“Sure, I’m in…” Ghost Hunting, and Famous Last Words.

We're on the last stop of the tour—Sorrel Weed House, which at first I thought, as a native Californian, was going to be a lot more exciting than it was. But the only high you get here is a spiritual one, and the only out of body experience you encounter is the disembodied souls that …

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Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked

The party was in full swing. Indentured servants did their best to placate the unruly guests, refilling the carafes of thick, mulled wine, pouring the bourbon that glistened in the crystal glasses like casts of amber in the sunlight. The French Doors were open to the patio, letting in the warm Savannah air that clung …

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Go Ask Alice

Poor Alice Riley. If you want to know what happened to her, you just have to ask. She still roams the courtyard of Wright Square on foggy nights, searching for her baby beneath the oaks strung in Spanish Moss, the same oaks from which they hung the noose that cradled her body. Her owner, William …

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A Beginner’s Guide to Hunting Ghosts

We went outside the walls of the house. Lit up a cigarette, the smoke mingling with the foggy breath protruding from our lungs. In and back out. I had a lot of questions coming forth from the back of my mind but more than anything I wanted to understand how. How you go on living peacefully …

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Seduced by Spirits (Georgia…Day 5?)

The British loved to tax, and tax they did—the Sugar Act, the Stamp Act, the Townshend Acts…if you remember your American History, this should all sound pretty familiar. In fact, the reason there are so many big, picture windows in these old, historic Southern homes is because there was a tax on doors, so they …

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In these Disunited States (Georgia…Day 2)

This is a ghost story.  A story about spirits and the memories they leave behind them.  Because here in Savannah, ghosts are everywhere—there are skeletons in every closet. You pull open the doors and the bones come tumbling out, sending up a plume of dust to be swept beneath the Persian rug that warms the …

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