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Are renters spooked by ghost house?

Landlord sues family over tales of haunting

Mysterious Voice Recorded At TR Home (4/25/12): What appears to be a child’s voice is recorded by a Press reporter in the Toms River home that a family claims is haunted. STAFF VIDEO BY THOMAS P. COSTELLO

Written by

Erik Larsen

IS THIS VOICE A GHOST?

Staff writer Erik Larsen interviewed the family at the house they say is haunted. When he transcribed the digital recorder, he discovered an unidentified child’s voice.

TOMS RIVER — No one among the living may ever want to reside in the house at the corner of Lowell and Terrace avenues again.

That is the fear of the landlord who has filed a new complaint in state Superior Court against a couple who fled the three-bedroom ranch in the middle of the night after living there for just one week, because they say the house is haunted.

Dr. Richard Lopez, the well-known orthodontist in Ocean County who owns the property, has filed a lawsuit against the family in the amount of $15,000. Among other issues, he contends they have stigmatized the property and diminished his ability to rent or sell the house in the future. Their story has received international media attention since it was first reported in the Asbury Park Press on April 13.

Josue Chinchilla and Michele Callan, who are engaged to be married, moved into the home March 1 with Callan’s teenage daughter and 6-year-old son.

After the family settled in, they said they would come home and find their clothes and towels ejected from closets and strewn over the floors. Doors would creak open and slam closed in unoccupied parts of the house.

At night, footsteps could be heard from the kitchen after everyone was tucked in, and unintelligible whispering seemed to fade in and out of thin air, according to the couple.

The most disturbing phenomenon, they claim, was the sound they heard through the vents to the basement — the muffled din of something being dragged through the cellar.

The family left the house March 10 and moved to a motel room in Point Pleasant Beach, where they have been living since, after Chinchilla claimed he felt an invisible hand on his arm, and then saw sheets slide off the bed on their own. Callan also said that at the same time, she saw a dark apparition in their bedroom.

The family has since filed a lawsuit against Lopez demanding that he return their $2,250 security deposit, claiming he had at first verbally agreed to release them from their one-year lease and refund the deposit after the couple told him about their experiences. But, on reflection, Lopez later had an office assistant call Callan to explain he had changed his mind.

The matter is on hold while the family and Lopez consider an offer to air their case on the television program “The People’s Court,” which has offered to cover all fees and judgments regardless of who wins if the parties agree to sign a contract to settle the matter on the show, Callan said.

David A. Semanchik, attorney for Lopez, said real estate agents acting on behalf of his client will be legally bound in the future to disclose to all prospective tenants that previous residents claimed the house is haunted.

“Plaintiffs have made claims concerning the property which are unfounded and which have led to media attention,” Lopez’s counter-claim reads. “Upon information and belief, the value of the property has decreased as a result of plaintiff’s action and statements.”

Callan said her family has been hurt by the attention, too. She said she understands there is a large part of the public who have either read about her family’s ordeal or have watched them on television programs such as ABC’s “Good Morning America” and have posted unflattering comments about them online.

“Why would we make up such a story?” Callan asked. “We left a three-bedroom house for a one-room motel one week after moving in. We spent $2,000 on new furniture from Value City, we paid $4,000 on a security deposit and rent after moving in. For what, one week?”

The fire that closed down the mental institution was set by one of Emily’s alter-egos. Then, at age 32, she had attempted to escaped the asylum after by hiding out during the evacuation of the building. She died in the fire that day, so near to her escape, and never made it out. It is thought her spirit lives there still but wanders the entire Sarasota area.

RE-POST THIS IN THE NEXT 12 MIN OR SHE’LL FLY TO UR LOCATION AND HAUNT YOU AT YOUR BEDSIDE THE NEXT TIME YOU’RE BEING TREATED FOR ANYTHING. SHE’LL SCREAM HER NAME, “EMILY,” FIVE TIMES IN YOUR EAR. YOUR EARS WILL RING AND YOU’LL BEG FOR YOUR DOCTOR TO FIX IT. IT DISAPPEARS AFTER 72 HRS.

Elena-Elizabeth Morrocoestrian from Sarasota, FL
Maggie Rose from Sedona, AZ

Happy Halloween!

To all my precious Urban Legends fans! Celebrate All Hallows Eve with us and survey these spooky specters.

Are you superstitious, or just a little stitious? Find out about Halloween Superstitions and Origins at our Sister Site: Superstitionsonline.com

Now she is haunting the train stations of Japan, dragging herself with her elbows and sometimes her hands. She is known to kill people with her scythe and split people in half with the harsh speed of the Shinkansen to make her victims feel her pain. Her name is “Teke Teke” or “Bata Bata” because of the noise she makes when she is dragging herself around.

Miranda Savanah from Okinawa

The Suicidal Man

For a few years, I lived in a building in New Jersey. It’s an old building, built in the late 1800s, so it was always creaky and slightly unsettling. I never thought anything of it until one day my mother and I were sitting outside when an elderly man approached us. He asked if we live in the building, and when we replied with yes, he went on to tell us how he has been living in Swedesboro since he was born. He said that back in the early 1900s there was a heavy man who lived on the top story. It was hard back then to make ends meet. After living there for a little while, the man lost his job, which caused him to fall into a depression. It was impossible for him to find a job and pay his taxes. He couldn’t take it anymore, so one dark night before he was to be evicted, he climbed up to the top of the fire escape. Saying his last goodbyes into the wind, he jumped. The old man said the couple who lived down the street didn’t sleep for weeks because they kept recalling the sound of him hitting the ground from the third story.

We shared this story with the rest of our building, but none of us really thought anything of it, until one night when Jessica, who lived in the apartment upstairs, told us that she was coming home late and saw someone standing on the fire escape stairs. She called out to him, but he didn’t answer. For just a moment, she turned around to get her cell phone and call for help, but when she turned back around, the mysterious figure wasn’t there. After knowing Jessica for years, I was really spooked to hear what she had seen. Next time you’re driving by the Swedes Inn, look across the street. Maybe you’ll see the suicidal man too.

Becca Gomez from Swedesboro, NJ

Built in 1771 and formerly know as the Washington Tavern & Old Ford Hotel, the Old Swedes Inn is on the Gloucester County’s register of historical landmarks. The inn is haunted by 12 yr. old Edith, who died of scarlet fever in the mid 1800′s and has been seen by many employees, psychics and ghost hunters. She moves chairs, emits odd smells and lingers under the tables on the porch.

As soon as Johnny mentioned Celia’s name, I knew he had it bad for her. To hear him talk, Celia was the most amazing woman who had ever graced God’s green earth. She was the sister-in-law of the captain, and all the young men on the base were infatuated with her. Celia was the prettiest of the eligible ladies that graced Fort Union society. She liked the spice of adventure to be found so near the wilds.

Johnny alternated between elation when Celia talked with him and despair when she flirted with another man. I watched their courtship from afar and was troubled. There was something about Celia that I didn’t like. I never mentioned it to Johnny, but I thought she was too much of a flirt. I wished Johnny had fallen for a nicer woman.

About a month after I arrived at Fort Union, a birthday dance was given for one of the officers. To Johnny’s elation, Celia agreed to be his partner at the dance. Johnny was dancing on cloud nine all night, until a messenger came gasping into the room to report an Apache raid. With a small scream of terror, Celia clung shamelessly to Johnny and begged him not to go even though he was the lieutenant put in charge of the mission. Well sir, Johnny proposed to her right then and there and Celia accepted. Furthermore, Celia told Johnny that she would wait for him, and that if he didn’t come back she would never marry. I doubted Celia’s sincerity, but Johnny just ate it up.

I was assigned to Johnny’s troop, so I had to leave too. We started out the next morning, and had a rough week tracking down and fighting the Apaches. Johnny split up the troop; taking command of the first group and giving me command of the second. My men reached the rendezvous point with no casualties, but only half of the other group arrived, and Johnny was not among them. They’d been ambushed by the Apaches. I had to take command of the troop. We searched for survivors, but never found Johnny’s body. As soon as I could, I ordered the men to turn for home.

Celia made a terrible, heart-rending scene when she found out Johnny was missing. She flung herself into my arms when I gave her the news and sobbed becomingly. The display turned my stomach, it was so obviously insincere. I excused myself hastily and left her to the ministrations of the other soldiers. From that time on, I was careful to stay away from Celia, who mourned less than a week for my friend before resuming her flirtatious ways.

About a month later, a rich handsome lieutenant arrived at Fort Union. He was from the East, and Celia took a real shine to him. Johnny was completely forgotten and so was her promise to him. It wasn’t long before Celia and the lieutenant were engaged and started planning a big wedding. Nothing but the very best would suit Celia, and her bridegroom had the money to indulge her.

Everyone in Fort Union was invited to the ceremony, and the weather was perfect on the day of the wedding. Everyone turned out in their best clothes and the wedding was a social success. After the ceremony, all the guests were invited to a celebratory ball.

We were waltzing around the ballroom when the door flew open with a loud bang. A gust of cold air blew in, dimming the candles. A heart-wrenching wail echoed through the room. The music stopped abruptly and everyone turned to look at the door. Standing there was the swollen, dead body of a soldier. It was dressed in an officer’s uniform. The eyes were burning with a terrible fire. The temple had a huge gash from a hatchet-blow. There was no scalp. It was Johnny.

The whole crowd stood silent, as if in a trance. No one moved, no one murmured. I wanted to cry out when I recognized Johnny, but I was struck dumb like the rest of the wedding guests.

Johnny walked across the room and took Celia out of her bridegroom’s arms. She was frozen in horror and could not resist. Johnny looked at the musicians. Still in a trance, they began to play a horrible, demonic sounding waltz. Johnny and Celia began to dance. They swept around and around the room, doing an intricate waltz. Johnny held the white-clad bride tight against his dead body while a deathly pallor crept over her face. Her steps slowed but still Johnny held her tight and moved them around in a grisly parody of a waltz. Celia’s eyes bulged. She turned as white as her gown and her mouth sagged open. She gave one small gasp, and died in his arms.

Johnny dropped Celia’s body on the floor and stood over her, wringing his blood-stained hands. He threw back his head and gave another unearthly wail that echoed around the room. Then he vanished through the door.

Released from the trance, the crowd gasped and exclaimed. The bridegroom ran to Celia and knelt beside her, wringing his hands in the same manner as Johnny. His cries were all too human.

Unable to bear the sight of the stricken bridegroom, I took my captain aside and asked permission to take a small detail back to the place where our troop had been attacked by the Apaches to search once more for my dead friend. He sent a dozen men with me. We combed the area, and finally found Johnny’s body hidden in a crevice. It looked exactly the same as it had appeared on the night of Celia’s wedding.

We brought Johnny back to the fort with us and the captain buried him beside Celia. Celia’s bridegroom went back East shortly after we buried Johnny, and I resigned my commission a few days later and went home, never wanting to see that cursed place again.

I heard later that Celia’s ghost was often seen at dusk, weeping over Johnny’s grave, but I never went back to Fort Union to see it for myself.

Alexa Suick from Duluth Minnesota

Well, one day my dad was talking to one of the other employees that work there and she is terrified to stay late for work. She told him that one night she stayed late and she thought she heard somebody in one of the other cubicles. She called out "Hello, is anyone there?" There was no answer. She got up and walked over to the cubicle she thought she heard the noise coming from but when she got to the cubicle, no one was there. She was a little scared and after she got back to her cubicle, she heard the noise again! The noise sounded like someone going through stacks of paper, and then she heard footsteps. She got up and ran out of the building.

Later that week, my dad was going to the elevator and he saw someone go in while he was nearby. He ran to try to catch up with it as the doors were closing, but he didn’t make it and the elevator doors slid shut. My dad hit the elevator button and the doors opened… but there was no one inside!

These are a couple of the many tales that come from that building. The building has even been investigated by teams of ghosthunters. Nobody stays late for work anymore.

Jojo King from Pikeville, KY

Lost in time, this story is told, about a woman, dark and bold.
She walks the streets on a foggy night, with a hood on her head to hide from sight.

Her story starts one summer’s eve, beside the lake an evil deed.
A thief stole her daughter’s life, and filled her soul with pain and strife.

On a moonlit night along the shore, two young lovers walked and more.
In each other’s arms that night, they talked of love and held on tight.

In the morning they were found, their hands and feet with rope were bound.
Eyes wide open a vacant stare, their souls are gone and no ones there.

The police did search for the one, an evil deed to be undone.
In vain, they search to no avail, their efforts weak, lost, and pale.

A mother’s heart broken and splayed, a debt to justice went unpaid.
She walked the streets at night alone, to make the sinners pay and atone.

She searched the shores by day and night, a vain attempt to make things right.
And then one early morning dawn, she was found her spirit gone.

On foggy night’s times untold, she walks the streets dark and bold.
She only walks the streets at night, within the fog to hide her flight.

All clad in black she walks alone, an evil soul she’ll make atone.
She walks among the star-less night, sometimes seen beneath the bright streetlight.

All children know to be aware, least they see her standing there.
They hurry home at the approach of night, sure that they would die at her sight.

So in the night if you should see, a woman in black, listen to me.
Look not at her face I say, or with your soul you shall pay.

As a child I grew up in a small town called Lakeview we lived across the road from A. E. Crookes Park on Lake Ontario. There was a creek that went through the park filled with fish where we would go fishing and catch tadpoles in the spring and summer. All summer long small children played in the swimming pool watched over by Life Guards as older kids swam in the lake, young lovers could be seen walking along the sandy beach in the summer sun. In the fall we played in the leaves and chased the fat rabbits that were stealing from our gardens all summer. In the winter we played in the snow and skated on the Ice rink erected every year by the township. Life was idyllic as we watched the sun rise over the lake and a myriad of water foul swam in the water.

Early one summer morning; the park was cordoned off by police, the police were tight lipped about what happened and rumours began to run like wild fire; someone died in the park. It was several days before the public was allowed back in the park and every thing returned to normal except for one lone woman dressed all in black with a veil over her face.

That summer she is seen every day in the park spending her days walking along the shore or sitting on a bench looking out over the great expanse of Lake Ontario. Each night she could be seen walking down the street as she went past the park, now closed after sundown. I could see her in the mist off the lake as I watch her from my bedroom window, silently passing in the glow of the streetlights. And then one night she did not appear beneath the lights passing the dark.

It’s the first day of fall and she is found sitting on a bench over looking the lake, still, cold, and pale. The police came and the park closed for several days as the police investigated her death. Some say she died of a broken heart others say she was taken by the ones that took her daughter, no one knows for sure.

Each morning the sun came up, the birds sang, and soon every thing returned to normal, as the park opened and the children played as time passed by the lake. That winter a big storm with waves as tall as a house washed all the sand from the beach leaving only stones and pebbles on the shore. The township brought environmentalists in to investigate the incident, they said it was caused the storm and the construction of the hydro generating plant changing the water currents along the shore. No one believed them for a minute, without proof we had no other choice but to accept our sandy beach is gone and will never return.

Every spring we went to the creek in the park with our nets to catch Smelt and White Suckers, enough to fill the freezer with fish to eat for the year. This spring the fish never came and when the township asked the Environmentalists, “Why?” Again they said it was caused by the construction of the hydro generating plant changing the water currents along the shore.

That the summer the township delivered over a hundred picnic tables and set them up for a festival in the park. The following morning when the festival organizers arrived to complete setting up for the festival they found the picnic tables stacked over a hundred feet tall. Local newspapers took pictures as a crane was used to take the tables down. People started to say the park was cursed and one of the onlookers called out, “I suppose the construction of the hydro generating plant changing the water currents along the shore caused this!”

The police blamed the incident on a local gang of teenagers playing a prank and after a time, things seemed to return to normal. Fewer people played in the park now and when people walked there they said they could feel something ominous in the park.

It’s the first day of fall and the night is cold, a fog rolled in off the lake and a lone dark figure could be seen walking the streets in the grey mists all dressed in black. I awoke to a cold chill down my spine and it felt as if every hair on my body stood on end as I looked out my bedroom window. There standing beneath the streetlight in the mist I could see her, she turned towards me as if to look at me. In the dim light it was as if she had no face behind the veil, I quickly returned to bed and hid. I couldn’t sleep and tossed beneath the covers until the morning, every time I closed my eyes all I could see is her dark figure in the mist.

In the morning I told my mother what I saw, she looked at me with a smile as if I was being silly and told me not to worry I was having a bad dream. No matter how hard I tried to convince her what I saw was real she kept telling me I was dreaming and I should forget about it. Then we heard the sirens and again the police cordoned off the park two young men were found dead in the park.

All the neighbours gathered outside to see what was happening. Tom Larock, one of our neighbours found them as he was walking his dog, they looked horrible he said as he described the two men. “They were white as the driven snow frozen in place with their eyes wide open and a look of horror on their faces as if the gates of hell opened and they looked inside.”

Tom saw many terrible things in the war, so for him to say it was a horrible sight frightened everyone as they listened to him tell of the two young men. Then my mother told the neighbours about what I saw the night before out my bedroom window and the legend of the curse of the faceless woman was born.

It’s been forty years since that day and no one walks the streets on a foggy night except a lone dark figure dressed all in black seen only in the mist beneath the streetlights.

Josehf Lloyd Murchison

Photo credit: viona-art.com

Down here in Jamestown there are a bunch of stories about the old Pine Haven school. One story I heard creeps me out and makes me glad I’m a girl. They say one day a geeky boy went into the boy’s bathroom alone. While he was washing his hands one of the school bullies walked in and decided to play a little game. He and his buds snuck up behind the boy and pushed him, hard, into the mirror.

They never planned on what would happened, but when the kid’s head bashed into the mirror, a piece of glass went into his neck. He turned to face the boys, grasping his bleeding neck and slowly slid the to the floor. The bullies watched in horror as the gurgling sound stopped and the boy died at their feet, his blood mixing with the running water.

They didn’t want to get caught, so they tore up the floorboards under the sink where the kid stood and stuffed his body in a hole and covered it up.

The school is abandoned now but you can still go tour it. If you go in the boy’s bathroom and stand at the sink and look at the mirror you’ll see the kid behind you. He’ll take his revenge and he’ll push you into the mirror and you’ll die. Then he’ll drag you with him down under the floorboards and you’ll never be seen again.

Tanisha from Jamestown, TN

Another Version

Heavy School Books

In my school there’s a legend about a girl who died in the girls bathroom.

Beth wasn’t popular and she didn’t have any friends. The populars would always bully her but she never told anyone about what they did or how they tortured her.

One day after school, she was fixing her hair in the girl’s bathroom mirror with her heavy, hardcover school books on the floor at her feet. One of the girls that bullied her walked in and without warning, picked up her books and hit Beth in the head with them. The blow cracked her skull and as she fell, she hit her head on the sink and died before her body hit the floor. The cowardly bully girl dropped the books and ran out of the bathroom and never told a soul about what happened.

When the night janitor found her body she became scared for her job and didn’t know what to do. She dragged Beth’s body through the halls and hid her in the basement. It’s supposed to be down there, somewhere, to this day.

If you’re daring, go into the girl’s bathroom and stand at the mirror with your school books on the floor. Look at your reflection and say “Beth I know who killed you”. I heard that she’ll appear and hit you with your school books.

No one I know will try it.

Paige Philipps from Bedford, Indiana

Hundreds of years ago, a poor woodsman lived in the cottage with his wife and baby. They lived happily until the woodsman was pressed into military service by the local landowner during the English Civil War. The woodman’s wife waited and waited for months for any news of her husband, but none ever came.

One new year’s day, a group of soldiers on horseback came riding through the woods, part of a force that had been plundering the surrounding countryside. Coming across the cottage, they broke in and demanded the woodsman’s wife hand over all her money and any strong drink she might have. When she refused, the soldiers beat and raped her savagely, before taking the baby and riding off, laughing wickedly.

From that day on, the woman dressed in black and roamed the woods searching for her missing child, accosting anyone she met and begging them for any news of the baby. She soon earned a reputation as being quite mad, and so people began to give the woods a wide berth.

The woodsman never returned home, and the woman continued to roam the woods, desperately searching for her lost baby until the day she died.

Legend has it that her ghost still wanders the woods today, and if anyone is brave enough to walk into the woods on new year’s day and shout

"Black lady, black lady, I’ve stolen your baby!" three times, the woman shall appear and confront them.

Antony from Grimsby, England