The house by the woods


In 1809 I went to the northern part of the state with my good friend Franklin to check out an old mansion near Port Smith. I am a somewhat tall man with dark blonde hair, Franklin had brown hair and was extremely tall. I was not a terribly superstitious man, unlike Franklin, something happened, He would say that it was some angry spirit or demon, while I, would find a more logical explanation to describe it. Other than that we were practically brothers. Now as I was saying at this time I was young, only a few years older than Franklin and unmarried and without a home, I had hoped to become a fisherman like my father, but storm destroyed my only boat early in my career and I was left penniless. Fortunately, Franklin was always there for me let me stay at his house, one day he found the house for sale and cheap too. We were on the way to the house when we stopped in the the town to eat. There we had conversation with the owner who lived in the town his whole life.

“Where are you going?” He asked kindly

“Up to that house, the last one, near the woods.” Franklin responded as I had just opened my mouth to speak.

The owner turned as white as paper.

“Is there something wrong?” I asked

“Well..” He paused “It is cursed.”

I noticed Franklin stiffen a little “Cursed?” I repeated.

“Cursed, haunted, it is the same, you see in 1784 a man named Ian Wolfgang built the mansion on what was once a hotel and prison during both the Seven-Years war and Revolution, prisoners and patients were treated rather cruelly and this might be their revenge. Anyway, about three years later he went made, killed his wife and son. When arrested, he said that voices in the walls whispered to him, well they decided to put him in an asylum rather than execute him, he died only a couple years ago still talking about the voices.” He finished just before coughing.

We simply looked at him for a moment and I chuckled in spite of my myself, Franklin, however remained silent.

We left there shortly after that. We arrived at the mansion at about three o’clock that afternoon. After paying we got my things and I settled down before setting up. It was at this moment that I had my first encounter with the ghost. I was sitting on a chair when I heard a crash from upstairs, I decided to investigate it. I took a candle and went up the stairs and once I got there I didn’t see anything. I started looking in the first room when I heard another noise from the next room. I opened the door and saw a shadowy figure with its back turned to me.

“Hello?” I said.



There was no response.



“Who are you?”

It turned to me. It was the most hideous creature I’ve ever saw. It had mangled hair near the forehead, fangs with blood, yellow eyes, pointed ears. That was all I could see for the rest was covered by a hood. I stood there with my mouth open and my eyes wide and I almost dropped the candle. The suddenly it vanished. I quickly ran out of the room. I spent the rest of the day downstairs trying to reassure myself that it was nothing. That night I heard the same noise that I heard earlier, but I was so afraid that I just squeezed my eyes shut and hoped that it would go away, and it did.

The next day I got Franklin to come over and he did. When I told him about what happened I tried to dismiss it but Franklin talked on and on about getting rid of it. I endeavored to ignore him and the incident but couldn’t. I showed him the room where I saw the spirit. We saw nothing, but shortly after we heard the noise that I heard the previous night. Franklin raced down the stairs while I walked down slowly, my heart pounding in my chest so hard that I could hear it as clearly as my footsteps and I had dread filling up to the point where it reached the very top of my head and having Franklin there with me was little comfort. When I got to the bottom I saw Franklin standing there his mouth agape. When I turned I saw the thing I saw last night.

The back of its hair was pulled back in mangled ponytail, its yellow stared right back at us, it was dressed in mangled eighteenth-century clothing and the mouth went from a sneer to a snarl.

“Get out!” It hissed. “Now!”

Franklin eyes were as wide as mine as a horrified moan somehow managed to escape from his gaping mouth. I simply stood there, too horrified to speak.

“Get out of my house!!” It roared again.



That was enough, we both bolted out of that place without another moment's hesitation and left the town. One of the last things I saw was the restaurant owner, his face grim and sympathetic.

Well, that is my story I don’t expect you to believe it, sometimes I don’t either, it was over fifty years ago. Other than that, I’ve had no encounters with ghosts or demons. I am old now, as you could probably guess, Franklin died long ago. I married and had children and am amazingly in good health and call me crazy but I live in Port Smith. Though I heard that someone is moving into that house, not superstitious like I was, and like me didn’t listen, I pity him, and I wonder, how long will he last?