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Spooked by spirits: Readers share their ghost stories

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Ghost Goddess

By Sheila Lepley

Back in the 1960's I taught school in Hawaii. I grew up in New England, in an entirely different environment with regard to weather, vegetation and terrain. Because I had spent years hiking the old, low and worn down Appalachian Range, I was eager to test myself on younger, rougher and higher mountains, namely those on the Big Island and in particular, Mauna Loa, a 13,000-foot giant.

So a partner and I decided to hike up Mauna Loa, abode of Pele, goddess of volcanoes and fire. We didn't ask permission of the goddess, nor did we make any offerings.We just set a date and appeared on the trail, foolish mortals.

It was apparent that footwear for climbing the rough lava fields was of utmost importance, I knew that my brand-new army boots would hold up. My friend chose to wear rubber thongs which were no match for the rough terrain. I was able to keep up a good pace, but eventually the distance between us increased until we lost sight of each other. This is truly bad hiking procedure.

What was I to do? Go back down? The halfway house was within one hour's hiking distance and the sun was beginning to set. No choice but to continue up and hope that my friend would join me. It was serenely beautiful, clear clean air and an unforgettable sunset which would set the stage for Pele's entrance.

As soon as I lay down to sleep, she began to rumble and spook me with loud, long moans and soft, low roars. As unforgettable as the sunset had been, so, too, was that unending night up there with a ghost goddess. Was she a figment of my imagination? Had I angered her? Would she actually appear in front of me in the form of a small or, worse, large eruption? I didn't know; I never slept.

At the first crack of dawn, I got down off that mountain just as fast as my legs would carry me. My friend was at the trailhead and greatly relieved to see me.

What an experience. I promised myself never to sleep alone up there again. And neither should you.

By Sarah Ley

Not too long ago, my family and I stayed at the Jerome Grand Hotel for one night on our way to the Verde Canyon Railroad. The hotel sits at the highest point in Jerome (about 5,500 feet elevation). Beautiful views of the entire Verde Valley are captured from the hotel.

The Jerome Grand was originally founded as a hospital in 1927 when the mines were running at peak capacity. In its heyday, it was the most modern hospital in all of Arizona. It shut down in 1950 when the mines closed. It sat vacant for 44 years, until it was purchased from the Phelps Dodge Corporation in 1994 and slowly converted to a hotel.

The hotel boasts the oldest original and continually operated Otis elevator in Arizona (possibly in the world).

The Jerome Grand has quite a vivid history. Just thinking about all of the 44 years it sat vacant with musty curtains and hospital gurneys floating around was enough to start giving me the shivers. The moment we set foot in the lobby, I felt something heavy in the air. This place is a time capsule — it is truly a place that time has left behind. The first thought that crossed my mind was, "I feel like I'm back in the early 1900's — like in Tombstone when it was really the Old West."

The Ghost Encounters started during our meal at the hotel's restaurant, "The Asylum." My husband, Juan, had gotten up to go to the men's room. While he was washing his hands, he turned to admire an old ironing board. Then the faucet turned off by itself. At first, he thought it was an automatic faucet, but after turning it on and off several times, he realized, "This thing turned off by itself!" 

When I asked him if he saw a ghost, or detected a presence, he said that he felt something — almost like a spirit was mocking him.

Juan didn't dare tell our two children, Mara and Daniel, what had happened for fear they wouldn't be able to get to sleep. When we got upstairs to our rooms, the kids and I started watching a video documentary of the town's history.

When they got to the part about a psychic who documented various paranormal happenings at the Jerome Grand, the owners of the hotel were amazed. My kids were terrified!

Apparently, one of the known dead was the hospital's engineer, who was crushed by the Otis elevator. Foul play was suspected but never proven. The psychic said that she experienced several areas of "hot and cold" in the hotel and a definite feeling of anger in the old Otis. We had had enough of the "ghostly fiction." My 8-year-old son, Daniel, was by now too scared to sleep in the adjoining room. Juan let him fall asleep in our bed.

I went to sleep with Daniel, while Juan went to sleep in one of the twin beds in the other room. Our-10-year-old daughter, Mara, was the only one who seemed unfazed by it all, and she turned in for the night in the adjoining room without a fuss.

Juan had fallen asleep in Daniel's bed in the other room. I, on the other hand, keep hearing strange noises. The air in the room was stuffy, so I cracked the window. It was a still night with virtually no wind. Every time I was about to drift off, I would be awakened — either by the curtain billowing (even though there was little wind) or the door to the bathroom (which was in the middle of the two rooms) creaking, as if it were slowly closing and then opening. But the strangest thing of all was a feeling that someone was pushing with all of their might from the hallway on the door to the room. It seemed like someone (or something) was very angry, and they (it) were trying to push down the door. 

By that time, Daniel had fallen soundly asleep. I went to wake Juan, and said, "Please move Daniel, and you come in here – I'm scared!" When I told him what I had been experiencing, he said, "That's crazy — I don't believe it!" I said, "OK, just wait. These things will start happening just as you are ready to fall asleep." Juan also felt the enormous pressure with which the door to the room was being pushed. He suggested that we open the door to see if anyone or anything was out there, but I was too terrified to do that and told him, "No way!" 

Then, just as I had finally fallen asleep, the door to the bathroom mysteriously opened almost all the way, and then, about 10 minutes later, it closed almost all the way from inside the bathroom, creaking very loudly. There was no wind coming from the other room to cause the door to move!

By that time, Juan believed that indeed, there was a presence here. It seemed to be playing with us, trying to prevent us from going to sleep. Juan got tired of the antics of these spirits with a twisted sense of humor. He shut the bathroom door so that it was firmly closed.

I had fallen asleep for the night, but Juan said that he woke up in the middle of the night and felt that someone was sitting on the edge of the bed! He said he could feel someone watching him. Also, the phone rang once in the middle the night and then stopped. It could not have been an outside line, since the hotel only has an old-fashioned switchboard. 

The next morning I was ecstatic that it was daylight, and I was ready to check out of the Jerome Grand! I hadn't expected to have a ghostly experience, and since I had never had one, I didn't know what to make of it.

We went down to the lobby for coffee and doughnuts. I told the elderly clerk, "We had some interesting visitors last night."

She said, "Oh, some people do, and your rooms are known to be the most active." 

I said, "I wish you would have told us that before we checked in." "We never advertise our special visitors," she said. She went on to say that she thought that most of the spirits they had were of the friendly and playful variety, and that they did have a lot of guests coming to the hotel looking to have a "ghostly experience." 

While we were getting ready to check out, we had one last happening. Juan and I were in the bathroom, and I had set my cosmetics bag on the edge of the old-fashioned tub. When I went to put something I was using back into the bag, it was sitting open in the middle of the bathtub. "Why did you move my bag?" I asked Juan. He said, "I didn't touch your bag." Both of us tried to see if the bag could have slid off the lip of the tub, but it wasn't possible without all the contents of the bag spilling, and there being a big noise. Another "playful visitor"? Who knows!? 

By Ann DesLauriers

In October 2004, my husband, Dennis, and I decided to celebrate his birthday with a train ride through Verde Canyon. We would board the train at Clarkdale, which is about 15 minutes from Jerome, so I went online and got a list of places to stay.

The Ghost City Inn in Jerome had a nice ring to it since Jerome was a ghost town for many years. I spoke with the owner, Jackie, and told her when we would be there and that we would like her nicest room. She suggested the Verde View Room, which is on the second floor with a small balcony that looks out over the vast Verde Valley. It sounded wonderful, so I reserved it.

We left Tucson at about 9 a.m. for a leisurely drive north, making a few short stops along the way. We followed the signs to the turnoff to go up Mingus Mountain. It's a steep, narrow road with constant switchbacks and sheer dropoffs. When we got to the top, right there in front of us stood The Ghost City Inn. It is an imposing structure, built in 1890 as a boarding house for mine employees. It changed hands over the years, and in 1994 became the bed and breakfast that it is today.

Mrs. Garcia had owned the boarding house. She was just slightly over 4 feet tall with a heart as big as she was. She had the common doors of the house fitted with knobs about two feet off the ground so that she could reach them, and some of those doors are still in use at the Inn. Mrs. Garcia was a grandmotherly lady with the good reputation of seeing to her boarders' needs and taking care of them as though they were her family.

When we checked in, Jackie said, "Oh, by the way, the inn is rumored to be haunted." We laughed and said, "Oh, good, maybe we'll be lucky enough to see a ghost." We figured it was just part of the tourist attraction and paid no attention. Our room was small and charming with period furniture.

We spent the afternoon walking the narrow streets and going into quaint shops for gifts. We climbed steep steps to the winery and stopped in at a local watering hole to listen to a talented trio, which was comprised of four men. Around dusk, we went back to our room to get ready for dinner. I jokingly said, "Well, nothing has moved, so the ghost hasn't found us yet."

Halloween is celebrated the entire month of October in Jerome. All buildings, trees and vehicles are decorated. On this Saturday night, the Ghost Walkers were out. These were residents of Jerome dressed in costumes and going up and down the streets.

There was a nip in the air as we walked back to the B & B after our dinner, and I was glad I had brought my sweater. We got our bags ready for the morning and watched a short video of the history of Jerome before turning off all but the nightlight. We opened the curtains to the balcony to let in the moonlight . It had been a fun day, and neither of us had any thoughts of real ghosts as we said goodnight.

A few hours later, I woke up and saw Dennis sitting on my side of the bed, but as I looked closer, I realized he didn't look like Dennis. I looked over my shoulder at the other side of the bed, and there was my husband fast asleep. I turned back around, and the stranger was still there. He was tall with dark hair and eyes, wearing a white satin shirt with a pattern of red roses. He sat there for maybe a minute and then was gone. There was nothing at all frightening about him. I shook my head and thought I must have dreamed it. Yet, I was wide awake.

The next morning, I said, "Dennis, the strangest thing happened last night." He said, "To me, also." He went on to tell me how he awoke some time in the night and felt a soft hand touching first one of his hands and then the other. He thought it was me until he realized this hand was quite small. It was a comforting touch, and he fell back to sleep. I told him of the man who sat on my side of the bed, and we realized that this had really happened and we had not been dreaming.

When we went downstairs for breakfast, we told Jackie. She said, "Ah, it was The Gambler." She hadn't told us when we arrived the previous day who haunts the inn, and now she told us The Gambler has been seen on the balcony of the room we were in, but never inside. She agreed with Dennis that it was Mrs. Garcia who touched his hands as she wanted to be sure he was comfortable. We told Jackie it had been an awesome experience and that it left us both with a peaceful feeling.

When we got home, I decided to write a story about The Gambler and how he might have come to Jerome. I needed a name for him that would have been popular back in the 1800's, and I thought of Jake. I had written several pages when Dennis said, "Why don't you call Jackie and ask if she knows the name of The Gambler, and you could use a real name in your story." It sounded like a good idea to me, so I called her.

Jackie remembered us and said she had told our story to several guests, but so far, no one else had been visited. I asked her, "Jackie, have you ever heard of The Gambler's name?"

She immediately replied, "Oh, yes, his name is Jake, Jake Stark."

By Lynda Sorenson

My ghost story took place right here in Tucson, about 20 years ago. One Halloween weekend I moved into an older house down by the wash at River and Craycroft. Because of misunderstandings with the previous tenant the electricity wasn't going to be turned on until the following Monday morning. So I would spend my days unpacking, and in the evenings I'd start a big fire in the fireplace and cook, then sit by the light of the fire to read.

At the time I was reading "World's End" by T.C. Boyle — a ghost story set in the Hudson Valley, where I come from and where my family has lived for generations. I remember those dark evening hours spent reading by the fire as giving me such a feeling of home and peace.

I lived in that house for several months without incident, and the following summer I went back east for three weeks to spend time with my family. There was a young woman who worked with me that I felt would be a responsible house-sitter and would take care of my cat while I was gone. She lived at home with a large family and I thought she would enjoy being on her own for a few weeks.

Once a week I would give her a call to check how things were going. The first week when I talked to her she told me that she thought my house was haunted. I brushed the idea off. I had been living in that house for nine months without anything odd happening; surely I would know if my own house was haunted. And she wasn't used to being alone, perhaps the normal house noises were what was frightening her. She didn't say anything more about it, but any time after that first week when I tried to reach her by phone, there was no answer.

When I returned to work after my vacation I kept getting odd looks from my co-workers and comments about how they heard that my house was haunted. I really didn't take any of it seriously and told them so.

But a week after I returned, I woke up one night from a sound sleep to find someone sitting on the end of my bed, telling me to get up and let my cat in the house. The foot of my bed was toward the window, and I could see this person clearly outlined against the light coming in, with my cat behind him on the outside sill.

I kind of sleepily argued with him that the cat was just fine outside where he was, until I realized that the normally quite-calm cat was actually howling at the window. So I finally said, "Oh, all right!" to the man sitting on the end of the bed, threw back the covers, got up and went to let the cat in. It was as I started back down the hall to bed that I had an "Oh, my God!" moment and realized that I had just been having a conversation without speaking aloud with someone who really ought not to have been there. And of course when I got back to the bedroom, he was gone.

The next day when I got into work, the first thing I did was go to the girl and apologize to her. I told her what happened and said, "I believe you now!" That was when she told me about incidents of things moving in the house, the feeling she had of being watched while she tried to sleep, artwork falling off of the walls during the night, speakers disconnecting themselves and falling as she walked through the room. It seemed that after the first week she was so disturbed by what was happening that she could no longer sleep in the house, and would go by each day to feed the cat and check the house. She refused to go into any further detail, but it was plain to me finally that she had been frightened out of her wits.

A few days later, on the advice of another co-worker, I went to see a psychic. It was my first visit to a psychic and I was rather skeptical, but I figured something had to be done and talking to her would be as good a place to start as any. She immediately described my house — where it was located, its construction, how many rooms it had and where they were in relation to each other. She told me that there was indeed someone in my house and proceeded to describe for me the young man that I had seen. She laughed and said, "Oh, he and your house-sitter really didn't get along. They went at it hammer and tongs, those two. He didn't like her busy young energy in his house, and he did everything he could to drive her out."

The story she told me was of a young man of about 17 years who was slightly retarded and had the intellect of someone 9 years old. This made sense to me in the context of his concern for my cat. He had lived on the spot where my house is now in some sort of tent structure in the mid-1800s, with a family that was not his own. She thought that in some way they were associated with Fort Lowell, which was kitty-corner across the wash from the house. He died suddenly — she thought the cause was probably an infectious disease — and the family that he was living with left immediately without holding any sort of funeral service for him. Consequently he didn't understand that he was no longer alive.

The psychic then told me what I needed to do in order to get him to move on, and I went home that afternoon thinking about the fact that I was living in a haunted house during monsoon season. I had been an avid fan of old horror flicks as a kid, and I knew that if he showed himself to me during a thunderstorm when the electricity was out, I would probably faint! When I got home I sat down in the living room and started talking to him. I spoke the way one would to a 9-year-old and told him that I had been to see someone who would help me to help him, that I now realized that he was there and everything was going to be all right. But please, don't show yourself to me again!

A few days later he was out of the house for good, and I never saw him again. But during that time, during the night I would wake up and hear a sound coming from my living room. The door on the face of my antique mantle clock was opening and shutting, opening and shutting. Click, click. Click, click. Click, click.

By Kellie Bell

Our family ghost story started back in 1991 when my husband was watching TV and a ball rolled in from the kitchen to the living room. At the time we had no pets in the house and all of the kids were in bed, as was I. From that moment on we had more strange things happen.

A hand print smudge appeared on the mirror in the bathroom later that year. It was between the size of our 8-year-old and 3-year-old sons. In the spring of 1995 I noticed the children's swing moving at night with no one on it and even had my oldest son, Chris, come out and see it move, too. The summer of 1995 brought more strange things when my mom had our radio to mellow music and she came back to find the channel changed to rock, and it had also gone from FM to AM. And she found a sock out in the middle of the floor when it had not been there the day before. One night in July I went to check on my daughter and her toy stroller had been moved out, as was her dresser drawer. I had made sure before bedtime everything was picked up. We have also had other things that were out of place slightly, such as a basketball, small desk and a Baby Bop. In September 1999, I had just come home from work when I felt a cool breeze on my neck. That same September I was getting ready for church when my closet door pushed out. I thought it was a cat and said, "OK, get out of there." Well, no cat came out, which really spooked me. In 2002 my son twice saw a little boy standing in his room at night. We think it is a small boy as it has always been attracted to my kids and their things.

Our little ghost boy, as we refer to him, does not scare us, but as the kids have grown up and out we don't seem to notice things as often as when they were younger.

By Jane Au

One night, several years ago, I was working as a charge nurse on the night shift at a nursing home.

While I was standing at the nurses' station talking to a staff member, a tall, thin man who looked like "Mr. Smith," a patient, wearing his usual brown bathrobe and slippers, appeared in the hallway in front of his wife's room, about 50 feet from where I was standing. He entered the room. Since it was about 2 a.m., and Mr. Smith had passed away about two weeks previously, we went to the room immediately. After searching the room and checking that the window was locked from the inside, we determined that only Mrs. Smith was in the room and she was sleeping peacefully. I believe he came to check on her to make sure that she was OK.

By Katie Mullaly

I am the founder of a paranormal investigating group, so it would be impossible for me not to have myriad ghost stories to tell, and it is certainly appropriate that my own home be haunted. I have been greeted in the morning by all of my kitchen cabinets standing open and at attention. Items disappear for days on end, only to reappear in ridiculously obvious places.

Tiny footsteps can be heard pattering across the kitchen floor. Just recently, a metal stepstool in my hallway could be heard moving abruptly across the cement floor. We were in our bedroom and the children were sound asleep.

The single creepiest experience I have had in this house involves an old music box that once belonged to my now-deceased mother. It had been sitting on a shelf in my bedroom, quite literally for years. It hadn't been opened, wound, or disturbed in any way – as evidenced by the layer of dust that had accumulated. Late one night, we were shocked out of deep sleep by the lovely sound of "Edelweiss" proudly singing from that music box — still unopened, unwound, and undisturbed.

I have since cleaned it up and displayed it more prominently. I have no idea who the unseen occupants of my home are, but they are welcome to stay as long as they like.

By Paul and Myra Rees (owners of 22nd Street Antique Mall)

Do ghosts come out of the past? Most people think so. Well then, what more appropriate a place than an antique mall. Here in Tucson we have such a "Haunted Antique Mall" at the 22nd Street Antique Mall, at 5302 E. 22nd Street. Here are the facts:

1. The mall has a main store and a two-story adjacent annex: It was built as a furniture store. The office was in the second floor annex. In one booth upstairs was an antique typewriter last used long ago. Several customers and employees reported hearing a typewriter typing away over a period of months, but when investigated, nobody was there. Many customers told employees there were "ghosts" upstairs — that area is no longer being used.

2. The second floor booths mostly contained furniture — chairs, desks, tables, beds, etc. Several times, the employees straightened up the furniture before going home at 5 p.m., only to find it rearranged, the chairs pulled out into the aisles, and all askew, the next morning.

3. A radio tuned to a local station for background music was left on upstairs while the store was open. Often it would increase suddenly in volume when nobody was upstairs.

4. The following is a description from an employee who still works at the mall: "The holiday season was upon us and we were very busy. One of the employees was approaching the doorway into the annex and we both were suddenly 'frozen' in our positions. The people who were shopping all sped up like in a time warp. It might have been only a matter of seconds but it seemed like hours. Then everything slowed down to a normal pace. My fellow employee was still standing in the same position on the stairs with a dazed look on her face. I said to her, 'Did you see that?' She replied, 'What just happened?' We were both shaken up."

5. One employee was bending over a jewelry showcase when she felt something brush past her back. Looking up, she saw a "transparent" figure of a young male with a mischievous look on his face who quickly vanished.

6. Several employees and customers were at the back of the mall when they heard a loud sound of crashing glass from one of the front booths. They rushed to the booth, but nothing was amiss. The booth was rented to a dealer who had died the month before. His goods were still in the booth. He was known to the employees as a prankster.

Perhaps these are all imagination, but we have documented all of these events from more than one source. Is the mall haunted? Well. . .