It was a very boring night for me, my boyfriend, my two best friends and my niece. We were all sitting around my house with nothing to do, and some how got on the subject of ghosts.

My niece’s friend had relatives who lived on Wolf Pen Drive in Sissonville WV and had had many problems with the ghost of a small child. A mischievous little girl who locked and unlocked all the neighborhood cars was frequently spotted walking down the road, in early 1800’s dress.

I had heard similar stories from a friend who had lived in the area, she told of a large spooky Victorian house, that supposedly a little girl lived there and was run over by a wagon, her distraught parents never had any more children, and that the house was still standing. A graveyard was up above on a hill, and once while walking to school, a coffin had somehow washed up in the road!

Now hearing all this, we decided to find the house, go inside and check it out! We all headed up to the area, found this huge, creepy and once burned carcass of a house. My niece (this was her big idea, remember), chickened out and stayed in the car with another friend. My best friend, my boyfriend and I armed with one flashlight (no one was getting that away from me!) entered through the back into a kitchen area. There were signs of a fire and a box of fairly recent clothes on the floor. The floorboards were rotten, so very carefully we crept upstairs. All the while my friends were screaming at me because I was basically running with the flashlight (I am no chicken, but I wanted this over with ASAP!) We came to the main bedroom. Odd thing, still had gas lights? And no sign of electricity whatsoever.. weird! Anyway, the walls were painted blood red… and tons of Satanic graffiti. This was very, very creepy!

I think we all pretty much wanted to get out of there when we heard a very large thump downstairs! I don’t even remember running down those rotten stairs, but once outside we considered either going back in to investigate, or going to the cellar… then again… THUMP! We kinda gave up those ideas, real fast, returned to the car and drove back home sharing our adventure with the chickens in the car.

Later on, I talked to my friend who grew up in the area, and we came to find out that a small group of Satan worshiping people hung out in there. They even made the local news with animal sacrifices, and even went so far as to try to raise a friend killed recently from the dead. He had been killed during the Charleston Sternwheel Regatta after he fell through the Southside Bridge. This was one creepy place, and yes we heard and felt an odd presence… maybe just negative energy from those Satanists, but I have not been back, and have heard someone finally burned the place down, after a few unsuccessful attempts! I for one do not plan to ever go back to the area, but I also hear the graveyard on the hill is a nice spot for hauntings as well.

In the old house on Tuppers Creek road in Sissionsville, West Virginia deep in the holler where grandma raised her children, many unusual things occurred.

One story of unusual activity took place one brisk October morning while grandma and grandpa
were stacking firewood in the shed preparing for the coming winter, the winters could be brutal in 1920’s West Virginia, Grandma always made sure she had canned plenty of food for the winter as well. Grandpa was nearly done stacking the wood when suddenly they heard a loud disturbance in the house, rustling and what sounded like a mad dog growling and snarling and knocking over furniture.

The noise was so loud it could be heard clearly in the wood shed some twenty yards from the house. Fearing for the safety of my infant father who was sleeping in his crib, my grandpa grabbed a pitchfork and started running toward the house.

The noise seemed to get louder and the commotion more intense the closer grandpa got to the house. Not knowing what to expect grandpa finally reached the back porch and dashed up the steps and pushed open the door with the extended pitchfork… only to find complete silence?

Grandma soon reached the house as well and quickly went to the bedroom to find the baby sleeping peacefully in his crib, having never even been awakened by the commotion. Grandma and grandpa thoroughly searched the house but found nothing out of place not so much as a crooked picture on the wall, no evidence that anything or anybody had been in the house.

For grandma and grandpa it was just another unexplainable event at that old house way back in the holler, it wasn’t the first one and certainly would not be the last.

It was not a day for paranormal occurrences. The summer day was so bright and beautiful that I had felt the need to spend most of it outside in the swimming pool. Being sixteen and having the summer all for myself was wonderful. Especially when I was home alone.

After coming inside and fixing something to eat, I sat down on the couch and tuned on the TV. My little dog Gimli, a dachshund mix, was sound asleep beside of me. Suddenly Gimli bolted upright and ran to the bottom of the stairs, which led up to the second level of the house, and began barking and growling furiously. I recall how shocked I felt at such unusual behavior from her and I told her twice to “Be quiet!” and “Stop that!”

Then I heard it.

What sounded like a woman in high heels started from the very back of the upstairs, walking through the hall, then into my parents bedroom which was over the living room and back out into the hallway. To my shock, “she” then began making her way down the stairs.

By this point, I was on my feet and staring curiously at the steps and Gimli who was still carrying on like mad. I watched and listened as this high-heeled phantom, walked down the steps. Finally, when “she” reached the middle I managed to say, “Who’s there?” The sounds abruptly ceased.

I was not the only one to hear the high-heeled phantom that summer. My sister Jacque was home with me another day and she heard it as well. I heard it several more times that summer and it continued into the fall but was never heard after that.

I was seven years old and living in Mingo County, West Virginia, in a small community called Chattaroy. My father, uncle and my four brothers were on our front porch at dusk and beginning of dark. We were laughing, talking, and swinging, when we heard a noise coming from the creek in front of our house.

We lived in an old mining camp area and the road in front of our house was an old railroad track. The track had long since gone, but the bridge was still there and being used for automobile traffic. The bridge was directly in front of our house.

The noise sounded like someone walking in the creek with boots on or with a high step. That was not uncommon in our area, as the kids often walked the creek to catch minnows to go fishing. Therefore, at first we did not pay much attention. However, as time passed the sound became louder so we all turned to see who was walking the creek at this time of day. We could hear the sound and it was almost upon us. As the sound got louder, we saw a figure walking in the creek, but at first, we could not see who it was. Then the person was clear, we could see clearly that the person was wearing a suit and a white shirt with a high collar. The problem was he had no head. At first, my dad thought it was a joke, so he shouted at the figure and we all started walking toward the creek. Actually, we ran toward the creek. My brothers who were all older than me, wanted to get to the guy to see what he was doing.

When we got to the creek, the guy was passing by in front of us and we could see clearly that he was about 6 foot tall and no head. We looked at each other and just stared at the guy. My dad was silent, and my uncle ran to the bridge to see what the guy looked like when he came out from under the bridge. We all ran to the bridge to look down on the guy. We waited and waited, but he did not come out from under the bridge. One of my brothers ran back to see if he had stopped underneath, but there was no one there. While my uncle and dad stayed on one side of the bridge, we all went to go through to make sure the guy was not hiding. He wasn’t.

We were all shaken and somewhat scared. My dad had to keep telling me it was OK and he could explain what had happened. He told my brothers and me that when the train still ran up the hollow, a guy was going to his wedding and was walking down the track, when he fell and his head was taken off by a train. This accident had occurred on the bridge in front of my house. They had said that if the guy had walked down the creek he would have still been alive.

From that point on, we never looked when we heard noises coming from the creek. In fact, we all went inside and made a point of not looking. To this day, the bridge is believed to be haunted and the guy is still walking under the bridge.

The prison was built on the edge of Moundsville in 1866, just three years after West Virginia was admitted to the Union. Within a short time, it was surrounded by the town and the tall stone walls created the illusion that a Gothic fortress loomed above the city. The prison remained open for 129 years, finally closing down in 1995. During that time, the structure housed thousands of prisoners. Many lost their lives here, through both state sanctioned executions and during prison violence.

Legends of the area have it that the original prison buildings were constructed on the site of an early Native American burial ground. As other such locations have certainly provided more than their share of supernatural events, it’s possible that at least some of the reported encounters in the old prison spring from the destroyed burial mound that once stood here.

The prison, which covers more than 20 acres of ground, was originally built using convict labor to house the worst criminals in the state. In addition to the Warden’s Office and residence, the complex had building to house inmates, an Administrations Office, Visitor’s Reception areas, Dining Hall, Chapel, Mail and Laundry rooms, Boiler House, Central Receiving Building, Execution Chamber and the “Hole”, a solitary confinement and punishment area for prisoners who caused problems or committed offenses against other inmates or officials. Two other sections were the “North Hall”, where the most dangerous inmates were housed in solitary cells for 22 hours each day and “Rat Row”, an area of 32 cells that were set aside for informants and witnesses under house arrest.

Located along the north side of the prison was the North Wagon gate, a narrow building that temporarily housed both men and women prisoners at one time wooden trap doors on the second floor were used for hangings in the early days, before the electric chair was put into use. One of the chambers in the prison still houses “Old Sparky”, the prison’s electric chair. Originally, all executions were held in the Death House, a separate building that was located in the north recreation yard. It was removed in 1965 when West Virginia banned public executions.

Just inside of the main entrance on the first floor is a unique addition to the prison. Inside of the first room, where prisoners entered and were searched, was a large wheel by which the prisoners were escorted to their cell. A small opening in the hallway allowed the guard to operate the double, circular cage that was installed in 1894. There was a single entrance to the center cage, which was then spun for the front of the hallway to the corridor. This wheel prevented the prisoners from making a break for freedom down the hall and out the main doors. The latter-day stories of the prison (after it closed down) maintain that this wheel occasionally operated by itself… as though the ghosts of the former prisoners are still arriving to serve their time in the building!

Perhaps the most famous inmate to spend time in this penitentiary was Charles Manson, the infamous cult leader who is still imprisoned today for inciting members of his “Family” to commit the “Helter Skelter” murders of the late 1960’s. In the years prior to the closure of the prison, Manson even wrote to the warden on several occasions in hopes of being transferred back here. Apparently, he had relatives living in the area.

The maximum security area was located to the north of the main entrance, and had two levels of cells. The upper row of cells were constructed to hold inmates who were given less time outside. They rarely left the cells and were even forced to eat there. Like the dreaded “Hole”, such solitary conditions often led to suicide.

Death, violence, murder and suicide… each of these can contribute to the haunting of a location, but combine all of them and you have the setting for a truly terrifying spot! At least that is what has been said about the place by those who have investigated the location and who have spent time there after dark. Visitors claim to have experienced the sound of phantom footsteps, voices and noises that have no explanation, inexplicable cold chills, overwhelming feelings of panic and more!

This story was told to me by my father several years ago.In the early 1950’s, my father and uncle had decided to go deer hunting and arranged to spend the night at a co – workers farmhouse, so that they could get an early start the next day. Arriving later that evening, they quickly unpacked their car in the gathering gloom and took their luggage and weapons to their room. Later that evening, they were given a late supper by their hosts and then adjourned with them to the living room for the pleasure of their company and conversation. Some time later, the mistress of the house excused herself and went upstairs to get the children ready for bed. A noisy argument broke out somewhere upstairs and my uncle turned to the farmer and asked him how many children did he have.The farmer replied that he had four children.

The next morning, my father and uncle got dressed before dawn and came down to the kitchen for breakfast. The children were still asleep but the farmer and his wife had gotten up to prepare breakfast for the hunters and see them off. After breakfast, my father was sitting in a chair beside the fireplace, putting his boots on and my uncle was standing behind him near the stairs. A little girl, perhaps five years of age, came down the steps and walked over to warm herself by the fire, alongside my father. She was dressed in a long gray flannel night gown and had her long blond hair in braids. My uncle observed her for several minutes as she stood by silently watching my father put on his boots. She then walked across the room and headed into the kitchen. My father finished with his boots, stood up and began to load the car. My uncle went to help him. After the car was loaded, my father and uncle went back into the house to thank the farmer and his family for their hospitality. By this time the house was awake and the children had come down for breakfast and were seated at the kitchen table. My uncle and father walked into the kitchen to talk with the farmer and as they were leaving my uncle noticed that the Little girl was not seated at the table. He turned to the farmer and asked him where his daughter was. The farmer looked very puzzled at this statement and quickly said that he didn’t have any daughters, only four sons. My uncle jokingly turned to my father and asked him to describe the girl that had stood beside him at the fire place. My father told me that he looked my uncle straight in the eye and told him that he did not have any idea what he was talking about. Neither he, nor my father, or anyone else in the house, had seen the girl and to their knowledge, the sighting was a one time event in that household.

To this day my uncle swears he watched a ghost watch my father put on his boots. My father swears that my uncle was half asleep and dreamed the whole thing…

This is a ghostly story experienced by my cousins. As a child growing up in Dunbar, I always loved visiting my favorite cousins in Kenna, Jackson County. I could hardly wait for the time we spent playing in the woods, riding horses, and all of the things country children get to do… so I was always a bit disappointed when I was not often asked to spend the night.

On one occasion my two cousins and I stayed up until 5:00 in the morning playing barbies, this was unusual, but they insisted we play till daylight. Years later when they moved they finally told me they were afraid I would never come back if I experienced the “ghost”.

My entire family found this hilarious, until further explanation. Things flew off shelves, items just disappeared, and strange noises and smells were frequent. On one occasion, my eldest cousin Lorrie and her friend were sleeping in her bed, and a very large black figure came out of the closet and stood by the bed. Needless to say the friend NEVER spent the night again.

The haunted activity always happened in Lorrie’s bedroom, and after years of this her mother finally shared these events with a neighbor, only to be informed that about two years prior to them moving in, the former owner had indeed committed suicide in what was now Lorrie’s bedroom!

My cousin looked this up, and indeed the woman had shot herself in the head around 3:00 pm one evening, she had baked a batch of brownies, laid them on the kitchen table for her children who would be shortly arriving home from school, then went into her bedroom and killed herself.. Needless to say my cousins sold this house as soon as possible.

I have no more information on this, but I know it is something rarely discussed with them, my cousin has had encounters with dead loved ones and seems to have been given some sort of second sight after these experiences, like they left her with some kind of psychic gifts.. I still wonder about the goings on in the house today, and get a little chill just thinking about it!

Let me say this, I have always believed in ghosts, spirits and the supernatural but had never had the experience of such an encounter other than sensing someone was standing behind me and no one was really there. You know, the standard stuff, which was until earlier this year.

I will start at the beginning. It was mid January 2002 and I was in a hurry to finish a term paper for my Advanced Placement writing class when lucky for me, my printer breaks. My last resort is to head over to my mother’s office, which is located in the old Frederick Hotel in Huntington.

Here’s a bit of history and background that helps explain my story; the Hotel was built in the early 1900s and remained the finest Hotel in the Tri-State until the 1970s when she closed her doors and was converted to an office building. It was a Sunday afternoon and the old hotel was deserted when I was finishing my paper.

Now, I had heard numerous tales of the building being inhabited by several different ghosts and people who occupy the place in the day hear footsteps and unusual noises on a daily basis. However, being the brave person I am, I thought nothing of those stories as I entered the building. Because it was a Sunday, you must have a key to get both in and out of the building, I was basically locked in. I sat down in the grand lobby where my mother works and began typing. The familiar “elevator” music was playing throughout the lobby as I typed and brain stormed. This is the same music that comes from a satellite radio station with no interruptions, not even between songs. I was about my business when all of a sudden, the music STOPPED right in the middle of a song. I thought this was odd, when abruptly I heard a woman’s bloodcurdling scream that pierced the quietness of the entire building. Quickly, the scream had stopped and the music kicked right back on, right where it had left off in the middle of a song. I was so frightened; I was frozen and did not know what to do. Fumbling with my keys, I ran out of the building and called my mother to come pick me up. Unfortunately, I had to go back in and finish my paper.

Since that fateful day, I have had several more encounters with the spirits of the old Frederick Hotel. I was in the bathroom fixing my hair another Sunday not long after the first incident when I heard a person walk by jangling what sounded like keys. I opened the door as soon as I heard and just as I thought, there was no person to be found. Through several sources, I have also learned that a murder/suicide occurred in the hotel several years ago. In addition, a man who used to work at the old hotel and actually lived in the building said he had ghosts who lived in his room and claimed they would argue at night. Now, I am working in the Frederick Building myself and I have been to several areas that most people will never see. I have visited the old ballroom and taken a tour of the unfinished hotel wing, with old hotel rooms and all. I also went up to the supposedly haunted sixth floor which was home to a law firm, but since they moved out, no one will stay on or rent that entire floor. Finally, I went on an excursion to the basement, where the old health club and spas of the hotel were located as with the underground tunnels that used to connect the also haunted Keith Albee Theater with the Frederick Hotel.

I will tell you that every word that I have said is one hundred percent true, why would I waste my time writing this story and testimony if it was not? And one last note, I am still afraid to be in this building alone.

Me, my husband and our 2 young sons moved into a basement house on Brushy Ridge Road in May of 1992. The first couple of weeks were pleasant. After that things got really crazy. My husband was never home when things began happening.

The first time I saw the ghost it was a floating, shapeless, white thing. This went on 4 or more times a day for about 2 weeks. Then the ghost was still floating, shapeless but now it was black. I have seen a lot of ghosts in my life but none like this one. A couple of weeks went by like that.

One morning about 1am, I was up and saw my husband off to work. When I went to my bedroom door I saw an old wrinkled disfigured-face on my bed. There was no body, just that face. It appeared many more times over a period of 4 months. I saw it on a folded blanket, my sofa, the wall, even on a small bag in my bathroom. I truly believe my husband saw it that time. My oldest son who was 7 at the time saw it in the kitchen in the middle of the night but it was a black figure of a man when it appeared to him.

I heard someone walking on my roof every night and never found any footprints. My dog would bark and growl at night and look in a specific direction. I know he saw it too. I always felt someone watching me and following me. It was so creepy. It watched me leave and waited for me to come home.

At last I began seeing headlights and hearing a pick up truck that sounded just like the one we had. This only happened when my husband had the truck away with him. The headlights were only at dusk or dark.

I don’t know how many of you believe in spirit possession but I do. It was happening to me in that horrible basement house. I began getting violent with my husband. I threw things at him, hit him, screamed obscenities and threatened him. I was verbally mean with my 2 sons. The last thing that happened could have been deadly. I grabbed a gun and was going to shoot myself. My husband got it from me and held me down on the bed. I remember screaming at him that I hated him. Over and over I said things. My husband told my grandmother that my eyes turned from blue to black and it was like fire shooting from them. I don’t remember most of the last incident. I blacked out.

We immediately moved back to New Martinsville. But my story doesn’t quite end here. My tormentor followed me. In the new place the ghost appeared as a black man figure. It would be there every night tormenting me. I thought I was going crazy. It would walk back and forth through my trailer at night. The last time the ghost appeared it was behind me. I could feel it there. I just lost it to the point of screaming at it to leave me and my home. It worked. I have had a couple of other experiences but none as bad as that one.

I was delivering the morning newspaper in Cabin Creek, in Ohley Hollow specifically. I am usually out in the very early morning hours, just past midnight.

Okay, now one morning I was going about my business and I pulled in this guys driveway as I had many times before. You have to go across a little bridge and there is no way to turn around so you have to back out. So I delivered the paper and started to back out. I looked in my rear view mirror as I crossed the bridge and I saw a gray mist-like-figure outside my car. It scared the heck out of me! I turned my head to see it, but it wasn’t there. This happened in about two seconds. So for the rest of my route I had a weird feeling.

Anyways, I went for about two weeks before I even told my wife about it, but I finally did. She chuckled a little but I was like “Hey I’m serious!” So she didn’t really say much else about it.

Since that time, whenever I would deliver the paper there, I would turn around and look out my back window while backing out of this driveway, rather than use the mirror. On the same night I told my wife about what I had seen, I was backing out and I heard a big noise at the front of the car. I turned around and my front bumper was ripped half way off. I got out of the car to see what happened. There was no reason at all why this should have happened. There was three feet on either side of the car and nothing else for the bumper to get caught on. And this is a brand new car so the bumper didn’t just fall off. WEIRD!!! Nothing else has ever happened, yet…

About 12 years ago there were these two sisters who loved the outdoors. They were also fascinated with trains and they lived in a little town full of trains, and some nights they would just sit out side and listen to the trains.

One warm night on June 07, 1989, their parents were out at a friends party and the girls decided they would sleep outside. Well one of the girls was awoken by a bright light she got up to follow it and fell in a hole of rocks on the tracks.

Then in the distance she heard a train coming. She screamed for her sister but it was too late the train hit her at full speed. It is believed that on every June 7th, you can hear the girl’s agonizing scream for help.