

When the photos were developed, I was very glad that I’d done this.

THICK, HEAVY ENERGY FIELDS AT THE BACK OF THE CEMETERY

“You’re going to come with me and tell me if I’m going crazy or what,” Alan demanded. It was the first clear thing he’d said all night, and it wasn’t a request, it was an order.

Something was really wrong.

We walked to the back of the cemetery, where a stone wall separated the graveyard from the woods behind it. I remember seeing Nancy to my right, still taking pictures.

About ten feet from the stone wall, I had to slow down. It was as if I was wading through molasses, or at least the shallow end of a swimming pool. To just above my knees, it was if there was a thick energy field dragging at me.

Alan also slowed down. Later, I found out that he’d experienced the same thing.

(This is helpful during investigations. If people do not share what they’re experiencing until afterwards, it reduces inadvertent “cues” being passed along, triggering an overactive imagination.)

When we reached the back wall, we paused.

Next, we witness a massacre from the past