Showing posts with label dog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dog. Show all posts

Sunday, August 9, 2015

Haunted Poogan’s Porch


Poogan's Porch

This restaurant is located at 72 Queen Street in Charleston, South Carolina. This establishment is known for its delicious southern cuisine and two ghosts.

Poogan’s Porch is named after a friendly little neighborhood stray dog that often landed on the home’s porch looking for food. Bobbie Ball, who bought the charming home to turn it into a restaurant, fell in love with Poogan and adopted him.

When her restaurant opened in 1976 Poogan was there to greet the first customers. He past away in 1979 and is buried in the front yard. His picture is displayed in the restaurant, and a statue of him sits next to his grave.


Customers often stop at his final resting place to pay their respects.

A wishful legend about his ghost states that diners and employees looking out one front window see him. He sits on the front porch in his favorite spot, waiting patiently for attention or some food.

The other ghost at Poogan’s Porch is more than a legend and appears often.

  Elizabeth and Zoe
The charming Victorian house where this restaurant is located was built in the late 1800s. At the turn of the century, two sisters moved in. Zoe and Elizabeth St. Amand were spinsters who stayed to themselves, preferring each other’s company.

Zoe was a schoolteacher who looked the part. She wore long black Puritan-style dresses, and round, wide-brimmed glasses.

When Elizabeth passed away, it devastated Zoe. She became even more reclusive, and her mental state deteriorated. Neighbors became concerned when they heard her calling her sister’s name constantly.

They finally took her to St. Francis Hospital where she remained until her death in 1954. But it appears her ghost returned to her home on Queen Street.

There are numerous accounts of people who have encountered her spirit, including employees and the owner.

A male chef opening the restaurant placed his coffee cup on the stairs as he went to open the back door for food deliveries. When he returned, his cup was gone.

He made himself another cup and returned to find his original cup on the stair where he left it, but now it had a faint line of lipstick on its brim.

Zoe is often seen late at night, or late in the evening when there are not many customers left in the old home.


A cleaner vacuuming a rug around midnight got the overwhelming feeling she was being watched. She glanced into a mirror and saw the face of an elderly woman wearing black looking at her—this image faded away and then returned to just fade away again.

A pastry chef while in the restaurant alone around midnight was working in the kitchen while playing her music. Suddenly, she heard footsteps running up the stairs.

She investigated, but no one was there. She went back to her work and started to sing along with a favorite song. At one point, another voice joined her.

She looked around, expecting to see a fellow worker, but she was alone. Again she investigated, but no one was in the house with her, and the alarm was set.

The owner of the restaurant, Bobbie Ball, was closing the restaurant one evening—as she went to set the alarm, she heard bulky wooden stools being flipped over, and several doors slam open. She was alone in the building when this happened.

Customers have also encountered Zoe’s ghost.

Often when Zoe’s ghost is seen the witnesses at first do not realize she is a ghost.

Several female patrons have encountered an odd elderly lady in the restroom. They did not realize until they saw a picture of Zoe that hangs on one wall in the restaurant, that they had seen a ghost.

One female customer struck up a conversation with Zoe, when it dawned on her she was speaking to a ghost she ran screaming from the restaurant.

Guests who have stayed at the Mills House Hotel across the street from Pagan’s Porch have also reported seeing Zoe’s ghost.

As they looked out their windows at the night skyline of Charleston, they spotted an elderly lady dressed in black waving at them from a second-floor window in the restaurant.

Two of these guests, knowing the restaurant was closed, became concerned that the woman they spotted was locked in. They both called the police. When the officers arrived, they found the restaurant locked, alarmed, and no one inside.

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Campfire Story: Drip, Drip, Drip


This story isn’t a typical ghost story, but it is always identified as one. Drip, Drip, Drip is often told around a campfire or at a slumber party. 

I have heard and read many versions but the one I share here I consider to be one of the creepiest. Once understood, this story is not easy to forget.

My best friend in middle school was a girl named Sarah. Sarah was a “latchkey kid.” 

She often came over to my home after school because both her parents worked into the early evening. We would do our homework together, and then my mother would inevitably invite her to dinner, but she rarely accepted this invitation stating she needed to get home to see her dog.

Sarah loved Brownie her dog more than anything. 

The few times I had walked Sarah home, I was greeted by him. He was an overgrown mutt with more joy than sense. He would jump on me and try to lick my face. 

One afternoon as I walked home with Sarah, I asked her if she was ever afraid of being alone. She hesitated and then confided that she always checked to make sure all was well before she entered her home.

Once at her house Sarah showed me how she did this. 

She placed her hand through the mail slot on the front door--she waited then giggled and pulled her hand back out. She turned to me, holding her hand up for my inspection. She announced, “Brownie licked it so everything must be okay inside.” 

She pulled her key out of her pocket and unlocked the door. I followed her inside.

An eerie silence greeted us as we stood in the entryway. Sarah looked around with concern. “That’s odd, Brownie always greets me.” 

An uneasy cold settled around me as I tried to reassure her. “Let’s check in the back, Brownie probably just went outside to get through.” As we headed to the kitchen, I heard a soft drip, drip, drip. 

Sarah veered off and headed toward the guest bathroom. “Someone must have left the facet on.” She emerged a moment later, “Well, it's not this one.”


Once in the kitchen we realized the drip, drip, drip we were hearing was not in there. Sarah opened the back door and called out for Brownie, but he didn’t respond. “He’s not in the backyard.”

She then turned and went back in the hallway and called out his name again. “That’s strange, he always comes when I call.”

Now in a panic, Sarah rushed out of the kitchen and headed toward the home’s bedrooms. As we drew closer to her room, the drip, drip, drip sounds became louder and louder.

As Sarah rushed into her room, she called out Brownies’ name, but her voice turned to a scream. On her dresser, a bowl was catching blood dripping from above.

Horrified, I saw Brownie hanging upside down from the ceiling. His throat had been slit. Sarah was screaming.

I grabbed her and forced her from the room. Silent now, she turned pale. I pulled on her arm as I led her quickly to the kitchen back door. She seemed to come to her senses as I tried to push her out the door.

It took all my strength to force her out and away from the house. Sarah sobbed quietly as she pulled away from my grip.

She turned and started to walk back toward her home. She stopped with my next words, “Who licked your hand?”