The Griffin Ghost

Set in the 1800's, a small town is the scene of a big secret.

 

After about half a mile, I pulled on Gunner’s reins and slowed his pace a bit. We still had a little ways to go and I didn’t want him getting tuckered out before we reached Farmington. As twilight began to set in, I couldn’t help thinking about the legend of the Griffin house. I had only heard bits and pieces of the tale from my friend, Horace Johnson, who was a native of the town. Was the story of the headless figure in the upstairs window just a yarn spun by bored housewives? Was there really a Johnny Griffin or was that just a name conjured up by people with nothing better to do? I guess I would find out soon enough; Horace had made arrangements for me to lodge at the Griffin house for a night or two. The sun was now behind the horizon and the moon was big and full. Some say the moon is made up of cheese, but I think those who believe that are just hungry for answers… and cheese. 

We were now passing Chestnut Ridge, a small grouping of little log cabins. The residents of these houses considered themselves a township but the truth was they had no general store, no post office, no town hall, but they did have a small church. I knew when I passed by the Chestnut Ridge church, I had not far to go until I reached Farmington. The Griffin house was actually south of town on a dirt road. The country highway had a name but everyone just called it Fredericktown Road because that was the way to get to Fredericktown some fifteen miles south. 

By the time I reached the crossroads of the Plank Road and the Fredericktown Road, the sun had set and the moon was high in the sky and glowing bright. To head straight would take me through the town of Farmington. I planned on inquiring about the Griffin house there after a restful night’s sleep. I made Gunner take a left at the intersection and we headed south on the Fredericktown Road bound for the Griffin house. I could tell we were no longer on the Plank Road. Instead of firm boards underneath Gunner’s hooves, there was soft dirt. As we headed south, I could see the moon full and bright casting long, enchanting shadows contrasted heavily by the bright pale moonlight. 

Gunner and I had to cross a slightly swollen creek before reaching our destination. There was no bridge so we would have to ford it, something Gunner was accustomed to but disliked very much. When we reached the bank, I pulled on the reigns to find a good spot to ford. As I scanned for a shallow spot, I noticed two giant paw prints in the soft mud. They appeared to be that of a very large dog. A chill ran up my spine as I steadied myself in the saddle. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, then calmly but firmly directed Gunner across without incident. 

According to my map, there was only one major landmark between me and my destination. A small schoolhouse off to the side of the road which was usually full of rambunctious children, but at this time of day, all was quiet. It was only a small one room building with one window on each wall, painted white with red shutters and a red door. I believe the proper word to describe it was quaint. As I rounded the bend after the school, I began to hear faint running water and caught an occasional whiff of burning wood. I kicked my spurs one last time before the Griffin house entered my sight. Oh what relief, what joy to see this house. I was so weary, both physically and mentally from my ride.

The house set back off the road, making quite a large front yard. Backed up to a large wooded area, its position in the yard only left only three sides of the house exposed. The house itself was a two story colonial style, complete with shutters and a brick cimney on either side of the house. At first glance, it was quite impressive but as one examined the house closer, it was not hard to see it was in a state of disrepair. It looked tired and worn. Shingles were missing from the roof, the white paint was cracked and in spots the paint had fallen off leaving the wood exposed. As Gunner and I approached the house, I noticed there was a light on in a downstairs window. I could only speculate on which room the light was permeating since I had never been to this house nor met the Griffin family. I just hoped they wouldn’t be too cross with my late arrival. I dismounted, tied Gunner to the post, thanked him for his efforts for the day, and walked up to the door. 

As I raised my hand to knock on the door, it opened and there stood an older woman, about a head shorter than me, hunched over wearing a kerchief wrapped around her head and wearing a shawl though it was late summer. “You must be Horace’s friend,” said the woman with a very thick Irish accent. “Come in. I’ll show you to your room.” I followed my host up the stairs and she stopped in front of the first door on the right. I apologized for my tardiness. With a smile, she said, ”Think nothing of it. Here is your room.” As she turned the knob and thrust open the heavy wooden door, the hinges gave out a slight but somewhat eerie moan.  “I’m sure you’re exhausted. Alright, off to bed with ya!” the woman called out as she descended the stairs. 

The room was small and simple. There was a chest of drawers, a somewhat small sized bed,  and across the room from the door and bed was a window that overlooked the front of the house and the road. Without hesitation, I shed my bags and readied myself for a restful night’s sleep. I had all but fallen asleep when I heard what sounded like a knock from the far corner of the room followed by what sounded like a small child's laugh. Seeing as the house was older and in a slight state of disrepair, I knew creaks and bumps were bound to happen, but the laughter threw me for a loop. I was too tired to think any more of it though, so I laid my head on the pillow and sleep came quickly.

I was resting comfortably when suddenly I was jarred awake by the sound of shattering glass. I sat up with a start and looked around the room. The only light was from the moon. Pale light shone through a perfectly intact window, casting dark shadows into the corners of the room. I couldn’t believe what I saw. I had heard shattering glass so close to me I could almost feel the shards hitting my blankets. Did I dream the sound? I laid back down and pulled the blankets a little higher over my face than they were before. I had only started to nod off when I thought I heard the same laugh I heard earlier in the corner of the room. I threw the covers over my head and curled up in a ball and that’s how I stayed until the morning.

I had apparently dozed off at some point because the next thing I remember there was a knock on the door. “Breakfast is ready” called the voice from the hallway. I managed to rouse myself out of bed and after putting on a fresh set of clothes, walked downstairs to the kitchen table where the hunched lady was already sitting. We made polite conversation over burnt toast and runny eggs. Obviously Mrs. Griffin was not a gormet chef. I asked her if Mr. Griffin would be joining us but she said that he had passed two years ago. When I inquired about the sounds I heard the night before, the woman said in a very dry tone, “Don’t what you’re talking about,” while she fiddled with her food with her fork.

“Oh come now. You have to have heard the..."

“I ain’t heard nothin‘!!” the woman interrupted as she slammed her fist on the table. I decided I’d better let the subject go for now, but there was no doubt in my mind that Mrs. Griffin was hiding something. Besides I was curious to see what the townsfolk had to say about the whole situation. I could ask the them about the Griffin house and family. I gathered my things and headed out the door. I climbed atop Gunner and we set off. The morning was foggy as the sun had not yet fully risen. Once the sun showed itself though, the fog quickly dissipated. When Gunner and I reached the intersection of Fredericktown Road and the Plank Road, we took a left and headed for the general store located on the south side of the town square owned by Mr. Peers. 

As Gunner and I strode through the center of town, I took in my new surroundings. I first passed the Long Tannery which was bustling with business. Next we passed the post office and town hall. All of the buildings were simple but unique buildings. They were simple log buildings with shutters for the windows that changed colors for different events or holidays. The town of Farmington had less than a thousand residents, although the numbers were on the rise. Lead and copper had been found in the surrounding areas which was bringing more and more people from different walks of life to the area trying to strike it rich.

When we arrived at the general store, I dismounted and tied Gunner to the post then walked inside. To my immediate left was a counter that ran half the length of the room. The wall had shelves stuffed with amenities in tins and packaging in every conceivable size, shape, and color from floor to ceiling. The shelves ran the entire length of the wall. To my right were stacks of burlap sacks full of rice and flour and barrels open at the top containing different herbs, spices, and grains. 

The man behind the counter was Mr. Peers. He was stout and barrel-chested, and had no problem moving a barrel of sorghum when needed. His most notable feature was a scar on his right cheek that cut a streak in his dark beard like a bolt of lightning in the dead of night. His eyes were dark brown and topped by two wild and bushy brows. His brows were complimented by a mustache just as wild and thick. He was jovial in nature and was always the first to initiate conversation. He greeted me with a firm and robust handshake. His fluffy brows danced atop his eyes as he introduced himself. "I'm Peers, and this is my imporium. What can I help ya with today?" I told him I was in need of a new comb. Mine had been broken on the trip to town.

"Haven't seen you around here before. New to town, or just passing through?" Mr. Peers asked.

"Oh, just passing through. I stayed at the Griffin house last night." I replied.

 Without even mentioning the strange goings on or Mrs. Griffin's strange reaction to my inquiry, the man’s eye brows furrowed obscuring his eyes, and stayed there for a while. Then his mustache began to sway from side to side much like the pendulum of a clock. After a long moment of thought, he drew a deep breath, leaned across the counter and said in a low rumbling voice, “Those folks mean well but they… they live so far out of town for a reason, y‘know? They used to be the hosts of some of the most wild get togethers but after that kid got killed, they just wasn’t the same.”

When I asked Mr. Peers about the strange sounds I had experienced, he seemed hesitant about giving me too many details. I did not want to agitate the man with my constant probing so I refrained from asking any more questions. I thanked him and wished him good day. Having been all over the map on my travels from town to town, you learn quickly where to get the good gossip in little towns such as this. One must go to where inhibitions are low and people are eager to tell a story. Yes, I headed toward the town saloon.

Located only a block west of the square, I walked over to the saloon. It was part of a long building housing multiple businesses. The left side of the store was the outer wall of the building. C Street ran along side of the store and on the right was the barber shop with second story apartments. When I opened the door to the saloon, I was immediately greeted with thick clouds of cigar smoke that hung in the still air of the tavern. I walked up and sat down at the bar as I took in my surroundings. There were a couple of men at the far end of the bar but were not distracted by my approach. The bartender noticed me and came over.

“What’ll  ya have?” asked the bearded man.

“Whiskey."

"In town for business or pleasure?" asked the barkeep as he poured me a drink.

"Business. Came into town late last night. Boarded at the Griffin place. Has anyone ever seen or heard anything peculiar there?"

“Who’s askin?” asked the bartender in a firm tone of voice. I explained that I tried to ask Mrs. Griffin about it but she refused to talk about it. He leaned over the counter so his face was right next to mine. “Let me give you a little advise,” the man said with a stern look in is eye, “if you wish to not draw attention to yourself, I’d keep all that Griffin family business under your hat. Now... how about that whiskey?”

“I’ll tell you what you want to know!” A voice from the other side of the bar rang out. With that, one of the two men from the opposite side of the bar stood up and approached. He was tall and lanky. His clothes were tattered and dirty. His hair was stringy and blonde. The man's face was weather worn with deep wrinkles. As he sat down next to me, the stranger leaned heavily on the bar, obviously intoxicated. I could smell the whiskey on his breath. I wasn’t sure how reliable his information would be but I figured it would be worth a listen. As the man sat back up, he began to tell me what he knew about the Griffin place.

“I reckon it was more than a few years back when all the rumors begun. The Griffins was havin’ one of their barn dances and everyone was havin’ a good ole time when Catherine McDaniel, daughter of one of the preachers in town, came runnin’ in screamin’ that someone had just killed Johnny Griffin. A group of men went outside to see what had happened and there was Johnny’s headless body... just lyin’ behind the house between two bales of hay. 

“Did the girl know the perpetrator or see what happened?” I asked.

“Naw,” said the man. “She found him like that. Men with torches and pitchforks scoured the area all the way down to the creek but didn’t come up with nothin’… most likely he used the creek to get away. Couldn’t even find poor Johnny’s head. Some say it was a drifter that done it, others say it was a jilted lover mixed up in some love triangle.”

“What do you think it was?” I asked curiously.

 I then explained that I had stayed one night at the Griffin house and was spending another night there. The man’s face turned pale as a ghost. “Ya better be careful,” he warned. “I heard that Johnny’s spirit don’t like strangers. Last visitor to stay at the Griffin house wound up dead. I think his name was Johnson.”

“Horace Johnson?” I asked.

“That’s it! They found him in the crick not a week ago.”

 

I couldn’t wrap my head around the news I was just given. Why hadn’t Mrs. Griffin mentioned the news when I arrived the night before? But the man kept talking. If you hear knock or see a little girl in a white dress, you better high tail it outta there!”

“Little girl in a white dress?” I asked. This was a new detail to the story. “I hadn’t heard about the girl. Is she related to the Griffins?”

Some say it’s Johnny's little girl, Sarah. She was so tore up over Johnny gettin' killed, she run off into the woods and nobody every seen her again. Search party looked for days but come up with nothin'. That’s all I know and if anyone asks, you didn’t hear it from me.” That wouldn’t be a problem considering I didn’t even get the drunk’s name. I thanked him for his information and offered to pay for the next round. 

After my conversation with saloon patron and a glass of liquid courage, I decided to go back to Mr. Peers armed with this new intel. As I walked through the door, Mr. Peers immediately recognized me and approached. "Is the comb not to your satisfaction? he joked.

"No no, the comb is fine. I returned because I had just heard some rumors and you seem like you would be able to confirm or dispel them."

"Rumors? Mr. Peers brow was furrowed, his thick brows once again obscuring his eyes."Look mister, I'm not one to gossip... but I am a bit curious as to what information you have attained."

"I heard some rumors about the Griffins." I said in a low voice. I thought maybe I would get more information if I showed a bit of discretion.

Mr. Peers leaned across the counter and whispered, "What did ya hear?" I started to share with him the story the tavern patron shared with me. Before I could even finish, he cut me off by saying, "That's enough. I don't want to hear anymore... but I will tell you you're on the right track." He then bade me a good afternoon and with that, walked to the other end of the counter to tend to other customers.

At this point, I began to notice that this whole incident was very hush-hush. There was definitely something to this. As Gunner and I headed back through town, I noticed the clouds building overhead. The last thing I wanted was to get caught in the rain. We were back on the Fredericktown Road almost to Wolf Creek when it began to drizzle. By the time we reached the house, it was pouring cats and dogs. 

When I walked in the house, Mrs. Griffin had started a nice fire in the fireplace. I went upstairs to change out of my waterlogged clothes and put on some fresh, dry garments. I brought the dripping clothes downstairs and laid them out in front of the fire to dry. There was a separate fireplace in what passed for a kitchen and I could smell something cooking. I found Mrs. Griffin toiling over a pot hanging over the fire. She told me supper would be ready shortly so I sat down at the table and waited patiently. I did not mention to her what I had learned in the saloon earlier in the day.

After supper, I again tried to get Mrs. Griffin to open up about what had happened here and wanted to know what had happened to Horace. It was all to no avail. I realized my efforts were not achieving anything so I retired to the upstairs bedroom and read a book by candle light. Sleep eventually came and for a while, it was quite restful. But then began a dream, or should I say nightmare I will not soon forget. I dreamt I was sitting with Mrs. Griffin in front of the fireplace. The fire was dying so I volunteered to go to the cellar for more firewood since the supply upstairs was beginning to dwindle. I lit my lantern and walked outside to the root cellar. I walked  down the steps and turned the doorknob. What I saw down there when I opened the cellar door chilled me to my core. I saw a young girl, maybe the age of 5 or 6 hiding behind a stack of barrels. She was almost translucent and seemed to be glowing in appearance. She had a white dress on with frills and the skirt reached the floor. As she peeked out from behind the barrels, she said softly, “Help me.” Then, with unnatural speed, the girl shot across the room at such a high rate a speed that she seemed like a blur. I dropped my lamp in horror and disbelief. The shadows danced on the walls from the flame of my lamp as girl pleaded again but louder and with more force this time, “Help me.” I turned around to make a hasty exit but blocking my path not two feet from me at eye level was the girl! I noticed her face was pale as snow and there was nothing but skin where her eyes should have been. Her face had a rippling effect much like when you look at your reflection in the water. I let out a shriek of terror which made the girl  scream in a demonic voice, “HELP ME!” With that, her face contorted and her jaw seemed to unhinge as she let out a howl only demons can conjure up. I ran as fast as I could up the stairs of the cellar and slammed the door closed.

That’s when I was startled awake by the sound of shattering glass. I sat up and noticed I was covered in perspiration. It was still raining quite hard outside and every now and then a flash of lightning would illuminate the room followed by a clap of thunder. I took a moment to gather my thoughts and calm myself down enough to go back to sleep. Just as my head hit the pillow, a flash of lightning came through the window and standing in the middle of the room not five feet away from me was the figure of a man… without a head! I screamed as I jumped out of bed. I tried to run for the door but my feet became tangled in my blanket and I fell to the floor. Another flash of lightning filled the room and I could see the apparition directly above me! I Jumped to my feet and ran out of the room and down the stairs, but waiting for me at the bottom was the little girl in the white dress from my dream. As soon as I saw her, she screamed in the same demonic voice, "HELP ME!" This couldn't be real! I felt like I was going mad.

I was frozen with fear on the steps. As I tried to formulate a plan, from the bottom of the stairs I heard in a soft voice, "Help me. Please. Help me." I took a deep breath and at the top of my lungs, screamed with all my might as I ran as fast as I could down the stairs and braced for impact with the girl. But the only resistance I encountered was a patch of cold air where the little girl stood. As I was frantically trying to untie Gunner, I began to hear the sound of heavy footsteps from inside the house approaching me. Then the footsteps sounded like they were on the  deck not far from where Gunner was hitched. Finally I got Gunner free and as soon as I was in the saddle, he took off at a speed I had never seen before. 

We sped down the road but we were about a mile away from the house before I realized we had headed in the wrong direction. Looking behind me, I saw that we hadn't been followed by whatever had chased us from the house. I pulled Gunner's reigns to slow his pace. Unfamiliar with my surroundings, I looked around as we slowly went down the road. We were in the middle of the woods with not another soul in sight. The sky was overcast which prevented the moonlight to aid in our trip. I didn't know where we were going, I just knew we would eventually reach Fredericktown if we kept this trajectory.

Not far down the road, something caught my eye. Off in the woods I saw a faint light, the source of which was unknown. As I debated whether or not to persue this mystery light, I heard a familiar sound. From the woods, I heard the voice of a little girl say, "help me." A chill ran up my spine. Had the little girl followed us all along?

I quickened Gunner's pace a bit to try to get some distance between us and the strange light, but it seemed that the light was keeping up with us. As we turned the bend, Gunner stopped in his tracks. I couldn't believe my eyes. Standing motionless in the middle of the road was the little girl from the Griffin house! She beckoned for me to follow her and for some reason, I did. I dismounted Gunner and followed the glowing apparition off the road and through the thick trees towards the light I had been trying to get away from.

Soon, the trees cleared and I stood in front of a large pond. The surface looked like a sheet of glass with just a hint of fog on top of the water. Above the water, suspended in mid-air, was a floating orb of light which grew brighter and brighter until it was unbearable to look at. Then, as quick as it appeared, the light was gone. That's when I saw the now all-too-familiar specter of the girl.

She was standing on the bank of the pond with her arm outstretched as if she was pointing at something. "There," she said as she gestured to the water. What was she trying to tell me?

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"There," the spirit repeated. I looked where she was pointing and all I saw was the placid surface of the pond. I stepped closer to the pond and tried to see what she was pointing at but it was too dark to make anything out.  Then, the water began bubbling and roiling by some unseen force. I backed up slowly, terrified at what I was seeing. An ear-splitting scream rose from the water which made me run back from where I had come. I needed to get away as fast as I could. I found my way back to Gunner, mounted him, and we took off as fast as his hooves could take us.