Haunted houses for sale

Also, Dolly Parton's cornbread

No living organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone. - The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson, 1959.

Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for the way was barred to me. There was a padlock and a chain upon the gate. I called in my dream to the lodge-keeper, and had no answer, and peering closer through the rusted spokes of the gate I saw that the lodge was uninhabited. - Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, 1938.

This time of year the air is crisp in the Victorian graveyard that borders my neighborhood. The trees fiery reds and golds, the wind blowing my hair about, the crunch of leaves under my feet. Maine is hauntingly beautiful year-round and this place especially is now. Above ground gorgeous tombs and stones from the 1800s and 1900s sit each one telling a story - a history of life and death, sickness, marriage, childbirth. A paper tycoon, a sea captain, a young daughter of an unsuccessful lumber businessman, a playwright, several notable women, dedicated members of fraternal organizations, and hundreds more. Lives lived and expired. As I wander the paths I like to imagine the souls before they found their final resting place rather than what remains physically below ground. What were their homes like, what history did they witness, did they wander where I do now.

The cemetery is peaceful. The well-maintained grounds rarely feel haunted. When a place does it is by benevolent spirits - perhaps even playful ones. And I fear not the dead anyway, but the living. The entombed have had their say. And I am respectful in their space. I walk between the graves to think, to exercise, to look at the trees and wildlife. To be bewitched.

Surrounding the cemetery on two sides is my neighborhood of tree-lined streets with primarily old houses. Here it’s easier to imagine ghostly goings-on. Not the chilling kind of horror films, but rather restless spirits rarely seen. The house I live in was built in the early 1900s. The second and third owners were women! The latter of whom best I can tell owned land in New York City and nearby Cape Elizabeth. She may also have been from Dorchester, Massachusetts and inherited her wealth. This is all from pre-1950. I’m sure at least half of that information is wrong. Below is a photo of a young woman from 1943 perhaps an early owner.

An elderly woman I enjoy walking with by the name of Eve grew up in this neighborhood. She actually took piano lessons in my home (I live in a condo in one of the historic houses). From another neighbor I found out my home may at one point also have been where an art teacher lived and conducted occasional classes for the children of local doctors. Really, I should look into all this.

What I have not felt or heard or seen is any ghostly presence. My home for better or worse is not haunted. Of course now that I’ve written this am I tempting fate? Can a home become haunted? I wouldn’t mind living with a ghost as long as they’re nice.

I love the idea of buying a haunted house so much I wrote a story about doing just that a little over a year ago. It incorporated in my experiences buying my first and second homes and my fascination with the paranormal. I even went looking for ghosts with some professionals. 👻🏚️

What I learned is what you can probably already guess - that the paranormal stories made into books and hugely successful movie franchises are fiction. I’m glad they exist because they’re entertaining (well some aren’t), but like the film JAWS they’ve done a lot of damage. Ed and Lorraine Warren, whose paranormal investigations are the basis of many of those stories built a paranormal legacy on untruths. They used religion to frighten people and to sell their story. They didn’t fight demons, they made them up. That house where a family was murdered in 1974 in the Long Island town of Amityville still stands. Another family moved in, made up some stories which have proved to be false, invited the Warrens in, made some money, moved out and on and guess what no hauntings since. Hmmm.

Recently I chatted with Nick who runs the site Spooky Houses for Sale about living in a haunted house. He’s with me on wanting a home that’s old, has character, is beautiful, and has a resident ghost. Again, a friendly one. Less Shirley Jackson more Scooby Doo.

Below are photos of (in order from L to R) homes he’s listed in Ohio (yes, please!), Indiana (CREEPY noooo), Massachusetts (OMG dreaming of PRACTICAL MAGIC), and Illinois (gorgeous gloomy Mansard check check check). Some come with the contents whether they be books, an old tub that looks like it’s seen things I don’t want to ever think about, basements worthy of a horror franchise, cool antique pianos, Elvira and Munsters art (yes, really), ornamental gardens and a tower (), pocket doors, stained glass windows, and cool porches. They run anywhere from around $70,000 (likely a tear down where bad things look like they were meant to happen) all the way up to $11 million (that castle you always dreamed of and can never afford over in Europe in the woods). Most hover in the reasonably priced $250 - 500,000 range and are in a small town you’ve never heard of before in Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, New Jersey, New York, Ohio, and Pennsylvania.

p.s. The Weekend.

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Picked up some heirloom pumpkins (that’s “Taylor” on the left, “Lana” on the right) for the porch, a gorgeous warty goblin pumpkin for the hallway. Baked and dined on Dolly Parton’s Duncan Hines Sweet Cornbread - I advise adding corn and it really is sweet, moist, and delicious. Also hung some purple and orange lights as inspired by a neighbor’s yard decorations. My kitty Faulkner approves! 🐈‍⬛ Not pictured, but I’ll try to snag one tonight - a from scratch pineapple upside down cake.