living persons.”
A recent survey in Britain showed that over half the population believed in psychic phenomena and that 44 percent of people believed in ghosts. Of these, one in seven claimed to have seen a ghost or been haunted by one. The figures in the United States are even higher; similar studies revealed that 57 percent of the adult population believed in the phenomenon. One might conclude, to deny ghosts exist is to ignore the millions of ordinary witnesses to them.
So what happens when a person dies? Eddie Burk and Gillian Cribbs, in their book entitled Ghosthunter, addressed this question. Mr. Burk believes that in the dying moments consciousness begins to drift to a higher level of existence, and often relatives and loved ones will appear. Then the person passes out of the physical body and into the “etheric body.” The etheric body is a halfway house between the physical and spiritual bodies: when you die your consciousness moves out of the physical body and operates through the etheric body. If you remain in the etheric body for too long, your consciousness begins to cloud; this is why ghosts have no idea how long they have been trapped — in the etheric body there is no difference between a day and a hundred years. He also believed that up to one in five hundred people remain back in this etheric place after death.
Ms. Elizabeth P. Hoffman, author of In Search of Ghosts: Haunted Places in Delaware Valley, defines ghosts as the spirits of people, places, creatures, or objects. She says a place is haunted if a spirit is felt, heard, sensed, seen, or smelled. She also maintains that the temperature may drop or the atmosphere will feel cool and damp when a spirit is near.
A ghost may be present when something physical — a picture, a book, a dish moves without a natural cause such as a vibration or a slammed door.
A hundred years ago Mrs. Eleanor Sidgwick of the Society for Psychical Research analyzed more than 300 case histories and observed that a ghost is usually seen upon looking around the room, or comes in a door, or forms gradually out of a cloud. It rarely simply pops into place. It can disappear suddenly, however, if the viewer looks away or blinks. The form can also vanish slowly as if in a cloud. Frequently it will go through a door, open or closed, or it will move to another room where it cannot be found.
Many ordinary families who find out their home is haunted first experience fear. Others simply accept the fact that someone or something is sharing their humble abode. I have known some people to open their home up to the public and share their ghost story. Such was the case with an old historic estate, named “the Hermitage” in South Carolina.
I first became acquainted with the Hermitage in 1975, when I was researching historical sketches of places on the Waccamaw Neck of South Carolina, United States. Stories of ghosts that inhabit old residences in South Carolina are not unusual. The Hermitage, at the time, was a good example of a house with an appealing combination of the historic and the mysterious. After all it is a house with a benign ghost.
Dr. Allard Belin Flagg built the Hermitage on a point of land surrounded on three sides by tidal marshes in Murrells Inlet. He placed his home within a grove of live oaks, which, at the time (1849), were undoubtedly 100 years old. Some say the land was given to Flagg’s mother by her brother on the condition that the doctor build there. The land might well have been a wedding gift for he was married the following year. Clarke A. Wilcox, the owner at the time, shared this about the estate: “The property contained 937 acres. On the north, a bank thrown up by slaves separated it from Sunnyside plantation, home of J. Motte Alston. On the south, Dr. James Grant owned the land west of the present King’s Highway. One hundred acres at the eastern end of the south line was the property of the Rev. James L. Belin, who left the tract to the Methodist Church.”
For decades the Hermitage was isolated. Mr. Wilcox adds, “When I was a boy, Sunnyside and the Belin property were our closest neighbours and we had to go through the field about half a mile to reach the winding one-way road to either of these places.”
No description of the Hermitage would be complete without the legend of lovely Alice Belin Flagg, the 16-year-old sister of the doctor. Engaged to a man in the turpentine industry and aware of her brother’s disapproval, she wore her ring on a ribbon around her neck and concealed it inside her blouse when she was at home on vacation from finishing school in Charleston. Her mother, fleeing from the dreaded malaria season, was in the mountains. At home the doctor was tending his patients and operating the farm. Following her happy debut at the spring ball in Charleston, Alice was suddenly stricken with a fever that was prevalent in the area. The school authorities sent for Dr. Flagg, who was experienced in treating fevers. After equipping the family carriage with articles for Alice’s comfort, he set out with a servant over miserable roads with five rivers to ford — a four-day trip one way.
Mr. Wilcox relates this portion of the story: “Upon examining his delirious sister when they arrived home, he found the ring. In great anger he removed it and threw it into the creek. Thinking she had lost it, Alice begged everyone who came into her sickroom to find the ring — her most cherished possession. Sensing her distress, a cousin went to Georgetown and bought a ring. When he pressed it into her hand, she threw it on the floor and insisted that they find her ring.”
Alice died prior to her mother’s return from the mountains, and was buried temporarily in the yard. When her mother returned, Alice’s body was moved to the family plot at All-Saints Episcopal Church on the river opposite Pawley’s Island. Among the imposing stones raised in memory of the other Flaggs, a flat marble slab, upon which is engraved the single word, “Alice,” marks her grave. The conjecture of an older resident, “Perhaps she was so beloved that is all that was needed,” fails to dissipate an observer’s feeling of sadness. Often a vase of flowers appears on her grave. The donors are unknown. Young people often walk around the site 13 times backward, lie on the grave and, as they say, “talk to her spirit.” It is said that if a young girl sets her ring on the grave and runs round the grave nine times with her eyes closed, she will find, upon opening them, that her ring has disappeared.
Still searching for her ring, Alice visits her old room in the Hermitage. The Wilcox’s say that there is an undeniable feeling of her presence, more real than a visual appearance and far more impressive. They even left Alice’s room untouched, appearing as it did the night she passed away. At one time visitors were allowed to tour the house and spend some time in Alice’s room.
A few years ago the Hermitage property was sold and the house moved down the street. It is now a private residence.
Some people still say Alice returns on moonlit nights when the shadows of the restless moss, the eerie cry of the whippoorwill, and the distant roar of the ocean put the expectant one in the mood. At such times the beauteous Alice becomes real to even the most skeptical beholder.
The fact that ghosts haunt particular places could be in some way linked to a strong emotion or attachment to some item, such as Alice of the Hermitage, who is still looking for her engagement ring. Many spirits are so attached to personal items and familiar surroundings that they refuse to cross over to the other side. Instead, they remain in their homes.
A few years ago I resided in a grand century-old home that was still inhabited by the previous owners. They had never crossed over to the other side. Two family members had been seen on numerous occasions in the house, sitting on the front veranda and standing at the head of the stairs. I still remember the first night I spent here. I slept on the second floor of the building in the room to the right of the hall in the front part of the house.
That very night I had a dream — or was it a dream? I recall watching a procession of people carrying a casket along the second floor hall and down the central staircase. One thing that stood out in this image was a man following behind, who was dragging his leg. That was it. I awoke to brilliant rays of light beaming in my bedroom window. Was it just a dream? No.
Over morning coffee I shared this unusual dream.
