|The Ghost of Thornton: True Encounters Retold|
The Ghost of Thornton Hall: True Encounters Retold is an unfinished book of interviews from people who have seen "The Ghost of Thornton Hall".
Savannah Woodham, paranormal investigator, intended to write a book about people who have encountered the spirit of Charlotte Thornton. Savannah was in the middle of gathering testimonies from several people when something made her abandon the book- something so frightening she gave up paranormal investigating for good.
March Fourth: Subject "Swimmer" Edit
Type: Visual/Aural Contact Edit
Notes: Near Death Edit
I was fourteen, my younger brother was about twelve at the time. I was a bit of a scrawny kid and caught more than my fair share of trouble on account of being the smallest. But I was a coward, and I was itching to prove I wasn't.
That's when I caught wind of Charlotte. I got it in my head that if I spent the night out at the island, the kids at school'd leave me alone. Doesn't make sense now, but it made a lot of sense then. I made this big deal about sneaking onto the island, and everyone was interested, especially my younger brother, Sean.
He demanded to come, and to be honest I was happy to have company. We spent a while trying to get a boat, but no one wanted to lend a boat to two kids in the middle of the night - go figure, right? I knew if i didn't make it out there, I'd never hear the end of it. I'd make too big a deal out of the whole thing. I was locked in.
That's when I decided that we should swim over. Anyone who grew up here knows you don't do that. The swim's not far, but the currents... they'll smash you on the rocks or they'll pull you under. That's exactly what happened to Sean. One second he was next to me, and the next gone.
I panicked, and dove under the water - nothing. Again and again, nothing. But turns out he was fine. He made it to the shore. I was the one in trouble. I kept going under until I got disoriented. I couldn't find which way was up. I knew that was it for me. I knew I was going to die, and I could feel the fight going out of me.
That's when I heard singing. The water around me went still, and a song started swimmin' it's way around me. pulling me toward this thing, this woman. Charlotte. The water was ice cold and she was turning it to steam, smoke was pouring from her like ink under the water.
I knew I couldn't die down there. I knew I had to get out of the water.
I don't know what happened next. I woke up on the rocks. Then in the hospital. I never saw her again. I've spent the rest of my life trying not to look.
April Tenth: Subject "Tagger" Edit
Type: Aural/Phantom Smoke Edit
Notes: No eye contact, possibly unreliable or not telling entire story Edit
Yeah, I saw her. It doesn't matter why I was there, let's just say I'm an artist. Underappreciated in my time, and by the powers that be.
I was out with a few writers I liked to run with. Out in the ruins. L-- was working on her stuff like she always did. A little cute for my taste, but she is who she is. Suddenly she drops everything and is like, "We gotta go. Right now."
She said it like, no drill, just run. We grabbed our stuff and we ran. As we were going, there wasn't smoke, but we were all choking like there was, we could all smell a fire and in the distance we heard screaming.
I wanted to go back but L-- told me that what we heard wasn't human. We all knew she was right.
We got off the island. That's all it was.
May First: Subject "Old Friend" Edit
Type: Non-Haunt Edit
Notes: Skeptic, Mild Hesitation Edit
I knew her, we came up in school together. She was the smartest, the prettiest, and nice. She didn't need to be, but she was. She talked to everyone about their lives, their friends and families, and she could remember it all. We used to joke that she had the whole town in her head.
Maybe it was more true than we thought. When she died, part of the town died with her.
I know you want to ask about the hauntings, and rather you someone else. I- you know that stuff doesn't sit with me, but you come from good people. The truth is, she's just gone. Part of me wishes she was a ghost so I could tell her my proper goodbyes. But anyway that's silly for two reasons, since she's been made up to be such an angry ghost.
I've heard the stories just like you did. That's not Charlotte. Not the Charlotte I'd known. There was no evil in her.
S: Do you think what happened the night she died might have changed that?
It was an accident.
S: What if it wasn't?
Then - she's Charlotte. She always was Charlotte.