October 16, 2006
The Flowered LadyRate this encounter: Lynn Thompson, Stanford, Kentucky, June '91-present day
From the outside, this is an unassuming Cape Cod-style home with lovely dormers, cute black shutters, and charming little lamp posts at the end of the front walk. Inside this charming little Cape Cod I have spent many a scary moment.
I still remember the first time we walked in. The house was a bit creepy and my sister said it had a bad aura about it. As we continued through the house and into the basement there was a large "Hitler's" cross spray-painted on the wall, not very comforting.
We moved in with little incident and all was fine except that my sister refused to sleep in her room. She said that it was way too creepy and that she felt like she was being watched. That room has since had many a visitor refuse to sleep in it. The room itself is rather unremarkable except that it has no closets, only little doors that lead to the dormers. In the stairs there is a narrow window that leads from one of those dormers to the stairs and there is an old fashioned deadbolt that locks from the outside. The reasons for these, at the time, were unknown.
There have been many over the past fourteen years, but the most common of which are the footsteps, the voice, and the "Flowered Lady," as she has come to be known.
The footsteps occur at any given time of day as do the voices. The steps are always heard on the floor above (whether you are on the first or second floors). The house is mostly done with hardwood and thus after many years, the floors creak. The steps are always heard in the front right corner of the house and are generally soft as though one was wearing house shoes. While on the bottom floor, they can be heard in my parents' room and while in their room they can be heard in my sister's room on the third floor. Other than being a bit strange, that is far as they go.
The voice is consistently that of an older woman. She usually just calls someone's name but occasionally will whisper in your ear. The most amusing occurrence associated with the voice involved my mother's maid. She was cleaning under my parents' bed and felt someone tap her on the shoulder. She was a tad spooked but continued cleaning, assuming she had bumped herself just right on the bottom of the bed. She had moved on to the formal living room and was in the process of vacuuming one of the few carpets in the house when the woman told her, quite loudly, that she had missed a spot! She promptly dropped the vacuum and quit, refusing to set foot back in the house.
The Flowered Lady is the strangest occurrence in the house. She does not show herself often, and only at night but her's are the most commonly regaled stories. She was first seen in the formal dining room, standing in front of the French doors. My mother was walking through to get a drink in the middle of the night and she almost walked right through her. She says that they just stood there looking at each other for a few moments until my mother slowly reached out to touch her. She says that when she got close enough to feel a slight chill in the air that The Flowered Lady just disappeared.
Another occurrence was witnessed by my sister (different one, but she also refuses to sleep in that room). She was visiting and had stepped out (also in the middle of the night) to use the restroom. Upon stepping out into the upstairs foyer, she saw her standing in the doorway to my sister's room trying to open the already open door. She says she just stood there as though trying to open the door, turning a knob my sister couldn't see and banging on a door that wasn't there. When the woman looked at her and said simply, "Help," my sister let out a scream that could have straightened my hair, and then she was gone.
The Flowered Lady
We now know that the Flowered Lady is the mother-in-law of the architect that designed and lived in the house. She had Alzheimer's Disease and was kept locked in the room that became my sister's until she died there. He wasn't a cruel man, it was just the only alternative to a mental hospital in those days (before they knew what the disease was). The small window in the stairwell was put in so that she could look out into it to see who was at the door, because she was often afraid when it was opened. The lock is obvious.
This email was sent by my mother (October 26, 2005):
Our ghost is back! I got up this morning, fixed my breakfast, and came out in the sun porch where it's warm. I ate, took my morning meds, flipped the TV on to catch the news, nothing on, so turned it off. Came to the computer to check the Lex. obits for the shop, nothing there would make us have to call anymore employees in, so went to my recliner to kick back.
At this point, I must admit that I had told a friend of mine on Monday, that our former Doctor's wife would not be flying over us on a broom this Halloween. She has gained so much weight it would take every broom in town for her to get out off the ground and then it would only be a couple of feet
About the time I got a cigarette lighted, I heard a terrible crash in the house. I jumped up and took off through the house to see what had fallen. Went through the living room, hall, bedroom, and bath. Saw nothing there, so went in the kitchen. There in the middle of the kitchen floor was my broom. Nearly scared me into another heart attack!
I am now holed up on the sun porch, needing to go to the bathroom, but am afraid to go back in there. And after all that, I desperately need to go. I think I will call your father to come home, so I won't float down Herndon.
Please call me and Bless my heart. The never ending saga of our ghost seems to haunt me.
*At this point I find it necessary to explain why this would be so interesting. My mothers broom closet has a door and the kitchen door stands open in front of it, so there is no way that it could have just fallen out. Also, the closet is nowhere near the middle of the kitchen.