On a foggy Saturday night, three girls drove the windy Pennsylvania country roads on their way to a haunted jail.
Louise heard a handprint from on the of prisoners was still visible on the cold concrete walls despite years of scrubbing, Nicole read that the spirits of Irishmen hanged over 100 years ago, and I wondered what the heck I was doing chauffeuring the three of us young gals to an old prison tucked in the backwoods.
The
Old Jail Museum in Jim Thorpe is a real life haunted house. The town of Jim Thorpe is cute and quaint (which translates to shadowed and spooky after sunset). We walked a half-mile through town and waited outside the gray stone jail until our tour began. The tour through the old (1871) building was short, but stomach churning. We heard stories of
famous prison scandals and paranormal encounters between the spirits that remain and guests. We looked through the iron bars and explored each cell. At the end of the main hallway were the gallows where prisoners were hanged four at a time.
While I listened to our tour guide review prison history I felt a set of eyes on the back of my neck. It must be someone else in our tour group, I assumed; but when I turned around—nothing was there except cell 18. I shifted my weight and focused in on the tour guide and
still felt company near me. I turned to Themla, who was standing near, and asked her if she felt strange; she said she did, and moved farther away. Finally I turned to the cell face on, giving the strange feeling my full attention, and snapped a photo through the bars.
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| See it? |
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| How about now? |
(Click photos to enlarge.) And this wasn't the only
orb to show up in my photos. I've got tons of 'em. I've never given in to the idea of paranormal spirits before, but the feeling (and itty bitty blob on my image from cell 18) may be enough to change my mind. It was as if a former prisoner wanted to hear what the tour guide had to say, and was peering over my shoulder to partake in the tour. It wasn't frightening, just strange. I had the feeling that the prisoner in cell 18 wasn't dangerous, just curious. Even when I moved away slightly, the feeling over my shoulder lingered. Maybe the prisoner didn't want to be seen and was moving behind me to stay covered.
Say what you will about my odd encounter, but the handprint Thelma read about was most definitely
still there. This filled the non-desire I had to be spooked this Halloween season. Now, I'm off to dress-up in a very non-spooky (well, it's sort of spooky) costume. More to come...
