A lilac scent is overwhelming as I follow a rough brick pathway to enter the McRaven House in Vicksburg, Mississippi (circa 1797), reportedly the most haunted house in the state, perhaps the entire country. I feel increasing pressure on my chest and wonder if this ghostly prowl on October 31st is such a good idea. Checking off a list of what I’ve eaten today, I consider the likelihood of heartburn. Yet, I know better. I’m likely internalizing a spirit’s reaction to a sudden, violent death here at McRaven. Once inside, our private tour guide announces that only benevolent spirits inhabit the house today. But there may be more troubled ones on the grounds. Lots of Civil War soldiers died there.
“As long as you don’t deny their existence, you’re fine,” the guide says, then explains further. It’s tough for those who ignore the spirits’ presence, or worse, express fear, as with one of the former owners, Leyland French, who purchased McRaven in the mid-1980s. Though he had the house cleansed and blessed by local priests, the guide explains French left his home in the middle of the night, with the front door wide open. He never returned. Using a third party, he sold the property to McRaven’s current owners.
Since I’ve been exploring antebellum plantations and cemeteries in the Deep South for decades, I never enter without protection. I always tuck at least one black obsidian stone in a pocket and wear a protective crystal bracelet with a cross attached. After all, who embraces an encounter with a trapped, disgruntled ghost?
Not me. I’m pleased to report that the most benevolent spirit who lingers at the McRaven House appears to be Mary Elizabeth Howard, the wife of the home’s second owner, Sheriff Steven Howard. Mary Elizabeth died during childbirth in 1837, shortly after moving into the home. She was only fifteen years old, and it’s her spirit that hovers in the second-floor bedroom at the rear of the house.
She bears no malevolence; in fact, her spirit is playful, perhaps bordering on prankster-like. Suddenly, during the guide’s explanation of Mary Elizabeth’s brief life, the left door of a wooden vanity swings open to reveal several of her treasures like small books and a perfume atomizer. The door closes once I acknowledge its action (gasp!), then slowly swings back and forth several times. As I approach this corner of the room, a lamp dims before glaring brightly. The door’s movement altogether ceases once I eye the treasures placed in the vanity’s compartment. As a warm sensation spreads between my shoulder blades, it’s clear that this spirit welcomes my presence.
Later, when I view my photographs, it’s apparent that a significant amount of energy thrives in this room. The photos include the following anomalies portrayed in either white, blue, or shadowed hues. Here are three of them.
- A golden orb disperses its energy in Mary Elizabeth’s bedroom. Its color indicates a tolerant, happy spirit.
- A shadow person hovers behind me while spirit orbs are within view.
- An apparition appears partially embedded within one of the room’s bedposts.
When I display my photos to the tour guide, she says, “Honey, keep taking pictures. We see a LOT of weird things we can’t explain.” And that’s okay. I like weird, inexplicable things. Because I write paranormal fiction, it’s crucial for me to routinely visit locales well known for this activity, like Myrtles Plantation in St. Francisville, Louisiana; Houmas House Plantation, near the Mississippi River west of New Orleans; and the Old State Capitol in Baton Rouge. Though I write fiction, it’s inspired by authentic experiences. You see, I’ve been communicating with spirits since I was a child.
Oh, remember that pressure on my chest at the start of the tour? Looks like I’ve run short of time to describe the man in heavy-booted attire. I’ll save that story for my next blog post.
