A Good Reason

Ghosts often return to resolve unfinished business. The following account I read several years ago in an old newspaper article. It told the story of a deceased coal miner, who returned as a ghost for a good reason.

This story took place in the 1920s. A coal mine located on the West Virginia border experienced an explosion. Several men were killed, a few lucky ones survived.

All the bodies of the dead were recovered except one. This body belonged to a miner by the name of Frank Cooper.

Most mine company's at that time had an unfair policy. If the body of a miner was not found, they stated they were under no obligation to compensate that miner’s family for their loss.

In this instance, it meant extra hardship for Frank Cooper’s wif, and his six children. The owners of the mine stated that there was no proof Cooper had been in the tunnel at the time of the explosion—even though the survivors knew he had been.

To guarantee they would not have to pay anything to his wife, the owners stated that Cooper had apparently just abandoned his family.

Explosions at mines were a
common occurrence.

After the explosion, management asked for volunteers to go down into section five, where the explosion occurred, to clear debris and shore up the ceiling with new beams. No one wanted to do this dangerous job, but finally, one miner named Louis stepped forward.

Once Louie reached the deepest part of this section, he began to work. He stopped when he heard strange noises. He turned around to see a dark figure directly behind him.

At first, he thought with relief that this was another miner, who had a change of heart and had come to help him. Louie noted the other man had an unusual appearance. He was gaunt and extremely pale. Where his eyes should be, Louie could only make out two sunken holes.

As Louie turned back to dig away some loose debris, the other man commanded he stop. “No, not there. Over here!” Louie now confused complied anyway. He took his shovel and began to work in the spot the other man had indicated.

It wasn’t long before he spotted a foot sticking out of the slag, then a whole body. He turned around to show the other miner, what he discovered only to find he had vanished.

That night Louis was awakened by a knock on his door. When he answered it, he saw the same mysterious man from the mine standing there. Before he could say anything the strange fellow said, “Thank you. Now I can rest, and my family will be cared for.”

The figure then faded away as Louie watched.

The next morning back at work Louie was told that the body he had found the day before was Frank Cooper.

First Person Account: The Stink Bomb

A psychotherapist by the name of Eileen who specializes in grief counseling first told this story.

A father had tragically lost his teenage son to a fatal car crash. He could not get passed his sorrow so he sought professional help.

After one session he mentioned an issue that was troubling him. He told Eileen that while traveling in his car alone he often had a strange experience.

When his son Chris was younger he and his father had a running gag. Chris would pass a major a stink bomb in the car and then without real sincerity he would apologize.

His father did not always find this amusing. The father told Eileen that he still smelled this foul odor in his car occasionally.

She asked him what he would do when Chris was alive. He told her that “he would yell at Chris to stop it”--half serious and half kidding.

Eileen recommended that the next time he smelled the odor that the father should do what he always did. She told the father that Chris’ spirit could just be letting him know he was still there and everything was fine.

A half-hour later the father returned to the therapist’s office. Eileen asked him what had happened. The father told her he had barely gotten out on the road when he smelled the foul smell once more.

He told her I did what you suggested. I stated, “Chris how many times have I told you not to fart in the car.” This worked for the odor went away immediately.

The father admitted that maybe it was Chris letting him know everything was all right. He felt his response had let Chris know he had gotten his message.

In Eileen’s profession she has encountered many stories like the one above. She firmly believes death is not the end. Her clients often experience a special sound or odor or something that is connected to a deceased loved one.

She admits it might be people’s minds remembering but it also might be a loved one proving that love and affection continues after death.

The Ghostly Spools

They say it sometimes helps just to talk to or reason with a ghost to help them move on.

This story was first told by a Mrs. Charles Stone and then published in Barbara Shuttleworth’s book, Supernatural Folk Stories in the French-Canadian Tradition. It was then published later in Maria Leach’s Whistle In The Graveyard: Folktales to Chill Your Bones (1954).

Stories about ghosts that return from the dead to restore something that was stolen is a common theme in England, Canada, the United States, Germany, Persia, and the Scandinavian countries.

A Guilty Conscience

A grandmother who lived in French Canada, in the days when people still spun their own yarn to make their garments, used to hire women in the neighborhood to come to her home and spin and wind yarn on spools.

Vintage bobbins

One poor neighbor named Lucie was hired. She then made off with several spools that belonged to the grandmother. Shortly afterwards, she died. Soon after her funeral the grandmother woke in the middle of the night to hear a noise in her attic.

It sounded like wooden spools rolling around on the attic floor. She thought, “I’ll go look in the morning.”

She went up to the attic but found nothing out of place. She heard the same sound the next night. It sounded like wooden spools rolling and clattering around. She searched the attic again but found nothing.

Every night after this the grandmother was awakened by the sounds of spools rolling around. This constant noise kept her awake. At her wits end, she wondered how she could get a good night’s rest.

Then one late night as the spools rolled and banged around she remembered the poor old neighbor who had stolen some of her spools. “It must be Lucie,” she thought. “She’s bringing them back!”

She quickly got out of bed and went up the attic stairs. She carefully opened the attic door and called out softly. “Lucie, is that you?” “Lucie it’s all right. You can have the spools.”

At once the sound stopped, and the old grandmother never heard the spools rolling again.

Maria Leach’s book, Whistle In The Graveyard: Folktales to Chill Your Bones, is a popular children’s book. Clean copies of hardbacks are expensive but there are reasonably priced paperback copies available on Amazon.