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We Present Logan's Trick or Treat Haunting of Grandview Cemetery Halloween Parade: Saturday - Will update the following next October 2008 History and Mystery Ghost Walk: Sunday Trick or Treat: Wednesday Find local haunted places below. On with our Ghost Story!

It was a Saturday night, on Halloween weekend, and the gang and I wanted something different to do. We had spent all of our previous Halloweens going trick or treating around the neighborhood.  We were older now, I got my driver’s license a few months ago, and we were itching to create a new tradition this Halloween.   We were older now, so that meant no more doing with the younger kids did.  We had a reputation to protect.  We were to grown up and couldn't be bothered with the little kid stuff. The gang consisted of me, Turk, and Half Pint.  We had been thick as thieves since we first met.  Turk got his nickname a couple years ago, when he fought with a local bully.  Everyone watching said that Maurice (his real name) looked like a turkey killing a snake, stomping and striking out with his bony fist.  Since that fateful flight, everyone called Maurice, Turkey, finally shortening it to Turk.  The name stuck with him for the rest of his life.  Gotta say though, “Turk” was much better than “Maurice” anyway. Now Half Pint, he lived at the end of the street and was younger and shorter than us. If you think his height had anything to do with his nickname, you would be wrong. He was christened “Half Pint” during one hot, sticky summer's day.  It happened sorta like this...

........ as I had been forced to cut the grass and clean up the yard. It was forced labor with pay, though. Turk and Half Pint came over and offered to help, for a price.  I accepted their generosity, naturally.     Now, on this occasion. Turk and I had worked up quite a sweat.  I swear, we were sweating buckets.  But Half Pint had slacked off during most of the day's work.  He used his hands when talking and he talked non-stop.     Needless to say, his part of the job went by the wayside, and we were forced to pick up the slack.  We were teasing him about our buckets of sweat compared to his half of a pint.  The name stuck. That, and we turned the garden hose on him, to even things up a bit..

Read, "The Story of the Missing Cookie Jar" by PenVampyre.  A delightful little Christmas story with mouthwatering  recipes for the most wonderful time of the year! Read "Santa and the Magic Key", plus recipes for your holidays.  A story by Robin Wallace.Read "Santa and the Magic Key", plus recipes for your holidays.  A story by Robin Wallace. Read "Easter and Where NOT to Hide Eggs"  Memories of Easters past and a few vintage recipes. Food and Genealogy.  A story By Robin L. Wallace.  Our lives, our families, our very history's are defined by the foods we eat. Family Reunion Recipes. "The Fourth of July and Other Disasters" (With Apologies to Jean Shepherd) By Robin L. Wallace A short story by Suellen Fry.  Memories of my father and his version of Kickapoojoyjuice.

Now, on this one particular Halloween things worked out a little differently for us.  As I was saying, we wanted something a little different to do...    Mom was standing at the kitchen counter making chocolate chip cookies.  The screen door slammed shut behind me, as I ran through the kitchen shouting, "Hey mom, may I go to the haunted house in Columbus with the gang?"    These were the fateful words I uttered on Halloween this year and so it began...    Now my mother, who usually asked me a thousand questions, just smiled and asked, "Did you do your history homework?"   Since she didn't even look at me, and since I sorta had it finished....well, mostly.  Ok, I hadn't even started on it, but I had all weekend  and I really wanted to go with the guys.  Since all of those things were true, and since I figured there was no harm in a half  truth, and since by Monday, it would be a real truth…I answered yes.    She stopped in mid-stir, I thought she was going to look in my eyes and see I wasn't telling the whole truth, but she didn't.  Instead, she stared straight ahead and with an odd tone to her voice, she said, "Sure, you could go if you would do me a favor first.     "Take these flowers up to the Grandview Cemetery and put them on my friend's grave. The cemetery is on the east side of town, right on the town's outskirts.  You remember which grave it is, right?  Now, it's getting late, so hurry and get this done before it gets too dark.  You never know when the gate may be closing."     She never even looked up. She just started stirring the bowl of cookie batter, with slow methodical strokes.  I thought to myself, she really needs to take a break, have a little fun, and relax.

I should have realized the night was starting out weird.  How many mothers would let you do what you want without all the questions?    Trust me when I say, three guys out on a Saturday night are in no hurry to put flowers on a grave.  We took our sweet time getting there, goofing off, stopping to talk to a couple girls we knew, wasting time, kicking it at the local pizza shop.  By the time we were on the road to deliver the flowers, it seems I had completely forgotten Mom’s directions.

Well, just at dusk, after some frantic hunting, we finally made it...     As we arrived at the entrance of Belleview Hill, I noticed the sign for the first time.  It read, Entrance-Opened 1915.  Was this the right place?  Mom did say the Belleview, right?  The cemetery on the west side of town, didn't she? I was sure that is what she said.    Standing just outside of the gate to the entrance, I tried to reach her on my cell phone for clarifications, but apparently this was a non-service area....Rats!  The cell just kept roaming. No help there.  I put my cell away,  looked around and shuddered, as a chill ran down my spine. I could see the guys weren't having any luck with their phones either.    My spider senses were getting goose bumps!  This fog was rolling in, a thick blanket, obscuring everything.  I looked around.   Just seconds ago, you could see clear down on Main Street, only a few blocks away! This is getting creepy, I thought, just like at the beginning of a Hollywood horror movie.  Stop being a wussy, I told myself.  If the guys find out I'm scared, there would be no end to it.  But then again, Half Pint and Turk weren't saying much either...    We turned toward the entrance gate, as we heard a strange noise approaching where we stood

Staring, our jaws dropping, we watched as an old man, all dressed up in a black topcoat and high hat began to close the rickety, rusty wrought iron gate. I ran up to him and begged him to let us in the cemetary.  I pleaded with him, explaining my mom’s favor and how she wouldn't let us go to Columbus, if we didn't get this chore finished.  Shamefully, I confessed to him about our messing around at the pizza place and our reason for being so late.  I could see Half Pint’s and Turk's heads bobbing up and down in agreement out of the corner of my eye.    With a wink and a nod, he told me the festivities had already begun, but if we were sure we wanted to participate, we would be more than welcome.  We would have to leave the car behind and ride inside the horse-drawn carriage with him.    Ok, so we would miss the haunted house in Columbus, but, hey, no big deal.  At least I would get the flowers delivered, and a haunted cemetery versus a haunted house didn't sound so bad.  The guys didn't seem so sure, but went along with the program after some quick persuading…     Was I throwing caution to the wind and trying to save a little on the cost of gas to Columbus from Chillicothe?  Whatever my reasoning, we walked though the gates and headed towards the carriage.  Half Pint stayed a little behind us, and for once wasn't saying a word.  As I turned to give Half Pint a look of encouragement, I noticed that the wrought iron gate looked freshly painted from this side.  I didn't feel so encouraged myself anymore.

The fog was thick as pea soup.  Actually, I've never even seen pea soup, but that's how they always describe it in the movies.  It was thick though, you couldn't see any of Chillicothe from the overlook in the cemetery. The fog was almost like a wall surrounding the graveyard. Could this night get any weirder? I was about to find out.    Walking towards the carriage, I could tell it was the real deal. Cool, I thought, look at that horse, that's the biggest blackest horse, I've ever seen.

The air had that brisk fall chill to it, and I knew the horse's breath should be steamy, but in a way, it almost looked like feathers of smoke as he breathed out.  The horse snorted and stomped one big black hoof into the dirt as we approached.  His red eyes had a sort of wild look to them and his long black mane and tail rippled with each snort.  Did I say red eyes?  Now how do you suppose they gave a horse red eyes?  Maybe some kind of computer animation or other Hollywood special effects trick, ok, that was a logical answer.......    As we climbed up into the carriage, it moaned and groaned like it was a hundred years old. Wonder where they got this relic?  eBay I guessed.  We settled in, and the horse started forward with a jerk.  Its black coat was shinning through the darkness, struck by moonlight. The big horse's hooves made a clacking noise as it clip-clopped along.

Easy, I told myself.  But I couldn't settle the queasiness in my stomach.  As the carriage passed rows of the tombstones and mausoleums, we saw moving through tree-blackened silhouettes, men dressed in topcoats and tails dancing, arm in arm, with women dressed in Victorian garb. Swirling around and around they danced, moving with an eerie ease and grace.  The dense fog, which seemed to envelop their feet, obstructed the platform they were dancing on from our view.    The carriage pulled to a stop right in front of the platform.  The violinist and fiddlers stood in the center of the stage. Their faces completely expressionless, as they played their dance tunes.  Cool, I thought.  Now I understood.  This was like a haunted house tour and we had all gotten in free of charge!  Great actors, great costumes.  So real!

One of the actors approached the carriage, as we came to a jerky halt and stepped down.  He introduced himself as Nathaniel Massie, and said he had landed on the west banks of the Scioto River, April 1, 1796.   He claimed he came to help build a new town, explaining that it was some sort of government grant…a "new" program called the Northwest Ordinance passed by Congress in 1787.     I shook my head, trying to make sense of what he told the three of us.   Did I hear that right? Surely he said 1987, didn't he?   Must be this night air playing tricks on my hearing, I said to myself. Oh, then I got it.  It was a part of the performance.  “Mister Massie” continued on, saying he was most proud of how he had surveyed and plotted out the town site.  He told us he liked the name Massieville, but later changed it to Chillicothe, a local Indian word.  He talked about his pride in the town’s growth and heritage over the ensuing years.     The old man, our guide, sorta limped on ahead of us as he directed us to get back into the carriage.  "You ok, pops?" I asked. The old guide barely acknowledged I had spoken.  Turk elbowed me in the ribs, "Quit. Dude might leave us here, since we ain't paying."    “Mr. Massie” began to fade away into the fog, and I marveled at the quality of the special effects.  Genius for such a small town acting company as this was. What they can't do with computers today…

Our guide drove us further into the cemetery.  Seems the gaiety was all around us now.  Our next visitor seemed to approach the carriage from out of nowhere.  He introduced himself as Edward Tiffin, the first Governor of Ohio.  He told us the story of how he served as the Chillicothe Postmaster in 1799, then how he was part of the delegation to meet and greet President Monroe, when the President visited Chillicothe on August 27, 1817.  “Governor Tiffin” told of how President Monroe spent the night in the Adena mansion.    “The Governor” waved his arm in a welcoming gesture, pointing towards the evening’s celebration.  As he did so, several young girls who looked to be about our age, ran over and asked us if we would like to join in the dancing.  They looked really cute all dressed up in their Victorian costumes. As tempting as this invitation was, we declined.  We all babbled like idiots, trying to politely explain our flower delivery mission.  I felt like a fool for turning the girls down, and I was sure Turk and Half Pint wanted to join the party.      They looked at me as if I had completely lost my mind, but were loyal to the end, so they stayed on by my side, rather than joining in with the dancers.  And something wasn't quite right.   It gnawed at my stomach turning it into knots.  Gee this is creepy.  I thought the dancing was further back  in the cemetery, but I guess the fog was playing tricks on my eyes again.  The music sounded like it was just behind the trees located nearby.  Must have driven in a circle, I said to myself.    But yet, there was just a feeling that I couldn't seem to shake. I think Turk and Half Pint felt it, too.  I knew this was a haunted house graveyard type Halloween tour, but...still...I couldn't quite place my finger on it.

Turk, Half Pint, and myself stared as the next man approached the carriage.  He introduced himself as the 10th governor of Ohio. He explained that he had served in the Indian Campaign of 1790 and as a surveyor in laying out Chillicothe.  He helped to organize the state militia in the early 1800's.  In the war of 1812, he commanded a regiment of Ohio Volunteers and marched with Hull to Detroit.  His military dress looked so real.     Good costume department.  Got every detail right, just like something straight off the History Channel.

Our guide walked us over to meet the next newcomers.  They introduced themselves as Thomas Worthington and his wife Eleanor Van Swearingen Worthington.  Geesh, what a name, I thought.  They were dressed splendidly in formal attire.    "Check out his walking stick", Half Pint exclaimed excitedly.    "Must have spent a fortune on eBay for those get ups", Turk whispered in my left ear.  I nodded in agreement, a veritable fortune.  “Mr. Worthington” noted we had already met his brother-in-law, Edward Tiffin.  “Eleanor” asked if we had ever visited their home. They had named their home, Adena, and explained that it had been completed in 1807, and was designed by Benjamin Latrobe.     “Of course, “ we replied, “everyone goes to Adena on school trips.”    She remarked that we looked familiar.  Too much acting if you ask me.  She made it sound as if the mansion were really theirs.  Ha!     Mr. Worthington told us he had served as one of Ohio's first two U.S Senators.  He was later elected the sixth governor of Ohio.  Quite suddenly, the couple grabbed each other and danced away into the fog.  As they faded from sight, I couldn't help think this was getting a little too corny.     Hum...Wasn't there a haunted inn in Columbus...the Worthington Inn on High Street?  I don't know why that came to mind.  Must be this crisp fall air, the fog, the full moon, and the moss hanging off the trees, that kind of thing makes me think of hauntings and such.  This was the first time I noticed the moss... hang on a sec…we don't have moss hanging on trees in Ohio!.  How did they do that?

As we climbed back in the carriage for another ride with our guide, we encountered one last visitor.  The old man introduced him as the 25th Ohio Governor, William Allen.  He told us he had moved to Chillicothe in 1817, while living with his sister and brother-in-law, a circuit rider.    "What's a circuit rider", I asked?    Mr. Allen replied, "A circuit rider is a term for a professional who rides in a  regular sort of circle to various towns to provide services. Most often as a judge, in the sparsely populated American West, where he would hold court in each town on a regular basis, perhaps once a week or once a month."    Ohio was considered the American West at one time.  He continued on to say that he had attended boarding school in Virginia and completed his education at the Chillicothe Academy.  He was a lawyer, a U.S. Congressman, a Senator for Ohio, and frankly, a little full of himself, if you ask me.  While in the Senate, he boasted, he did not miss a single day's session or floor vote.  Too bad today's politicians can't meet his record.  He made his home at Fruit Hill, now called Brewer Heights, and also mentioned  that he had a statue in the Statuary Hall in Washington D.C.    Trying to join in the festivities, I asked him if he had ever visited D.C. to see it.  He replied he had been dead these many years, thus no longer traveled far.     Quick comeback, I muttered to myself.  Yeah, right!  Keep in character, after all it's for Halloween and they were putting on a show.

Our guide, the old man, motioned us to climb in the carriage again, then returned us to the front gate. "Hey, what about the flowers for the grave?" I asked, as he motioned for us to get out.  "I need to put these flowers on my mom's friends grave."  He reached out a wrinkled hand and took the flowers from me, "I'll attend to it, young sir." he answered.  "You run along, now."   As he and his horse clipped-clopped off into the fog, I shouted, "But you don't know which grave it is."     He just turned his head, tipped his black stove pipe hat and grinned a sly grin. With that last gesture the carriage, the horse, and the old man all disappeared from sight.    You have never seen three guys climb so fast into a car.  Errr, Errr, Errr, the car wouldn't start. The engine failed over and over as we tried to start it up.  No use, the battery seemed dead.     We were silent as we walked, ok, ran to the nearest house for a jump.  No one spoke as the fog began to lift.

The closer we came to the nearest house the less fog there was.  The man at the house had jumper cables and was more than helpful in starting our car.  We told him about the haunted house tour in the cemetery.  Too bad they didn't advertise it better.  We seemed  to be the only ones who showed up and we didn't even pay.  He got this weird look on his face and asked us a few more questions.  Then he told us we had better get back home in a hurry. “Why,” we asked.  “What the heck was going on anyway?”     He looked us dead straight in the eyes, each of us in turn.  With quiet amusement finally he spoke, “There was no cemetery, no carriage, no people, no computer animation.  Nothing, but a broken down car on a dirt road, by a worn out corn field, in the middle of nowhere.  No one lives out here.”     Slowly we looked around, he was right!  All there was as far as our eyes could see was....nothing in the midle of nowhere.  As we looked back to thank the man for helping us with our dead battery, he had disappeared too!    Great goblins of Halloween!  Needless to say, we jumped in our car and did leave in a great hurry.

When I returned home, Mom was sitting on the couch, watching TV, and sipping a cup of hot tea.  She asked if I had enjoyed the haunted house tour in Columbus.  She never even mentioned the flowers.  When I asked if she had ever visited Grandview Cemetery on Halloween evening before?      Her only reply was, "Why go out of Chillicothe for a good haunting when you have the best in Ohio's haunted history right here at home."  With that she reached for a plate of chocolate chip cookies.  "Want a cookie, dear?" The End.

The collaborating effort of Starla and Logan.  The original story won first place in sixth-eighth grade division of Southeastern Middle School, 2005 by Logan Lyon.  Logan wrote the original story and I did the rewrite.. The story was then given to PenVampyre for a final once over.  She corrected the story adding her professional writing skills to the mix.  If you would like your family stories written for you, please contact her through her email address -  PenVampyre@aol.com.  Very affordable.  Her translactions of English/Spanish are perfect too!

Want to see some real haunted site for Halloween?  Well, grab your candy (you'll need the sugar strength), and come to Chillicothe, Ohio located about 45 minutes south of Columbus, Ohio to meet some real ghosts.     Our most famous ghost is Elizabeth, of Elizabeth's Grave, residing at Mount Union-Pleasant Valley Cemetery.   Oddly enough, it’s located a few miles north of my house, off Egypt Pike in Ross County.  A little northwest of town.     To get there, turn left on Union Road a little past Pleasant Valley Wildlife Area, where the dirt track road will lead to a graveyard. Poor Elizabeth committed suicide here.  Climbing a tree, she wrapped a rope around her neck and jumped, snapping her neck instantly.  Mom said when she was a teenager they were told Elizabeth did it due to unrequited love.  Frankly, I think she's a bit of an idiot.  Chilli is full of good looking guys.    You have the Crosskeys Tavern, address 19 East Main Street. A drunken ghost named Harold lives there.  Mom said he drank so much, he died right in the bar.    Then there is the most famous haven of ghosts, the Majestic Theater, built in 1853.  Many famous people have preformed here, most recently, Mickey Rooney, who was one of my grandmother's early crushes.  Geesh! It was the morgue during the 1918 Spanish Flu epidemic.     Camp Sherman was located just a couple of miles away, and when the soldiers died from the flu, they transported them to the Majestic Theater.  Doesn't seem very practical to me, but then, I'm just a kid.  Then they piled the soldiers' corpses in the alley beside the Theater.     It’s said embalmers worked under the stage lights, where many a soul left their bodies.  Old Bloody Alley.  They sure liked to do things the hard way.  There isn't even a cemetery nearby.  The closest one is located  a few more miles away.    Schrader Road has a railroad tunnel.  A lady and her baby died on the tracks there.  The mother tried to save the baby, by tossing it over the tracks when the train came.  Needless to say, both were killed.  You can hear the baby cry when you drive through.  Frankly, I don't get it.  Why was she on the tracks with her baby in the middle of the night in the first place?      Then another woman was supposed to have been murdered here and her body wrapped and hung over a tree so the blood could drain out.  Oh, that is just plain sick!    This one is pretty cool.  Out on Sulphur Lick Road is an ancient rundown hotel.  This man's wife found he cheated on her, so she snapped, and murdered everyone in the motel, including the guest and her husband, the dogs, the cats, the cook....    Dang, I am beginning to think girls are a little crazy.  She could have divorced, come away with a decent alimony, and found another husband.     There are tons more hauntings in and around Chillicothe, Ohio. You can find them - just click the bloody red link.  May be some from Columbus too.    But my favorite haunted place is the cemetery on my mom and dad's farm.  There are tombstones there dating back as far as you can think of, some all the way back to the early eighteen hundreds.  It looks haunted to me.  Really creepy.    Well that's all for my haunted trick or treat candy night.  Catch you next year, when I have to write another story for school.  Now, that's scary!    School, homework, oh, no..........SCREAM ! ! !SCREAM ! ! !

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