One day I was walking the four-wheeler paths back in the woods. I walked about a mile and came on the top of a hill and out of the corner of my eye; I saw what appeared to be some type of ghost or creature with wings in the top of an old dead tree.

It flapped its wings, the sound of the wings were bizarre. I thought it could maybe have been the Mothman. It looked like it was between a white and grayish color. It terrified me, I ran as fast as I could back down the trails all the way to the main county road.

When I stopped, I was so out of breath, my throat was so dry it was like sand. I thought I was going to vomit. My heart was racing, and I could not go another step with out resting. I have never told this story before, that is until now.

When I was 12, I went over to my friend’s house. We always liked to tell ghost stories to each other. One day we were telling ghost stories and she said that her room was haunted. I thought she was kidding so I thought nothing of it.

It was midnight when we went to bed. Her mom was telling us to keep the TV on because the ghost does not like the TV. We turned on the TV and watched Full House. After we were done watching that, we told ghost stories. She said that we should see if the ghost would show itself by telling ghost stories.

We did not see anything so we went to bed. It was about 3:00 am when we woke up for a snack. We looked over by her TV and it was turned off. We thought that maybe her mom turned it off. We looked over and saw a bright figure standing in this corner. It appeared to be looking at us. We ran downstairs and told her mom. Her mom had been up watching TV.

Her mom came up and there was nothing there. She said we were just seeing things. She stayed up there with us and turned the TV back on. It was about 15 minutes when it turned off. She looked over and saw the woman standing there looking at us. The woman never hurt us but just watching us.

My sister and my brother-in-law came to moms to visit one night, and we were all telling ghost stories. Mom was telling us the story of the bride’s head, and dad had just got through telling us the story of the house he use to live in on Wolf Creek. My brother-in-law spoke up and said he had a story he would like to tell.

He started by asking if we have ever been told the story of the two red eyes of death. He told us that some people have seen two red eyes in the woods, and everyone that has seen it, died. He also told us no one knew what it was. Some people said it had the shape as a big black cat, some thought it was the return of the moth man, some say it looked like a shadow, and some think that its got no shape at all, just the eyes.

He said right before his great aunt died, she was talking about two red eyes she had seen one night in the woods looking out the window. His uncle saw the same thing only he was walking home one night, and then he died. His fourth cousin saw two red eyes in the doorway of the barn when he was going to feed the dogs.

He also told us that it was not only them, but everyone who has ever seen the red eyes is all dead. It could have been a warning to let them know their time had come, one thing for sure, I never want to see the two red eyes of death.

My sister wrote in earlier about our house and how our dead grandfather is haunting it, but I am convinced that there is another presence in this house. A female presence. This is my story. One night, it was about 1 o’clock in the morning and I could not sleep. I was lying on my back in my bedroom. It is always cold in my room so I had the covers on me. I heard my door creak open just an inch. I looked up to see who it was thinking it was one of my sisters trying to scare me or something. All I saw was a bodiless nose with a voice. I still thought it could have been one of my sisters trying to scare me but all of the lights were off in the house and I have lived there my entire life and I still can not get around my house without tripping over something. The voice said my name in a whisper. I looked and asked “What?”.

“Marlenea” the female said again only this time a little louder. This time I was scared. It didn’t even sound like my sisters. It said my name one last time before it stopped and left me to cower under my covers until my mom woke up.

That was not the last encounter with her though. That same year on a warm summer night, I woke up due to a noise I heard in my room. I looked in the general direction of the noise to see what was making it. What I saw was something that just was not right. A woman with long white hair and a white dress was standing behind my fan just looking at me. It was too dark to see her face but I could feel her presence. The room dropped down in degrees and I wanted to cry out but I was too afraid that something would happen. She just kept looking at me as if she knew me, but I did not know her. I was too scared to close my eyes even. I finally closed my eyes and counted to three then opened them and she was not there but her presence was.

I knew my room was always cold and dark for a reason and it is the same room my grandfather was murdered in 28 years before (except in his case it was where his kitchen was). My room is by far the creepiest room in the house with it being so creepy in the dark with shadows dancing on the wall. I am convinced that our house is haunted by not only our grandfather’s ghost but also a spirit that isn’t as friendly. A woman. I am not sure who she is or how she died but it has something to do with my room and I am scared in it now.

My little boy is only three. He is scared to death to go to my mom’s room because he says there is “a man” in there; it is so bad he will not even stay the night there.

It all started right before Christmas, we were at my mom and dad’s house. My two boys, my mom, and I were the only ones there that day. We were watching TV; my little boy was playing in the hallway. I could see him and the door to my mom’s room. He ran back that way, then turned very fast and started screaming, running my direction and said there’s “A Man” in maw’s room, we walked back there and nothing was there.

A little while later he looked at us jumped up on me and said, “The Man” went into the wall. He started playing again, picked up his toy gun and started shooting at my mom’s grandfather clock. He looked at us and said, “Did you see the man, he went in maw’s clock”. He was so scared!

Sometimes even now, when we go to mom’s he acts scared and will not leave our sight, and WILL NOT go near mom’s room!

It is scary when I think about it, he is only 3, and I can’t see what he is seeing!

There are no friends like the ones you have between the ages of 10 and 13. So many experiences, so much fun. Hepzibah is located between Clarksburg and Shinnston, West Virginia. Raised here all my life, it has been a quiet community, one that is ideal in which to raise a family. It was once known as ‘McEntyre Camp’, a community for local miners and their families. The mine has long been closed down, but the community remains.

There was an elderly couple across from us that everyone loved and adored. She adopted all the neighboring kids as hers and always had time to hand out candies or apples. Her only child, a daughter, drowned in the West Fork River on her way to college on a cold winter morning. Her property consisted of two lots, a house on each lot. The second house located behind the main one in which she resided was never used. It was in that house where her husband was found dead in the basement. He had died from a heart attack.

Myself and a couple of the neighboring girls decided to sit outside this house one summer night and tell ghost stories just for fun. Being so young, we had great imaginations!

As one of the girls began telling her story, the girl sitting next to me on the ground noticed a flickering light through the window of the house. We each stood to look in the direction she was describing and sure enough, it looked as though it were a candle. It was the only way to describe it. It moved across the room from right to left. It was gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

Our first thought was that a vehicle’s headlights was reflecting on the glass window pane so we walked to the edge of the road and looked towards the top of the road and saw nothing. We each went home completely stunned and scared out of our wits.

Being young and curious by nature, we each decided we would try our story telling session again. Twice we gathered on the ground outside the neighboring house and experienced nothing. To four young girls, it was a huge disappointment!

On our third visit to the old house, we sat down to prepare for some story telling when the girl across from us and to the right of me saw the light! We each stood immediately and literally watched in awe the flickering light move from right to left, then disappear! The hair on the back of my neck stood up and we each had goose bumps. We decided to keep it to ourselves for fear of our parents thinking we are full of nonsense.

This was 29 years ago. We all grew up, moved away and started families of our own. Fifteen years ago, I returned to Hepzibah and bought the home three lots down from where the old house used to be. It has since been torn down, but the main house is still there and has been sold. I often find myself looking in that direction with a smile as I remember how four young girls had an encounter with a spirit.

My father told me this story from the long list of stories he would always tell us around Halloween. My grandmother was baking a cake and ran out of milk one night. She asked my dad (who was just a young boy at the time) to go in to town and buy some, so my dad asked my uncle Tex to go with him. At that time they did not have a car and would have to walk everywhere they went.

After they made it to the store and got the milk, they decided to sit on the bench at the bus stop to rest. As they were sitting, their bus pulled up and let some people off. An old man who was around seven foot tall, pail as a ghost, and skinny as a beanpole (as dad would put it) was the last one to get off. He was just standing there, with a glazed look in his eye.

My dad whispered to my uncle and said, “We had better get home before the milk goes bad.” They got up and started walking home. The strange tall ghostly man started walking behind them. He followed them out of town; dad thought to his self if he follows us to Wolf Creek, I am going to ask him if he is following us. Dad and Tex started up Wolf Creek, and so did the stranger.

Dad turned around and asked the stranger, “Buddy, if you don’t mind me asking, what is your name?” The stranger said in a grunting voice, “Sir Kripelroger”, Dad asked him where he was headed, but the stranger said nothing. So dad and Tex started walking, so did the ghostly old man. He followed them all the way home.

When they got to the house, dad knocked on the door and grandmother opened the door to let them in, the old man disappeared right before their eyes in a cloud of smoke. Dad and Tex ran in the house and told grandmother what had happened. Dad told us he would never forget the night he ran into Sir Kripelroger.

I live in the city of Elkins, located on the Tygart Valley River. This town for over a century has been the economic hub of south central West Virginia. On the Davis and Elkins College campus are the sprawling mansions, Graceland and Halliehurst. Both mansions where built in the 1890’s. One by Henry Gastaway Davis and the other by Stephen B. Elkins. Both of these mansions were the social hot spots of the state at that time. Now, both mansions are owned by Davis and Elkins College. These beautiful mansions, however, hold more than history in their walls.

My friends and I had always heard the legends of ghosts in these mansions. So one night we decided to check it out. Well, while walking around the campus we noticed an African American man starring at us from the top right window of Graceland. We did not think anything of it and went on our way. When we got to Halliehurst we heard children laughing on the porch but there were no children. So as we walked around the rap-around-porch, we happened to glance in and see a small girl standing on the main staircase, laughing. Then she ran off and disappeared. We were freaked out and ran as fast as we could to get away.

The next day we returned to speak to the groundskeepers of both estates. We found out that the man starring at us at Graceland was a former slave that had been beaten to death and buried in the basement of Graceland, in the dirt floor. The little girl was Grace Davis, Henry Davis’s favorite daughter. We found out that the haunting at Graceland has gotten so bad that they had to stop a prom and send the students home because of the ghost. In addition, both security and councilors have reported similar sittings to D&E Admissions. Both mansions sit on a tall hill overlooking downtown Elkins, sitting as eerie reminders of the past and its events. I encourage you and your friends to gather the courage and venture to see for yourselves.

My brother-in-law told me this story. As far as being a true story, I do not know. The only thing I do know is that he stands to it that it really happened. He told the story like this; he and my other brother-in-law were out riding around on four-wheelers in the woods. They decided to go to the graveyard.

When they got there, they stopped to look around. They were talking about how well the graveyard was kept, and how nice it looked. When all of the sudden they heard something coming. It sounded like it was coming through the trees, as if something was breaking tree limbs in the tops of the trees and coming straight toward them.

They decided to leave and got out of there in a hurry. He said later on he found out that three sisters who were witches use to live in an old house around that area. He also said people would play pranks on them and would make fun of them. He also said they placed a curse on that ground to protect it. It was the ghost of a big black cat that traveled through the treetops, and if it got to you before you leave, you would die.

The witches were all three killed, and the old house was destroyed, and the only thing that remains is the curse. He said he would never go to the graveyard alone. He told me never go up there by my self.

This story takes place in Cranberry West Virginia, just outside of Beckley. When I was young growing up in Cranberry it was a favorite pastime for all of the boys to walk the train tracks to Skelton and back. We would walk on the rail as long as we could and see who could walk the farthest without falling off. We would always stop in the summer at the trestle and take a dip in the creek.

After being gone way past supper one day my Momaw sent a neighbor to look for us. When he found us, he took each one of us home and told our parents what we were doing. Of course, that didn’t matter because a few days later we were right back on the tracks. As we were talking and walking the rails, we paid no attention that Paul (the man who found us and took us home a few days prior) was standing in the middle of the tracks. “I thought I told you, boys, to stay away from that trestle!” He was not angry he just seemed concerned.

He sat us down and told a story of a man who came to Cranberry looking for work back in the ’40s. No one knew who he was, but there was always work to be done in the mines. His name was Frank Easter. Paul told us about how much of a hermit he was, how he would talk to no one, and no one ever seen him after work. He lived in a single miner’s house behind the company store, but he was never there.

Paul then told us about how one day someone had seen something burning on the tracks just past the trestle early one morning. When a few men went to check it out they found it to be Mr. Easter. Nobody knew then or now how he ended up on the tracks and on fire. Some people had suggested that he had gone to Beckley and got drunk and while coming home he sat down on the tracks to rest. They had believed that he had lit his pipe that he always smoked and passed out resulting in the fire.

Paul took us down just a little ways past the trestle and showed us where Mr. Easter was found dead. To our amazement, there was the outline of a body burned in the cross-ties. The mark covered some five ties. Paul told us to feel the burn marks. We did. They were hot! Paul told us that Mr. Easter walked the tracks every night and every morning around 4:30 and a fire ignites in the same place where Mr. Easter died. Paul told us that Mr. Easter would touch people if they walked down the tracks and he would not let anyone walk over the place where he died. He said that Mr. Easter would push us off the trestle.

We just figured that Paul was trying to scare us and we continued to walk the tracks for the rest of our childhood. The only thing that changed was the fact when we came to Mr. Easter’s place we would move to the shoulder of the tracks until we passed.

When we had grown older, we still had the story fresh in our minds. One day we decided to check out the burned place. It was the middle of November, cold and snowy. When we reached Mr. Easters’ place the snow had covered up the tracks except for the place where Mr. Easter died. The outline of the body was there very clear. The dark charred cross-ties against the white snow will always be in my mind. The three of us smelled smoke. Woodsmoke. We all touched it, again it was hot. Scared and shaken we walked swiftly back toward home. After we reached the middle of the bend before the trestle, one of my friends looked back and stopped dead in his tracks. He said look! We all turned around. There at the place (as we call it) stood a man. He was pale, but never the less a man. He was wearing bank clothes (miners’ work clothes) and from his mouth hung a long crookneck pipe. He half waved to us and he was gone.

A few weeks later (when we could all finally discuss what happened), we talked to a few people about Mr. Easter. We were told the same story repeatedly of how he died. We were also told that he was buried in the graveyard on the hill atop the slate dump, behind what is now Cranberry Woods Apartments. We of course made the long trek up the slate dump weeks later to see his grave. Now in January with light snow on the ground, there was Mr. Easters grave the headstone dry with no snow covering it. The grave its self had no snow on the ground. We could not believe it. The other graves were snow-covered, but not Mr. Easters.

We were told by a Biology teacher from Woodrow Wilson High School, who came with us a few days later to check the grave out, that there were many different scientific reasons why the snow melts on a grave. He however had no explanation why Mr. Easter’s grave was the only one that this happened to. Now the years have passed on, but Mr. Easter still remains on my mind.

The train tracks in Cranberry were taken up a few years ago to make way for the ill-fated rails to trails project. When I heard the tracks were coming up I once more went to “the place” and felt the warmth of the cross ties, but this time I took two loose railroad spikes that were right beside the burn marks. After the tracks were taken away, it was reported that the gravel in the same exact place was blackened. I checked. It is. It also is hot just as the cross-ties were. Many walking the tracks at night now see Mr. Easter. The fire still burns at the same time in the morning. The cross-ties that were taken up sat in the number two holler for a long time, and it was witnessed that a man was seen setting on them at night.

As for the Railroad spikes, I still have them. They rest on a shelf in the living room. I have had friends and family pick up the spikes and in pure disbelief realize that they are hot. We even put them in the freezer one day, two hours later they were just as hot as ever.

I last visited Mr. Easters place two weeks ago when I was on vacation back in West Virginia. The gravel is still hot, and the outline of Mr. Easter’s body is still there. If you are in Cranberry sometime, check it out. Mr. Easter will not hurt you.

My Aunt and Uncle used to have an old house in Clay County, West Virginia. During the summer, my sister and I would sometimes spend weekends, and even weeks there with them and their four children. Their house was what you could call “cut-off” from everyone. The driveway was a rutted, mile-long, dirt road. It was stuck in the middle of nowhere, and we absolutely loved it. As children, there were adventures to be had around every corner, and we did not waste a minute of daylight. Let me stress DAYLIGHT!

You see, there was a ghost that haunted their porch. I do not know why it was just the porch, but it was there. As far as I know, nobody ever saw it in its true form, but we all heard it. When night had fallen, and the Whippoorwills sang, you could hear old Gumboots tromping cross the porch. The footsteps never tried to make it past the doorway. They just walked, and stomped cross the porch.

Now, that would not scare me really, but then, I was only 10 years old, and it terrified me! Especially since my Aunt and Uncle’s bathroom was an outhouse. If I had to go after dark, I just held it! There was no possible way I was walking outside with Gumboots there!

The only time that I know of that Gumboots may have come off the porch was once when my cousins were playing hide-and-seek outside after dark. One of my cousins was hiding, and she heard someone walk up behind her. She turned around, ready to admit defeat, but no one was there. I can laugh about it now, but had that happened to me back then, I definitely would have needed that outhouse REAL bad!

My brother-in-law told me this story, and he stands to it that it is true. He was deer hunting one day behind his home. He was walking down a path to position himself deeper in the woods, when he saw what he described as something staggering back and forth.

It looked like a corpse, something that just crawled out of a grave. He started to fire a shot at it to try to scare it away, when all of the sudden he spotted a buck standing on the hill. He shot at the buck and it jumped out in front of him. It was heading straight for this thing.

When the buck got right up on it jumped over the hill, my brother-in-law took one more look to see if the dead man was still there, and the dead man was still staggering back and forth. He got out of there, and went home. He said he hopes he never sees anything like that again.