My Favorite Ghost Story

West Virginia has a wealth of ghost stories. The Telltale Lilac Bush is a well-known collection of them. West Virginia schoolchildren read it yearly as they learn about West Virginia history and culture. However, my absolute favorite ghost story growing up was one from my family. My Grandpa Jim told it to my dad who made sure to tell it to all of his kids and grandkids.

My Grandma Ruby was from Newburg in Preston County, and my Grandpa Jim grew up on a farm along the banks of the Little Kanawha River in Braxton County. They married in the early 1940s and my dad was born in 1944. However, for a time shortly after they married, they lived in a house in Ellamore, in Randolph County.

Saw mill in Ellamore.

Ellamore lies at the border of Upshur and Randolph Counties and was a timbering community in the first half of the 20th century. They lived in a one-story four square house right on the road. The steps, like a lot of West Virginia houses at the time, ended right on the road which was very busy with car traffic.

American Four-Square house plan. Courtesy McMansion Hell.

The first night my grandparents were there, they had unpacked and went to bed. Late that night, Grandma woke up to the sound of someone in the house. She listened closer, and realized someone was running from room to room in the house. The footsteps fell lightly, and made their way from kitchen to living room to the hall and was approaching their bedroom. She then heard a small child giggling. Confused and scared, she woke up my grandpa who woke up just in time to hear the giggling and the running feet stop at the foot of their bed. There was no one there.

Every night, the same thing happened. Little footsteps echoed through the house, accompanied by giggling. Every night, they made the circuit of the rooms until they came to the very foot of the bed and stopped. While alarming at first, eventually it became part of the nightly routine and was disruptive more than anything. Obviously the house was haunted but there could be worse hauntings than a toddler.

A coal miner’s daughter in her first pair of Sunday school shoes.

Finally, after a particularly busy night where the ghost child made several laps throughout the night, my grandma was hanging out laundry when the neighbor next door came out to say hello. She noticed how tired my grandma looked, and she asked if everything was okay. “Yes,” my grandma answered, “It’s just that we keep getting woken up by these sounds every night. They sound like a very small child running through the house and giggling until they run and stop at the foot of our bed.”

The neighbor grew pale and looked very sad. She told her the story of the previous family that lived there. They had a little girl, about two or three years old. One day she ran out of the house playing and before her mother could catch her, she had ran down the steps and right into the road where a car had struck and killed her. Grandma Ruby realized that must be the little ghost she heard every night, still running like she had in life.

There are a lot of details from the story I never cared about growing up. What road was it on? How long did they live there? As a historian, I really want all of those facts now. As a kid all I could think about was the sound of little feet on hardwood floors. Now, of course, I can’t ask those details. This time of year I always think of this story. And this first Halloween without my dad I’ll make sure to tell my girls my favorite ghost story so they can pass it on.

What are your favorite ghost stories? What ghost stories did you hear growing up? I’d love to hear them!

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