The Place Not Called Home

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The Place Not Called Home
Empty hoppers heading west through Rowlesburg / rowlesburgguide.com

This story was told to me one night, I didn’t believe it until I saw it. The town of Rowlesburg was created during the Civil War. It was a great valley along the river that was created by the railroad. The mountains around it created a great place for the soldiers to hide. This story starts in the 1800’s, I was never told the date.

A young couple was placed in an arranged marriage, the husband could not be happier. A young bride who was vary beautiful, a great job and any thing a man could want. The wife though was vary unhappy, she did not love this man. The man she loved was a blacksmith but the blacksmith and her dad did not get along, so they had been forbidden to merry.

The night before the wedding the young woman and man were heading to the town where they were going to be married. They had caught a late night train, as the train went through, the woman just kept looking out the window not talking or anything. The man asked what was wrong, she told him. This ensued an argument where the man hit the women. The women ran out of the car they were in and into the place between the two cars. The women then jumped and landed on the ground right before the man caught her arm. She made it and ran, she ran to a house that was next to the train tracks. Pounding on the door she found no one was there but found the door unlocked.

She ran inside and ran up the stairs trying to hide. When she thought she found a spot she just stayed there, she calmed down. Hearing nothing, she stood up and walked out into the hall. Then she heard footsteps. They came closer, and then silence. She just stood there being able to see nothing in the dark. She decided to find a light switch as she felt around the wall she found it. When she turned it on there was her fiance head cut off. He was carrying an iron pan from the kitchen, then it came down on her head with a heavy thud.

The next morning the two bodies were found. She was found in the house, her head was smashed with a heavy object. Her fiance was found by the train tracks, it looked like he had jumped from the train and got stuck under the rails.

Now every foggy night around the anniversary of their deaths you can hear a train that comes down the tracks. As the train comes to the bend where they jumped you can see the ghostly figure of a young women jumping off the ghost train followed by a man. The women stands up and runs across the street and into the house. You never see the figure of the man stand back up.

If you stand there long enough some say you can hear the agonizing cry of the man as he’s carried under the train.

The next part is in the house, the young woman’s sprit has seemed to never die. She still roams the halls of the old house, her favorite spot is the room where she had hid. They say she stays in the room just setting on the bed, crying.

I never believed it until I spent the night there. The young girls that I was staying with had gotten the key to the room (they kept the room locked, I never figured out why).

We were playing truth or dare when I took a dare. I had to go into the room and stay in there for five minuets. I took it and went in.

The room had been dressed all in red. I went over to the bed and set down, then I heard it. The crying, it grew louder and louder. Until I knew someone was behind me. I turned around and saw her. She was staring at me.

The ghostly female then screamed at me, “LOOK WHAT HE DID TO MY FACE, I JUST WANT TO GO HOME!”

Then she was gone. Scared to death I ran to the door trying to get out. The girls then let me out and laughed at me, except for one whom saw it one time before. I explained what I had seen and she backed my stories. I have never been back in that room and plan to never go back.

Stories are personal encounters that were submitted to us by our website visitors. Unless otherwise mentioned, stock photos are used to help represent the story and are not actual photographs that were taken during the author's encounter.

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