Tag Archives: Ghosts & Hauntings

Orbs, Ball Lightning, and Cows

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High Strangeness in the Skies too close to the Ground

Soon after men working on my Dad’s farm swore they saw two small “flying saucer” UFOs with colored lights zoom between the two silos attached to the outside of the cowbarn, ball lightning knocked down all the cows. At least we think those orbs were ball lightning, but we weren’t completely certain. Now we are sure at all. These events occurred on Riverview Dairy Farm near the village of Rice in Prince Edward County where we lived in the rolling Piedmont region of Virginia. Ours was one of three Bass farms in the region, altho the small one belonging to my great-great grandfather was long defunct.

This was sometime during the mid-1970s when I was in high school over in Farmville. My brother Joe and I played with the three Vernon brothers and the two Moore brothers. Their fathers worked the local dairy farms milking cows, fixing machinery, and throwing hay. Recently we thought we had seen a flying saucer UFO while out exploring in the woods one evening. The more we studied the machine and its light patterns high in the sky, however, we realized it was a common, small airplane viewed upon the steep angle of the land as we climbed out of a steep gully into the field. One can read about that incident in my article here, “The UFO that wasn’t.”

Apparently the farmers, hardened men not incline to make up nonsensical stories, saw two small UFOs. They were described as little flying saucers, silver or aluminum-colored, with a ring of colored lights around the outer rim of their discs. The saucers flew over the farm from the south somewhere. Then they turned quickly on a hard right turn and shot thru the narrow gap between the two silos over the high, tin roof of the cowbarn. Those two machines behaved as if they were performing, indeed, as one man declared, “showing off.” Once thru, both accelerated and vanished. They were so fast it wasn’t clear if they disappeared because they flew on out of view or winked out of visible existence. Was daytime and the sky was clear with a few clouds.  Continue reading →

Headless Sally

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Ghost Hunting amid the Echoes of Tragedy and Carnage at Saylor’s Creek

Midnight came and went across the woods and fields of a 118-year old Civil War battlefield. With a firm grip on powerful flashlights turned off, we crept along the edge of the bridge and peered downstream into the darkness for ghosts. Well, for a specific ghost in particular, a ghost named Headless Sally. The three of us stood there in the dark feeling stupid and scared all at once. It was cold, too, down there in the damp mini-valley of Saylor’s Creek. A full moon hung in the sky casting shadows through trees and thickets leafless in Winter.

Earlier during the day we had agreed to hunt for Headless Sally under a full moon in a relatively clear and calm night sky. Luna draws out the madness in people, draws out mindless ghosts questing about on soulless autopilot, the objects of long-faded desires lost to spiritual dementia. And here we were, three Witches of Silverwood, leaning over the bridge railing facing downstream looking for the ghost of a floating head or perhaps her headless torso. We were confident of our abilities to protect ourselves against harmful or mischievous spirit entities. Besides, we figured after midnight on a cold weeknight there would be far less traffic on a lonely country road to disturb our focus than earlier in the day or on a weekend.

We have visited with ghosts nearby at the Hillsman Farmhouse at the epicenter of the Battle of Saylor’s Creek. Fought on Thursday 6 April 1865, as heavy rains fell and the creek rose, the fields, woods, creeks, and farms were the scene of a ferocious and savage three-part battle between Confederates and Federals. American Civil War combat was often at close quarters with severe injuries from up-close discharges of firearms and artillery as well as hand-to-hand fighting.

The Hillsman home was occupied by the Federals and used as a battlefield hospital. The family and servants there were forced downstairs into the basement, but afterwards helped dig mass graves for the dead. I don’t know if the “servants” were Black slaves, lowly-paid Whites, or White indentured servants. Indentured servants as an institution, shockingly enough, endured in the U.S.A. until 1917, long after slavery itself was legally abolished. Few narratives from Civil War battles more than mentioned the presence of slaves as if they were a bothersome afterthought.

The medical staff operated on screaming Union and Confederate wounded without question. Stories were told of so many amputations deemed necessary as the gory battle unfolded, the pile of severed limbs and body parts tossed out the windows reached up to the windowsills. Soft lead Minié ball bullets tore large holes through soft tissue and shattered bones. Cannons firing loaded canisters bursting with lead and iron balls packed in sawdust mowed down troops on both sides.

Sanitation was unknown, and this lack of hygiene helped generate severe rates of infections such as gangrene. Doctors and nurses, including surgeons, may care for their patients and feel passionate for their professions, yes. Their knowledge and technologies, unfortunately, were surprisingly Medieval during what many historians consider the first Modern, Industrial Age war. No wonder so many ghosts haunted the area. Sally, however, didn’t die in the war.

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Ghosts and Hauntings at the Old Bass Family Farmhouse

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Old Bass Family Farmhouse on a visit to Virginia from Seattle, December 2005. Foto by William Bass.

Old Bass Family Farmhouse on a visit to Virginia from Seattle, December 2005. Foto by William Bass.

A ghost, yes, an invisible ghost, scared me nearly all to pieces once upon a time back when I was a little kid. I was young, so you can laugh if you wanna, but I was well read and smart, too for being such a squirt. The way that ol’ ghost stomped down the hallway of an old farmhouse in my direction freaked me out. Made my big Frankenstein hearing aid SCREAM. I could hear this ghost, too. I could feel it, feel both the vibrations of the stomps and the cold blob of air moving along with it.

I was a young boy back in the mid-to-late1960s sometime. I don’t remember how many years old I was or what grade I attended in school. What I do recall, however, was the weather. It was Summertime. Lush, green Summertime! It must’ve been between grades. I reckon I was in late elementary school or maybe even early middle. Not sure. But it was Summer that I know. And a ghost scared the bedoobus outa my insides. This true story began late one afternoon.

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