When I was a little girl in Jamaica, my aunt who lived in America came to Jamaica to visit my Grandmother, my mother’s mother. We , my mother and I along with my sisters went to the country to meet up with them and to stay there until she returned to the states, this was Lucea Hanover, Jamaica. I remember going there and my grandmother would always cry whenever any of her children and grand children came visiting, whether from “Foreign” or Kingston. She would cry out “Pickney dem come!” My children are here, and tears of joy would pour from her eyes, then she would cook for us.
My Grandmother had three daughters, my mother was the eldest, I believe. The youngest, Aunty Bev, I never Knew. She had died in her early twenties under mysterious circumstances, and in the eyes of Jamaicans that meant it was the dreaded “Obeah”. The story was she stopped having her monthly and doctors were unable to tell what was the cause. She was described as a beautiful, slender, delicate young lady who was the sweetest person ever. She became ill and it took some time before she passed away. On this particular trip to the country when My aunt visited, it had been quite a while since Aunt Elaine had come to Jamaica, so this was a spectacular event for all of us and the community, in welcoming her, who had traveled to the much respected America where everyone wanted to go.
That day, I remember clearly, although I could not have been more than six years old perhaps. I sat in my Grandmothers bedroom and watched quietly, sucking my thumb and playing with my navel, (I have an “innie”) as the grown ups chatted away amid much laughter. The atmosphere was a happy one and although I did not understand much of what was going on, my finger kept me company so I was ok.
All of a sudden my grandmother looked up at the window sill and saw a beige, white and brown dove perched there almost timidly, a beautiful and delicate bird which seem to be apart of the sunshine which was beaming in, and she said “Bev, Bev, mi daughter, you come”? Everyone went quiet and just stared, she continued again with tears streaming down her face, the room eerily silent, and my thumb, through fear (because I knew Bev, my aunt was dead) developed a fast rhythm in and out of my mouth, but I continued staring at my Grandmother who had her hands out stretched, palms up while she gingerly approached the little dove as if not to frighten it away, “Bev, I know you are here because your sisters are here, come mi darling come to yuh madda”, my mother and my aunt had began to silently cry, and so did the other grown ups in the room, while the other children there and myself stared, me working de finger tirelessly choo coward (de poor white finga). We watched my grandmother go up to the dove, (doves would have flown away already at any human approach, so this was really puzzling to see the that the dove seemed to want to go to my grannie) and picked it, up. My Grandmother began to rock the dove in her arms and sing to her songs she would sing to aunt Bev when she was dying, weak and bed ridden. It was a very sad moment. The place was sad, all were crying, and I wanted my mother!
Later that evening the grown ups spoke of aunty Bev’s visit, they were sure it was her, and as I grew up, and reflected on that day, I realized that it very well may have been my aunt. I have never met her but I know that she is around me, she has even sent messages to me from the realm of spirits. Iba Aunty Bev!
I have seen Ghosts or ghostly figures many times, some times I find my self walking and then I bump into somebody and when I look up to say sorry, there is no one there (lol), it happened to me twice. I have had ghost pass by in my bed room while I sleep and tap me on my bottom, like when a man is admiring a woman’s romp.
One night I came out of my bedroom to check the house while my children slept, I do this compulsively every night, as I entered the darkened living room, I saw a fire man, dressed in full gear and with equipment, he walked out from the living room wall, and just walked pass me and into the wall ahead, I stood and watched him, too stunned to even think, (lol), I love fire men (most of them are real cuties), but nuh suh!
As I laid on my bed in Africa and slept one night, three pair of hands came out of the walls and grabbed my hands held them and began slapping my them, I tried to pull my hands away but I could not, as the hands continued to hit me, mercilessly! I saw my grandmother, the one with Bev, who has since made her transition (but she is always with me), come over my bed, I saw her, this was no dream, and she commanded to the hands stop, they stopped, but the hands were still there, paused, she repeated “stop”! again and the hands withdrew.
The other night I woke up around 3am and smelled strong Jamaican white rum next to me, I saw no one or heard anything, but the rum was there, I went back to sleep woke up again around 5am and again the smell was there strong as ever and now along with cigar, I utterd groggily “oonuh still deh yah, amwnin ah come ooo”! and went back to sleep, they had left by the time I next awoke.
One night as I slept one coolie gal (Indian girl) opened my bed room door and saw me, I woke yo to see her head peeping in one me, when she saw me she said “Oh, sorry, wrong house”, and left, lololol
There was this boy who had died and came and begged me to sing funeral songs for him, I wrote the story as a post, but I cannot recall which one.
My duppy stories are many, and I will tell them as time goes by. Now I love the interaction from the other day, and I must say that you all have been participating very well, more so than usual, which makes me happy, (except fi MTH, but ah gwine up de hill tomorrow guh look bout har, caws is Obeah!) with all of you sharing your stories. The teacher stories yesterday were very good, I loved them all.
Below I have shared some Ghost stories which I found off the internet, so I ask, that you do the same, it can be something which you experienced, or a tale you have heard before, or even something you found to be interesting off the internet, what ever it is please share.
For our Naughty Friday, we shall be discussing blind dates stories, they may not necessarily be naughty, but knowing us we will bring it there. I have a piece ah story fi gi oonhu, oonuh gwine laugh!!
She ah mek sure Awoah!
On January 23, 1897, 23-year-old Zona Heaster Shue died under mysterious circumstances at her home in Greenbrier County, West Virginia. Strangely, by the time a doctor arrived, Zona’s husband, Erasmus “Trout” Shue, had already moved her body from the downstairs area to the bed and dressed her. Throughout the next few days, Trout displayed some bizarre behavior over his wife’s passing, but since the cause of death was initially believed to be heart failure, no one suspected foul play. However, weeks after Zona was laid to rest, her mother, Mary Jane Heaster, paid a visit the local prosecutor to ask for her daughter’s body to be exhumed. This decision was motivated byalleged visits from Zona’s ghost.
Mary Jane claimed that Zona’s ghost had visited her over the course of four nights and revealed that Trout was an abusive husband who had broken her neck by strangling her in a fit of rage. The authorities agreed to Mary Jane’s request to exhume her daughter. An autopsy revealed that Zona’s neck had been broken. Trout was arrested and charged with his wife’s murder, even though the evidence against him was very circumstantial. When Mary Jane was called to the witness stand at the trial, Trout’s defense attorney challenged the story about her supposed encounters with the “Greenbrier Ghost.” However, Mary Jane never wavered from her original story, and her testimony proved to be so convincing and believable that the jury could not disregard it. In the end, they would find Trout Shue guilty. He was given a life sentence at Moundsville Penitentiary, where he died three years later.
In 1921, James L. Chaffin, a farmer from Mocksville, North Carolina, died after a fall. He left behind a wife and four sons. James’s will, which had been written out many years beforehand, left the family farm to his third son, Marshall. However, legal problems arose the following year, when Marshall unexpectedly died. Since there were no provisions for the rest of the Chaffin family in the will, they wound up losing their estate to Marshall’s widow. However, in 1925, James’s second son, James Pinkney Chaffin, shocked everyone by filing a lawsuit to challenge the will’s validity. Even more shocking was the fact that this lawsuit was brought on by alleged interactions with a ghost.
James Jr. claimed he had been having a series of dreams where he was visited by his father’s spirit. One night, James Sr. suddenly appeared wearing his old overcoat and told his son that a new will could be found in the inside pocket. When James Jr. retrieved his father’s overcoat, he discovered that the inside pocket was covered by a new lining. Hidden in the pocket was a note that read: “Read the 27th chapter of Genesis in my daddy’s old Bible.” James Jr. soon tracked down his grandfather’s old Bible and was shocked to discover that a new will was actually hidden inside, right next to the 27th chapter of Genesis. It had been written by James Sr. in 1919. James Sr. now wanted his estate to be divided equally among his four children. At the trial, experts seemed to agree that the handwriting on the will actually did belong to James L. Chaffin. Even Marshall’s widow became convinced that the will was genuine, so she agreed to a settlement that returned control of the estate to the Chaffins.
De duppy come fi clear him name
On the morning of May 27, 1913, Lieutenant Desmond Arthur, an Irish-born pilot in the Royal Flying Corps, took off in a B.E.2 biplane for a seemingly routine training flight at the Montrose Airfield in Scotland. However, the right wing of the aircraft suddenly snapped off in mid-flight, and Arthur was killed in the subsequent crash. Initially, it was believed that the tragedy was caused by a faulty repair job on the plane. However, three years later, an official government investigation would determine that Arthur himself was at fault for the crash. Many of Arthur’s fellow airmen were unhappy about this black mark on his record, but it wasn’t long before Montrose Airfield would be plagued by a series of unexplained supernatural events.
In August 1916, personnel stationed at Montrose started having visions of what appeared to be the ghostly apparition of a pilot. Some of the witnesses recognized the mysterious figure and believed it to be the ghost of Desmond Arthur. The sightings became so widespread that terrified airmen started abandoning their posts or requesting a transfer from Montrose. Finally, C.G. Gray, the editor of the flying magazine The Aeroplane, decided to push forward the theory that Arthur had returned to haunt his former airfield in response to the government investigation that smeared his name. Gray successfully lobbied for the investigation into the crash to be reopened. This time, the verdict was that Desmond Arthur was not responsible. After Arthur’s name was cleared, the Montrose Ghost would disappear, save for one last sighting where he appeared to be smiling.
There have been numerous recorded cases of alleged hauntings that turned out to be complete hoaxes, but few of them created the sensationalism of the “Cock Lane Ghost.” In 1759, William Kent and his spouse, Fanny, moved into a house on Cock Lane, a narrow alley in the Smithfield section of London. Six months later, the couple would move out after a dispute over money: The landlord, Richard Parsons, refused to pay back a loan William had made to him. Shortly afterward, Fanny passed away from smallpox. In January 1762, William was shocked to read an article about himself in The Public Ledger. The article implied that William had murdered Fanny. The person responsible for this story was Richard Parsons, who claimed that the house on Cock Lane was now haunted by Fanny’s ghost.
Fanny allegedly appeared before Parsons, telling him she did not die of smallpox and that her husband had poisoned her with arsenic. William was invited to his former home for a seance, in which a clergyman named John Moore would summon Fanny’s spirit. When asked a series of questions, the ghost responded with a series of knocks that painted William as a murderer. The Cock Lane Ghost became such a sensational story that large crowds would flock to the location. Seances became a frequent occurrence. Eventually, the whole story was largely considered a fraud when Parsons’s young daughter, Elizabeth, was caught rapping on a board to simulate the ghostly knocking sounds. In order to clear his name, William Kent filed a lawsuit charging Parsons, Reverend Moore, Parsons’s wife, and a servant with conspiracy. They were given short prison sentences and forced to pay restitution to William.
What a nice Duppy
Pawleys Island is a small coastal town in South Carolina. The town has become notable for the presence of a spirit known as “The Gray Man.” Ever since 1822, there have been numerous sightings of a mysterious spectral figure who wanders the area’s coastline. Much folklore surrounds the Gray Man, and there are numerous theories about his identity. One popular story is that he was a young man on the way to ask his lover to marry him but died after getting caught in quicksand. Because of this, he is forever condemned to wander the area, searching for his lost love. However, what elevates the Gray Man from being more than a standard ghost story is the longstanding belief that seeing him could potentially save your life.
It’s rumored that the Gray Man always makes an appearance before a major hurricane hits the area. If you happen to encounter him, you will be sparedfrom the storm’s destruction. Eyewitnesses have claimed that the Gray Man allegedly warned them to leave the area before a hurricane arrived. When the hurricane passed, these witnesses would return to the area to find their homes completely undamaged. While these stories may sound like urban legends, there is at least one documented case of such a situation happening in modern times. In September 1989, an elderly couple named Jim and Clara Moore claimed to have passed by the Gray Man during a walk outside their beach home. Not long afterward, Hurricane Hugo hit the area and caused widespread destruction. However, even though the surrounding homes were completely destroyed, the Moores’ residence was inexplicably left unharmed.
In May 1812, a man named Russell Colvin mysteriously disappeared without explanation from his hometown of Manchester, Vermont. Colvin happened to be the brother-in-law of Jesse and Stephen Boorn, who never liked him. Colvin’s whereabouts would remain unknown for the next seven years until the Boorn brothers’ uncle, Amos Boorn, shared a crazy story. Apparently, Amos had been having recurring dreams where the ghost of Russell Colvinappeared at his bedside. The ghost said that he had been murdered and directed Amos toward a cellar hole on the Boorn family farm, where his remains were supposedly hidden. A search of the cellar hole turned up no remains but did uncover some items that allegedly belonged to Colvin. Shortly afterward, a dog dug up some bone fragments at another location near the Boorns’ property.
The Boorn brothers were subsequently arrested and charged with Colvin’s murder. After a forceful interrogation, both of them eventually confessed to the crime. Even when it became apparent that Colvin’s so-called remains actually belonged to an animal and that the Boorns’ confessions had been coerced, there was enough circumstantial evidence for them to be convicted. Jesse would receive life in prison while Stephen was sentenced to death via hanging. However, in November 1819, when the New York Evening Postpublished an article about the Boorns’ convictions, a witness came forward to claim he had seen Russell Colvin in New Jersey. Colvin was eventually tracked down and brought back to Manchester to prove he was alive. On December 22, 1819, just one month before Stephen’s scheduled execution, Colvin shocked the community by making a surprise appearance. The Boorn brothers were officially exonerated.
Tó bá kù díẹ̀ kí ọmọ olóore jìn sí kòtò, mànàmáná á ṣiṣẹ́ imole fún un. /
Just before a good person would trip and end up in a ditch (at night), the lightning would light up his path….Yoruba Proverb!.
[Help will always abound for a kind person.]
All religions are valid as long as it teaches peace and love…..Obara Meji!
There are no disappointments in life, only lessons learned…..Obara Meji!