Where to start?
I guess at the beginning, right? When I first saw it.
It was in one of those YouTube ghost’s-caught-on-camera videos, the Henry Jones house in Ohio video clip. Don’t bother looking for it, trust me, it’s no longer on YouTube.
Someone took a video with their cell phone and posted it on the internet. Then the video was included in a Ghost caught on camera compilation.
They walked through the house. They stopped at a room. It was explained it was Henry’s daughter’s room, hinting at something sinister. While having the door in perfect frame, a shadow moved across the room.
Spooky stuff, right? A shadow figure inside the room. Or perhaps one of their friends, waiting in the room to walk across it?
Most of those videos are fakes anyway. But we enjoy them. If they make us jump even for a moment we would laugh about it. But we don’t take any of it seriously.
But that was not what got my attention.
While they were walking around in the house, I saw something else. It was briefly on screen, the camera panned around the main downstairs hallway and in one of the doorways I saw a white figure. My brain told me it was a woman. But I remember just a brief glimpse of a white figure. I asked my husband to pause the video, it was blurry and only visible for a few frames. Why don’t these people record their videos in full HD?
So what, right?
A woman in the house, standing in a doorway, what is so scary about that? Well, my husband couldn’t see it, so there was that. I thought he was teasing me, I got angry after a while, but he insisted there was nothing. The door was closed, nobody was standing there.
At first I thought it was just someone else in the house; it was a tourist attraction after all. So other people were probably in the house. And my husband sometimes has a strange sense of humor.
But I kept thinking about it. There was something about that figure, something that made me watch the clip again and again. I played the video frame by frame, a glimpse in the corner right before the camera moves away. A woman, my brain told me. A figure in white, my eyes told me. Standing there, watching.
Finally I made a comment on the video, “So who was that in the door then?” People asked where it was. I told them. But they also claim they don’t see anything. I told them to watch for the white figure in the door. No response, until one person replied, “Erm, the door is closed, what are you smoking?”
I couldn’t believe it. I watched the video again. And sure enough, just into the room, a figure in white facing the door.
I couldn’t explain it. Maybe it was part of a hoax? Maybe there are different versions of the video, to catch people like me. That is why my husband pretended not to see it, one of those stupid internet gags and he was in on it.
But I couldn’t let it go.
I decided to go and see for myself. The house is within driving distance from us in a small town. It is a tourist attraction, with tours. I told my husband I want to see the house. He gave me a look that really made me angry, that “she is crazy but I love her and will indulge her” look.
A guide took us through the house and explained its history.
The house was built for Henry Jones, some rich guy at the turn of the previous century. He moved in with his family, his wife, who passed away a few years after he moved in and two daughters. But there was a scandal. The oldest daughter fell in love with a poor guy. Old Henry didn’t like that. He locked the girl in the house, nobody saw her for many years until she died. Eventually only the youngest daughter remained and she offered the house to the town to be used as a museum. It shows a glimpse of how people lived back then. Rich people, who lock their daughter inside the house for falling in love with someone below their standards.
One of the upstairs rooms was shown as the one where the girl was locked up in. It was the room from the video, no shadow though. I had look, it was nice, I suppose. A big bed, attached bathroom, not exactly a prison cell. No bars in front of the windows, no gate to keep someone locked in. It felt empty. I don’t know how to explain it. Something was off. Something didn’t make sense.
Finally we were in the downstairs hallway. The door I saw on the video was the last one on the right. It was closed. I asked the guide about it. She gave me a look. “It’s just a storeroom.” she said. I looked at the door again. I felt something about the door. It gave me a bad vibe. Sounds silly, it is just a door to a storeroom, but still, I couldn’t shake the feeling there is something wrong.
The tour ended back in the main foyer. There is a big mirror covering most of the wall I looked into the mirror. I saw my husband looking around, I saw the guide, I saw the other people with us on the tour, an older couple and a younger couple with a little boy with them and in the corner I saw someone else, in white, turned to face my husband.
I looked back, but there was nobody there. Is my mind playing tricks on me? Like the video I only remember someone in white, but my mind told me it was a woman. I spun around, looked at all the other people in the room, nobody was wearing white. Nobody was lurking in the corner.
We left the house and walked to our car. I was thinking about the house and what I thought I saw. I was trying to convincing myself I imagined everything. When I looked back at the house. I first looked at the girl’s room, on the second floor, but saw nothing. Then I saw below it, where the storeroom was, something in the window. Someone in white. I turned to my husband and wanted to show him, but when I looked again, there was nothing. I started to consider I was going crazy.
On the way back my husband asked me if I was okay, he explained I looked a bit pale. I told him I was just tired. I thought maybe I was going crazy. I was imagining things. This was going to be a problem.
At home I took a nap and felt better when I woke up. I decided to take shower before dinner I ran the shower hot, standing still and let the water run over me. Steam filled the room. I climbed out the shower and wiped my face with the towel. I glanced at the mirror. On the glass was a heart with an arrow through it, the letters R.T in the top left corner and T.J. in the bottom right. R.T., the first letter of my husband’s name and surname. T.J. is not my name.
I didn’t do it. Perhaps my husband was still playing a joke on me, sneaked in while I was in the shower. I was not going to give him the joy to show my reaction. I wiped the mirror with the towel.
I was still mad at my husband when we went to bed. I slept with my back to him. I dreamed a woman was in the room, sitting on the edge of the bed, just staring. She was wearing a white dress.
Over the next few days I tried to forget about it. The joke has been going on too far. I couldn’t let it bother me any longer.
But it was getting worse. I dreamed the woman in white was in our room almost every night. I started to see something in white in the corner of my eye. It was no longer a joke. I ignored my husband, I was sure he was behind this. Some sick prank.
I struggled to sleep at nights. I really started to worry about my sanity. People asked me if there was something wrong. My husband saw I was unhappy with him, but he didn’t know why. I started to cry over small things. I kept thinking about the house. About the figure, the woman, in white. I couldn’t believe my husband would take a joke so far. But I couldn’t explain it to him, we were not exactly on speaking terms, he knew I was upset with him, but didn’t know why. And I couldn’t explain it to him.
Finally I had to go see the house again. Something was drawing me to it. My troubles started with that house. I thought if I saw the house again I might figure out what is going on. I decided to go on my own.
I went straight to the door in the hallway. I declined the tour, the guide just shrugged. It looked like the other doors. I touched it. A normal door. Yet I still feel something is wrong.
I saw an old man watching me. It looks like he worked there, maybe a caretaker or groundskeeper of the house. I quickly left. I stood outside, facing the house. Looking at the windows. I saw nothing strange. But still, I felt strange, I was sure someone was watching me.
Then a suddenly someone spoke next to me. “Are you alright young lady?”
I jumped and gave a little suppressed scream. It was the old man. He apologized, said he didn’t mean to startle me. He invited me to join him at the picnic table underneath the trees.
“Let me guess, you heard the rumors.” he asked. I told him I didn’t hear anything.
“Which one is it, the scandal or the woman in white?” he asked. I saw me jump. He nodded knowingly.
“It’s actually the same thing, the scandal and the woman in white. Never saw her though, guess I’m not good looking enough. He gave a chuckle. “Are you sure you are alright, you look really tired?”
“What scandal? And what women?” I asked.
“Oh, it’s some old story, not many people heard it these days. Sometimes we have somebody here who read about it somewhere, asking to see the ghost. Usually around Halloween.”
He chuckled and shook his head.
“I don’t know anything other than that what they told us in the house.”
He looked like he was considering things, making a decision.
“I’ll tell you, but you looked spooked already. Sure you want to know?”
I nodded, perhaps too quickly.
He paused for a bit.
“Heard it from me grandma. She was there, at the end, a young woman not older than you.”
He was staring into the distance, remembering, I guess.
“Ol’ Henry had two daughters. Tabitha, and later Claire. Much later, Claire was still in diapers when this happened. Henry’s wife died giving birth to Claire. Tabitha just turned eighteen. She had a bit of reputation, always seen with boys, taking them to the quarry.”
“The quarry?” I asked. “Yes, the local make out point, it’s been the spot for many years, a lot of scandals came from that spot.” The old man gave a chuckle and shook his head. I guess every town has a similar spot, lots of stories.
“Problem came when she started to chase after married men. That did not go down well. Then she chased after the new clerk at the post office. Followed him around, trying to get his attention. It was said she one night waited until the post office was closed and she went in there taken off her clothes. His wife, who was pregnant at the time, did not like that.”
The old man was staring ahead, seeing nothing, remembering the story.
“The wife complained to Henry. So Henry warned Tabitha to stay away from the man and his wife. She didn’t like that. A bit spoiled, used to get her way. But Henry kept her at the house, only allowed into town with a chaperone. ”
“Then the man’s wife died, she went to sleep and never woke up. Doctors were puzzled. After the funeral, the man moved away. Tabitha would be seen around town, same story, seen with different boys, making eyes at married men she fancied. Then she her sights on the town solicitor.”
The guide paused; I could sense what was coming.
“It didn’t matter that the solicitor was married. The story is Tabitha made sure she started to work for him as a secretary. He was new, he didn’t know her reputation. Then she tried to get his attention. I don’t want to tell you what a young girl with an itch will do to get a guy’s attention.”
He actually blushed. Different generation, I guess.
“First the wife confronted Tabitha and had her fired, but when she still saw her looking at her husband, she complained to Henry who once again forced Tabitha to stay at home.”
The old man swallowed.
“Then the solicitor’s wife was in a car accident, the brakes failed and she crashed into another car.”
“The problem was that his wife didn’t die in the accident, but the people in the other car did. Then she found the letter. It was addressed to her husband. It was signed with a letter, T. The letter said that since the wife was now out of the picture, T and the solicitor could start showing their love for one another, something like that, probably more fancy than how I said it.”
“The local ladies started to talk. They already disliked Tabitha, thought she was a harlot , but tolerated it because of Henry. Somehow they found out about another letter. One that was addressed to the post office clerk, also telling him that with his wife now out of the picture, they could now start their affair, also signed with a T. He never received it because he left the town in a hurry, but someone kept it. At least that is the story, I don’t know if it is true.”
“They went to Henry and show him the letters. They forced Henry to show them Tabitha’s room. They searched it and found a book about poisons. There were also notes on how a car’s brakes work. Not something a young lady would normally be interested in. It became clear what happened.”
“Henry begged the ladies not to do anything. He then locked Tabitha in the house with a permanent nurse to take care of her. She was not allowed to leave the house ever again. It broke his heart and his health suffered, he died not long after that. Tabitha started to wear a white dress all the time, pretending it was her wedding dress, she was often spotted around the house in it.”
He took a deep breath.
“After Henry died, the ladies went to the house one evening. They told Tabitha she had to answer for the people she killed. They hanged her, while she was wearing her white dress.”
He swallowed, “Perhaps they just wanted to talk to her, but they got carried away. Ever seen a group of people egging each other on, normal everyday people and suddenly they hang people. It is very scary. After that nobody ever spoke about it again.”
“Claire knew nothing about the scandal, it seems Henry made sure she never knew what a terrible person her sister was; instead he protected her from it by becoming the villain in the story. Nobody wanted to correct it, since a group of ladies in town had Tabitha’s blood on their hands. But there were a few people who remember the actual story.”
I already knew the answer, but had to ask it, “Where was she hanged?” The guide smiled at me, “The room of which door you were standing at.”
We sat in silence for some time. I thanked him for the story, shook his hand and left.
On my way home I thought about it a lot. I didn’t know why I could see a ghost. Some sort of paranormal projection, maybe I was a bit psychic, who knows. But I cannot allow it to destroy my life, interfere with my marriage.
I decided I would start with making things better between my husband and me. I no longer thought it was a prank, it was something else and he had nothing to do with it.
My plan was to make a nice dinner and surprise him when he gets back from work. Wear that dress he likes so much. Apologize to him. Take it from there.
I was in a better mood when I got back home. I started with the food. Checked the fridge for his beer. First problem right there, he only had one beer left. I felt guilty, he probably drank the rest of the beer while I was giving him the cold shoulder. He normally don’t drink a lot. But I want everything to be special, so I need more beer.
Luckily the shop is just around the corner, five, ten minutes maximum. I left the food in the stove and quickly walked to the shop. It took a little bit more than ten minutes.
On my way out of the shop I heard and then saw the fire trucks racing around the corner. Curious I followed them, it was anyway in the direction I was going. And got the shock of my life.
Our house was on fire. Smoke was pouring out the windows and doors, there were two fire trucks in front of the house, light flashing in the dusk, neighbors on the sidewalks, staring.
I ran over, but a fire fighter stopped me. I tried to explain that it was my house. He told me to wait until it is safe. I called my husband; he was cold until I told him what happened. He showed up quickly, hugged me when he saw me. The neighbor across the street invited us in while we wait for the fire-fighters to finish.
Eventually they called us over. The fire was mostly in the kitchen, the rest of the house would be fine. Just need to air it out, there was a lot of smoke, maybe some repainting. They explained that it seems like the oven exploded. I sheepishly admitted I left food in the oven while going to shop. I received a lecture about leaving a stove unattended. I thought it was a minimal risk, but the burned down kitchen proved otherwise.
We went to fetch our clothing and toiletries; we were going to sleep at the neighbor’s house until we have cleaned ours. We were talking again. We hugged in the foyer that smelled like smoke. I told my husband I was sorry. He told me my cooking was dangerous, I pretended to take a swing at him, we laughed, perhaps the first time in a while. We hugged, we kissed. I apologized to him, right there, not with a revealing dress and his food, but in a house that smelled like smoke because I burned down the kitchen. We held each other for a long time.
On the way out I checked the mailbox. More out of routine than anything else.
And that is where I found it.
A letter, on old stationary, handwritten, in an unsealed envelope. It had a heart drawn on the envelope.
“My beloved Ronald. We can finally love each other now that your wife is no longer there to stop our true love from blossoming. I just know we will be so happy together. I will be a much better wife than what she could have ever been. She did not deserve you. Forever yours, T.”
And a heart with an arrow piercing it, R.T. in the right top corner, T.J in the lower left corner.