|Autumn Color on the walkways|
|Ghost of Chloe...?|
Shortly thereafter I froze in my tracks - OHMYGOD, is that the hooded ghost of Chloe, It isn't even dark yet! .... um, no - I think that's a white umbrella. Nevermind.
Didn't take me long to wander over to the Plantation's general store/gift shop. There I checked in for my tour time, and then greedily eyed all the shop's merchandise. Had to use all the behavior modification skills in my arsenal to evade buying handspun Shetland Wool, which would only end up in my spare bedroom, with the bales of other 'pedigree' wools, hand spun & unspun. I did buy a tiny flask of Praline liqueur/spirits... for later...
|For the knitting dilettantes such as myself|
I suspect I will be cremated in a hand spun, hand knit casket. I should get to work on that as soon as I return home.
|Looking past corn shucks is the courtyard & |
door to the gift shop (Valhalla for 'moi')
|The notorious haunted mirror has a sort of T-rex jaws|
with a few ribs on it... that's what I see anyway...
|The mirror macabre|
Entering the building, we received a talk on the history of the plantation mansion, and were told, to our delight, we could photograph in this entrance way to our hearts content. Several took photos of a mirror, from which it seemed impossible, despite professional cleaning, to remove stains, of dripping... blood.
OH CRAP! A GHOST... erm... no, that's actually one of the inn's guests shooting up the stair well to his room. Damn, I need to get a grip.
Here's a brief of the plantation's most notorious, and frankly, innocent-ish ghost. The plantation has had many owners over the centuries and one of them had carnal feelings for a v. young enslaved girl on another plantation. He bought her, so she might baby sit his children & provide him with a mistress.
The enslaved girl was named Chloe. She was a nosey body, listening through closed doors when the master had meetings with important male type guests. Thus nosey Chloe fell out of favor with her master, and even lost credence with the other plantation slaves.
But young Chloe had a cunning scheme (cue Black Adder) in which - with an oleander laced birthday cake no less - she sorta poisoned the children of the house. So she would look good when she would miraculously nurse them back to health. Sadly, her clever ploy failed, and upshot is she was hung by the Mississippi River, her lifeless body fung into its waters. But the cat came back! As a ghost. The children came back too, perhaps seeking more of that yummy cake.
|Another Ghost in the haunted mirror... . nooo... that's me. Sorry.|
|The haunted bedroom and it's creepy bedspread - not my photo|
|The Plantation dining room - not my photo|
|The haunted stairwell|
This is the famous haunted stairwell. This photo faces the entrance. One of the plantation owners was shot, then famously died on the 17th step.
At the end of the entryway, stands this piano, said to play all on its own, without the benefit of anyone actually setting fingers to keys. Of course as with any well behaved haunted instrument, it ceases to play the second anyone attempts to enter the room. Good piano. Here's a piano biscuit.
During the last bit of the tour, we were told the story of how the plantation got its history of haunting started. It began when a modern day owner bought the plantation, planning to make it into a bed & breakfast. She was on the property by herself one day, photographing it with the goal of providing the
photos to the company that was to insure her property & business. She'd been told to provide photos with no one shown in them. After turning in the photos, the insurance people insisted she retake one of the photos, as it clearly had someone in it - only she was the sole person on the property that day.
Below is the famous photo we were shown. The inset to the left shows a close up of the alleged, transparent Chloe. National freakn' Geographic photographers examined the photo and negative and said they could not find any trickery in the photo. They also pointed out that over the porch on the right, there appear to be two small children crouching. You know... ghost children.
|The photo that started it all. The house on the right is the one we toured.|
|It is said Civil War soldiers march around porches and bricked walkways.|