Haunted Objects: Stories of Ghosts on Your Shelf (10 page)

Nancy was more than happy to accept an invitation to investigate there in 2009, and she has since been there several more times. As a Florida resident, she has investigated dozens of haunted locations as part of the group known as The Atlantic Paranormal Society (TAPS), which is famously known as the Ghost Hunters on the hit television show of the same name. For Nancy, investigating is a mix of the evidence she can document and the occurrences she experiences. The outside world might be more interested in what a camera can photograph or a digital audio recorder can capture, so that is what she relies on during an investigation. At the Scott House, the line between evidence and experience became blurred.

The Scott House in Ocala, Florida.

“On my first visit there, let’s just say we had several strange things happen,” Nancy said, “but I always look at that as ‘personal experience.’ ” Sometimes personal experiences are more real than anything the science of investigating might be able to prove.

She was sure there were ghosts in the house. It was on that first trip that those ghosts decided to give her a gift.

“The owner had my team spend the night, which we were delighted to do. While touring the rooms, she pointed out a room called ‘Sylvia’s Room,’ which had apparently once belonged to Mrs. Elizabeth Scott,” Nancy said. The room was filled with collectibles from around the world, most of which were old and probably valuable. What really grabbed her attention was an old book sitting on the nightstand next to the bed. It was a copy of
The Lady of the Lake
, a classic poem by Sir Walter Scott chronicling the power struggles and love lives of the British royalty surrounding James V. It was perhaps the poet’s most popular and critically received poem, and acted as a symbol for the realism and depth of character he wished to bring to his narrative. The edition Nancy found was not a first edition, but rather the American Book Company version that was published in 1893, making it one of the oldest American imprints of the book. It has not been confirmed, but there is speculation that Scott is actually a relative of the people who owned the property in Florida. “If not, it would be a funky coincidence,” Nancy said.

She was drawn in by the age of the book and the title, which she believed was a reference to the old Arthurian legend about the spirit woman who protects the sword Excalibur and passes it on to Merlin and King Arthur.

“I picked it up and started leafing through it. (Bonnie, the owner of the house) asked why I was curious about it. I told her I wasn’t sure.” It struck Bonnie as well; the book was the only thing in the room that was part of the original estate of the house. It had been found in the attic and, thinking it must have been a favorite of the former owner and fitting the décor of the room, had been placed by the bed. It created the impression that Mrs. Scott was still there reading it a bit every night. Nancy put the book back on the night table and toured the rest of the house with Bonnie.

As they prepared to set up their equipment for the night, Nancy chose the loft, which was the biggest and highest room in the house, and not much more than a converted attic. “I figured that we could fit myself and the two other investigators in there with our equipment and be able to hear everything in the house below us,” Nancy said.

“We settled in and turned the lights on, then realized it was warm in the room. We decided to turn on the ceiling fans. (I) flipped the switch and suddenly an object came flying off the fan and smacked me in the head.” It was the book,
The Lady of the Lake
.

How had the book made it up to the loft, and more importantly, how had it gotten on one of the fan blades, another 12 feet in the air? Nancy’s group and the people who worked at the house had all been part of the tour, and to her knowledge, no one had gone into the room while they walked the house or set up equipment.

“I actually shook my head at it, laughed, and said out loud, ‘Funny. You’re really funny, but knocking me out is not the way to get my attention.’ ” Not one to overlook an opportunity to communicate, Nancy and the group returned to Sylvia’s room to try to get answers. They turned on their tape recorders in hopes of capturing some electronic voice phenomena (EVP), in which the spirits of disembodied voices are imprinted on a recording. It seemed the perfect chance to speak with Elizabeth or whoever had left the book in the loft. They got no results.

The Lady of the Lake
, the unknown hitchhiker.

The rest of the night was spent running up and down three flights of stairs as the paranormal activity in the house was constant. Although most of the rooms were involved in one way or another, nothing happened in Sylvia’s room. They spent most of the later hours investigating happenings in the kitchen, and Sylvia’s room, the loft, and the book faded from Nancy’s thoughts.

“Finally, at about 5:45 a.m., we decided to try to get a few hours of sleep before we headed back. We packed up our equipment and locked the door to the loft as a precaution so housekeeping didn’t wake us in the morning.” The door was at the bottom of the staircase leading to the attic and was the only way in and out of the room.

The group headed home the next day. They had done the majority of packing the night before, so they were back on the road quickly and with only a few trips in and out of the loft.

“When I got home, I started unpacking,” Nancy said. “As I was lifting my laptop out of my bag, I felt something slip and (fall on my right foot).” It was
The Lady of the Lake
. Nancy was a bit more than disturbed by this, but she took a few deep breaths and called Bonnie to tell her she had not stolen it from the room and would be bring it back.

Bonnie’s response was a bit odd. She told Nancy to keep the book because it was now hers. She explained the book had found its way to the person who should have it. Whoever put it in Nancy’s bag had felt she needed it somehow. Nancy thought it was odd, but she wanted to read the book anyway and had no fear of possessing a haunted object.

The book continues to play hide-and-seek with Nancy.

“Every once in a while, it will disappear from my desk in my bedroom, and reappear in the oddest places,” she said. She has found the book in her refrigerator, in random places like beside the waste basket, and even inside her china cabinet. She has even brought it along during investigations, hoping that other ghosts might be drawn to it. Some believe that whatever spirit is linked to the book might be able to speak with ghosts in a different location and convince them to communicate.

Chris’ epilogue
: By chance, I picked up an 1895 edition of
The Lady of the Lake
for $1 at a yard sale years back. It remained unread among my mythology collection (I, too, had always thought it was a reference to the Arthurian legend), but there was something about Nancy’s story that set off an alarm. I took it down after hearing her story and wondered if there was something about the book itself. Turning my digital recorder on, I flipped through the pages while asking questions and hoping for a response. Three sessions have produced nothing, but I live only a few hours away from Nancy and the Scott House, so my next test will be to take my edition to her and see if the spirits know the difference between the two books.

If
The Lady of the Lake
found its way to Nancy because she needed it somehow, maybe two copies are even better.

Her Birth Certificate

What proof is there that we exist after we die? Some say we carry on through our children and grandchildren. There also may be a legacy of the people we influenced who remember us with stories and pictures of times shared.

We live in a world of paperwork, however. There are tax returns and pay stubs and maybe diplomas hanging on a wall. There is the death certificate we never see that tells the world how we left it. But the most important document in your life is your birth certificate. Try getting a social security number or a marriage license without one. It is more than proof that you were born; it is proof that you are allowed to be counted. It makes sense, then, that some people can’t let go of their birth certificates when they die.

Alice is the queen of yard sales. Give her $20 and point her in the direction of a sale, and she’ll have a small fortune amassed in less than an hour.

“It’s a skill. You look over little mementos of people and see something that connects,” she said. “Most of the time it was just something to fill a corner in my house, but at least once a week I’d find something I could resell.” While she specialized in furniture and decorations, she knew enough about antiques and appliances to make a fair amount of cash from her weekend trips.

She spotted the file cabinet one weekend a few Augusts ago. It was nothing special, just five feet of metal drawers and a lock. She was not drawn to it or even needed it, but inquired about the price because she was disappointed there weren’t more items at the sale. “I felt like I needed to leave with something,” she said. She stuffed the cabinet into the trunk of her car and headed home.

An empty cabinet is not much of a story, but a filled one is a story to the right person. Brimming with old bills or pictures, each drawer has something to say, and something started to speak to Alice on her way home.

Her small car stalled at a light. She assumed it was because of the added weight of the cabinet and didn’t think of it again until it stalled for a second time as she drove onto her street. “I was only a few blocks from home, so I called my husband to come and give [it] a jump. He gave me that look when he saw the cabinet hanging out of my trunk: another adventure. He calls me ‘The Indiana Jones of Junk.’ ”

It took three tries before her husband was successful jump-starting the car. He lifted the cabinet and placed in his pickup, noticing it was heavier than expected, and waved her on. Then the truck’s engine refused to start, and he blushed when he called Alice back to help him. They sat on the side of the road, less than a mile from home, giving both batteries time to charge and making fun of each other. He decided to open the file cabinet to see what was weighing it down.

“I told him there were just some hanging files and a few loose papers. He joked that it had to [hold] a weight set because he was barely able to lift it into the truck. We opened the first drawer and it had nothing in it, but the second wouldn’t open.”

Thinking it was locked, her husband got a screwdriver from his glove compartment to jimmy it open, but when he returned the drawer opened without any trouble. Inside were a few dozen green hanging files, none labeled. A few had colored papers in them, but most were empty. The bottom drawer opened easily but contained nothing.

When they got home, they moved the file cabinet into the mudroom until they could figure out where to place it. They still couldn’t understand why it was so heavy.

“It was not a very exciting buy, so I basically forgot about it for about a week,” Alice said. “Then I started to have really weird dreams—and I don’t dream.”

The file cabinet, stored in the garage.