Strange Company

We live in a house in Holyoke MA that was built in the late 1880’s and will remain unidentified for obvious reasons.  It’s a humble eight room place with garage and old carriage house.  When it was built the city looked much different from the way it does today. Many landmarks have recessed into history and are almost forgotten.   There used to be a small pond at the bottom of the hill where a street full of houses now stands.  Not far away was the old slaughterhouse – from the time before the city crept away from its start further downtown.  Holyoke was the first planned industrial city in the United States and during its inception planned the streets around mills that were prevalent in the area at the time.

We’ve only lived here a few years, but it was evident from the start that the house was already occupied by others before we moved in.  We’ve had the usual doors opening and closing by themselves, the sound of footfalls where the living weren’t walking, unusual raps and knocks, and course fickle lighting that goes off and on at will.  Occasionally one can even catch a glimpse of someone walking around that soon vanishes when they realize they, also, are being watched.  These things are all o.k.  It’s the other one that is a bit disturbing….

I think it’s old, it’s definitely strong, and it’s black.  Darker-than-night black.  We didn’t believe it at first, but as time went on it proved itself to be here.  This thing – and I doubt it was ever a person – can emit unusual smells.  That, in and of itself, isn’t so bad, but it can mess with your head, too, if you let it.  Initially we wondered why, all of a sudden, one or another of us would get an encompassing feeling of such grief that crying was inevitable.  For no reason.  Other times, it is overpowering depression – a dark downer.  It can also manifest and share anxiety and anger.

It likes to enter where you’re sleeping and stand beside the bed looking at you until you wake up or turn over.  Its large blob of a self is darker than the night and you can feel its stare.

It took a while to understand what was going on….it was subtle at first.  Getting a handle on this thing has provided some protection against it.  Banishing rituals have also been useful in mitigating its ability to influence your feelings.  But this thing doesn’t like these rites.  I’ve gotten scratches that bleed from something unseen when nothing or no-one else was close enough to me to do it.  Suddenly, it’s just a sharp hot that takes some time to heal.  Hair tugging happens, too, and isn’t as bad as bleeding.

 

I’ve done a history on the area of the house and there doesn’t seem to be anything here – that I can find – that would contribute to this activity.  That doesn’t mean it isn’t somehow associated with the land.  Many Native American settlements were close and I’m sure there were skirmishes.  I don’t think it was anyone who lived or died here, either…. as I said, don’t think this thing was ever human.

It’s still here and probably always will be.  It’s a matter of who’s will is stronger….  so far – we’re one up.

—  ashanta

A Haunted Museum – Wistariahurst

Wistariahurst Museum is the magnificent homestead of silk manufacturing mogul William Skinner. It is nestled in the southern Pioneer Valley of Western Massachusetts and houses a wealth of history. And – it’s haunted.

This 26-room historic mansion has been situated in Holyoke, MA since 1874 after being moved, piece by piece, from it’s original site in Williamsburg, MA. The Skinner’s lived there until 1959 when the youngest of their children, Katherine Skinner Kilbourne, deeded the homestead to the City of Holyoke for philanthropic purposes.

The first incarnation of the Skinner estate, “Wistariahurst” as it came to be known (and spelled in it’s German variation), sat across the street from the Skinner’s first three-storied brick manufacturing plant on the Mill River, which supplied its power. When the Mill River Dam broke in 1874 it brought death and financial ruin to mill workers and owners alike. William Skinner, finding himself in almost complete financial devastation and mill-less, accepted an offer from the Holyoke Water Power Company to move his silk business and family home to Holyoke. A deal too good to refuse, Skinner accepted and the house was moved from “Skinnerville” in Williamsburg to the city block it now occupies in Holyoke.

The house was built large after the fashion of any wealthy manufacturer of its time. It was made larger,and more magnificent by Ruth Isabel “Belle” Skinner, a spinster daughter of the silk industrialist. Money was no object and Belle didn’t mind spending it – especially if it made her look even better in the society to which she had become accustomed.

Many stories have been written about the family, the house, and their history. Nothing, yet, has been mentioned about the peculiar activities that happen on the premises when the visitors leave…and before they arrive.

Formerly, I worked as a volunteer for the museum and was responsible for preparing the house to open for visitors and closing it down when museum hours were over. I’ve been throughout the house on many occasions and have had a number of experiences that weren’t ordinary and cannot be easily explained.

I was on the second floor of the house one late afternoon turning off lights, closing displays, and getting ready to lock doors when there was the sound of a door banging loudly. Could it have been another volunteer or administrator coming in? I called out, “Hello! I’m closing up, up here. (Listening) Hello?.. (Listening. Walking toward the noise.) Hi, where are you?..” No reply. Nobody. No closed doors.

I found the other staff and volunteers downstairs and mentioned the noise. All present said they had heard it, but none knew where it came from.

Other things seen and unseen:

Moving shadows out the corner of one’s eye.

Plugs and extension cords thrown into the middle of hallways.

Footfalls.

Doors closing behind you when you enter a room.

A few of the former servant’s quarters have been closed to the public for one reason or another, but those are the places where a lot of the activity takes place. Perhaps that’s why they aren’t opened that frequently.

On another occasion I was on the second floor locking up one of the servant’s areas. There was always an uneasy feeling in these rooms, like you were never alone. I made sure everything was secure and locked the door. As I was walking down the hallway toward the back staircase when the space between the door and the jamb rattled violently and then slammed shut again. It had been closed when I left it moments before….

Sometimes I had to go to the third floor where the head housekeeper had her bedroom and office. Her name was Hulda and she was like a member of the Skinner family. You never feel alone on the third floor. There are footfalls that follow you and doors will close behind you – even when you don’t want them to.

While the servants quarters seem to be the most active areas of activity, some of the family members also still remain – at least during some parts of the year because you can hear them. And – sometimes see them.

I’ve seen Kittie, the youngest of the Skinner children, at the top of the wrap-around staircase from the main hall. She was elegant in her long, champagne silk gown starting her descent along the suspended stairs. When she got to the landing overlooking the great room she vanished. Her hair was swept up in a loose twist and she wore a string of pearls.

Although Wistariahurst now offers candlelight tours around Halloween time, their actors and effects cannot produce anything like the real thing!!! Seeing and hearing are believing. Artificial presentations don’t produce the same phenomena as the real thing does.

– ashanta