Monthly Archives: October 2014

The Dead Want What They Want

21 Tuesday Oct 2014

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PapaAbout 15 years ago, my mother began to experience problems in the family home. I had always felt “something” in the house but it was also just out of the line of sight. You felt it more than anything else; sometimes, you heard it. By and large, it was easy to chalk up to imagination, which is what I did.

But when the dead want what they want; events can become a lot more difficult to simply dismiss as the “house settling” or a “trick of the light.”

Initially, Mom heard noises and she did exactly what is mentioned above, she assigned them to the house settling.

Then things started to be “misplaced” and she put that down to a failing memory even though she was a sharp as the proverbial tack.

A couple of photos fell off the wall and the noises increased. She also told me in confidence that she felt like she was being watched.

Then, while doing laundry, someone touched her back – she was home, alone. My father had gone out.

The final straw came when she saw a dark, shapeless mist-like form in her hallway. She called me in to help her out.

I have to tell you that I wasn’t too keen on the idea. The house had begun to feel immensely, well – creepy – over the short term. My husband had seen something in the basement, a couple of weeks prior to this and it scared him badly enough that he insisted we leave, immediately.

I decided the safest course of action was a reading of the Tarot. The contact between whatever and me would be buffered. The reading identified the restless spirit in Mom’s house as her natural father. (He had passed when Mom was 4, from tuberculosis.) He was unhappy and angry at the circumstances in which he found himself. Angry that he was taken from his wife and family. Angry at his fate. Just a sincerely unhappy camper and he wanted everyone to know about it.

Mom came up with a plan after we discussed what I seemed to be learning. She put my grandfather’s photo next to my grandmother’s and things quieted right down. Not completely but a definite improvement over what was.

Ghost On A Ship

19 Sunday Oct 2014

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PhoenixMy grandfather was from Newfoundland; an outport where job opportunities were, for all intents and purposes, non-existent. It was a subsistence existence which was almost totally reliant on favours of the North Atlantic. I believe the Titantic represents how favourable the North Atlantic is to humanity.

At 12 years old, an opportunity to serve as a cabin boy on a whaling ship came my grandfather’s way; he accepted and off he went. It never occurred to him to ask why this job had so suddenly become available.

The ship set sail and after they had been at sea for about 2 weeks; Papa went top side for some much needed fresh air. This was circa 1908 and there were no on-board shower facilities; men, sweat and poor diet took its toll on the atmosphere.

The night was calm, he remembered and the moon was bright; he started to walk toward the ship’s bow when he saw a small figure – it was another boy. Papa waved to him and hailed when it dawned on him that this had to be a stowaway as no other boys were aboard and he knew his crew mates by sight. He turned around and a hailed the midshipman; the man came running and Papa pointed to the boy, or where the boy had been. He was gone. When Papa explained what he had seen, the midshipman became agitated and frightened. He told my grandfather to get below deck and stay there. The midshipman followed and went toward the captain’s quarters. Papa heard them talking in excited and raised voices.

The next morning, the First Mate came to see Papa, a no-nonsense Englishman with a bad temper and quick hand. He told Papa he was never to go on deck, at night, again, unless he told another crew member. To make his point, he cuffed Papa on the side of his head. Message was received. A storm hit and it was a bad one. Papa remembers being terrified. The pitching of the ship and the water breaking on the deck, rushing down the stairs and making walking next to impossible. Helping to prepare the meals was out of the question and Papa was instructed to stay in the galley with the cook. Safer than his small cabin in the hull.

Later on in the voyage, Papa wanted to go topside again and as instructed, advised one of the other crewmen; they went up together. Papa remembers they were talking amiably and the sailor was telling him about other voyages when the sailor abruptly stopped and was looking toward the bow. Papa saw what made the seaman stop – standing on the very bow of the ship was a small figure. He was pointing toward the horizon and then, disappeared. Just like that – simply disappeared as if he were never there. The sailor who accompanied Papa turned and fled down the stairs, leaving Papa alone. Something the first mate had forbidden and even the sailors were wary of the First Mate. Papa followed; he was terrified by the spectre he had seen but even more terrified of the First Mate finding out he was topside, alone.

Again, he heard raised voices; the sailor returned and instructed Papa to never speak of what they had seen to anyone else.

The next day, another storm hit. Papa was too busy to give the previous night’s events much thought. In fact, he was too busy for several days, helping to repair storm damage.

The rest of the voyage was without further incident. Upon returning home, the sailor with whom he had shared the vision of the boy, accompanied Papa back home. Following the greetings from his family and sitting down to a hearty downhome meal of fish and brewis, Papa went to bed. He lay there listening to the adults talk; his sailor friend was telling Papa’s father about the ship and advising that Papa should not go back out for the next trip. He told my great-grandfather about the spectre; he said that he believed it to be the ghost of Papa’s predecessor; a young boy of 13 who had been swept overboard during a storm and lost at sea. When the boy was seen by a crew member, a storm always followed.

Papa remained landlocked and the ship sailed without him. The sailor returned for a visit a couple of years later and he told Papa that another boy, older that Papa had been consigned to his position; that boy had also seen the spectre and shortly thereafter, disappeared without a trace. The crew assumed he fell overboard and drowned.

Hag of Bell Island and Mine Shaft 2

18 Saturday Oct 2014

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Bell Island LighthouseBell Island, Newfoundland is rich with myth and legend. For many years, the area was mined for iron; as you may expect, lives were lost. The mines have long since been shut down and entrances sealed but ghosts are not easily deterred.

There are reports of shadows of men leaving mine shaft 2, as if at shift end.

The ghost of woman has been reported, standing and watching the mine entrance, perhaps waiting for a loved one from long ago. Miners reported seeing the ghost of a man who, reportedly, had died after being struck by a falling rock.

The most famous non-corporeal being on Bell Island is the Bell Island Hag. It must be remembered that many of Newfoundland’s settlers were Irish and they brought their legends with them, across the Atlantic.

Apparently, origin of the Bell Island hag is found in a tragic tale of death. A young woman became lost in the Bell Island marshes (Dobbin’s Garden marsh); she cried out for help but the townspeople feared the marsh. They believed the little people inhabited the area. Irish folk do not interfere in the lives of little people in the hope that the little people will leave them alone. Little people are the source of bad luck, missing and broken objects, disappearances and even death. The woman screamed for help but the people in the town closed the windows, doors and ears to the cries which became increasingly pitiful until they suddenly ceased. It is assumed that she died although a body was never recovered.

After her tragic death, men began to report losing days after venturing into the marsh; emerging with confused tales of a beautiful woman or a horrible hag but with one consistent detail – a horrible smell of decay and death surrounding them. The last thing many remembered was being forced to lie down by one of the two figures. (One imagines that the beautiful woman entity has far less difficulty getting the men to “lay upon the ground”)

There are also tales of a Banshee wail prior to the death of inhabitants close to the marsh.

Some people believe that the little people took the woman and are responsible for the missing memories/days of the men who were so foolhardy as to enter the marsh alone.

Royal Victoria Hospital and the Gentleman Caller

18 Saturday Oct 2014

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Some of the most interesting events and inexplicable sightings have come from folks working in hospitals.  It makes sense; many people leave this mortal coil in hospital.  Hospital staff will not part with these tales willingly; there is the potential for job loss, so anonymity is key for them, in addition – like anyone else, they don’t wish to be seen as flakey or plain nuts, so many health care professionals remain “mum”.

This one is from the Royal Vic, a well-known hospital in Montreal.  This is from a nurse who wishes to remain anonymous.

I was working at the R.V. and I had been on this particular floor for several months.  I was pulling a night shift.  Around 1:30 in the morning, a patient required attention; I approached the patient’s bed and she was very agitated.  She asked me why the old man was in the room, walking about.  There were four beds in this room, 3 were occupied and one was open for an admittance; I scanned the room and there was no one out of bed.  The patient insisted that an old man had walked into the room and stood at the end of the bed across from her own.  He turned and looked at my patient, then walked out.  The lady in the bed was very ill and to my knowledge, had not received any visitors in the time that she had been moved to our floor.  It was very sad.

I promised the agitated patient that I would check the floor and ensure the gentleman was directed to leave.  I looked down the hall and did a quick run of the rooms to make sure that the man was found.  No one was out of the bed and there were no visitors.  I called security to report the incident.  The guard came up and did a sweep of the floor – no one.  About an hour later, the patient summoned me again.  I went back to her bedside and sure enough, she reported the man again.  I calmed her down and when I went back to the station, I checked her chart for meds.  Sometimes medication can cause hallucinations; I made notes and intended to discuss the situation with day staff.  Something caused me to look up and sure enough, I saw what looked like the shadow of a man walking into the room where my patient was located.  I called security again and took off down the hall.  I entered the room, no one was there.  The patient who had alerted me was, at this point, extremely upset.  Security arrived and we did a thorough search of the area but the thing is, I saw the man enter the room but never saw him leave the room.  There is no way he could have exited without my seeing him.

We found no one.  The security guard remained on the floor until 4:00 am.  He checked the area thoroughly.  My shift ended and I reported the occurrence to day staff, then went home.  When I arrived for my shift that night, I learned the patient across from my agitated lady had passed away.

I later learned that this gentleman had been seen before and always just before a patient passed away.

Le Pionnier – Haunting in Pointe-Claire

09 Thursday Oct 2014

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Chenier

Chenier/Pointe-Claire Hotel/Pionnier/Clyde’s

Located in Pointe-Claire Village, Pointe-Claire, QC

From what I understand, the ghosts at this location are kept “under wraps”, no pun intended.

This area of Pointe-Claire is very rich in history; dating back to the mid-1600’s.

As per the Ville de Pointe-Claire web site: The Charlebois Hotel, c. 1910

According to the registry, Lot 64 – where 286 Lakeshore is located – has been the site of innkeeping activities since at least the 1880’s. Then operated by Louis Labelle, “innkeeper of the parish”, on the property of his wife, Émilie Charlebois, the site was sold to Thomas and Herménégilde Duchesneau in 1886.

It was then purchased by Léon Charlebois in 1894; his name is legible on signs hung on the building at the turn of the century. Subsequent deeds indicate the owners to be Ferdinand Lanthier in 1896; Mélanie David, wife of William Rickner, in 1900; and Wilfrid and Napoléon Schetagne in 1901.

In 1904, Napoléon sold his share to Wilfrid and waived his “right to operate a hotel… within the limits of the village of Pointe Claire”. In 1907, Wilfrid sold it to Edmond Malette with “all the furnishings of the hotel”.

In 1925, Sylva Malette sold to Willie Bougie, innkeeper of Lachine, who in turn sold it to Léo Chénier in 1926. The hotel was henceforth called Chénier, and kept this name until the building was sold in 1947 to new proprietors, Albert Brisebois and Gustave Paquin. When Brisebois bought his partner’s share ten years later, the hotel was named the Pointe-Claire Hotel.

In the 70’s; the hotel ceased to exist. During the late 60’s and early 70’s; the hotel had garnered a very bad reputation. It had become rundown and shabby, catering to a shadowy clientele. It was sold and the new owners renamed it as “Le Pionnier”  renovating and making over the building, leaving the historic exterior but gutting the second floor to create a mezzanine. They left the third floor intact, replete with the rooms which were pressed into service as offices for the owners and storage. Some remained empty.

In the late 70’s, I worked there, on the second floor mezzanine. My shift finished early in the morning hours; frequently, not leaving before 4 or 5 in the morning. On occasion, I would have to bring various items upstairs for deposit in the owners’ offices. I hated going up those stairs. The atmosphere was so completely opposite to the fun and good natured havoc of the bars below. It was an oppressive feeling; like you were being watched but by someone very close. If I could avoid going, I would. One night I had some paperwork that needed to be left for one of the owners. I couldn’t talk anyone else into going up those stairs. We never discussed it, out loud; new employees were usually put to service by running whatever errand needed to be run, upstairs. It wasn’t long before they suddenly became too busy to oblige.

The first incident happened shortly after I was hired. I had to bring some paperwork up to the office.   Walking up the stairs, I felt like someone was behind me, it felt like it but it wasn’t possible. The stairs were very narrow and I was absolutely alone. Upon reaching the third floor, I walked down the hallway; the floor was oppressive and had a very unpleasant odour due to age and neglect. I placed the papers on the desk and turned around to see someone hurry past the doorway; it was only a couple of steps away but when I reached the hall – there was no one in sight. There was no sound of someone walking down the stairs and all the doors to the other rooms were closed, someone opening and closing the door would have been heard. I was, to say the least, creeped out. I, virtually, ran down the stairs.

The second incident occurred about a month later; again, I had to bring something upstairs – I think it was my tape from the night’s sales, regardless, up I went again. Again, I felt as if I was not alone and apparently, I wasn’t. I was in the office, putting my tape in an envelope when someone put their hand on my back. My boyfriend at the time also worked at the bar and so I figured it was him. I was wrong. I turned around, to give him hell for creeping up on me but there was no one there. I took off through the doorway and saw a dark shape move through one of the closed doors.

That was the last time I ever agreed to go up to the third floor again.

A few years ago, I found myself back in that bar with a few friends; the young woman waiting our table and I struck up a conversation – old day vs the now kind of thing. The girl brought up the third floor. We ended up talking about it which was a taboo topic back in the day. Taboos change. She was a little hesitant with her questions – beating about the bush.

Had I ever been up there?

What was it used for, back then?

Did I know anything about the history of the place?

I knew what she was trying to get at but was tentative about how this topic would be received. So I ask her if something spooky had happened to her and her body language showed immediate relief. Yes, she told me and related her tale of the third floor; she had gone upstairs for some supplies, when she reached the top of the stairs she saw, what she thought was the shadow of someone going into a room.

As she walked down the hallway, she noticed that the door to the room, where she had seen the shadow, was closed.  She went to the supply room and as she was opening a box, she felt someone behind her. When she turned, she saw a dark form wavering in the doorway, she fell over a box trying to back away. The form came into the room but rather than advance on her, it turned and seemed to go through the wall.

She went on to tell me that other co-workers had also experienced inexplicable occurrences in the building.