Bumps In the Night

As of tomorrow it will be October. Since tomorrow starts the official countdown till Halloween I decided to share a bit of spooks and history today (thanks to my Mother’s idea). 

My family has always liked to spend lots of time together. One of our traditions has always been to visit the Smoky Mtns. and Dollywood, among other things. As a child, we would go for a day or weekend. Papa (my grandfather) would always drive his great big van, because he is of course the KING of the ROAD. My siblings and I would be piled in the back, Gigi (our grandmother) joining us.

After hiking or spending a glorious day riding thrill rides and gorging our bellies full with Smoky Mtn. fudge and other goodies, we were exhausted. And even though sleep beckoned us, we refused to give in; because the most anticipated part of our day was the drive back. In the hours long drive back home we were surrounded by darkness and the little beams of speeding lights outside, along with the looming shadows of the trees on the other side of the windows.

It was Gigi’s moment to transform into a Master storyteller. Weaving and retelling memorized folklore that had us clinging to each other as goosebumps crawled across our arms and the hair on the backs of our necks stood. Trust me – she was that good. Still is.

So let me share a bit of her stories.

The Golden Arm (our favorite)

There once was a man who married a woman who had only one good arm. Her other arm was solid gold. The man loved the golden arm more than his wife because he saw wealth in it. But the woman became sick and before she died she made it clear that she was to be buried with her golden arm. Finally, she did die and so she was buried with her arm. But her husband couldn’t bear to have something so valuable buried and not put to use. So he dug up the arm.

But that night, after crawling into bed with the lights out and the doors all locked, he heard a voice. A voice so quiet he had to strain to hear it call out in the distance, “Where’s my golden arm?” The man ignored the voice, blaming it on the wind.

But the next night, after he crawled into bed with the lights out and the doors locked, he heard the voice again. This time it was closer, just outside the front door on the porch. “Where’s my golden arm?” It was just a bad dream he told himself.

But the next night, after he crawled into bed with the lights out and the doors locked, he heard it again. And this time, the voice came from inside. It was downstairs and he could hear the footsteps crossing the floor. “Where’s my golden arm?” The stairs creaked as the footsteps crept up to his room. “Where’s my golden arm?” The door knob turned and the footsteps crossed the floor to his bed. The voice getting louder with each step. “Where’s my golden arm?”

As the voice seemed to be right next to his bed, it shouted, “Who’s got my golden arm…You got it!”

I did a little research. The Golden Arm is actually a popular folklore story that has been passed down in many variations for at least 200 years, but possibly even longer. Mark Twain was famously known for telling this story in his own variation during a reading tour in 1884-1885. He often featured his “Ghost Stories,” in which he would tell the story of the Golden Arm so enthusiastically that he would have the audience jumping and screaming in their seats.

Originally the folklore was created to teach listeners how to be respectful of the dead, and also, to not be greedy. No one is sure where the story originated. Many countries tell the ghost tale and each one has its own variation.

The Bell Witch Legend

Many years ago, there was a man named John Bell, who purchased some land to build a home for his family. After many years, he obtained more land, increasing his property and fields. John became a very respected man in the community, was an excellent father and husband, and a religious man. But he was also known to be a hard business man. He was always looking for ways to make a profit.

One day, while out in a field, John came across a strange looking animal. Shocked and frightened by the animal that had the body of a dog and the head of a rabbit, John shot at the creature. But it vanished. John Bell thought nothing of it for the rest of the day, until later that night, when he and his family began to hear strange “beating” sounds on the outside of their log cabin.

Each night the sounds returned, growing more frequent and louder. Bell and his sons always tried to catch the culprit, but they never found a soul.

More strange things began to occur. An invisible source began to yank the bed sheets off the sleeping family at night. More strange sounds, like gulping and lip smacking could be heard in their rooms. And finally, they began to hear whispering that resembled the voice of an old woman humming hymns. One daughter, Betsy, endured even more of the nightmare. Her hair would be pulled and she would wake with hand prints as if she had been beaten. One night, the voice returned and they questioned the whispering voice, asking for its name. It answered, “Kate.”

Years later, John finally died. The family discovered a small unidentified vile in the cupboard. After John’s death, the voice of “Kate” exclaimed, “I gave Ol’ Jack a big dose of the last night, which fixed him!”

The Bell Witch legend is one, if not the most, popular in America. The Bell family actually did exist. They resided in Adams, Tennessee and because of their “haunting,” Robertson county is frequented by tourist hoping to catch a glimpse of Kate – the Bell Witch. Records state that the pioneer family was tormented by the sinister witch between 1817 and 1821. The Bell family was not the only one to claim witness to the strange events. Others in the community visited the home during the haunting and reordered their experiences.

The full story is actually quite long. My grandmother has always told us a condensed version. But even so, the story is creepy and will make your arm hairs stand.

Whether or not the story is true, I think I’d rather stay far away from any and all evil. At one point in time, I might have been stupid enough to try to scare myself by visiting local “haunted” sites. However, with maturity, I think the lesson to be told is that evil should not be messed with. Ghost stories are one thing, but seeing them is another.

“For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” – Matthew 18:20

What are some of your favorite spooky stories? Did you have anyone ever tell you folklore stories? Do you have a popular local folklore legend where you live?