"Let's go to a haunted hotel," I said. "It will be FUN!" I said.
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| Jail Key - February 27, 2016 |
These were my opening statements to my littlest sister as I sat down to dine with her at her favorite Sushi establishment in celebration of her 18th birthday. Being a horror movie buff, and one who is quite skeptical of the "super-natural" herself, she didn't skip a beat and responded with a squeal of delight and huge, brown, excited eyes. She was totally in.
Being the dramatic extremists we are, we agreed to step up this thrill even more, and booked ourselves a haunted cabin in the woods for the following weekend. We would be prepared. We would not be scared.
Ghosts don't exist anyway, right?
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| Abandoned on Angel Hill - February 26, 2016 |
Prior to the arrival of our weekend stay, you can bet your father's farm we had our research done. We knew of the boy who had been seen lurking at you from beneath the stairs that led to the loft inside the cabin. We knew of the angry woman who was often spotted traveling the path between the cabin and what used to be her home, always leaving a hint of perfume trailing behind her. We knew of the drunken bootleggers said to be heard laughing outside the front door on the stoop, and we knew when you smelled that heavy, sweet black cherry scent of a cigar, the old war captain was not too far away.
What we didn't know is how undeniably and uncomfortably afraid we would really be.
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| The Jail Cottage - February 27, 2016 |
To prime the beginning of our stay, my sister and I embarked on an exploratory expedition, poking around the town our beloved haunted cabin belonged to; Taylor's Falls. Taylor's Falls was platted in 1851 and was named after Jesse Taylor, a territorial politician. The town made it's money from mining, and has many of the first structures ever built in Minnesota still standing to this very day. This historical area is located on top of a giant hill overlooking the little town. Almost as if all those brave old buildings and homes were protecting it from something. It only seems fitting that this area be named "The Angel Hill District".
After enjoying all the historical sites on this rare 62 degree day in February, we decided it was time we head back down the giant hill and finally face our haunted cabin in the woods. You can agree, the very first look at the cabin sets off an ominous, yet still somehow historical, vibe.
Umm, excuse me. Is that a jail cell door? Yes, you better believe it. The owners say they left this on the front of the cabin in order to help preserve the name "Jail Cottage". I suppose you are wondering why on earth they would need to do this? Let me recap.
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| Jail Door - February 27, 2016 |
"The Old Jail Bed and Breakfast" was established in 1981 as Minnesota's first licensed bed and breakfast, but before that, it was a hangout for bootlegger's, a funeral home and, finally, an old jail that housed four cells with iron doors. The iron door you see here today, is in fact, an original.
At this point, my sister and I are completely thrilled! "Oh! Look how cute it is!" my sister exclaimed.
Cute? Really? Regardless of my feelings at this point, this was happening. Upon entering the cabin we were greeted by a satisfying and extra creepy
creeeeeaaakkkkk from the front door.
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| Stairway - February 27, 2016 |
Giggling still, we were even more excited to see the cabin looked... normal. Sunlight beaming through the adorably treated windows, the tiny kitchenette so bright in yellow and red, the big iron staircase that looked so mighty in this place!
Surely this place wasn't really haunted. It's too.. she had it right..
cute! We unloaded the car of our personal belongings and quickly distributed them to their appropriate rooms of the cabin. Up the icy-cold iron staircase and around the corner you will find the comfiest bed I personally have ever had the pleasure of sleeping in. On with our pajamas, slippers and blankets and off back down the stairs to the living room where the quaint little fire place was in need of a stoke. The Girl Scout in me was able to get the fire going on the first try as my sister found an ancient record player and put on some sweet old jazzy tunes. My sister admitted to being impressed with my pyro-abilities, and really, so was I.
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| Two Face - February 27, 2016 |
As she settled down on the couch I grabbed my camera and began snapping pictures of all the cool things around us. A wooden floating balloon, old oil lamps, a divers helmet! We mustn't forget the old iron locks displayed on all the walls around us. Just as I'm about to get that really great shot, my sister shouts, "Come here! Oh my gosh you have to see this!" She has discovered old guest books dating back to when the place first opened in 1981.
Holy smokes.
We sat there for about an hour reading every entry carefully, hoping for a review of a terrifying night's stay. Most of them consisted of happy and relaxing honeymoon stays and wedding anniversaries. Nothing of interest really, and I soon grew bored. As leaned forward to place the book back where I had found it, I knocked another one out of place. It fell and popped open to a page where another page had been stuffed in it. (I know, like something out of a movie, it's ridiculous.) I picked up the piece of paper dated Aug. 16th, 2010. BINGO! In summary it read, "
WHAT HAPPENED HERE? THAT IS THE QUESTION! IF YOU EXPERIENCE ANYTHING AT ALL, TELL DON, THE GROUNDSKEEPER, AND HE WILL TELL YOU MORE. - Michael".
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| Notes - February 27, 2016 |
What an exciting find! Something that proves this place could really be haunted!
Soon after, sister and I are snuggled up tightly watching, but of course, the scariest movie I had in my collection. I should point out really fast; I promise there are no exaggerations, or made up shenanigans in what I have to say about my experience on this night. I am as skeptical as they come.
Why else would I be staying in a HAUNTED CABIN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE WOODS?
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| Spinning - February 27, 2016 |
Anyway, I see the slightest flicker out the corner of my eye that draws them towards the stairs.
Can it be true? Is that really him underneath there? I readjust my body and head so I can no longer see the bottom of the underneath of the stairs in my peripherals. As the movie palys on, I see another flicker, but this time it is above me. The giant heavy wooden balloon suspended above us was moving. Okay.
Wait, what? I looked again, or more-so stared, and yep, the damn thing was moving. No, not just moving, it was beginning to rotate. I patted my sister rather aggressively, so as not to spook what I was witnessing even though it was spooking the hell out of me, and pointed up. Annoyed at first for tearing her eyes away from the movie, she soon found them another home, locked on the, now spinning, wooden balloon suspended above our heads.
Immediately we began debunking it.
Is there a window open? Is there a vent somewhere that is causing the thing to spin? What about the fire, maybe it is creating a vacuum? Shortly after we have found no open window, no vent, and of course the fire is not creating a vacuum strong enough to move a 75 pound wooden balloon around! We even remembered that we had the windows open during the day when we were hauling in our stuff and groceries and looking at the woods around us. The balloon hadn't moved an inch then! We decide to sit back down and finish the movie with our eyes every so often flicking back to the balloon that never stopped spinning.
Halfway into our second movie, a not so scary movie (because I couldn't handle it anymore), we start to hear knocking coming from behind the wall which the couch we were sitting on was up against. My sister and I both stared at each other knowing that the shed was on the other side of the cabin, and pure nothingness was on the other side of the wall behind us making the raucous. What can you do? This is not a movie, and I am not going to go TOWARDS the sound. Duh. The sounds persisted irregularly for about 10 more minutes, then faded. We chalked it up to some animal poking around outside.
That is just raccoons, right?
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| Charming - February 27, 2016 |
Finally, a quarter of the way through our
third movie I am starting to doze off. I head-bobbed myself awake with a snort and got up to head to the kitchen to clean up the mess of dishes of dinner. As I am cleaning the dishes, I hear a rustling of clothes coming from above. Keep in mind I am deaf in my left ear and I was still able to locate where the sounds was coming from.
Maybe it was a different sense I used? I called out to my sister to see if she was getting ready to go to bed and poked my head around the corner of the kitchen.
Nope. She was still sitting with her eyes wide-glued to the TV screen. After a few more minutes of listening and my eyes tracking the kitchen ceiling looking for the sound, it ceased. I hot skipped it to the couch mentioning to my sister that I would sleep on the couch for her so she didn't have to be alone.
Ha! Who didn't want to be alone?? THIS GIRL.
Yet, however paranoid at this point, I finally fell asleep watching the balloon that was no longer spinning. Suddenly I sat up with a jolt that left my sister in stitches.
What had just awoken me? I know something just happened! My sister said all she did was touch my hair to try and wake me. She was ready to go to bed. I didn't tell her about the rustling I heard earlier and followed her up the stairs to bed.
My GOSH is it ever hot up here?! That is a good sign, right? Usually when creepy things are happening, it gets cold and... silent. Regardless of how hot it was, my instincts told me to NOT come out from underneath the covers. After all, if something was going to come out and grab me, better to have a blanket in between you and IT. No need to feel the coldness of dead hands. Needless to say, I spent all night flopping back and forth trying to decide whether I wanted my back to the open-ness of the room, or if I wanted to be facing the open darkness of said room. I decided, as a belly sleeper, to sleep on my back with the pillow covering my eyes. Even still, every creak, every rustle, every smell that floated across our noses did NOT go unnoticed by either of us that night. It wasn't until dawn broke that morning that either of us were able to finally sleep.
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| Breakfast - February 27, 2016 |
Rat-ta-tat-tat!! Aaaaand, just like that, sleep-time is over. Ughh, I was still a sweaty, hot ball of tension. But the good news; breakfast is here! That's right, it is a bed and breakfast after all. Mmm! The smell of sausage and omelets. Pumpkin Coffee Cake and toast. Fruit and coffee?! Praise the caffeine gods. It was almost as if this heavenly site was congratulating us for making it through the night. However, that didn't stop the little ladies who brought us our food from scurrying out the door like they couldn't get out fast enough. I even attempted to ask one lady where they got that adorable antique coffee grinder from. "Oh, uh, well, Don. Don. He got it. Somewhere. Enjoy!" and out the door she went flying.
Breakfast was amazing as was our entire experience. As we were packing up the car to head home, the cabin was it's cheerful, welcoming self again. The sunlight beamed once again through the adorable treated windows, the tiny kitchen was bright again in it's yellow and red. The iron staircase hid nothing at the foot of the stairs. I never thought I could ever say that I truly had a supernatural experience. But I believe I did. Now, I certainly would never, ever become a ghost hunter like on TV or anything because, being that scared is exhausting and mind-numbing, and it's a hard feeling to describe. It's like you know you are being watched, but you can't prove it. You see and hear things happening, but you cannot explain it. This will certainly be a tough one to explain to those who are super skeptics as it's like trying to look directly at a person's aura. You just can't even though you know it's there. You can see it out of the corner of your eye, but you can never look it directly in it's eye. And frankly, I don't know if I'd ever want to.
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As far back as I can remember, there has always been some sort of tradition going on at some point during the year in my family. Annual trips to the cabin on a lake in Minnesota for a week long vacation. Shopping trips with my grandmother to the mall for a fresh new wardrobe for the upcoming school year. Lefse making day with my paternal grandparents and parents in preparation for the giant family gathering around the turkey, and a cookie baking/decorating party at my maternal grandparent's house for my favorite holiday of the year; Christmas.
Maybe this is the reason why the holiday season is often found as overwhelming for some. The obligation, alone, of upholding so many traditions that Great Aunt Hudda instilled upon us all at birth can crush any holiday zen. The obligation to match, or even one-up, the amazing Swedish Meatball recipe. To perfect the art of Lefse rolling and Krumkake baking. And Valhalla forbid you forget to put out the repugnant Lutefisk this year for Christmas Eve, or prepare to have the Norse gods and all of the Viking ancestors wreak havoc and leash the dogs of war upon your years to come. Well, I can relate.
