The Ghost Chronicles by Maureen Wood Read Free Book Online Page A

Ghost Project
television show. But back then, Maureen hadn’t been with us. This time, with her here, we might be able to get some psychic verification of paranormal activity.
    Our group now complete, we walked across the windswept pavement to the porch, which was embellished with various Halloween decorations. The seasoned wooden door creaked slowly open, and there stood Ethel, a short older woman with a heartwarming smile.
    “Hello, Ron,” she said in a slight Yankee accent. “How are you?”
    “Better than nothing,” I quipped as the aroma of fresh-baked bread drifted out of what must have been the nearby kitchen.
    Turning, I introduced the rest of my ensemble one by one as they filed past us and into the kitchen—and back in time. Well, it felt like that, anyway. The warm glow of a cast-iron stove filled the room. A heavy wooden table was surrounded by hunter green ladder-back chairs. Pewter candlesticks, a snuffer, and a wicker basket filled with pistol-grip silverware sat atop a white handcrocheted tablecloth.
    “Wow, Ethel, where did you get all these antiques?” I asked.
    Ethel looked wistful for a moment. “I picked them up here and there. My husband and I used to enjoy antiquing. But he passed away years ago.”
    I caught a faint whiff of candle wax. But there were no candles lit in this sea of nostalgia. “Ethel, do you have any candles burning?”
    She smiled knowingly. “No. However, it’s funny you should say that. Many guests have reported the smell of candles burning and the pungent odor of tobacco.”
    “Ron, I know you like to take the scientific stance,” Maureen said. “But are you sure you’re not becoming more sensitive, and picking up on things?”
    I frowned at Maureen. “I doubt it. I’m about as psychic as a brick.”
    “Never say never,” she chuckled.
    I was itching to get started. Since I had been there previously to film a television episode of
The New England Ghost Project
, I knew I wanted to start in the living room, or Victorian Room, as Ethel liked to call it.
    We got Ethel settled in a blue Queen Anne chair beside the red brick fireplace.
    “So, Ethel,” Brian began. “What’s the history of this house?”
    Maureen and I joined Brian on the sofa, while Ron Jr. and Tom stood, each with a camcorder rolling.
    “The original house, a four-room cottage, was built in 1692 by Phillip Knight Jr. as a wedding gift for his bride, Rebecca Towne of Topsfield. She was the niece of Mary Estey and Rebecca Nurse, who were hung as witches during the Salem Witch Trials.” Ethel paused for a moment. “As you know, Middleton was formerly part of Old Salem Village. Phillip Knight Jr. and his bride moved into the house. Unfortunately, he died an untimely death at the early age of twenty-seven.”
    “How long have you owned the house, Ethel?” Brian asked.
    “Twenty-three years,” she replied. “A psychic told me I was going to buy a dark house. The minute I walked over the threshold, I knew I belonged here.”
    “Well, as Ron can testify, I am somewhat of a skeptic. But tell me, what kinds of things have happened here?” Brian asked.
    “Lots of things. Most notably, previous guests have reported seeing a ghostly apparition of what appeared to be a sea captain.In fact, one of the guests captured his image in a photo. The likeness in the photo is a mirror image of a portrait we have of captain Henry Quiner. Henry Quiner was not a captain; however, he did come from Marblehead, Massachusetts, to live here in Salem Village, and everyone in town called him the captain.” She smiled. “Would you like to see the photo?”
    “Yes, I would, but not right now.” He paused. “Ethel, would you like to add anything else?”
    “Yes. The captain is not the only spirit that has been seen. White figures have been seen walking the grounds, and a woman in brown period dress has been seen in this room. I think her name is Rosemary, because I could swear I heard her name whispered in my