PARANORMAL PUB

 

GHOST STORIES FROM NEW YORK

Marion Pellicano Ambrose

While Saint Augustine, Florida is my favorite spot to visit and experience haunting adventures, there are many other places I’ve been that have their own spooky tales to tell.

I was born and raised in Brooklyn, New York and have heard many stories of ghosts and hauntings close to home. One such tale is that of the young girl in Marine Park. It is said that the girl was walking through the park one evening, enjoying the crisp fall wind blowing through the leaves of the tall trees that surround the park. Behind one of these trees lurked a strange man who grabbed her from behind. He brutally raped and murdered the girl. Her screams echoed throughout the surrounding neighborhood, yet no one came out to rescue her. Instead, they hid behind closed doors and drawn curtains. The murderer was eventually caught and put to death, but the girl’s spirit could not rest. She continues to roam the park waiting for someone to come to save her. On nights when the air is crisp and clear, people sometimes hear screaming and crying coming from within the park. Many years have passed and most of those living there at the time of her murder are dead themselves, but still she wanders and screams in the night. Screaming for someone to help her!

Another tale was told to me by a priest friend of mine. He was the chaplain of my college and I worked closely with him in the Newman Club. When he was studying in Long Island, in the seminary, he was assigned to a room close to the end of a long hallway. There were other rooms along both sides and one single room at the back of the hall that was marked “storage”. The young men studying for the priesthood lived a well ordered life. In rooms by 9, lights out at 10. No exceptions. It puzzled my friend that each night at 10:30pm he heard one of the others open and close his door, walk down the stairs and open and close the door of the chapel. An hour later, the same would happen in reverse. He wondered who would chance breaking curfew and the wrath of the Abbot in charge of them. One day he got the courage to ask the other students “Which one of you is sneaking out each night?” All ten men denied leaving their rooms but reported hearing the same noises. They decided to crack their doors and see who it was. That night, at exactly 10:30, the students watched as the door marked” storage” opened and closed, yet they saw no one there. Footsteps went down the hallway and the stairs. They ran from their rooms in time to see the chapel door open and close by itself. They ran back up and gathered in my friend’s room. An hour later they watched as again the process repeated in reverse.

Confused, frightened and worried, they went to the Abbot and related their tale. “Well”, said the old man. “Several years ago we had a priest who lived in that room at the end of the hall. He was a good man, and much loved by the congregation. To everyone he met, he promised “I’ll say a Mass for you!”, and I guess the promises started to add up. He died before he got a chance to keep all those promises. Since the night after he died, these noises have occurred. That’s why we never use that old room. No one will stay there. Now get back to bed and just pray for the old priest”.

The activity continued for 2 years while my friend continued his studies. Suddenly one night – it stopped, and has never been heard again. Has the old priest finally fulfilled his promises and said all the Masses required? My priest friend swears to this day to the truth of this story. It makes me think that maybe we need to keep our promises in this life! What do you think?