A True(ly) Scary Story

I thought it appropriate to re-share a true frightening tale which happened to me on this Halloween!

Colmel's Blog

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Halloween is coming, so I thought I’d tell you one of my true(ly) scary stories. This one is about something that happened while we were in our house on Eagles’ Nest Mountain in Waynesville, NC.

 

One day, my mother and I decided to go visit friends in Highlands, NC. My sister, Melanie, was quite young at the time and had a very good friend who lived at the bottom of the mountain. Our house was near the very top of the mountain (with glorious views of Maggie…

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Tricked on Halloween

If you’re reading this in email or on Facebook, click on the title! It will take you directly to the blog (an easier viewing page.) If you’re already in my blog, WELCOME! (One more hint: Make sure you click on the pictures in the blog. They should open up in a browser window so you can get a better look! They’re special for Halloween! Then be sure to click the back button so you get back to the blog.)

 

When I was a very small child, like most kids, I’d go trick or treating with my best friend. One of the parents went along to keep an eye on us. Back in those days, we could safely go to any home, ring the doorbell, and the treats we’d get would be safe for human consumption. No one even thought of studding apples with razor blades or drugging candy. It was a much more innocent time.

 

My most memorable Halloween happened when I was about age 5. We’d recently moved into our new house. There were still several vacant lots so the parents worried more about snakes and rats than they did about harm coming from humans. It was Dr. Scofield’s (Kathy’s dad and dentist extraordinaire) turn to take us trick or treating. I think it was Kathy’s younger brother, Mark’s first year to go door-to-door, so Dr. S pulled the short straw.

 

Our neighborhood was full of little kids all about the same age as we were. I think the parents enjoyed meeting up out on the street and watching us all running to doors in great anticipation of the goodies we were about to receive. I’m sure that the parents were all comparing notes as to how much candy we could have that night and how to hide the rest so that it could be carefully dispersed at later dates (and so they could get their share).

 

Most of the night was uneventful. Kathy, Mark and I went from neighbor to neighbor, ringing bells, and shouting in our most ferocious voices, “TRICK OR TREAT!” We knew to only go to doors where the light was on.

 

Then we got to the Reids’ house. The front porch light wasn’t on, but there was a light on in the garage by the back door. In we went to ring the button under the light and make our presence known. I pushed the lit button with my normal anticipation. “Trick or …” As soon as I pushed the button, there was a whirring noise and the garage door started to close. The light started blinking on and off. Now, this was back in the late 1950s and none of us had – or had even seen – automatic garage door openers. Obviously, the Reids had one, but (as we came to find out later) it was broken.

 

The door was manic! Up/down, up/down, all at a pretty fair rate of speed. On went the light, then off. At first, we were too shocked to even scream. Then it hit us. We were in a haunted garage! I tried pushing the button again and again. In my child’s mind, maybe that would make it stop.

 

When we finally found our voices to scream, it was almost in unison. Here were three small children, huddled in the garage with a possessed garage door opener. Dr. S sprang into action. He timed the door opening and ran in and grabbed Mark and Kathy. On went the light and off. Up went the door and down. Nothing would stop it. Of course that left me all alone in the ghostly garage. I knew I wasn’t going to make it. I’d been left behind.

 

In one more, heroic dash, Dr. S. ran through the door. I was saved! Inexplicitly, Dr. S ran in again. We were sure he was off to vanquish the evil that had tried to keep us in that horrifying space. To this day, I don’t know how he did it (and, sadly, Dr. S. passed away many years ago so I’ll never know), but he stopped the door. He walked out with a very solemn expression. It must have been very hard for him to not laugh at us. When I think about it, he had to be in his late 20s or very early 30s. I got to go home first. My parents were dumbstruck when they opened the door to a tear-streaked child who couldn’t stop shaking. Dr. S. told them I was fine and that they’d better come outside so he could explain.

 

He must have made it very brief, because both parents were back inside in no time. Dad took charge of calming me down. I honestly don’t know how any of them weren’t laughing themselves silly. I guess knowing that their child(ren) had been frightened out of their minds helped keep them calm until they could get us quieted and off to bed. I’m sure after all the trauma was reduced, they all laughed until they cried.

 

That Halloween was more than 50 years ago. I remember it as clearly as if it was yesterday. To this day, I will not push the button on our garage door opener unless my other hand is firmly on the door back into the house.

 

What’s your most memorable Halloween story?

 

Up Next: Not sure! Guess we’ll all have to wait and see.

 

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Another True(ly) Frightening Experience

If you’re reading this in email or on Facebook, click on the title! It will take you directly to the blog (an easier viewing page.) If you’re already in my blog, WELCOME!

I don’t know if you would call it the “Devil” or just a manifestation of an evil force, but I know it exists.

 

When I was in my early 20s, I had an experience with what I consider the supernatural, and it truly frightened me.

 

We were in our home in on Eagles’ Nest Mountain in Waynesville, North Carolina which was on top of a mountain with a terrific view of the Smokies. Every thing about the house was warm and comfortable – except one night. That night there was no indication that something really evil was about to show itself.

 

We all went to bed as normal. My dad wasn’t home with us, so my little sister was upstairs with my mother in her room, my brother was in his bedroom, and I was in mine. Everything settled down to a noiseless, deep darkness.

 

The next thing I knew, our dog (a German Shepherd/Collie mix) jumped up on the bed and started to walk up onto my chest and stare down at me. It occurred to me that there was very little weight to her (now, this was a 50+ lb dog). I knew something wasn’t right. Then as I looked at her and tried to speak, her eyes started to glow an eerie reddish glow. The whole feel was of some extreme evil. This was absolutely NOT my dog. It was something trying to take on her image to get to me.

 

I somehow jumped out from under the “being” and reached for the light switch. As the light came on, there was nothing in the room. I thought perhaps it was a dream, but I truly did get to the switch, the lights did come on, and I did “feel” the being walk up on me. I truly don’t believe, in my heart, that it was a dream.

 

I ran through the house to make certain that the evil was gone and I wanted to make sure my dog was okay. Sure enough, our dog was in my brother’s room and looked up sleepily when I opened his door. She was fine and not at all the evil thing that had been in my room.

 

Whatever it was, it was something I would not want to repeat. I think the worst was that it used a familiar, much-loved creature as its disguise.

Up Next: Another Smoky Mountains “Ghost” Story

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A True(ly) Scary Story

If you’re reading this in email or on Facebook, click on the title! It will take you directly to the blog (an easier viewing page.) If you’re already in my blog, WELCOME! (One more hint: If you click on any of the photos in the blog, they should open up in a browser window so you can get a better look!)

 

Halloween is coming, so I thought I’d tell you one of my true(ly) scary stories. This one is about something that happened while we were in our house on Eagles’ Nest Mountain in Waynesville, NC.

 

One day, my mother and I decided to go visit friends in Highlands, NC. My sister, Melanie, was quite young at the time and had a very good friend who lived at the bottom of the mountain. Our house was near the very top of the mountain (with glorious views of Maggie Valley). Since there would be very little for Mel to do during our trip, we decided it would be best if she would stay and play with Heidi.

 

My Aunt Jean (Hyatt) Richardson was also visiting with us, and she opted to stay home. She’d grown up just down the mountain, and her kin were all around the area. She was going to spend the day visiting with them, so she stayed with our dog Gretyl.

 

The drive to Highlands was scary enough! The roads we took were twisty and turny, and there were areas with shear drops several hundred feet down the sides of mountains. When I think of the little rock walls on the down-side of the road, I still laugh. Don’t know what, exactly, they were supposed to stop, but it wouldn’t have been any normal-sized vehicle. The other sides of the road were straight up except for the rocks that stuck out from the walls. Surely, there was an easier way to get to our friend’s place, but her directions were very fuzzy. My mother swears that the air in the car was blue from all the curse words uttered. (I may have even made up a few new ones.) If you’ve never been “chased” down a mountain, back-road by a logging truck, consider yourself very lucky. But that wasn’t the end of the fright for the day.

 

After a pleasant visit, we headed back to Waynesville, We had better directions on how to get back, so the ride was much more pleasant. We stopped for dinner along the way and made our leisurely way back to Eagles’ Nest. That’s when the “fun” began.

 

As we were approaching Eagles’ Nest Mountain Road, we saw more police cars with lights flashing than we thought existed in the whole state of North Carolina. They were all getting off the interstate at our road. We only got as far as Mom and Pop Hyatt’s home (at the base of the mountain) when we were stopped and turned back.

 

Apparently, two bad guys had robbed a liquor store near Asheville, stolen a car, shot at police, and headed up our road. They’d ditched the car right at the gate that lead up the road – right next to where Mel was playing at her friend’s home. The authorities had the road blocked and weren’t letting anyone up or down.

 

We joined a large contingent of Hyatts at  Mom and Pop’s place. A quick call to Heidi’s parents reassured us that Mel was safe and that the police had posted sentries outside their home. Aunt Jean was another story, though. Here she was in our home up on the top of the mountain with only our dog keeping her company. We begged the police to let us go up to our home. The state police weren’t having any of it until the local county authorities arrived. Once they learned that Aunt Jean was Jean HYATT, the tune changed. To help you understand a little more, at one time just about everything in Haywood County was “Hyatt” something. The name is still attached to creeks, road, hills, and developments.

 

A rapid convoy was arranged. In the front were two police cars, then us in my car, then two more police cars. Lights were flashing everywhere.

 

Eagles’ Nest Mountain Road is like most of the other roads in the area. There are sharp curves, switchbacks, hairpin turns, and very few straight areas. It’s just wide enough for two cars to pass (in most places). We took the whole road. I never had before (nor after) gone up that road so fast. We’d been warned to keep in tight formation. I’m still not sure how we made it up there without someone rear-ending someone, but we did.

 

We sure were glad to get home, and Aunt Jean was beside herself. We all settled in to stay locked down for the night. That was, all of us except Gretyl. Poor pup had to “go!” She’d been cooped up inside for as long as she could wait. On top of that, there were “strange” people outside our house. The police had left a patrol to make sure we were safe. I hollered out to the officer that my dog absolutely could wait no longer. He grudgingly let us out. So, here I am, in the pitch dark, with a scared dog on a leash, just beggin’ her to go ahead and pee. (Now, Gretyl – being like most dogs – was almost too afraid to pee.) I was so concerned about her, that I didn’t hear the person walking up behind me. Nigh to jumped out of my skin when the biggest man I’d ever seen showed up right behind me! He even startled Gretyl as he’d appeared so quickly and quietly. Phew, another one of the police who was looking for the bad guys. He wasn’t sure who we were and why we were out there, but he was none too happy that we were.

 

Business taken care of, we were hustled back into the house. I know I didn’t sleep a wink. My mother was upstairs with my sister and aunt. My room was on the main level of the house. Gretyl stayed with me. Every so often, she’d give a low, warning growl. She sure wasn’t letting those men outside forget she was on duty.

 

Our house was a cross between a chalet-style and a barn. It was built into the bedrock of the mountain, and had a walk-out basement. The deck from the main portion of the house protruded out probably 20 feet. The views were spectacular. We could see the lights of Maggie Valley, the lighted cross on Mt. Lyn Lowery, and (on clear days) Mt. LeConte (the highest peak in the area and the third highest peak in the Smokies). The basement was only visible from below.

 

After a sleepless night, we were informed that one of the desperados had been caught and the other was presumed to be at least as far away as Maggie Valley. We could go back to our normal routine. The whole area breathed a sigh of relief (all except Gretyl who was still growling – poor dog was traumatized). That was until the next day, when the second guy was caught…walking down Eagles’ Nest Mountain Road.

 

Where’d he been? He told the authorities that he’d spent both nights up on top of the mountain…up next to a concrete basement… under a big deck.

 

Up Next: Another Smoky Mountains “Ghost” Story

 

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