is often the case with ghosts; they are truly unaware of how much time has passed since their death. She had no idea of how many years had gone by while she remained in this half-life world of grief and despair. When I explained to her that she had been waiting for a very long time, she swore at me and said she did not believe me. I asked her then to look at me, to really look closely at me, and look at my clothing to see that I was speaking to her from another time. She slowly placed her gaze on me and swore in shock, seeing that I was a woman wearing pants. Gaining her trust and piqued interest, I invited her to look around at the shops, the lights, and the street to see how things had changed over time. The realization began to wash over her, and she broke free from her spell of grief in frozen time. What happened next is something that makes me weep with joy every time I think of it and as I write it here today.
As she stared in amazement of what I was showing her, a figure in the distance approached us slowly. The movement caught my eye, and as I turned my gaze to see who was approaching us, the young woman noticed I had stopped communicating with her and also turned to see what I was looking at in the alley.
The figure grew closer, and with a gasp, the young woman softly asked, “Me’re?” The figure, now standing in front of us, smiled and held out her arms to her daughter. The young woman, still reeling from anger, shock, and grief, paused for a moment and then fell into her mother’s loving arms. Embracing her daughter, the mother looked over at me and sent me an energetic impulse, which I can only describe as a wave of gratitude. The young woman was crying again, this time in the safety of her mother’s arms, and the mother began to cry in relief, as only a mother can understand her eternal love for her child. At this point, I began to cry. As an empath, I felt the emotional intensity of this experience, as well as an understanding as a mother and a daughter myself.
Pulling her child away gently from her arms, she spoke lovingly to her daughter and said, “It’s time to go home.” The daughter looked at her in fear and asked if she truly could go home with her mother. Her mother—a beautiful, strong, and regal woman—wiped away her child’s tears, tucked the tendrils of loose hair behind her daughter’s ears, and told her indeed, she was sure that she could come home. Taking her daughter’s hand, the two set off down the alley and soon disappeared from my sight into a beautiful field of white light.
A mother’s love is eternal and knows no bounds; not even death and traveling through the spiritual planes can stop her for coming to rescue her child. My feeling about the situation was that the mother had tried many times before to reach out to her child over the years, but in the state of overwhelming grief that the young girl had stayed in, she was hidden in a dark gray plane of existence that made her difficult to locate by others in spirit. When they did locate her, it would be hard to communicate with her in such a state of grief and pain.
I had no clue where the young girl had actually died, or if her body had ever been found. She indicated that she had not passed on here in the alley and explained to me that she traveled here each night in the hopes of finding her lover. My best assumption in experiencing other cases like this is that if the young girl had been buried in the family vault, her mother would have been able to reach her there at some time. So it’s likely that the girl went out into the wilderness after taking the poison and died alone. This cannot be confirmed, though, as it is also possible that the young girl had been found and was buried elsewhere off of consecrated ground, as church doctrines did not allow for suicides to be buried on holy grounds. During my time with the young girl, I did not think that a discussion of this sort would best serve her in the brief time that I had to spend with her. Even if the mother had visited the grave that was located elsewhere, it is likely that the young girl would have hidden from her in the shame of the circumstances regarding her death.
In her moment of clarity when we spoke and she realized that time had indeed passed by for longer than she had imagined, her energy lifted from the grief, making her spirit easier to locate by her mother, whom I believed had long been searching for her daughter each night.
It’s unknown at this time if the young woman has been reunited with her long-lost love in the afterlife. I hope to bump into them one day when I’m on the other side, and if I do, I plan to treat them to a café au lait and some beignets together, as the Café du Monde is so delightful that there surely must be one open 24 hours a day in the heavens.
I was weary after this experience and needed to ground back down to the earth plane again and replenish my energy, so there were no more ghostly explorations on this night. Pirates Alley, though, is very supernaturally active. I highly recommend that paranormal researchers visit it, especially for EVP recordings, due to the many executions that occurred nearby. I plan to check it out again on my next visit.
If I haven’t made this clear already, a visit to Café du Monde is a must-do for too many reasons to mention. Visit at sunrise for breakfast to see the city as it shines in the morning, visit again in the evening to see how it relaxes at night, and visit again at noon to take in all the lively action!
The shops around Pirates Alley still hold valuable treasures, including the works of great literary figures such as Nobel Laureate William Faulkner. The Faulkner House is located on 624 Pirates Alley and is a national landmark. Faulkner lived here in true New Orleans style, enjoying the music, the food, and the cocktails, and reportedly fell in love on the balcony here on the home. He also wrote here, and his books can be found on the ground floor at Faulkner House Books.
Weather can play havoc in the area when looking to use photography for paranormal investigations. I’ve been at Pirates Alley when it’s a beautiful clear sunny day only to see it enveloped in fog only a few hours later that night.
CHAPTER 4
Ghostly Harem Dancing for the Sultan at the Gardette–LePrete House
“Tis now the very witching time of night,/ when churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out/contagion to this world.”
—William Shakespeare, Hamlet
ONE OF THE MOST INTERESTING and defining aspects of New Orleans is how cosmopolitan the city has always been. Since its inception, the city has attracted settlers, businesspeople, and travelers from all parts of Europe, the Caribbean islands, and the Far East. This leads us to the legendary tale of one dark and stormy night around the year 1878, when a mysterious ship arrived in the port of New Orleans under the cover of darkness.
When the storm passed that evening, those who ventured out onto the streets were treated to a strange and highly unusual sight, which is saying something profound given what all can be viewed on a daily basis in New Orleans. On this night, a Middle Eastern sultan, whom some said was a prince, disembarked from his vessel, which was laden with trunks, furniture, tapestries, carpets, and an entourage of guards who carried swords and pistols. Completely surrounded by guards as they walked down the street was the sultan’s harem, described as bejeweled and veiled women wearing luxurious silk clothing in vibrant colors.
The sultan prince had made arrangements to live at one of the grandest homes in New Orleans, which was known as the Gardette–LePrete House. Located at 716 Dauphine Street on the corner of Orleans Avenue, the four-story home was considered palatial by the standards of this time in New Orleans, featuring extensive and ornate ironwork on the balcony railings and a ballroom with a view on the top floor.
Originally built by Dr. Joseph Coulon Gardette, it was later sold to Jean Baptiste Le Prete, who owned the home along with a large plantation outside of the city in Plaquemines Parish. Reportedly Le Prete used the home in New Orleans only when the family came in for what was described
