I
just got done with an exhausting telephone conversation with Liz. Apparently
she took the liberty of setting aside her latest book to research some of the
local hauntings. She went over the more common tales: the headless co-eds,
Hotel Morgan. She even rehashed the East Boreman haunting (at one point of the
summer she was insistent that I dorm there). But she even surprised me with a
few of the lesser known hauntings.
For
example, the Seneca Center apparently used to be an old glass factory before it
was converted into a shopping center. There were reports of it being haunted - door
opening and closing when no one is around, strange noises, that sort of thing.
And
of course, I felt obliged to share what I’d learned.
One
of the guys in my English class was talking about a supposed haunting at the Beta
Theta Phi fraternity a few weeks ago. His older brother is a pledge there and
several of his friends have reported hearing clanging of chains in a lower room
of the house. Some believe that it is the ghost of a former butler that worked
there in the 1940s while others believe that it is the ghost of a homeless
person that they charitably let live there who hung himself in the 80s.
Although
the conversation may have been lengthy, I was acutely aware of how little we
have to talk about. My mother’s world is immersed in the paranormal, the woman
is generally reckless and I was left wondering on countless occasion throughout
my childhood if I were better off with my grandparents.
But
when my answer to that question was a resounding “yes”, I was six months shy of
eighteen and moving didn’t really seem like the wisest option.
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