True Tales of a Haunted Church

I will leave out the name, but it is a real place.  The church lay next to a cemetery, both of them 100 years old and both full of strange occurrences.  My grandpa pastored there for several years.  My mother went to church there and also helped out with various small jobs.

I will write a disclaimer: not all of these things can be proven, and none of them have ever been explained.  I relate them because they are interesting, and I've tried to remain true to the details told me by those who were there.

Nobody took care of the old cemetery and the weeds would grow in a high and hideous tangle.  When my grandpa noticed this he took it upon himself to cut them on a regular basis.  The graveyard was fenced, and he often found the gate open when he had shut it himself and latched it carefully.  He suspected local hoodlums at the time but could never find anyone out there.

One morning as he stood at the gate with his mower ready to work he noticed a large golden retriever lying beside one of the headstones.

"Here, boy.  Come here," he said.  Someone must own that dog.  It's beautiful.

He approached it with his hand held out, ready to catch the stray.

He never got there.  It vanished into thin air.

Many odd items turned up in the graveyard, and he would stop his mower and pick them up.  Jewelry and other valuable belongings always seemed to end up there somehow, and he would always store what he found in a safe place and wait for an owner to show up and claim it.  No one did.  Ever.

Flowers and other grave ornaments were often found in the wrong place.  He'd put them back where they belonged each time, and each time when he returned they would be out of place again.

The church bell sat in a high tower.  A single entrance led to a single enclosed staircase, which was the only way up to the rope.  At least twice a week the bell would ring spontaneously.  This was never at the same time of day and would sometimes happen at night.  If my grandpa was nearby he would race up the stairs as fast as he could to try and catch whoever was ringing it, but he always found the tower empty.  He'd stand and watch while the bell continued to ring.  Several times he tried to grab the rope and stop it, but he was not quick enough.  As soon as it was within reach the rope would jerk itself back up again as though something invisible were taunting him.  His kids would often wonder who was ringing it.  His daughter accompanied him up to the top while it was ringing and can attest to the fact that

a. no one was there,

b. there was no other way up or down,

c. there were no hiding places under the stairs or anywhere else,

and

d. there were no windows in the tower through which a clever prankster could leap in or out.

Many people from the congregation experienced this and confirmed what they saw.

You would be outside either on the grounds, in the parking lot, or near the entrance. Someone would startle you by asking you how to get somewhere when you hadn't seen or heard anyone approach and when there was no car in which they might have arrived. You'd answer the question, and then they'd thank you and vanish. You didn't actually see the person vanishing, however. You'd just look away for a second, and when you'd look back again the speaker simply wasn't there anymore.

Black cats are the stuff of legends.  Either these were enormous house cats gone wild, or they were immature cougar cubs with dark faces and pink tongues.  Either way they could be spotted at all hours prowling about the graveyard within the fence, but never outside it.  Many people saw them, including my mom.

In the dark, eyes would glow from the cemetery's direction.  The odd thing about this was there were no headlights pointed that way for them to reflect.

The cats never approached anyone for a handout, and they never attacked anyone.  All were convinced these mysterious animals were real and alive.  No one ever found out where they came from or why they chose to live in a cemetery.

One day my grandpa got up early and went to the church sanctuary on some errand.  When he got there a woman dressed in a sparkling blue gown was standing beside the altar.  He asked her if she needed help.  Her image became translucent, then faded away completely.

In the cemetery and outside the church black hooded human-like figures could be seen standing or wandering aimlessly about.  Again, congregation members reported seeing them as well as the pastor and his family.  They seemed to be harmless and would disappear when approached.

Strange noises were a common occurrence, the source of which was never found. They included footsteps in empty hallways, doors slamming, and voices calling. Sometimes they called what seemed to be an unintelligible name--whatever they were saying it was never in English, a fact attested to by several people. No one ever understood a single word of it, but many reported hearing it.

While my grandpa studied, books on his bookshelf would suddenly fall to the floor. They fell hard and fast like they were violently pushed and not like they had merely tumbled over by accident.

Items in the church were often found in different places than where they'd been left. The entire kitchen got rearranged on a regular basis. Nothing was ever stolen or broken, just moved. My grandpa had an idea one night and tied black thread to both the kitchen doorknobs. The next day the threads were still in tact, but upon entering the kitchen he found all the utensils in different places again.

He collected crosses and owned many colors and styles, and he brought some of them to the church. Some were on the wall as decorations, some were lying here and about on various tables, and some were in his study. These were also found in odd places where they'd not been left, and the ones on the wall were routinely found turned the wrong direction, either up-side-down or sideways.

My mom recalls one night when she was in front of the mirror in the ladies' room before the people started arriving for evening church services. She heard the main restroom door open and shut, but when she looked there was nothing so she went back to tidying up. Suddenly she felt a chilly breeze out of no where, and a sensation brushed her shoulder like the fingers of an invisible hand. Something grabbed at her leg and pulled at her coat, but she still couldn't see anything at all.

The pipe organ was over 100 years old and had fallen into disrepair.  Even though it didn't work anymore the people kept it because of its antiquity.  It was huge and had its own hidden room behind it full of gigantic pipes.

My grandpa would pore prayerfully over books in his study trying to get ready for his Sunday sermon.  (Though this happened several times, he was usually alone.)  My mom was with him on this occasion, and she was standing in the vestibule near the coat rack doing some cleaning and straightening.

Suddenly the church reverberated with a song neither one could recognize.  Both went quickly into the sanctuary to investigate.  My mom got there first.  She said she couldn't see any keys moving but it was definitely pipe organ music and it was definitely coming from the organ.  When my grandpa got there he opened the door to the pipe room and turned on the light.  No one was there.  The music kept on playing and they both shrugged and went back to work.  My mom says she has never heard that song anywhere else and has no idea what it is.

*Parenthetical corroboration:

My other grandfather once asked my "preacher grandpa" to get the organ fixed so that his son, who became my dad, would have a place to practice, thus corroborating the fact that the organ wouldn't play.  My dad can attest to this statement.

A crossroad ran along the outside of the graveyard.  It was rumored that, like the Bermuda Triangle, this was an unlucky place to drive.  Many car accidents happened there, right in front of the cemetery.

There is no evidence that the cemetery had anything to do with it.  I am only repeating what was told to me.  It is a legend of their town, maybe still known today, maybe not.

The church's name has changed since my grandpa's time, but I'm still not going to tell where it is or was.  This story was told for informative and entertainment purposes, and the tales are those of a real group of people who lived somewhere in the Land of Lincoln, sometime before I came to be.

Drive carefully.