A Room with a BOO
Martha Washington Inn, in Abingdon, Virginia, hosts a number of ghosts
left over from the Civil War. Built
in 1832 by Congressman General Francis Preston, the house passed into the
hands of the Methodist Church upon his death two years later. The church then founded the Martha Washington College for
young ladies on its premises.
the war reached their doorsteps in the mid 1860s, the college doubled as a
hospital for the war wounded. One
soldier, John Stoves, had been badly wounded and lay dying in what was to
become room 403. Beth, a
student of the college, tended to him and fell in love.
As he passed from this life, she played the violin to ease his
pain. Beth herself died a few
weeks afterwards from complications of typhoid fever. Her music can now be heard faintly caressing the night,
playing to her dead lover and sometimes accompanying her solitary visits
to the room.
phantom horse waits for his master outside the front steps, a Union
soldier that was shot in front of the house in 1864.
On moonless nights, the horse has been seen roaming the grounds
searching for his owner and awaiting the call to ride home.
basement holds the spirits of black slaves, they were kept in an
underground chamber and some were buried within its stone walls.
being killed by enemy soldiers, a young confederate entered the house and
ran up the stairs to warn of encroaching Union troops. Shot upstairs, his blood still stains the floorboards outside
the Governor’s Room. A
bellhop, who’s been with the establishment for over 30 years, tells that
carpets that lay over the area develop holes over the spot where the
soldier lay dying. Cold
spots, apparitions and self-turning doorknobs have also been reported.
favorite ghost is still looking for half of his head. Numerous accounts of a soldier hobbling with help from a
crutch and leaving a trail of mud in his wake have been reported from a
hallway of the Inn. Long past
medical help, there is only speculation why he is here at the old
hospital, a ball leaving only a hideous mangle of bone and sparse flesh
had split his head. Perhaps
he’s trying to turn off the damn violin…