Monthly Archives: September 2013

The first month

When I first launched the new version of the site, part of my goal, as mentioned, was to dump the contents of James A. Sheets’ original “Ghosts of Ohio” site from Greenapple here, to give it a place to live. The first page of his site, coincidentally, had just enough stories to give me content for the first month. I really hope you’ve enjoyed these stories, but I am getting close to needing to find a new source for content. (Don’t panic just yet. There’s about two more weeks’ worth of posts on the original site!) If you have any stories to add, or additions or corrections (or photos) for anything already posted or to come, please email me at I look forward to hearing from you soon!

The Mysterious Lady

Source anonymous by request.
(*Names used are not the real individuals names)

It was the mid to late 70’s when Terry’s family moved into the huge farm house just outside of Wilmington, Ohio. It was a huge imposing structure consisting of 14 rooms in all. Terry and his younger brother Shawn roamed about the empty rooms exploring the place as teenage boys are inclined to do. Living here was going to be great. The house was quite old, and the landlord had told the family that in older days that slaves had been quartered in the upper level of the house.

Soon the family had settled in, and life soon fell into the routine of a normal household. Terry and his bother were given two of the six huge upstairs bedrooms. Terry’s parents and older sister Mary having already laid claim to the two downstairs bedrooms. Terry’s was a huge room with a high vaulted ceiling. The room could almost house the entire family.
The strange thing was that the place always seemed cold, and Terry’s father credited this to the high ceiling where he claimed all the heat collect near the top. So lots of blankets on the bed were the only solution to the chilling conditions during the late fall and winter.

It was late one evening in 1978 when Terry finally went upstairs to go to bed. Walking softly past his brothers room so as not to wake him he quickly got undressed, and climbed under the protective warmth of his blankets. Turning off the light Terry settled down for a good night’s sleep. Quickly Terry began to drift off to sleep, but the sixteen year came fully awake when he heard the springs of the bed creak near the foot of the bed. This was then accompanied by the obvious sensation of weight being applied to his right leg. Peeking out from under his blankets, Terry was horrified to see the apparition of a woman with long dark hair dressed in a white gown glaring at him as she crouched at the foot of his bed. She was slowly scratching at her ghastly white face with the long red nails of her hand while staring right at him. Terrified the boy jerked his head back under the covers, and silently prayed that his ghostly visitor would depart. Horrifying images of the ghastly spectre climbing into bed on top of him filled his mind. For what seemed like a eternity the the pressure remained steady on his leg. Then to his relief the the weight lifted off of him once again accompanied by the creaking of the bed springs. Gathering his courage Terry looked out from under the blankets once again, and saw his frightening visitor gliding away from his bed. She passed through the open door and into one of the unoccupied bedrooms on the opposite side of the hall. Terry needless to say spent the rest of the night in a fruitless effort to sleep. Thinking that the rest of his family would think him nuts he kept the incident to himself.

Years later Terry found out that his younger brother had also seen the terrifying apparition patrolling the upstairs hallway several times in the middle of the night. But never had the creature ever entered his room, or ever tried to climb into his bed. Terry also found out that his mother would often hear footstep on the second floor when she was home alone. The woman was always too scared to ever try and go up the steps to see who was there. For nine years Terry’s family lived in the home with there unseen hostess enduring her nocturnal walks. Finally with kids growing up the family moved to different housing.

Terry still lives in the area, and on occasion has to drive past the old house. The old house still gives him the shivers to this very day.

The house is located a few miles outside of Wilmington, Ohio. Out of courtesy to the present occupants the source of this tale has requested that the exact location remain anonymous.

This post, including photos and commentary, originally appeared on James A. Sheets’ site.

The Dark Angel

As told by Andrea *
(Last name withheld by request)

In Erie County there is a old graveyard that has the now ruined statue of an angel who stands guard over the graves placed in her charge long ago. There are two versions to the legend.

As one version of the story goes, a mother sometime in the early 1900’s took the life of her young daughter. Stricken by terrible grief the family had the statue of a larger than life angel erected over the child’s grave. The statue is slightly larger than a full grown man, with a melancholy expression on it’s face. The eyes of the angel would appear to follow you no matter where you moved as if it were alive.

A few years after her daughter’s death, the mother in a fit of sorrow took her own life. She was buried in a grave next to her daughter under the watchful eye of the lifeless stone guardian. It was shortly after her death that strange unexplainable things began to occur. Local cattle and livestock near the cemetery were being found slaughtered in a horrible fashion. Quickly attention focused on the statue over looking the mother and daughter’s graves, as the hands and mouth of the angel appeared to covered in blood. The local people began to whisper that the evil spirit of the mother was condemned to live for eternity in the statute as punishment for her sins, and it was her vengeful spirit which stalked and slew their animals in an attempt to quell her rage. It was also rumored that if you climbed up on to the angel’s back she would give a ride through hell.

After weeks of butchered animals being found in the fields, and rumors running rampant through the community, the locals authorities had finally had enough. They entered the graveyard and sawed off the statute’s hands and wings. After this the killing of the livestock ceased. The angel now flightless had to remain in the cemetery. Shortly there after visitors to the graveyard noticed that rusty streaks marks appeared on the angel’s face running down the cheeks from the watchful eyes. The local wives tales said that it was the tormented soul of the mother weeping for her sins.

The second version of the story claims that the graves beneath the angel are those of two sisters named Lydia and Alice. It is the spirit of Alice that is suppose to live in the statue, but the reason why is not given. The reason for the statue’s disfigurement is as follows. In the early 1900’s a cholera epidemic swept through the area. It sadly took it’s heaviest toll on the young children. Bereaved mothers would enter the cemetery at night and lay their dead babies in the angel’s outstretched arms, and implore her to take their souls to heaven. A local parson found out about the practice and declared that it was blasphemous and evil. He convinced his flock that it was the angel whom roamed about a night stealing the souls of their children and taking them to hell. It was then that the good people entered the cemetery and removed the hands and clipped the angel’s wings.

It is considered bad luck to be disrespectful or damage the statue now days. A group of boys elected to go and torment the angel to see if the legend was true not to long ago. They decided to do this by vandalizing the statue. All the boys involved in this stunt were supposedly killed in a terrible car accident, except the one who remained in the car while the other were desecrating the graveyard.

Another tried the popular trick of placing a tape recorder at the base of the statue, and coming back later to pick it up. He was floored when during the first few minutes of the recording when a womans voice was heard to say “You with receive no harm.”

The location of this site is in Erie County west of Vermilion, Ohio. Go west on State Route 2 to Route 60 and then head south. A few miles down the road you will run into Mason Road, turn right to Maple Grove Cemetery a few miles down the road. The angel sits far back into the cemetery under a tree. Vandals have since removed the angel’s head I am told. The grave of Lydia shows she died in 1926 and Alice in 1918.

This post, including photos and commentary, originally appeared on James A. Sheets’ site.

A Poltergeist Tale

*Source anonymous by request.
(Names of actual individuals have been changed)

Paul and his fiancee Gwyn, and their friend April were excited as they moved into the second story of an elderly home on Brown Street in Athens, Ohio. It was mid-June and as expected the temperatures where climbing into the upper eighties. The windows in the home had been sealed shut by repeated coats of paint, and since there wasn’t any air conditioning, getting these open became a priority. Everyone in the house was working in separate rooms when Paul heard a loud crash. Coming to the conclusion that one of the others has freed one of the windows and let it slip causing the glass to break, he went to investigate. Meeting Gwyn who had also heard the noise they failed to discover it’s source. The few windows that had been opened by the group remained open. April and another friend who was helping the trio claimed they had heard nothing. The group dismissed the incident as a fluke. (It should be noted that the downstairs apartment was at this time was unoccupied.)

A few days after the above incident Paul was awakened several nights in a row by what sounded like someone walking about on the roof of the house. Paul convinced himself that it was most likely a stray cat moving about on the top of the house, and at this point did not feel that anything was amiss with the house.

It was when Gwyn who worked just down the street from the house came home for lunch one day, that something occurred that convinced them that something was wrong with their new home. It was a normal weekday and the upstairs apartment was vacant as Gwyn came home for lunch. As she unlocked the door to the apartment she heard the sound of someone running up the stairs on the other side of the door. This was followed by an unholy racket coming from the apartment’s interior. Thinking that Paul had come home early, she ran up the steps calling his name. It was then that she remembered that the driveway to the house was devoid of any cars. Feeling some what frightened she ascended the stairs, and conducted a quick search of the apartment’s rooms and closets. The house was empty, but in the kitchen she found the source of the noise she had hear earlier. The dry-ease board and all of the magnets which had been on the side of the refrigerator were scattered in a heap on the kitchen floor.

Sometime later when Paul and Gwyn were out of town, April was at home by herself and was listening to one of her favorite audio tapes. While she lay on her bed listening to the familiar words of the song, she realized that someone was singing along with music on the tape. Sitting upright and opening her eyes the singing voice ceased. April replayed the tape thinking maybe one of her roommates had pulled a prank on her by dubbing over the tape. The tape played fine, and minus the unseen voice. April was so disturbed that she phoned a friend who had to come over and spend the rest of the night with her.

The trio still occupies their new home and hope they can come to grips with their unseen guest.

The location of the site is as mentioned is Athens, Ohio. The person who submitted the story wishes the exact location to remain unpublished.

This post, including photos and commentary, originally appeared on James A. Sheets’ site.

The Burning House

*Source anonymous by request.

On one spring evening of 1997 a mother and her twelve year old son were making a routine trip into town to run some errands. As they approached an intersection and prepared to make the turn which would lead them into town, the boy’s sharp eyes noticed an ominous glow emanating from across the road. Pointing this out to his mother, he urged her to go straight. Now noticing the glow for herself which resembled the halo of a large fire, she did as her son asked and headed straight on. Traveling only a short distance down the country road the glow turned out to be a two story house that was enveloped in flames. The mother was horrified at the sight. Flames were shooting out of the second story windows, and smoke was billowing from the lower windows and doors of the house up past the pillars on the front porch. Frantically the mother pushed the car’s accelerator to the floor, urging the vehicle to move faster down the road. Her only desire was to rush to the aid of the poor family who’s house was being consumed by a maelstrom of flame. The engine’s howl was joined by the sound of the wind whipping though the car’s windows, and rocks flying from the tires. The car plunged down into a depression in the road momentarily blocking the view of the burning structure. Hurtling up on the opposite side of the dip in the road both mother and son where shocked, and dumfounded at what they saw. The house had vanished completely, along with the ominous glow, sparks, smoke, everything!

Stopping in the middle of the road both mother and son attempted to gather their wits. Doing a reality check the mother realized that she had lived in the area for over seven years, and drove this very section of road at least twice a day. The area where she and her son had seen the burning house, had always been nothing but an empty field! Never the less both she and her son were sure of what they had seen. Rolling the windows down on the car they both attempted to see if they could smell smoke, or hear the sounds of approaching emergency vehicles. Nothing! Still not convinced they drove around the area to higher ground, but never regained visual contact with the burning home. It was as if the house had never existed at all.

Returning home the mother attempted to come to grips with what she had seen. She was tempted to call the fire department, but did not. The next day she scanned the local newspaper looking for any reports of fires in the area. Once again, nothing! A friend that she related the story to had traveled the same road within an hour of her trip, and had seen nothing!

Returning to the sight in full daylight sometime later, the mother questioned the elderly gentleman who farmed the land. He claimed that he had no memory of any house ever sitting on the spot where she had seen the burning house. Nor had he ever heard his parents ever mention such a structure. He did offer the strange fact of that once when plowing the area in question he had overturned a headstone of seven to eight year old boy who had died sometime in the 1800’s of the last name McCoy. A check of local historical archives revealed nothing to the mother’s dismay. Both her and her son are left to ponder at what exactly it was they had seen. Some have suggested that it might have been a trick of the setting sun, or a mirage. Both mother and son stand firm on what they saw that one spring evening to this day, a home engulfed in raging flames.

The location of this sighting is in Ross county just outside of Kingston, Ohio. The individual who submitted this tale has asked that the exact location not be published out of courtesy to the gentleman who owns the property.

This post, including photos and commentary, originally appeared on James A. Sheets’ site.

The Haunted Cellar

As told by Beth Scott and Michael Norman in the Haunted Heartland [affiliate link]

In the November of 1957 a young music student Thomas Todd and his wife moved into apartment in Cleveland. It wasn’t the greatest of places, but affordable. The young couple’s stay would be a short one. They would flee the apartment in the March of 1958 never to return.

It seems that from the very start they were awakened at night by strange screams, and erie moans which seemed to emanate from the cellar of the apartment. Finally after months of this Thomas’s young eighteen year old wife Geraldine was home by herself one afternoon, and decided to investigate what was making the sounds. Descending into the basement she found the old furnace surrounded by rubbish, and pieces of broken furniture. Then to her horror she saw a twisted and bloody human hand sticking up out of the pile of refuse. Geraldine stampeded back up the stairs, and collapsed into a chair where she spent most of the day crying until her husband returned home. After he had calmed his wife down she began to prepare their evening supper. While she was standing on the trap door which lead to the cellar, it heaved up and threw the poor woman on to the floor. Mr. Todd charged down the steps to confront the intruder to their home. He found nothing but the huge rubbish pile his wife had described. Returning upstairs, he nailed down the door to the cellar. The next day Mr. and Mrs. Todd moved out of the apartment to a local hotel.

Several of the couple’s friends and neighbors were skeptical of their story. On March 31st they returned to the apartment with their friends in tow. This group of people gathered in the kitchen and stood around waiting for something to happen. They did not have to wait long as the trap door to the cellar heaved up with such force the wood bent from the blows, and the nails were loosened and bent. Everyone at this time rushed to safety into the living room. Several were horrified to see bloody fingers squirming from the cracks just made in the trap door. That was it for everyone and they all made a hasty retreat from the structure. The Todd’s called the police who made a search of the building and found nothing out of order, except for the forced trap door. One officer later said he heard what sounded like someone shoveling dirt in the cellar, but wasn’t sure. The police tried to assure Mr. Todd and his wife that everything was fine, and that they could return home. They flatly refused, and moved to better quarters.

Years later Thomas returned to the old neighborhood and spoke with a former neighbor about the place. She confided in him that it was the right thing for him to have moved out of the place. She related to him that in the years before he had occupied the apartment, it had been rented out to a couple who would have the most terrible quarrels. Rumor had it that the husband had killed his wife, and then buried her in the cellar. But after all this was only rumor, and the police had never been called to investigate the allegations.

In 1963 the famous ghost hunter Hans Holzer came to investigate the place. Entering into the abandoned building in the company of a local reporter the smell of decay, rot, and urine exploded on to their senses. Moving though the house some movement attracted the men’s attention. Swinging a flashlight into the vacant room they discover a duo of winos who were sleeping of some of the local rot gut who promptly vacated the structure. Mr. Holzer insisted that the place was haunted by the ghost of a murdered woman named Edna, and that she was indeed buried in the basement of the house. No one ever bother to enter the structure for the purpose of investigating if Mr. Holzer was correct.

The location of this haunting is recorded as 4207 Mason Court S.E. in Cleveland, Ohio. It is suppose to be in a more run down part of town. I am not even sure if the building is still standing. If anyone out there has this information, or a photo of the place, please contact me at the following e-mail address. [Editor’s note: That email is long defunct. Email me at instead of the original author.]

This post, including photos and commentary, originally appeared on James A. Sheets’ site.

The Ghostly School Boy

As told by Chris Woodyard in Haunted Ohio II [affiliate link], and the Lancaster Eagle Gazette.

Ghosts of children to me can often be the most disturbing apparitions of all. Children are suppose to be things of delight ,and merriment, not trapped in some sort of limbo.

The following tale takes place at Amanda Clearcreek Schools in Fairfield County. It seems that a school counselor named Jim Flaningan had just finished his last day of work at the school, and had stayed after to finish up some unfinished paperwork. After an hour or so of work, Jim elected to go and exercise in the gym. After a short walk to the gym he arrived, and began to jog around the room. He had only been jogging a few minutes, or so when he noticed a boy of about fifteen years of age standing on the stage watching him.

Jim waved at the boy, and called hello to him as he continued to jog about the room. The boy never responded, but just continued to watch the man as he ran around the gym area. Several more times the counselor ran around the room, and each time the strange boy was there watching him from the stage. In the fading light of the day, Jim could see him clearly as he came around for another pass. The boy was standing near the stage curtain smiling. The clothes he was wearing, and hair cut which he had appeared to be very out of date. His blue jean bibs being the kind that buttoned diagonally across the shoulder, and a page boy style of hair cut.

Jim knew just about every kid in the school, but could not recall ever seeing this one. He increased the speed of his run, and made for the stage. The boy seeing his rapid approach, turned and walked behind the curtain. Jim reached the curtain seconds later to find that the boy had vanished. He checked, and found the back door to the stage locked and secured. By now the light in the gym was growing dim in the fading daylight, so Jim turned on all of the gym and stage lights. He then conducted a search of the area, which revealed nothing. Disturbed he called the assistant principal, and the local county sheriff.

Together they conducted a search of the school top to bottom which revealed no intruder of any kind. They also found no sign of forced entry into the structure. Soon the school’s janitor joined the men in their search. Jim commented that he thought that the boy might have been bare footed since he heard no footsteps from behind the stage curtain when the boy had fled. The school’s janitor who had been talking quite a bit suddenly clamed up, and never left the counselor’s side from that point on. He was asked if he ever had seen anything strange when he was in the school at night by himself. The janitor replied that he had not, and appeared to be very disturbed.

Jim later on had the chance to query the janitor’s son about his father’s work. He was told that the janitor never liked working in the school late after hours. It seems he always felt like someone, or something was watching him in the empty school building.

Jim still works in the educational system, but not in Fairfield County. Other faculty members have stated that the story is based on a real break in that occurred, and has evolved into a ghost story. I for one doubt this, as I really don’t think it would have been a wise career move on Mr. Flaningan’s part, to bring in the local law enforcement to check out a local fairy tale.

Amanda Clearcreek School is located in Amanda just off of U.S. 22 to the west of Lancaster, Ohio. I must once again point out that it is a crime to be on school grounds after normal hours without the consent of the school.

This post, including photos and commentary, originally appeared on James A. Sheets’ site.

The Mystery Walker

As told by Randy Hughes.

This is a story of a late evening encounter in Lancaster, Ohio. My wife and I had finished dinner at the Trader Cafe on Columbus St. We were dating at this time, and wanted to find somewhere to eat on this late Thursday evening.

We had finished our dinner, and paid our bill. We walked out of the cafe, and turned to the left. Coming out of the cafe you have to walk out a bit, and look both ways on the sidewalk to make sure that no one is coming. I stepped out and looked both ways. Nobody was there either way, so we turned left and headed down one block to where our car was parked.

It was getting dark and I was being pretty cautious of the surroundings, so I looked behind us. I did not see a single person on the sidewalk, or the street. Not a second sooner did this tall man with long hair come walking very swiftly beside us. I did not even hear him coming. He passed us with out making a sound. He was a very tall man and medium built. The man continued pass us, and turned the corner going left around a building. My wife and I probably took a matter of 15 seconds to reach the very same corner as this man. I looked left, and there was no sight of him. I looked at my wife and she looked at me. We both said where in the world could this person have gone. There was no doors for him to go into, nor anyway he could have ran without us hearing him.

This man was no where to be seen on either side of the street. It was a real scary feeling, we both hurried to our car which was 20 feet away. Still there was no sign of the tall man. My wife does not believe in ghosts, but if you are the only two people on the sidewalk at night, and you have looked up and down the street seeing no one. Then out of the thin air comes this man, and he does not make a sound, not even while he walked passed us. He had dingo boots on which do make noise when you walk with them on. Then he vanishes around the corner of a building within a matter of second.

The entrance at the rear of the Trader Cafe in Lancaster, Ohio.

The front of the cafe where the silent man walked past the late night patrons and into oblivion..

I have left this one pretty much as the author sent it to me. I have not heard of this ever happening before in this area. I would love to hear from anyone else who thinks they might have seen this solitary pedestrian. I have had someone e-mail and state that the man described by Randy resembles one of the locals who lives nearby. This would not explain the man’s sudden appearance, or his silent walk. The location is of course the Trader’s Cafe 416 N. Columbus St. Lancaster, Ohio. Look over your shoulder often!

This post, including commentary, originally appeared on James A. Sheet’s site.

The Bott Brother’s Billiards

As told in WCMH Channel 4’s “Ghosts of Columbus & Beyond”.

At the turn of the century the Bott Brother’s Billiards was one of the most fashionable places in town. A lively place of drink, song, and cards. Our story takes place on a cold and frigid night in February of 1909.

A blizzard had been raging for two days and the all the electricity had been knocked out. The Bott Brother’s Billiards was illuminated by candle and lantern light, but otherwise it was business a usual. At the bar sat a notorious womanizer, card cheat, and knave by the name of Colonel Randolf Pritchard. The Colonel was sitting alone not by choice, but partly due to his infamous reputation. Playing himself a game of solitaire he sat there drinking, and passing the cold night away. It was shortly after 10 o’clock that the door to the saloon opened. Cold air blasted in the establishment though the open doorway. The Colonel glanced up at the entrance to the place. He saw something that made him rise up and move towards the open door.

From the entrance a woman emerged, possibly one of the many jilted lovers of the Colonel. In her upheld hand was knife. Again, and again the knife plunged into the chest of Colonel Pritchard, his arms flailing about to fend off the deadly blows. Then the knife wielding apparition dropped the blade and fled back out the door, and into the frigid night. The Colonel immediately falling down on the dirty wet floor next to the knife which had taken his life.

Several of the patrons rushed out into the street in a vain attempt to apprehend the murderess, but she had disappeared into the cold night in a coach the had passed by. The only thing to mark her passing was her dainty footprints in the snow.

Legend has it that the lady is doomed to walk the Earth forever for her heinous crime. You cannot see her, but on the night of the anniversary of the murder, if you stand outside near the clock who’s hands have been frozen at 10:05 since the night of the murder, and if there is snow on the ground. You can see her footprints appear in the snow as she makes her escape for all eternity.

The saloon still stands in the same place at 162 N. High Street Columbus, Ohio. It is still open for business as far as I know. The place is known to most Columbus natives simply as “The Clock” which hands are stuck at 10:05.

This post, including photos and commentary, originally appeared on James A. Sheets’ site.


As told by James A. Sheets

It is only fitting that as the caretaker of this site, that I include a tale of my own. This one concerns the former residence of my maternal grandmother on my mother’s side. This was a run down two story affair, with dirty green shingle siding. The first floor held the living room, sitting room and kitchen. The second floor housed the three small bedrooms, and bath. This is the area of the house where my story takes place in the early 1970’s.

I have never been afraid of the dark all my life. Hollywood can do it’s worst in any of it’s films, and I’ll still get a good night’s sleep. My mother worked nights, and as she was divorced, and I had to spend numerous evenings alone by myself. Never once was I ever scared to sleep because no one else was in the house with me, but the second story of the old house in German Village was a different story. It was a place to visited for short periods in the daytime, and avoided at all costs at night. The problem as you may have figured out on your own, is that the only toilet in the house was up there! To complicate matters, the light to the upstairs was one of those pull string affairs in the center of the upstairs hallway.

I was around 14 years old or so when my mother elected to stay late at her mother’s. Around 9 P.M. or so I couldn’t hold off my expanding bladder any longer, and had to ascend the dark twisting stairs to the second floor. After entering door to the stairwell, the stairs were to your left, and a door to the alley adjacent to the house was directly in front of you. The only light in the stairs was provided by light coming in from this door from the street light outside. After ten steps or so the stairs twisted to the left at 90 degrees, and this delivered you to the head of the upstairs hallway. Like a drowning man clutching at a floating piece of wood, I would grab for the drawstring to the light. Quickly I would finish the call of nature, and then begin the trip back down the steps. This was the part of the trip that I dreaded. I always felt like someone or something was glaring at me from the darkened end of the hallway. On this trip I decided that I was acting like four year old and vowed not to hurry my steps down the hallway. As I moved toward the light in the center of the hallway my fear increased. I felt like I had a set of eyes boring into the center of my back. I stopped and turned looked back to the door to the spare bedroom. There in the shadows was a five foot column of dark mist, or more like a area of air that was darker than area surrounding it. I bolted for the stairwell. I leapt to the landing mid-way in the stairwell, and then jumped to the base , shaking the whole house. My mother promptly launched into one her lectures on what a brainless child she had. I received the how my grandmother was poor, and how I was a thoughtless boy for leaving the light on upstairs later on as well.

I never again left the light on upstairs, but you would have sworn that a herd of buffalo was coming down those steps everytime that I had to use the bathroom at night. I also refused to ever sleep upstairs, and the couch became my sleeping area. I think my grandmother knew more than she was willing to let on, as she always leapt to my defense against my mother, and step grandfather everytime they scolded me for leaping down the steps. She would have the blankets on the couch every time I went to stay the night, and I will always remember her whispering “Sweet dreams my angel” before turning off the lights and going upstairs to bed.

My grandmother past away when I was sixteen years old, and my step grandfather moved to a different house there after. The house still stands on Fifth Street just off of Livingston Avenue in German Village in Franklin County. I will not publish the address, or photo of the house out of courtesy to the current occupants whom I do not know. The area is somewhat nicer than it was back in the 1970’s, and the house now has beautiful brick siding. I do hope that what ever dwelt in the bedroom at the far end of the hallway has departed with the remodeling of the old house. That is for the current owner’s sake. I still would not stay the night on the second floor of that house by myself without a good reason even to this day.

This post, including photos and commentary, originally appeared on James A. Sheets’ site.