Reading time: 1 Day
I have been searching for this out-of-print book for 30+ years, and finally found it through Amazon.com.
It was a childhood favorite of mine from the local libraries. The Librarians would chuckle when they’d see the sign-out card and my name was there nine times out of ten, literally.
This collection of 24 short ghost stories rooted in America’s past has forged my imagination, my dreams… my nightmares.
Very well written, giving attention to both location and legend, these stories leave you wondering if there’s more to them. Certainly, for me, these stories only opened the door to greater stories and wilder imaginings. Nowadays we have internet research to tease thoughts and give more credence to such sightings as Woodburn – the Dover, Delaware Governor’s Mansion, or Madame Pele before the Hawaiian volcano strikes.
As I read these stories as though new to me, I found myself remembering how I’d read them constantly as a child. But these stories are not written only for children. In an easy-to-understand language, Anderson brings back not only legend but history of our beautiful country, from the very beginnings up to just a few years before the book was first published.
I have remembered throughout the years the stories of the Gray Man of Pawley’s Island, the Winchester House, and Lincoln’s Ghost. I had forgotten others, and so was thrilled to be reminded in detail of the Bell Witch who incessantly tormented a specific family for four years. The Griffin, a trading ship simply lost on its maiden journey over the Great Lakes.
Having been raised in the Midwest, the heritage there is older. The wilderness is wilder, thicker. Reading again this book brought back the Spooks of my own imagination. How often I had seen shadows in the backyard trees. Never would we walk home from the school bus stop through a particular field.
Internet stores bring us the modern opportunity to reach into our past and reclaim what was thought lost. This collection of Ghost Stories is a must-have for anyone who likes to feel the little hairs on their necks go up.
Just don’t read it at midnight.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!