HALLOWEEN HAUNTS - Horror Writer's Association - Trick-or-Treating of the DEAD

I had just gotten out of a three week hospital stay during the harshest point of my radiation treatment on Halloween and decided that 18 was still not too old to go get candy.

Friday, October 10, 2014


Another October of Fox Spookiness 

2014 marks my third year doing the Fox True Ghost Story Project, and I am both delighted and inspired by its success. I’ve gathered some new and soulful stories from international sources, which you’ll be reading over the next month. I’d still like to gather some more, so please, send in those true stories!

Everyone has a ghost story, they just don’t always know it or accept it. Still, we’re not looking to be a litmus of truth. Folklore isn’t a science about science: it’s about the human condition, its experience. It doesn’t matter if these stories can be verified or specified, weighed and measured then replicated. It’s not about the haunting; it’s about the haunted, how the paranormal experience changed the subject. If they believe it or not, it still changed their lives, their experience and perception of the living world. 

Our first story comes from the east coast of the United States, submitted by Tracey Slade, wife of author Mark Slade. Mark is a good friend, and I’ve written him a few stories for his myriad projects. Mark keeps fighting, creating that background of material that fills up the back-shelves of the pulp world—the vital bones and lifeblood of the industry. I am happy to initiate my monthly archive with Tracey.

Williamsburg, Virginia

A place steeped in human history is bound to be bounding with boogey-men (and women.) Williamsburg is a 75 acre restored village, representing early life in colonial America. Places have spirits. Buildings remember; pieces of our lives break off and stay in the places of our lives. A young soldier still lingers at the Payton Randolph House, walking the halls at night. Lucy Ludwell at the Ludwell-Paradise House takes her Sunday baths, even though she’s been dead for three centuries. An old wooden wagon still rides Hangman’s ride—the infamous location where they beheaded Blackbeard the Pirate. These remind us that our history is never far, lingering like a bright image burned into the eye. We can still hear our past echoing.


Thank you Tracey for starting us off!

T. Fox Dunham – 

Head Spookologist. 
It’s foxy spooky time! 

Submitted by TRACEY SLADE 
Williamsburg, Virginia - 2001

A few years ago, we rented a house in Williamsburg, Va. It was my husband, our 2 year old daughter, and myself who lived there. My husband worked overnight so it was just my daughter and I on most nights. I don’t know what it was but I never felt comfortable or at ease there. Our daughter wouldn’t sleep in her room. Instead, she slept in the living room on the couch and I would sleep on the other couch. At night, I didn’t sleep well and sometimes it felt like someone was watching me.

The house had a deck on the back of the house that ran from the dining room all the way to our bedroom. One night my husband and I were asleep in our bedroom. Well, my husband was sleeping but I was wide awake. I heard a noise outside on the deck. It sounded like one of the plastic chairs was being dragged down the deck form the dining room to our bedroom. I woke my husband and asked, “Did you hear that”? He said, “No, what did you hear”? I told him what it sounded like and he said, “It’s probably a squirrel”. A squirrel? A squirrel! In the middle of the night?! Okay, I kind of blew it off but it definitely was not a squirrel.

I have always had an open mind about ghost and spirits ever since I was a child. On a night when my husband was at work, I definitely felt like this house had a ghost. My daughter was in the living room asleep and I was not. It was very late maybe 1am. I’m lying on the couch with my eyes closed. I hear music coming from my daughter’s room. It’s the music from her toy steering wheel. The kind that only plays the music only when you are turning the steering wheel. I lie there, petrified, knowing what this means. Someone or something is turning the steering wheel! I know what I have to do. I gather my courage and get up. I start walking down the hall toward my daughter’s room. The music is still playing. I get to the doorway. I reach around and flip on the light. The music stops. I look where the toy steering wheel is on the bookcase. The toy is perfectly sitting on the bookcase. It’s not turned over and not touching anything. It was so weird that the music stopped as soon as I switched on the light.

We ended up moving out of that house. We had a one year lease. But we only stayed nine months. The owner didn’t put up a fuss about us leaving early. He wanted to sell the house and tried to sell it to us. But we were not interested. Speaking of the owner, my husband and I thought the owner was kind of strange. But that’s another story.

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