In the beautiful tree-lined neighborhood in the north end of Hagerstown, MD, there stands a home at the crest of the hill on Oak Hill Ave, which many folks had long believed to be haunted.
For many years the Colonial Revival style home was occupied by an old woman named Eleanor. Living most of these years essentially as a hermit, many of the neighborhood kids held the fanciful belief that Eleanor was a witch. But the reality is that Elanor was a kindly old woman. Eleanor’s nickname became ‘Witchy-poo’, on account of her long-flowing hair and hunched posture. The kids would try to devise clever reasons to bring Eleanor to the door, so as to get a peek behind her and into the mysterious environs. As the years passed, the myth grew, so did the overgrowth which characterized her neglected back yard. When walking at night through the alley behind the house, the kids would pass by as quickly as possible out of fear of what any bodies, which Eleanor had buried there, might do to them.
Since Eleanor passed away in the early ‘90s, the house has had two owners. The second owners were Clint and his family. During the time that Clint and his family had lived there, there had been a variety of occurrences which led them to believe that their house was indeed haunted. Little things, such as the hot tub being mysteriously switched on or off, toys found in inexplicable places, or clothes, which had been in closets, showing up in different parts of the house.
During the Thanksgiving of 2004, Clint’s wife and kids were away visiting family. So Clint invited me over for some billiards and beer. As we were playing in the basement, I began to see what I would best describe as shadow moths. Immediately I mentioned this to Clint, but just dismissed it was the result of poor lighting. Maybe thirty minutes later, I saw the shadow moths again, but this time there was a bit more ethereal haze accompanying them. Again I told Clint what I saw. As I was walking around the table to take my next shot, a ball that had been at least six inches from the pocket, suddenly rolled into the pocket. Shocked, I turned to Clint and asked him if he’d seen what just happened. He had indeed. Clint simply smiled and shrugged his shoulders, saying, “It’s Eleanor”.
It was easy to connect the shadow moths to the pool ball. For the first time in my life, I had seen a ghost. Prior to that experience, I had been somewhat agnostic toward ghosts; open to the possibility of their existence, but I’d never had proof through experience, nor had I gone out of my way to seek them out. After that night all doubt was removed.
The impression I had then, and still do to this day, is that the spirit was that of a precocious little child. If it is indeed Eleanor, I pray that at some point she will see and go into the light, leaving behind the burden that is her connection to her house.