originally, when craig told me that he'd put a blog up for us here on perhapanauts-dot-com, i thought it was a great idea and that we could use it to let everyone know about new issues of the 'haps coming out, conventions to attend, and most especially, stories and links that i've come across in researching the weird and unexplained for our team of weird and unexplained agents. i said that i would try to post something, at the very least, every other day.
but that hasn't been happening.
granted things have been a bit chaotic around here lately, but no excuse, time to resolve to post something new (and hopefully interesting, thought-provoking, and/or creepy) on a much more regular basis. so i promise.
but i could use your help...
i've had a bunch of people sending in their accounts of strange things that have happened to them and can't tell you how much i appreciate them--please, keep 'em coming! as i've said before, this is your blog as much as it is ours. join in! it's fun!
and so, here, with a really eerie)and historical) account, is our own scott w.--
These ghost stories didn't happen to me. But, they
are some of my favorites. During my brief stay at the
College of William and Mary in Williamsburg, Virginia,
I took a ghost tour of Colonial Williamsburg. The
tour was given by a History PhD student, whose name
I've since forgotten. There have been plenty of books
written on the ghosts in the area, but for a personal
project, he had researched the stories. Stripping
away the urban myths that have evolved around the
tales, and getting back to the original stories. One
of the most memorable parts of the tour was the Peyton
Randolph House. The place he called "the source of
all evil in Colonial Williamsburg."
In the 1930s, the city of Williamsburg was in
shambles. It was mostly poor, run-down and forgotten.
That is until John D. Rockefeller took it upon
himself and his millions and millions of untaxed
dollars to restore the historic part of town. Most of
the city's residents were happy to sell off their
homes. However, there were some homes that were owned
by still wealthy families, who didn't want to leave.
A deal was struck where they would get to stay, and
could pass the buildings on to their children, but the
houses could never be sold to anyone else. And when
the families left, these homes, they would become the
property of Colonial Williamsburg. The Peyton
Randolph house was one of these. It was a private
residence for many years. And throughout those years,
guests who stayed in the house's second-floor
oak-paneled room, would awaken in the middle of the
night to see the image of a woman at the foot of their
bed. This woman would anxiously point to the corner
of the room. Eventually she would fade away. And
most of these guests would come down for breakfast the
next morning complaining of the woman. However, no
one really knew what she was agitated about. Years
later, restoration work was being done on the house.
And to their surprise the contractors discovered a
stair-case in the corner of the oak-paneled room.
Apparently, the woman had been trying to get the
guests to leave the house, to escape some kind of
Throughout the years that families lived in the house,
children also had the habit of jumping from the second
story window. Most of them claiming that they were
urged by "something" to do it.
In fact some of this is documented in a lawsuit. In
the 1980s (don't quote me on the time frame) a woman
who worked for Colonial Williamsburg, sued the
organization. Every year around Christmas time,
Williamsburg has the Grand Illumination, where a torch
is lit in front of each of the historic homes. In
addition, each house has electric candles in each
window. Well, this woman worked in the Peyton
Randolph house. At the end of the day, she closed
everything up and turned on all the lights. As she
was leaving, her boss said, "You forgot the light in
that window (the oak-paneled room.)" The woman had
not forgotten, but went up to turn it back on. She
came back down and her boss got mad at her for not
doing what he had asked. She went up again, turned on
the light and as she was going down the stairs said,
"It must have been that damned ghost." She was then
pushed from behind and fell down the stairs, breaking
her arm. After that she sued. I don't recall the
outcome, but I believe she lost.
There are a number of other stories associated with
the house. And I vaguely recall something about the
house being built on an Indian burial ground. (As all
good haunted houses are.) A lot of these stories, can
be found in a book by L. B. Taylor called "The Ghosts
He's written a whole series of them. I highly
recommend them if you're interested in Colonial and
Civil War history.
yeah, i gotta learn to include links and reference stuff more...
great stories, scott--thanks a lot, dude!
and i'm outta here! see you guys on thursday.
this is entry #12