Vivian Campbell - True Ghostly Tales

This book is dedicated with endless love to my wonderful daughters,
Erin Miranda and Gwyneth Elise.

Copyright Information

True Ghostly Tales 2011 by Vivian Campbell

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First e-book edition 2011

E-book ISBN: 9780738733814

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Contents

: Lookout Mountain, Tennessee, 19701974

My first puppy love had an eerie competition.

: Orlando, Florida, 2011

My ghosts always ensure that visitors never forget their stay!

: Orlando, Florida, 2009

You get more for your money at my haunted yard sale!

: Clinton, North Carolina, 2005

Renovation and ghosts dont mix.

: Brooksville, Florida, 2010

Adventures with my favorite ghost at the historic May-Stringer House.

from Stalked by Spirits

Introduction

Youre eyes are playing tricks on you again!

That was my mothers mantra to me from the day that I spied my first ghost. I was about eight years old at the time.

Spooky genes seem to run in my Scottish family. The Scots call it Second Sight; my relatives call it a questionable blessing, at best. My great grandmothers Second Sight damned her to dream of her beloved fiancs violent deathand that dream came true. (Too bad he didnt heed her warning to stay away from the factory that fateful day.) Her daughter Mary (my grandmother) had recurring waking dreams, including one in which she saw her future newborn niece shriveled like a dried apple. And that dream came true too. Needless to say, everyone listens when any member of my Scottish family says in a quiet voice, Ive had a dream

Ive had a few dreams come true over the years, but mine pale in comparison to my famous grandmothers. You see, instead of prophetic dreams, Im a Ghost Magnet. I sense spirits, an awkward ability none of my other relatives haveor at least will admit to. I dont play with Ouija boards or take drugs or hold midnight sances to find these ghosts. I just mind my own business and walk into spirits wherever I go. Theyre drawn to me, hence my unusual nickname.

For many years, I didnt see a purpose to my constant phantom adventures. Who the heck cares if theres a ghost around? Really, theyre everywhere, its nothing special. Then I met my author pal, Dave Lapham, who asked if I would become his ghost ferret and find original hauntings for his book. Since then, Ive worked with ghost walking tours, haunted house hunters, and television shows but, my favorite ghosts are still those I just happen to bump into while walking through life.

Her Eyes

Lookout Mountain, Tennessee, 19701974

Edith Nickerson stared down at her sleeping twelve-year-old grandson. He was a slight boy for his age, with shaggy hair as black as her eyes had been. She doubted he would ever amount to much. If only she had been able to raise him when she was alive.

Still, Tony was a good boy. He listened to her every whisper and followed her advice. If hed had any friends, they would have called him crazy everyone except me.

I was Tonys first puppy love. At ten years old, I was flattered to have the attention of an almost-teenager, even if he was a dork. Our ancient houses were separated by three blocks and were built within eight years of each other: mine was the fifth house built on Lookout Mountain, his was the second.

Come meet my granny!

I followed Tony up six drunken gray wooden steps, over the creaky wrap-around veranda, through a dirty white hand-carved slab that passed for a front door, and finally into a small circular parlor that held more shadows than memories. I stared up at the prim tall woman standing at the top of the dark straight stairway before us. She summoned me with her white hot eyes. That must be Granny.

Tony can we get some ice cream instead?

My preoccupied Prince Charming grabbed my hand and charged up the wobbly stairs so fast that even Granny fled for her lifeat least, she wasnt there when we reached the top. In her place stood a semi-circle of carefully closed doors. I felt uneasy about those doors. Tony twisted the cut glass knob on the middle door and swung wide the entrance to his bedroom. I stared in horror at the giant portrait splayed on the wall above his mahogany bed.

This is my Granny Edith! Tony acted as if he was introducing me to Mrs. Santa Clause. Poor Granny died before I was born and told Mom that I should sleep in her bed and hang her picture over it and so she could always watch over me and protect me. My sister, Katie, said she saw Granny Edith come smack out of this portrait one time, like those ghosts in the haunted mansion at that new Disney World! I like to tell that story a lot, because everyone believes it, so I dont have to worry about anyone coming in here and messing with our stuff. Mine and Grannys, I mean.

Its like her eyes follow you everywhere, Tony!

My warning was literal. The witchs eyes followed her grandsons every move. They paced as he paced. They lowered as he lay down on his stomach to stretch across the lavender quilt on his bed. They flashed when he began to jump up and down on the ancient mattress.

Sorry, Granny! Yeah, I know its your bed. I wont do it again

Embarrassed, Tony slid off the mammoth mattress and meandered over to his dresser, where he feigned interest with a pile of golden pyrite (fools gold) that he had purchased on his last trip to the Blue Ridge Parkway.

I know its not real gold, Granny! Tony was getting annoyed. I just wanna show it to Vivian. Just leave me alone, okay?

The portrait never moved her piercing glare from the back of Tonys head. I swore I could see that cracked gold-flaked frame bulge outward as if to allow that bony witch body to pop out of the painting and come after me. I guess she had to protect her innocent grandson from that menacing little girl.

Forget the fools gold! I ran out of Tonys house faster than Granny could blink.

Four years later, Tonys family announced they would be out of town for a week and asked how much I would charge to feed their beloved sheepdog Ragmop and their herd of seven-toed cats during their absence. Although my fleeting childhood romance with Tony had evaporated long ago, our families had remained close. I spent a lot of time hanging out in Tonys younger sisters rooms, but we never crossed the threshold of his bedroom. Sixteen-year-old Tony-the-Nerd was now a recluse and could only be lured out of his haunted room to attend school, church, or any event having to do with food. Worst of all, he seemed to still harbor a creepy crush on me. I didnt want to make Granny jealous or angry. I avoided him.