We present to you...
 

Vampire's Grave (Keith Johnson)

Spirit Well (Keith Johnson)

... In the southwest section of North Scituate, Rhode Island, some of the local residents may recall the legend of a supposed “spirit well”, which is said to be located just off of Plainfield Pike, between Carpenter and Nipmuc Roads. According to the legend, many years ago two children fell into this well and were drowned...and it is said that on moonlit evenings, the spirit of their mother can still be heard sobbing for her lost children. Back in the 1970’s when I was an adolescent, a few of my friends and I would sometimes traverse this lonely stretch on moonlit nights. Although we never came across the legendary well or heard the ghostly sobbing,, we did perceive the odd sensation of being watched and even “followed” by an unseen presence. Fleeting shadowy figures can also frequently be seen moving about in the darkened woods of this area. Perhaps some knowledgeable individual reading this has also experienced something unusual in this particular area, and would like to share his or her experience!

Mary Eliza (Keith Johnson)

... Several years ago I happened to be researching information on a local girl named Mary Eliza Brownell, who died of tuberculosis on March 22, 1841, in Scituate, R.I., one month prior to her 17th birthday. During this research, my friend Peggy’s assistance proved invaluable. As we continued gathering information on this young girl, we learned that she was apparently quite beautiful, and very much loved by the members of the community in which she lived…and that the entire town went into mourning for her when she died. One overcast afternoon, while we were visiting her grave, my friend Peggy surprised me by suddenly bursting into tears, saying, “Ohhh…she was so young!” Peggy then further surprised me by suggesting that we should attempt to contact Mary Eliza’s spirit. Being aware of the potential dangers of attempting spirit communication, I naturally objected. “But Mary Eliza is probably so very lonely after all these years,” said Peggy. “She’d probably be happy to know that there are people who still care about her!” A few evenings later, without my knowledge and against my advice, Peggy, assisted by her school friend Debbie, made the attempt to contact the spirit of Mary Eliza Brownell. Inside the parlor of Peggy’s apartment, they placed two candles in front of a small, framed likeness of Mary Eliza, and began calling out her name. When they asked her to give them a sign of her presence, however, an eerie thing happened. As Peggy later explained it to me: “The eyes of the portrait just suddenly started to glow…I mean, REALLY glow! Debbie and I both saw it happen!” Next, they both distinctly heard footsteps just outside one of the parlor windows, accompanied by what sounded like heavy breathing, or growling…but when the two terrified young ladies glanced outside, there was no sign of anyone out there! They then quickly snuffed out the candles and ended their ceremony. A short time later, when Peggy was walking Debbie out to her car, they did indeed notice there were some footprints underneath the parlor window…some of which were still forming, right below them as they watched! After the two of them rushed back inside the apartment, Peggy quickly re-lit the candles, and prayerfully asked whatever spirit was manifesting itself to please depart in peace. Fortunately, they experienced no further incidents that night. The following day, when Peggy related the incident to me, she concluded by saying, “Whatever spirit we succeeded in summoning last night, it definitely wasn’t Mary Eliza!”

Haunted Mill Site (Keith Johnson)

... For many years in the rural town of Foster, Rhode Island, the long abandoned Ram Tail Mill site has been said to be haunted by the night watchman, whose name was Peleg Walker. In the year 1799, industrious William Potter founded the Foster Woolen Manufactory...more appropriately known as the Ram Tail Mill, because of the woolen products which were processed there. A small community of mill workers was eventually formed, which was also appropriately known by the quaint name of Ram Tail. By the 1820's, the mill business was thriving, and William took on several business partners, including his eldest son Olney E. Potter, and his son-in-law, Peleg Walker. As agreed, Olney would assist his father and the other business partners by overseeing the mill operation during the day, while Peleg would tend to the mill overnight. On May 19, 1822, Peleg quarreled with William and Olney Potter. Although the exact nature of the disagreement remains unclear, it is generally assumed to have been over finances. Before leaving the mill that day, Peleg issued an ominous warning to his two business partners, telling them: "one of these days, you'll have to take the keys to this mill from a dead man's pocket!" In his position as night watchman, one of Peleg's duties was to ring the mill bell at dawn each morning, which would summon the local workers to the mill. However, when the mill bell failed to ring the morning following Peleg's confrontation with the Potter's, employees arrived to find the building securely locked from the inside. When one of the workers gained access into the mill through a window, he discovered the lifeless body of 35-year old Peleg Walker hanging from the bell rope! True to his promise, the keys to the mill were found in his pocket. Shortly after Peleg's Walkers burial in the Potter family cemetery, a number of Terrifying events began to occur. The bell to the Ram Tail Mill would begin ringing furiously at all hours of the night inside the apparently empty mill, finally causing William Potter to order that the pull rope be removed. When this failed to stop the bell from ringing during the night, the bell itself was finally removed...but this would prove to be only just the beginning. Twice, the complete mill operations started up spontaneously sometime after midnight, forcing mill workers to gain access inside the securely locked building just to shut things down. On one occasion, the large waterwheel which powered the mill was observed to be running backwards against the current of the Ponaganset River! Passersby at night even reported having glimpsed the eerie, recognizable apparition of Peleg Walker himself, attired completely in white, with lantern in hand, patrolling the mill grounds just as he had in life. One by one, workers left their positions at the mill and moved away, until the business eventually failed, and the abandoned mill building was left to fall into ruin. The building itself caught fire and burned to the ground in the 1870's...and an 1885 census officially lists the Ram tail Mill as "haunted". Even today, strange bluish globules of light have been reported floating at night in the area where the mill once stood. The creaking of an unseen lantern has also been audibly heard, and even recorded...and the faint peal of a bell can sometimes be heard ringing from somewhere in the darkness and distance. The Old Testament name of "Peleg" literally means "divided". Because of Peleg Walker, the once prosperous era of the Ram Tail Mill and Community was forever divided asunder.

 An Investigation at Ramtail (Keith Johnson)

It was on a cool, moonlit evening in early June of 2004, that I along with six other members of TAPS set out on a planned investigation to the rural town of Foster, Rhode Island. Included in this investigation would be my wife Sandra, my brother Carl, myself, Brian Harnois, Chris Finch, and Jennifer and Stephanie of TAPS. Our intended destination this evening was the long abandoned mill site known as Ram Tail…which, according to an 1885 census, lays claim to being the state of Rhode Island’s only “officially” haunted location! With the beautiful sunset before us, we drove in three cars along Route 6, through the towns of Johnston, Scituate, and finally into Foster. As Sandra and Chris and I rode in Brian’s car – also affectionately referred to by us as “The Bro’-Mobile”…Brian suggested, “Well, guys, what say we now psyche ourselves out for the investigation tonight? And we can do that with the appropriate soundtrack!” “Sounds good to me,” I said. Chris agreed. “Go for it, Bro’!” Sandra encouraged him. Without hesitation, Brian then popped in a CD, and began loudly playing the familiar title theme to “GHOSTBUSTERS”, by Ray Parker, Jr. As usual, Brian began rhythmically swaying his head to the beat as he drove along…causing Sandra and myself to involuntarily begin doing the same, right in time along with him. “If there’s something strange, in your neighborhood...Who you gonna call? – GHOSTBUSTERS! If there’s something weird, and it don’t look good…Who you gonna call? – GHOSTBUSTERS!” We eventually arrived at the entrance to the wooded path, located just past Ram Tail Road in Foster, and parked our cars along the side of this darkened stretch of highway. “I ain’t afraid of no ghost!” After securely locking our vehicles, we spent about twenty minutes or so visiting a small historical cemetery located just down the street, slightly within the woods on the southern side. Within this small historical cemetery are interred several members of the Potter and Walker families, who figured prominently in the Ram Tail legend. Although a few of the photos we took while there showed some orb activity, we were unable to come up with any conclusive evidence, such might be obtained with EVP. We then as a group crossed the street, and, after locating the entrance at the edge of the woods, set out on our long trek along the darkly wooded path in the direction of the abandoned Ram Tail mill site. (Fortunately, we’d thought ahead of time to thoroughly coat ourselves with insect spray!) As the seven of us ventured on toward our destination, with only the beams of our flashlights to guide us along the uneven, overgrown path, I asked if everyone present was familiar with the legend of the infamous “Ghost of Ram Tail”. Since some among our TAPS team this evening were only vaguely familiar with the story, and Stephanie had not heard the tale at all, Carl suggested that I relate the details as we walked along. “Well,” I began, “the true facts behind this story are that in 1799, industrious William Potter founded a weaving mill which would be powered by the Ponagansett River, which ran through the area. By the 1820’s, the mill was beginning to thrive…and William Potter offered partnerships in the business to a few of his close family members. Among these partners would be William Potter’s two eldest sons, and his son-in-law, whose name was Peleg Walker. It was therefore agreed that William Potter and his sons would oversee the mill operations during the day, while Peleg would be responsible for the building overnight. As part of his duties, Peleg would of course be responsible for patrolling the grounds at night, as well as ringing the mill bell, which summoned the mill workers each morning. Initially, this partnership proved to be a satisfactory relationship. As time passed, however, Peleg gradually became more and more dissatisfied with his position. Long, lonely nights spent in solitude away from the company of his loving wife Mary gave Peleg ample time to brood over his lot in life. Finally, out of desperation, Peleg decided to personally confront William Potter and his other business partners about his situation. This confrontation took place at the Ram Tail Mill on May 18th, 1822. Unfortunately, the interview did not go well for Peleg. An argument erupted among them…and although history doesn’t record exactly what this quarrel was about, it’s generally assumed to have been over finances. “What is known, is that before leaving the mill that day, Peleg was heard to issue a stern warning to his business partners, telling them: ‘One of these days, you’ll have to take the keys to this mill from a dead man’s pocket!’ He then stormed out of the mill, trembling with rage and defeat. “The following morning at sunrise, the mill bell failed to ring as usual. When mill workers eventually began to arrive, they found the mill to be securely locked from the inside. Finally, one of the workers managed to gain access through a window…and discovered the lifeless body of Peleg Walker, hanging from the bell rope! From all appearances, the 35-year-old night watchman had done away with himself sometime during the night…and sure enough, the keys to the mill were found in his pocket! The date was May the 19th, 1822.” Carl asked, “Were they certain that it was a suicide, and not foul play? I mean, Peleg Walker obviously did have some enemies among his business partners, especially after confronting them.” “Well, forensics being what they were at the time, there was only so much the medical examiner would be able to tell,” I explained. “And of course, the ‘medical examiner’ back then would’ve probably been the county physician. Apparently there were no signs of a struggle. And remember, the Potter’s were one of the most prominent families in the town of Foster at the time.” “Thanks. Please go on with your narrative, Keith,” said Carl. “Well,” I continued, “three days later, Peleg Walker was buried in the small Potter family burial ground. That very evening, the bell inside the Ram Tail Mill suddenly began ringing furiously, arousing townsfolk from as far away as Danielson Pike. When curious investigators arrived on the scene, the maniacal ringing suddenly ceased…and the mill was found to be securely locked and deserted, with no signs of a forced entry. The following evening, the wild ringing started up once again in the middle of the night…and as before, the mill was found to be locked and empty. The pull rope was promptly taken down. However, the bell itself started to ring during the middle of the next night, forcing the Potter’s to have the bell removed from the mill altogether. But, the problems were only just then beginning. “Over the next year or so, travelers along Ram Tail Road during the evening hours would report seeing the grim, eerily recognizable apparition of Peleg Walker strolling along the mill grounds completely attired in white. He’d be seen with his lantern in hand, as if still tending to his nightly duties at the mill! Also, the entire, noisy operations would sometimes spontaneously start up inside of the empty mill in the middle of the night, forcing workers to arrive hours before their shift just to shut things down. And on at least one of these occasions, the large water wheel, which powered the mill operations, was observed to be running opposite the flow of the current! This seemingly impossible phenomenon was later verified by dozens of credible witnesses. One by one, terrified workers soon began refusing to return to the mill…and the business eventually failed altogether. To most of the townsfolk, it seemed that Peleg Walker had finally succeeded in having the last laugh! “Sadly, poor Mary Potter Walker never remarried. She died in the year 1837 at the age of 44, and was buried beside her husband in the Potter family cemetery, which is now Rhode Island Historical Cemetery # 38.” Stephanie asked, “Is that the same historical cemetery we just visited earlier tonight?” “No, although some members of the Walker and Potter families are also buried in that one,” I replied. “Peleg and Mary Walker, as well as William Potter, are buried in a small cemetery which is located just off of Winsor Road. Incidentally, Peleg Walker’s headstone bears a curious inscription, which reads: ‘Life how short; eternity how long.’” “Ooohh!” Stephanie said with a shiver. “Sounds kind of prophetic!” commented Brian. “Yes…ironically so,” Carl agreed. “Also,” I said, “an 1885 Rhode Island census for the town of Foster, officially lists the Ram Tail Mill as ‘haunted’.” Chris then asked, “What about some of the more recent phenomena, which supposedly continues to take place in this area?” “Actually, a group of us from TAPS came here a couple of years ago, to tape a segment for FOX 25,” I said. “Jenn was with us that night, and we experienced what seemed to be some slightly unusual phenomena.” “Oh, really? Like what?” Stephanie wanted to know. Jenn replied, “We did see some sort of light in the distance, through the trees, which seemed to be floating. And Rich who was with us that night, managed to capture on video what appeared to be a floating mist. Plus multiple orbs appeared in photos which I took.” “Also,” I added, “there’s at least two other paranormal researchers who have heard the sound of a creaking lantern pass by them, sounding exactly like the kind of lantern which Peleg Walker would have carried on his rounds as night watchman. And on one occasion, these same two researchers witnessed an oblong, bluish glowing ball of light hovering over the foundation, of what once the main mill building. Also, there are those who over the years have claimed to hear the sound of a bell tolling, in the area where the Ram Tail Mill once stood.” When I’d concluded my narrative, Sandra said, “Well, thank you, Keith, for relating that story to us.” “Yes, thank you very much, Keith,” said Stephanie. “My pleasure,” I said. “I especially enjoy relating true, historically documented tales of the paranormal, such as this one.” Following a hike of well over twenty minutes, we finally arrived at our intended destination. “Well, here we are, folks,” I announced. “This is the area officially known as Ram Tail!” “Great!” Brian said enthusiastically. “Just maybe we’ll even catch a glimpse of o’l ‘Peg-Leg’ Walker himself tonight!” “Uh, Brian…that’s actually ‘Peleg’ Walker,” I clarified for him. Momentarily waxing serious, Brian said, “I know. I was only making a joke.” Chris asked me, “Why was this area called Ram Tail in the first place?” “As far as we know, it was because of the wool products which were processed at the mill here,” I explained. “And when the mill business was at its peak, there was even a mini-community which developed here, where the mill workers and their families could live in close proximity to their place of employment.” “Oh, I see, “ said Chris. After shinning the beam of his flashlight at the few crumbling foundations which surrounded us, my brother Carl commented, “Well, it doesn’t look like very much.” “Yes, well the deserted Ram Tail Mill was destroyed by fire in 1873,” I informed him, “and the rest of the small community houses were left to fall into ruin. What you see here is all that remains. But this large foundation, right over in the woods to our left here, is where the main mill building once stood.” Stepping forward and shining his own searchlight in the area, Brian said, “And so that’s the spot where ‘Peg” – uh, where ‘Peleg’ Walker hung himself, then.” “Yes, that’s the exact spot,” I said. We then began bustling about, and setting up our equipment. Pointing out the largest of the foundations, I explained to the others, “This structure right over here is where the Ram Tail Mill itself once stood. It’s also the exact site where night watchman Peleg Walker apparently took his own life, on the night of May 19th, 1822.” “So, this is the spot where it actually happened,” said Brian. Jenn added, “On the night we were here taping the FOX 25 show, one of the investigators who was with us reported that he was suddenly feeling a little off-balance while standing next to the mill foundation over there, and asked if someone could take a picture. So, Renee of TAPS did…and the photo revealed what appeared to be a large orb, encircling his head.” “Yes, I remember that,” I said. “As I recall, it somewhat resembled a halo surrounding his head. He seemed to be somewhat disturbed after seeing the photo, too.” About twenty minutes into our investigation, it was Carl who reported our first possible hint of anything unusual. It was after he’d just returned from visiting the area of the some of the smaller foundations, that Carl informed me, “I thought you’d like to know, that while I was over there in that section just now, I overheard the sound of bell pealing evenly in the distance. Although I’m not sure if that holds any significance.” “Really??” I asked, becoming intrigued. “That could very well be significant, since that’s part of the phenomena which has been reported here! Did it sound like it could’ve been the kind of bell which was used at the mill?” “Yes,” replied Carl. “But then again, it also resembled the ringing of a church bell. It’s just that I’m not aware of any churches in this immediate area, at least none that would be close enough where you’d actually overhear the bell that clearly from this distance.” Carl and I then both returned to the exact area where he’d overheard the ringing of the bell only moments before, in the hopes of possibly capturing the sound on audio. Unfortunately, the ringing had now stopped, and it had been far too distant for us to have picked up on the video which Sandra was taping. After I’d thanked Carl for the input, and verbally recorded the incident on audio tape, we rejoined the others and continued our investigation. The seven of us then meandered a short distance in the opposite direction, on the northern side of the old factory ruins. We’d ventured less than a hundred feet, perhaps, when we noticed a small wooden sign, which had been posted upon a tree immediately to our right. “What does it say?” I asked. “Don’t tell me it’s a ‘No Trespassing’ sign way out here.” “We’ll find out,” said Sandra. She then illuminated the small wooden sign with the light from her video camera, revealing the words: “WELCOME to the ENCHANTED FOREST!” “Enchanted Forrest??” asked Brian. “Wonder who the heck could’ve put that up there?” “It certainly dispels the haunted atmosphere of this place,” I commented. With a laugh, Sandra added, “It can’t be the ‘Enchanted Forest’; we don’t have Al Tyas with us!” (Al Tyas, founder of D.C. Metro, a close personal friend and frequent contributor of articles to the TAPS site, is also well versed in ancient Celtic lore.) We’d been investigating the site for a little over an hour…taking photos, video, temperature readings and testing for EVP’s…when our attention was suddenly distracted by what seemed like some sort of wailing sound out in the distance. “Wait!” said Brian. “Did you all hear that?” Within seconds, the mournful sound was heard again, this time a little closer. “There it is again!” Brian exclaimed to me. “What the hell is that??” “Sounds to be some sort of an animal noise,” I said. “Either that, or someone’s out there having jollies with us.” As the mournful call came again, even closer, Chris suggested, “Sounds more like an owl. Whatever it is, it seems to be moving up among the trees, so it couldn’t be a person.” Chris then cupped his hands over his mouth, and began calling back to it, by imitating the sound: “Ooooooorrr…Ooooooorrr!” The same sound came right back at us, this time in extremely close proximity to the old Ram Tail Mill foundation. “Ooooooorrr!” Stephanie, who by now was staring to feel just a trifle unsettled, told us, “I’m starting to get a little creeped out by that sound! And calling out to it like that seems to be causing whatever it is to come closer to us.” “Yeah, but like I said, it’s most probably just an owl,” Chris assured her. Once again, the night bird or whatever it was gave another long hoot…and again, Chris responded to it in like manner. “Ooooooorrr!” “That was a Finch, as in Chris,” Carl clarified for the sake of the audio recording. “Chris, it sounds as though you’re probably responding to its mating call,” I told him. “With that black cloak you’re wearing, it just may consider to be the mate of its choice tonight!” My attempt at levity did nothing to alleviate Stephanie’s feelings of trepidation. “Ooooooorrr!” the night bird call out to us from somewhere in the nearby trees once again. Stephanie then asked us how much longer we were planning upon staying there. With a shiver, Sandra added, “Yes, this damp night air is going right through me. We are in close proximity to water, after all. I can’t wait to get back into a nice warm car.” “Yes,” I agreed, “we’ve been here quite long enough. Plus the fact that we’ve left our cars unattended all this time. Maybe we should start wrapping things up here now, and start heading back. We can always review for possible evidence later on.” Since everyone else was unanimously in agreement, we carefully packed up our equipment, double-checking to make certain that we’d left nothing behind, before starting to head back along the darkened path leading away from the Ram Tail Mill site. Eventually the hooting sound began to recede into the distance, despite Chris’ attempts to maintain communication with whatever night creature its source may have been. The seven of us were not quite halfway though our return trip along the overgrown path, with only the beams of our flashlights to guide us along in the darkness, when Brian abruptly called us all to a sudden halt. “Wait…I thought I just heard something,” he announced. “It sounded like a low growl.” We all froze, and listened intently. Both Jenn and Stephanie turned to face each other with a look of trepidation. Chris asked, “What do you think it was?” “Shh!” said Brian. “There it is again, only closer this time! What the hell’s out there, Dude??” “Yeah, I head it too that time,” said Chris. “It sounded like some sort of animal nearby.” Although Chris shined his flashlight into the darkness of the nearby woods where Brian had indicated, no trace of any nocturnal animal was visible. “If I’m not mistaken,” said Brian, “that’s the growl of a wild coyote…and there’s more than one of em’ out there, closing in on us. We’re being hunted, my friends!” “Oooh, God!” said Stephanie, with a tremor in her voice. She and Jenn instantly clasped hands. “Er, Brian,” Carl started to say, “I don’t think that even a pack of wild coyotes would-” “SHH!!” Brian cut him off. In a hushed tone of voice, he then told us, “Now listen, everyone, here’s the game plan: We’re gonna try an’ make a run for it. Since Chris has his long knife with him, both me an’ Chris will head off the rear, an’ fight off the coyotes if they charge us and start to attack. We’ll start off slow…an’ when I give the word, everyone start to run. Everyone got that?” Stephanie nodded, with tears in her eyes. “Alright…everyone start moving forward, slowly at first,” Brian instructed us. As a group, we then slowly began making our way forward once again, with Jenn and Stephanie leading the way with their hands tightly clasped for support. Fortunately, Jenn’s flashlight brightly illuminated the path in front of us. Sandra and I doubled behind them, with Carl directly behind us, and Brian and Chris guarding the rear, as planned. “They’re trailing us, almost right on our heels!” Brian whispered. “Get ready!” Glancing behind us, Sandra and Carl and I saw nothing resembling a feral pack of coyotes. Nonetheless, Bro’ Harnois then shouted the command: “NOW! GO! GO! GO!!” Once more, Carl glanced in back of Brian and Chris, to see if he could perceive any actual coyotes…only to be quickly shoved forward by Brian. “RUN, DUDE, RUUUUUUUUUNN!!!” Now inevitably stumbling over rocks and brush, we all hastened onward…until finally, the glow of a streetlight came into view, indicating that the road was just up ahead. “Keep goin’!!” Brian shouted from behind us. “We’re almost there! They…they won’t follow us…into the light!” The seven of us then emerged from the entrance of the wooded path onto the partially illuminated road, where the safety of our parked cars awaited us. Turning to glance behind, Brian announced, “They’re gone! Just as I thought, the streetlight must’ve scared the pack of coyotes away.” “Thank God!” said Stephanie, panting with relief. Carl whispered to Sandra, “I never really noticed any coyotes in the first place.” “Yes, well, at least we did get our exercise for the evening,” Sandra whispered back. We then all thoroughly checked ourselves and our clothing for wood ticks, before getting into our cars. Sandra and Chris and I climbed back into the “Bro’-Mobile once again, all of us feeling exhilarated after our nocturnal sprint. As soon as he’d started his car and pulled away, Brian again switched on the CD player, and began rhythmically bobbing his head to the familiar theme song while singing along: “Bustin’ makes me feel good!” Back home in Warwick that night, I commented to Sandra, “It seems the only possible phenomena we may have encountered at Ram Tail this evening, was the sound of a bell which Carl heard ringing in the distance. And unfortunately, we weren’t even able to get it on audio.” “Well,” said Sandra, “even if we didn’t get much in the way of paranormal evidence tonight, at least we did get some excitement, thanks to Bro’!” “Excitable boy, they all said. Well, he’s just an excitable boy!” – Warren Zevon Just a little over one year after this event, Sandra, Carl, Chris Finch, Russ Brissette and I returned for a follow-up investigation at the abandoned Ram Tail Mill site in Foster. We were accompanied this time by fellow paranormal investigator Denise Jones, founder of the LIFE Foundation, and her mother. Also with us on this excursion were our friends Tom D’Agostino and his wife Arlene, who themselves have frequently investigated the Ram Tail site. Our main purpose in venturing here this evening, was that Denise was writing an article on paranormal investigation, to be submitted to “Ghost Magazine”, and she’d asked to accompany Sandra and I on an actual on-site investigation. We all agreed upon Ram Tail as an intriguing location. Shortly after our arrival at the Ram Tail Mill site that evening, Sandra set up our video camera on a tripod directly in front of ruins of the main mill building…the very place where Peleg Walker had died at the end of a bell rope on May 19th, 1822. We’d been traversing the area for about an hour or so, and nothing out of the ordinary seemed to be happening. (In fact, without Brian Harnois being with us this time, there wasn’t even so much as a “coyote scare” to at least add some excitement!) Sandra had just returned to the video camera and had begun viewing the night vision footage, when she distinctly heard the crunching sound of footsteps coming up directly in back of her. Naturally assuming it to be one of us, Sandra commented without turning around, “I’m haven’t really been getting anything tonight, so I might as well start packing things up.” When no one answered, she instantly turned around, and saw that no one was actually behind her. At least, no one who could be seen! And yet, she’d very clearly heard the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. After only a moment of hesitation, Sandra quickly snapped a photo with her digital camera. Visible in the photo she’d just taken was a segmented light streak, which appeared to be descending, sharply illuminated against the darkness of the background. Just before we left the area of Ram Tail that night, five of us (including Denise, her mom, Tom, Arlene and I) also observed a small, round, white ball of light, which seemed to be flitting about in the woods directly in front of us. Although we were unable to capture this illusive anomaly on film, we were at least able to witness it with the naked eye. As previously mentioned, the abandoned Ram Tail Mill site is situated in an area near running water, which was once utilized as an energy source to power the actual mill operations so many years in the past. It would therefore seem at least plausible that this same running water continues to serve as an energy source, for the paranormal phenomena which is known to occur in this area. And so it seems that the infamous Ghost of Ram Tail is still continuing to make its presence known in the rural town of Foster, Rhode Island…in one form or another!

 Submitted Story 1 (Bill Lucker of Monroeville, PA)

... Here's an account of my first encounter. As always when I tell this story, I use the disclaimer that I don't expect anyone that wasn't there to believe it. I certainly would not had I not been there. But what I tell you here is 100% absolutely true and accurate. In 1988, my friend Linda moved into her new house in Oakmont, Pennsylvania. The house was likely build in the 1940s in a blue collar neighborhood of the small riverfront town just up the Allegheny River from Pittsburgh. It was a two story, wooden-frame structure with a stone basement, rather typical for mill town homes of that vintage. Many of Linda’s friends from the office had helped out on moving day including my friend Jim and me. With all of the heavy lifting done, everyone else had gone home. Jim (who I had known since Junior High) and I stayed behind to reassemble the stereo while Linda and her daughter had gone to return the rental truck. As we said there plugging wires into the back of the components, we heard foot steps. It wasn’t clear at that point just exactly where they were coming from. We thought maybe they had come from the basement steps. Jim turned to me and asked, “Did we lock the basement door after bringing in the washer?” I answered that I thought we had, but maybe it was unlatched and someone had entered the house. (I should say that Jim and I were very protective of Linda, and her teenage daughter.) Jim grabbed a hammer and I pulled out my pocket knife as we made a bee-line for the basement. When we got to bottom of the stairs we stood there looking stupid. There was nobody there and the basement door was closed and locked. We laughed at what knuckleheads we’d been and started back up the basement steps when we heard footsteps again. This time they were very clearly coming from above us. So we charged back up the stairs (thinking that whoever had come in had somehow slipped by us and was now upstairs) and deployed in the first floor, only to find ourselves alone again. Jim turned to me as we heard the foot steps again and shouted, “They’re up stairs!” So I followed him as we ran up the steps to the second floor of the house. At the top of the stairs Jim went toward the front of the house and I followed the hall towards the rear. We checked out each room as we went. Except for the boxes of belonging recently moved in, they were empty. I closed my knife as we laughed at ourselves and out imaginations again. We returned to the living room and the half assembled stereo system. As we sat in the living room working on the stereo, we heard footsteps once again. However this time we could tell exactly where they were coming from. The sound of the footsteps started at the north end of the very room that we were sitting in and walked toward the front of the house, stopping as the reached the front window. As the sound of the footsteps crossed in front of us, we could actually feel the floorboards moving under the weight of an unseen being. I looked at Jim and asked, “Did you feel that too?” He responded that he had and we sat there in awe of what we had just experienced. We were not afraid as any rational person would have been, but more than anything we were overcome by a sense of amazement. Jim suggested that we NOT tell Linda what had happened. After all she was going to be here all alone with her daughter. Why should we scare her? Well that would have been the end of it but… At work a few weeks later Linda came to my office and said, “You know, the strangest thing happened the other night. I was in bed reading when I heard a knock at the door. Heather (her daughter) yelled down the hall, ‘Mom, someone’s at the door.’ So I looked out my bedroom window and could see that there was nobody at the back door, so I got up and went downstairs to the front door. But when I opened it, there was nobody there either and no footprints in the snow in front of the door. Strange, huh?” She also said that sometimes her cat watches something invisible move across the living room. At this point I took her down the hall to Jim’s office and asked her to repeat her story. After she told Jim her tale, we told her about our experience on moving day. At this point I half expected her to freak out, but instead she said in a rather matter of fact voice, “Oh, the place is probably haunted.” You could have knock Jim and me over with a feather at this point. Gee, she was taking it well. That’s when she told us how when she was young (WAY up in the hills of West Virginia) she and the other kids used to play with the ghost of a dead Civil War soldier. So living in a haunted house was no big deal. Linda had the house blessed (She was a devout Christian.) and after a while the strange events at Linda’s house became fewer and farther between, until they just stopped. Eventually Linda moved back to West Virginia where she passed away after a long illness. But every now and then I wonder if Linda doesn’t pay a visit to her little house in Oakmont. Well that's the story of my first experience. I should say that when this happened I was working as a (for lack of a better term) investigator for a large engineering firm. So I was (and still am not) somebody that jumps to conclusions or immediately seeks a supernatural explanation. Years later Jim and I had another couple of experiences while visiting Gettysburg. But I suppose just about everyone does there.

 Submitted Story 2 (John J Riotto, Paranormal Investigator)

... EVIL COMES TO WAYNE, NJ For over ten years now, I have been involved and educated in the supernatural. My studies and interests in this area go far beyond that of just a mere hobby. From all of my own experiences, this particular story stands out in my mind. Not only because it was one of my most dangerous ones, but because it happened to a very good friend of mine. My friend Frank was unfortunately going through an emotionally draining crisis with divorce from his wife and separation from his teenage stepson. At the time he called, his soon-to-be ex-wife and her son from a previous marriage had already moved out. Although Frank was relieved to finally be alone except for his Labrador retriever, he had an unnerving feeling that he really wasn’t alone at all. Something would constantly gnaw at him that made him feel there was some sort of presence in the house, so much that it would actually stop him from sleeping at night. Frank called me, knowing my background and interest in occurrences like this. He told me point blank that he felt there was something in the house, something that wasn’t natural. I asked him about the events leading up to the time he started getting these feelings and what he revealed was that he just found out his stepson belonged to the “Church of Satan” and was actually practicing black magic and satanic worship in the house! Frank found a pentagram of Baphomet, remnants of burnt black candles and other paraphernalia in the stepson’s bedroom. Now, we all knew that this kid was a problem child but as the divorce unfolded, Frank became more clued in to just how heavily he was involved in the occult. I became immediately concerned because I knew how dangerous something like that can be, especially when practiced by a novice such as a teenager. Strange happenings like unexplained bangs, doors slamming, and most disturbingly, disembodied voices were heard almost nightly! On top of that, Frank thought he was going crazy when he began to see shadows move about the bedroom and he felt he was being watched constantly. The voices were becoming more frequent. You couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but even more frightening was that it sounded as though they would argue over Frank’s bed as he tried to sleep. The final indication that proved this wasn’t all in Frank’s mind was the fact that his Labrador began to jump up on the bed and growl, bark and pant in the corner where Frank would hear the disembodied voices. He would see the dog barking feverishly at nothing at all, just staring off at an upper corner of the room. Because of their intense senses, animals are extremely sensitive to the paranormal. In fact, it has been documented by one of the Vatican’s top appointed exorcists, Gabriele Amorth, that animals are more aware of the supernatural than humans are. I really didn’t think Frank was crazy, but when I got to his house he mentioned that he also heard these voices coming out of the flue to the fireplace! The voices would spill out into the dining room where Frank would spend his nights at the computer. He showed me digital photographs he took of every room in the house. Quite the detective, but unfortunately nothing showed up in the pictures. It was almost as if these entities did not want to be seen, only heard, and this was their way of letting Frank know they were present. With Frank’s permission, I wanted to walk around and feel out the place. He told me to just be careful in his stepson’s old bedroom because there was still junk lying around that the kid left and that something was wrong with the heat, a red flag for an experienced investigator. I cautiously made my way up the stairs for the first time. The entire second floor was new and I had never been to the house since the renovation. Slowly, I went from room to room. First Frank’s bedroom and then to the spare bedroom. I didn’t notice anything unusual until I moved down the hallway. It felt as if the walls were starting to close in on me as I approached the stepson’s bedroom. By the time I made it to the door, I knew something was wrong! When I walked into that bedroom, it must have been thirty degrees colder than the rest of the house! The air was thick and oppressive. It was hard to breathe. Then, immediately, I was struck by feelings of fear and dread that pervaded such a heavy atmosphere I became nauseous. My heart began to pound. I got chills up and down my spine from a heavy, overbearing presence. I couldn’t see it, but it felt like something was watching every move I made. This was no human spirit. This bedroom was infested by evil. There was something else I took notice of, the darkness. So dark in fact, it was as if the sunlight couldn’t penetrate the windows in there. It was the middle of a sunny afternoon and the shades were wide open, there should have been plenty of light! I felt danger and although there may have been a human spirit that resided here in, something much stronger was in control. I believed this was a demon! Standing in the middle of that room felt like standing in the cross hairs of an expert marksman! Anyone who set foot in this house was in danger! I wasn’t really sure of how long Frank had been victimized by a diabolical entity, but being the activity picked up dramatically in the last week means it was gaining strength. I needed to perform an emergency blessing. I had to let Frank know what was happening. This is bad, really bad! This was the only type of haunting that really shakes me at my foundation. When I got back down to the dining room, Frank was sitting at the table, anxiously awaiting a response from me. I didn’t notice it before, but I did now. Frank was completely exhausted! The poor guy was too terrified to sleep. This was literally a drain put on Frank’s own spirit! He was being oppressed by an entity that has been around since the creation of the world. As an attempt to calm him, I educated Frank on the phenomena happening and how we will remove this from his home. I believed this to be a case of “infestation.” Infestation is a term widely used and known to more experienced investigators, men of the cloth and exorcists to say a place holds negative and inhuman entities. When a building/home is used for satanic rites and/or other occult rituals, such as witchcraft and black magic, these cases show themselves to be the hardest type to remove. What most people don’t know is that these inhuman entities wreak havoc in the home. With an immense evil influence that weighs down the atmosphere almost by its presence alone, the demon provokes malign troubles and focuses on breaking the will and possessing each person in the home. Separating and destroying the family unit is its ultimate goal, and in this case, Frank was the sole target! When his moronic stepson recklessly dabbled in the occult, in my opinion, he opened a doorway that allowed the infestation. Through the “Laws of Invitation,” it allowed someone or something evil and unseen to lurk in the home. Usually the more experienced Satanist would invoke an entity to protect the place of worship. Fortunately, I didn’t feel the stepson to be this advanced. I believed we still had a handle on this thing. I felt the urgency to start the deliverance. I knew it was only a matter of time before things would get even worse. There was a certain feeling of foreboding that ran through me as I made my way up the stairs to that bedroom. Every emotion in my body was telling me to leave, however, at that point in time my faith was stronger than ever and I knew what I had to do. Besides, who else was going to handle this? I had Frank carry the incense and follow me repeating the prayers I recited. I told him no matter what happens to keep the faith and don’t stop praying. We entered that dreaded bedroom where who knows what lay in wait? I began the deliverance with prayer and the sprinkling of holy water focusing my efforts over the entire room. I etched a cross over every window and door to protect the entrance against any evil that may enter there. It was very cold and unnerving in that bedroom. I felt like there was blatant hate emanating from the walls. I knew this demon despised the holy and it despised me for bringing the light of the holy into its world of darkness. I couldn’t help but feel like something terrible was about to happen to me, like being struck by an invisible punch or kick from whatever evil dwelled there. As we went from room to room, blessing and praying, I noticed every room had a small rectangular opening in the ceiling stuffed with insulation. I found out later that the central air conditioning was never finished. To keep the room sealed and to block out the foreign air he stuffed these openings with insulation. Every room on the second floor was now blessed and we continued down the stairs to the living room and then working into the dining room. Finally, we took the blessing down to the basement and without altercation we were done. Frank felt a little more at peace about everything and maybe now he could get some rest. So with a hand shake and a thank you, I was on my way out. I felt the emergency blessing went well, unfortunately, this would not last for long. Around three o’clock that morning (the mockery of the Holy Trinity) at Frank’s, all hell broke loose! It sounded like a freight train went running through the house! The dog went crazy, jumping up and barking feverishly. Frank opened his eyes and stared helplessly from his bed at the ceiling. It sounded like someone huge jumping up and down on his bedroom ceiling then plodding back and forth. Moments later a heavy shuffling like a large piece of furniture was being dragged from one end of the attic to the other along with an unexplainable banging that shook the entire house. At that moment, Frank realized that we never blessed the attic! The next day when Frank went into the stepson’s bedroom it felt much warmer and the feelings of being watched were gone. However, when he looked at the ceiling his heart sank! The pieces of insulation he had stuffed in the unfinished air conditioner opening were gone. Something pushed those pieces up and flung them clear across the attic where they were later found. It was as if something was trying to escape the blessed bedroom and shot up, to a place that was more suited for its shenanigans! Either way, I was the next thing on Frank’s mind that day. He called and told me what happened early that morning. Frank needed to stay positive and continue with prayer until I could make it back. In a few days I was ready. When I got to Frank’s, the house was quiet and the dog was calm. Frank knew what had to be done. We entered the attic, by a pull string and a set of stairs from the second floor hallway. It didn’t feel to me the way the stepson’s bedroom felt the first time I walked into it. In fact, I really didn’t feel any atmospheric oppression or sense of presence at all, which was a relief. Without wasting another minute, we performed the deliverance and tackled the attic. I was ready to put an end to all of this and I knew Frank was, as well. Systematically, we blessed the rest of the house again right down to the basement. For whatever reason, this time we were both completely exhausted when we finished the blessing. It took every ounce of energy from me, physically and spiritually. As the moon reached the middle of the night sky, and us being devoid of energy and strength, I left Frank’s house with a great feeling of piousness. Regrettably, that’s not all I left there with. Whatever was forced out of Frank’s house followed me home that night! I was weary when I got home and immediately I got ready for bed. I crawled in, pulled the covers up and closed my eyes. I couldn’t have been asleep for more than ten minutes. Suddenly, in a low, guttural tone, I heard a voice that growled, “John.” Gaining volume and almost in a sing-song mockery, I heard it again… “Oh Joooohn,” right in my ear!! I opened my eyes, and at that moment I heard, “Hi John,” in a derisive tone. In a state of confusion, I didn’t realize what was happening at that moment until I tried to move. I couldn’t! I was paralyzed! Something was holding me down, something I couldn’t see! It dawned on me that I felt the same terror in Frank’s house! I realized whatever I chased out must have followed me home! The hair on my body stood on end. I was gripped with fear! My heart began to pound. I then heard a dark, maniacal laughter. It was laughing at my helplessness! I began to pray fervently, the “Our Father”. In seconds, I was released. My hands came together and in a cold sweat, I continued to pray. Then it was gone. Needless-to-say, it was not easy for me to fall back asleep that night. I sat up and wondered if it was going to terrorize me any further. Thankfully, I didn’t have another visit that evening, and I am happy to say neither did Frank. Other than my three cats, I live alone. There was no one else in my home. Doors and windows were safely locked, and to be honest, I really don’t scare easily. Once I divulged my experience to Frank, he agreed that it was probably the same entity trying to get even with me for evicting it. Frank said that the sound of the laughter was familiar, but he was never held down the frightening way I was. I guess this thing was a little enraged with me after it was expelled from Frank’s house. I also included a picture Frank had sent me of his attic before we had blessed it. You can see a different kind of orb, one that is square instead of spherical and better yet, some ghostly writing on a joist. You can clearly make out the word “God.” But after that, it’s hard to say. If you ask me it’s a blasphemy, like “God is… this or that"