Part 3 - Harpers Ferry: Ghost of John Brown

He told me my train would most likely stop on the other track since the cargo train was still sitting silent. I expressed my concern of not being able to get my gear down the stairs, through the tunnel and up the other side. He told me he would stay with me and help. I was so appreciative of his offer - more for the company than help with my luggage. I proceeded to tell him about the man in black. He walked into the restroom and came right back out to tell me there was no one in there. It was then that he told me the station is notoriously haunted, and that he believed everything I told him, as others have had similar experiences. He then told me about John Brown, he was an abolitionist who was murdered at the station. Many believe Mr. Brown has been trying to catch the outbound train ever since. 

I stood silent, digesting all that I heard, seen and felt. My attention shifted when I heard the train whistle in the distance. The bike man graciously picked up my luggage, ran down the stairs, through the tunnel, and up the stairs to a waiting conductor. I was right behind him, thinking that the man in black is missing the train. Just as quickly, I accepted the fact that he was merely visiting, for reasons I may never understand; at least in this lifetime. I wished I had paid more attention to the black cloth hanging on his arm. When we spoke to each other he was so real I could have reached out and touched him. The whole thing was as real as my present position typing this story.  On ‘paranormal overload’, I was so glad to finally get out of there, but it was bittersweet. 

When I boarded the train, I stood in the vestibule with the Conductor to catch my breath. I asked him if he had ever heard of strange stories of the Harpers Ferry Station. He said; ‘Other than it being haunted?.....ha, ha, ha. Why don’t you hang here for a bit. When you’re ready, just step in the car, put your bags to the right. There’s a seat in the back.’.  

When I finally entered the car, I noticed a man in the back starring at me. I ended up sitting across from him. He was making small talk and noticed I was a little shaken up when I boarded. I briefed him on my experience and he replied; ‘It seems you had a run in with ole’ John Brown!’. His name was Edward, an historian who was returning from a research trip to Chicago. We had a wonderful conversation all the way to DC. It never ceases to amaze me how events connect to each other. What are the chances of being seated next to a historian immediately after my experience?  Edward had put my mind at ease.  I now know I experienced the presence of John Brown. Knowing such a ballsy ghost is one of the visitors there, I doubt I will ever choose to wait there alone again. 

Days after my return, the thought of Mr. John Brown lingered. I decided to do more research. When I finally came across a photo of him, it felt as if the photo jumped off the screen toward me. I immediately saw the man in black who walked into the front of the station. He was a younger version of the man in the photo. Coincidence?.....perhaps; but it was a personal experience I will never forget; one of those ‘you had to be there’ moments. One that I wish another living person could have witnessed with me, but apparently that wasn’t supposed to happen.

Part 2- Harpers Ferry: Ghost of John Brown

Concerned, I went to the door of the mens restroom and I tapped on the door... no response. I then opened the door to be sure whoever was in there didn’t faint, or worse. When I opened the door and looked around, no one was there! I know what I heard. It was clear and real. Whoever entered that restroom could not have exited without me noticing. My mind raced to put the little chain of events in order. At that moment, I knew what was happening. I grabbed my luggage and hightailed it out one of the doors on the track side, refusing to go back into the building. 

I sat on a bench staring at the tracks, which were about 8 feet in front of me, trying to make sense of what just happened. I was getting chilly so I opened the station door to catch some warm air from inside while I stood beneath the door frame. Just then, a man dressed all in black entered through the door directly across from me on the front side of the station. I remember he had some kind of cloth hanging on his left forearm. We acknowledged each others presence. “Do you know a documentary is being filmed in town?” he asked. ‘Yes’ I replied. I asked him if he was going to DC. “Yes. Are you?” he whispered, as he visually scanned the ceiling.  I don’t recall answering him. I just kept looking at his face. He was strange in that he kept looking around, never making eye contact. He was looking at the ceilings and floors while he slowly paced. He walked into the restroom while I remained in the doorway. I thought it odd that he had no luggage, no computer bag, nothing. Suddenly, a cargo train crept by on the track closest to the station (there are only two tracks). The engine must have been a mile up the track before it came to a complete halt. Now I had a wall of train in front of me and still no people. That eerie feeling got heavier. It felt like time was standing still....literally. There was a dead silence all around me; I couldn’t even hear the birds any longer. I kept waiting for the man to exit the restroom. By this time, I was expecting the train in 15 minutes or so. I was trying to figure out how I would haul my huge piece of luggage which was more like a duffle bag on wheels, down the stairs through a short underground tunnel and up the other side before my train took off. The wall of steel that now sat between the other track and myself made it impossible to see another train coming. The landing on the other side was in the woods and too small to wait on, so heading over ahead of time made no sense.  Suddenly, a lone bicyclist peddled up to the bench and dismounted his bike. Still a bit shaken from my earlier experience I remained standing in the doorway, but at this point, it wasn’t just for warmth. I was watching closely for the man in black to exit the restroom. The man on the bike began to talk to me. I must have looked confused because he asked me if I was okay. I asked him if he was real....he chuckled. I then gave him an earful of what had been happening during the past two plus hours. He seemed to be impervious to my story. 

Continue on ‘Part 3’.......

Harpers Ferry: Ghost of John Brown

It’s been a long time since I experienced a profound paranormal occurrence while completely alone. That changed on morning in late October 2011. 

After a long visit with family, I arrived at the Harpers Ferry train station in West Virginia to head back north. It was a Thursday morning and a gorgeous one at that. As we were driving through, we had passed camera crews about half mile away from the station. After inquiring, we learned it was a crew filming a documentary about the town. When I was dropped off at the station, I realized I was the only person there, so I stepped outside by the tracks to see if there were any signs of human life in surrounding area. A veil of eeriness draped around me when I discovered there was not a single person in sight. I shrugged it off to appreciate the silence as I took in the beautiful scenery. Past the bridge, the mountains surrounding the valley were waking up to the warmth of the sun. I walked along the linear path between the tracks and the station, imagining what it was like years ago. I caught myself dismissing flashes of gun fire, reminiscent of the wild west, and stuck with the romantic version.

It wasn’t my first visit to this quaint little town soaked in history, or the unmanned, well preserved train station. There’s something mysterious and isolating about that place. One could not help but to fall in love with it. The many times I had visited Harpers Ferry, the man who helped to put the area on the map seemed to have slipped my mind. I was always so caught up in the magic of the town.

Since I my train wasn’t scheduled to arrive for another hour or so, I meandered around the beautifully preserved station while time stood still. I was admiring a collection of old photo’s hanging on the walls depicting the surrounding valley when the station was built. I walked from one room to the next, noticing the echo of my steps while running my fingers along the old wood benches. I couldn’t help but visualize dapper gents tipping their hats to ladies with parasols in hand. For a brief moment I became one of them.

About 45 minutes had passed with nothing to do but wait. I was trying to peek through the bars at the old ticket counter. It was closed for business many years ago. The room behind the counter was hidden by black fabric. A hand painted sign, written in gold script, that reads “Tickets”  had only a few minor scratches and faded spots. I decided to check out the restroom. While I was in there, I heard one of the outside doors open. I then heard the sound of heeled boots clanking across the wood floor. I was glad to finally have some company! Still in the rest room with my hands underneath the running water, the footsteps were getting closer. I then heard the door to the mens restroom, which is adjacent to the women’s room, squeak open then thud shut. I proceeded to the waiting area near the restrooms and phoned the train company to see if the train was running on time. Low and behold, there was at least an hour delay!  About 20 minutes went by. While still in the immediate vicinity of the restrooms, it dawned on me that the person who went in never came out! I noticed my cell phone battery, which was fully charged when I called the train company 20 minutes earlier, was almost dead. 

Continue on ‘Part 2’.........