A Ghost Story, Part I
I arrive in Vicksburg, perched high above the Mississippi river, about 2 hours to sunset, and make my way through the main street and down a steep enbankment towards the river to the bed and breakfast I’m stay at tonight. It is surrounded by lovely gardens and feels old and staid. The front gallery porch among the columns looks out onto the might river in the distance, the sun glinting off the water, and filtering in the cloud of heat rising from the hot southern afternoon. A riverboat is off towards the right, “gambling” I think.
The owner, a distinguished looking lady, greets me at the front door, and I fall back as I enter. The hall is enormous. The parlor, I can see into on the right from the front door is even bigger . These rooms are stunning, and eloboratedly period. The decor is almost like out of a movie, impossibly 1890. No gaslights though. This house is easily larger and grader scale then Oak Alley I visited a few days back.
The floor groans lowly as I step into the dimness of the hall. My host says, stiffening, “ You were due at two” nodding her head a single time, she stares directly at me.
“oh, I didn’t realize….” I trail off not sure of myself, and how to explain the left/right phenomenon..
“it is no matter now, but I must leave immediately. You are to be the only guest here tonight, and I have to pick up my husband” She continues without acknowledgment from me “I will not be back before 9pm. Sunset is at 7:30, and if you should go anywhere, I would suggest you return before then.”
There is a pause, as if its my turn to speak, I manage an ‘ehmmm’.
She turns her head toward the large front porch, “the sunsets over the Mississippi from the porch are not to be missed”….. with that she hands me the key though my hands are already filled with my bags, “one more thing, I would advise you not to go walking around here alone, definitely not at night”. I look down to situate my bags, my keys and myself, and when I look up, she is gone. I couldn’t say for sure exactly where she’d gone to, or which door she’d left from (wasn’t the front or the back!), but I was definitely alone. I could hear my heartbeat in the stillness.
“No other guests” I thought as I dropped my stuff where I stood. Nobody was there to see me or care that my bags were laying in the middle of the parlor floor. I said out loud, who knows why, “how odd”. Echos.
I mean, it is odd! Alone, completely alone, in someones old drafty mansion, who you’ve met for less than a minute. I run my fingers across the ancient baby grand piano, standing dwarfed by the 14 foot tall windows and massive room, “mostly in tune” I say outloud again. I saw the reflection of the room across the hall through an enormous gilted mirror whose glass bore that ghostly haze of age.
I giggle a little to myself, it was like being in one of those historic house tours but I could touch things, take pictures, tread on the carpet AND sit on the Victorian settee. I’m alone and there’s nobody here to see me… I glance up at the 15 foot moulded ceilings, looking suddenly for hidden cameras at this thought. I have watched waay too many Hollywood movies. Nope, unless they were cleverly disguised in the eyes of those creepy portraits..(why do all old houses have these things!!?).. there were no cameras to be seen.
“Cameras…” I laugh again at myself… this time outloud shaking my head as I roll my bag back to my room, imagining all the portrait eyes veering left as I walk down the hall.
My room was the old library, and still is the old library, complete with wood paneled walls, 2 floor to ceiling walls of books, fireplace, wingchairs, a globe, and a dead hunting trophy. The only thing missing is the massive desk, replaced with an even more massive Eastlake bed and quarter canopy. Dusty volumes stand guard as I quickly change and store my bags, while sepia toned photos stare back at me from their Victorian framed perches as I give them the once over, dialing Rob to tell him of this turn of events.
“She probably didn’t leave” he says off the bat “she’s somewhere watching you on camera”.
“I’ve already thought of that, and I’d be a pretty boring subject, by myself”. I reply, “wish you were here, we’d be having a ball, walking around in our velvet smoking jackets, with our brandy snifters speaking in fake accents. The place to ourselves. I gotta get going though if I want to catch the sunset AND get something to eat, so I’ll call you later?” Besides, I thought to myself… this place looked as secure as a pasta strainer, and given the ominous warning about walking around by myself, I WANTED to be back here before sunset for more than one reason: namely so I wouldn’t have to let myself into a total dark, soon to be creepy empty mansion.
Tags: Deep South, Deep South USA, Mississippi, Road trip, Roadtrip, USA, Vicksburg, Tag Index
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