An insert from a historical work of nonfiction; my life wrapped up, in the history of our town.
SETTLE‘S BRIDGE ROAD. Back in the sixties, mama and daddy practically lived on Lake Lanier, and their couple friends were often sitting around flames of the campfire pit Daddy would build. Two couples in particular were Tony and Jalaine Smith and Larry and Renay Herrington. Come winter, they oft times gathered at our house for chicken liver dinners, frozen pizza–of course we warmed it up first–pie, and coffee. It never failed, as we finished eating around that kitchen table, that somebody, usually Daddy, would start telling ghost stories. One such story was the haunting of Settle’s Bridge Road. And naturally we had to pile into somebody’s car in the dead of night to have look-see for the girl-child’s ghost who reportedly ran up and down the side of that road. We never saw her or anything else, but it was such fun–better than any old campfire I ever sat around.
THE FRONT YARD ON BOGAN ROAD. It seems that some of my kinfolk (perhaps Daddy) would be sitting out on the front porch of their house and hear the jangle of a wagon coming down the road. When it got abreast their house, they heard it turn into the front yard. ‘Heard’ is the key word here. The wagon was invisible, Daddy says.
THE HOUSE ON BOGAN ROAD. This absolutely did happen to my Daddy when he was a child. It was night, and he was all alone in the living room. For some reason, he glanced out a front window and saw a monster looking through the glass at him.
THE HOUSE ON S. WATERWORKS AND NEW BETHANY RDS. It was said by a brother and sister that I went to school and church with that this house was haunted by demons. The brother, his wife, father, and sister moved into it sometime in the seventies and right out of it. When asked why, he said they kept hearing noises and whispers, and things moved by themselves. They were so scared they all slept in the same bed until they could find another house to move into.
THE HOUSE ON HILL ST. was one of the homes built circa 1933 to house the Bona Allen Shoemakers baseball players. My grandparents, Eastman and Aline Dorsey, moved into the upper apartment around 1951 from their home in White County, Georgia, when their youngest daughter, Pam, was two years old. Sometime in the early 60s, I remember walking through the empty place with Pam, her saying, “There’s something in this apartment.” I can’t remember if it was before or after we moved in there in 1963, but I do know one thing: she was right. There was something in that house.
Errata: This article was originally attributed to a staff writer. The actual writer of this article is Cindy Tapia. The Buford Weekly Illustrated apologizes for the error.