Things that make you go hmm

[Joey Mack]

I cant post what I really believe.... 

[Joey Mack]

You get it O.D.    thanks 

[GA_Dave]

11 hours ago, tjc transport said:

a friend lives in a 175 year old house. it has had 2 additions over the years, a 20X30 rear portion, and a 30X30 living room/kitchen off the side. there was an uprite piano in the 30X30 section when he bought it. after finishing restoration of the original house lower floor, he moved the piano back into it and it started playing by itself. i told him to stop, pianos dont play with no one near them. 

this went on for a few years. then one day we were in the kitchen, and heard the piano playing went into the old section, and it stopped. but no one was there. he said now you believe me, huh?

this went on for another 3-4 years until there was a fire in the old carriage house. during cleanup we found a headstone of the original owner and builder of the house, who was also a piano player, and that piano was his.. 

apparently he was buried behind the house and when the 20X30 rear addition was added, they moved the stone to the carriage house. 

after doing some research we found the burial details and cleared rite up against the foundation and placed the stone against it, as close to the original grave site as we could. 

the piano never played on its own again.

 

 

When I got hired at the Fire Department in 1986, I was told that Station 2 was "haunted".  There were lots of stories and claims of proof, but I figured that it was just some sort of hazing by the older members.  I never worked there in my first 2-3 years on the job.  The Station was built in the early 1970's on the site of an old house owned by "Mr. Whitlock", who had passed away in the house several years prior.  His longtime next door neighbor, "Miss Rome", was still alive when he died, but only lived a few more years.  Her house was still standing, but vacant since her death.

The stories say events began shortly after the station opened.  When built, it was two bays wide, with offices and a dayroom on the right side and the bunk room, bathroom and kitchen on the left.  Two additions were added, a single truck bay on the far right side in 1982, and a "community" room across the back a short time later.  The back door of the kitchen now opened into a hallway that separated the community room from two bathrooms and the outside door at the end of the hallway.  (The street view photo shows the front of the Station, looking south.  The aerial view shows the Station faces north, with the community room on the south side.  Miss Rome's house was east of the station, centered about the same location as the single tree at the NW corner of the current building.)

The events, as the stories go, were things like knocks at the door, but no one there, lights turning on and off by themselves, compartment doors on the trucks being slammed shut when the building was secured and everyone sitting in the kitchen.  Often, late in the evening, the sound of footsteps going up stairs could be heard along the back wall of the kitchen.  The claim was that it was Mr. Whitlock going up to bed.  Older guys confirmed that there had been stairs there in Mr. Whitlock's house, but they were long gone.  The biggest event occurred around 1980.  A fire call for Engine 2  was received around 2 AM.  As the pumper was ready to roll, they were short one man.  The officer ran back to the bunk room to get him and found him next to his bunk, white as a sheet and shaking like a leaf.  He said that Mr. Whitlock had held him down in his bed, then suddenly disappeared, causing the delay.  Both men ran to the engine and they raced to the scene of a tanker truck on fire.  As they approached, the tanker blew up, destroying everything close by, including where Engine 2 would have been if not for the delay caused by Mr. Whitlock.

These were the stories I heard in my early years there.  I never put much stock in them, assuming they were just stories.  Then I was reassigned to Station 2.  I began to witness many of those  events that I had been told about.  The knocks at the kitchen door, the sound of footsteps going up non-existent stairs in the evening, compartment doors slamming in the middle of the night, lights turning on and off with no one there.  I became a believer in Mr. Whitlock!

Around 1992, Miss Rome's house was falling apart.  The City condemned it and the Fire Department used it for fire training until nothing was left.  We never heard from Mr. Whitlock again.