Just a friendly little reminder.. if any of you have ever had a brush with the unexplained,or have experienced an encounter with a ghost or a haunting of any kind we would love to hear from you, if you would like to share your story you may submit it to any of my blogs through PM's and I will include you in the next round table. we waiting for you here. where the Darkside never close's.

Your
Host..
Scratch.

We’ve all been sitting here for the last twenty minutes waiting for the rest of our guests to arrive, there will be thirteen people present tonight. My dear friend Sherry sits across from me, on my left and right respectfully wearing their off duty attire, two of our Waitresses here at the Darkside have decided to grace us with their presence here at the round. “I’ve already had a turn Scratch.” Miss Sherry tells me. “Spirit’s don’t take the day off Sherry.” I tell her. “All that matters is that you have something to say, something inside of you that still needs to get out.. There is no limit to the number of times that you may grace us with your presence here Sherry, we are all grateful that you’ve returned." Buttercup and Honey both stand as do I .. our other guests have arrived. Time for the Haunting to begin.
SHERRY..

House Calls..



The house had some beautiful architectural features. Deep mahogany woodwork, stained glass side lights enhancing the front double doors. The front porch wrapped around one side of the house following the curve that in other houses would have been a corner. It had changed hands, so many times, that no one remembered who the house had been built for. It was reputed to have been an infirmary during the Civil War, a sanitarium for tuberculosis patients, a lying in hospital for maternity patients but no one was able document any of this. It was three stories tall and I always thought it had been built for one of the members of the Stevens or Kingsley families. It followed the design of the other mansions known to have been occupied by both of those families in the early 1800's. Documentation at that time was inaccurate and the earliest record we could find of the house began in 1935. At that time it housed the office of a Dr. H. Reid. He may have used it as a clinic. There was an addition that connected the house to the carriage house in the back. The addition contained 12 rooms, all with doors to the hallway which was rather wide, not at all the width you would find in a home. The cellar was a rabbit warren of rooms, much like a maze. If you knew your way around you were fine, if you didn't...well...you could make a wrong turn and be down there awhile. I was exploring one day and I made a wrong turn, I found myself in a room that appeared to have been storage for medical equipment and supplies. It contained old glass x-ray plates some exposed, some not. Then there were the jars of formaldehyde that contained body parts. Those were just sitting on a shelf in front of the cellar window. All marked with the name of the part, and the name of the donor, so to speak. The one I remember most clearly was the appendix . It looked like a piece of gravel, large and misshapen. I'd never seen one before in any condition let alone after 40 years of soaking in formaldehyde. It belonged to Alice Broderick whoever she was. I found doors of the type you might find in an infirmary. Large wide doors with privacy glass windows in the upper half.

The last three owners of the house had divided it up into apartments. The 12 rooms in the back hall had become 4 small one bedroom apartments. The doors were removed and a hallway wall was built. Inside each apartment the woodwork was still there for each door, and shelves had been added to make bookcases. The kitchens of each apartment were the only rooms to keep the doorway into the hallway. By the time two of the owners were done the house held 13 apartments. Of course the number 13 was never used. Just 12 and 12B. The work was done in such a manner that staircases were left intact, but no longer went anywhere. Alcoves were created where Pullman kitchens were all that could be used to make these rooms into apartments. If you've never seen a Pullman kitchen, it's a 6 foot wide unit that has the stove, refrigerator, sink and cupboards inside. The refrigerator was under the sink, a small 4 burner stove and oven next to it and 2 cabinets overhead completed the unit. They were dark brown in color, not at all attractive and set into a dark alcove. The only attractive apartment in the whole house belonged to me, and even that had it's drawbacks. I had to cross the common hallway to get into my bathroom. On the positive side the rent was cheap, and included heat, what there was of it. I lived there for most of 5 years, I was the house manager, responsible for cleaning the vacancies and seeing to it that the apartments were rented as promptly as possible, and it was to me that the rent was paid. I also had to handle the complaints, and some of them have always made me wonder about that house. Two of the apartments were almost impossible to keep rented. When the tenants moved out, some as soon as two weeks after moving in, they complained about foul odors, loud voices, babies crying, and the cold.

It was a damp kind of cold, the kind that cuts into the bones in a way that makes you feel you will never warm up. It was never felt during the day, just at night, and only in certain areas of the apartments. Tenants of those apartments complained constantly about loud parties in the apartments of their neighbors late at night, and sometimes the neighbors were not at home. No one had any children on the second floor and yet babies could be heard crying incessantly at all times of the day and night. I only smelled the odor once, while cleaning one of the apartments. My first thought was that there was a dead mouse or rat somewhere in the place. I searched and never found anything. We removed every piece of furniture and all the appliances from there and we still could smell it. The smell of something dead and rotting. It came and then it went, just like that. The rest of the 13 apartments including my own, had little unexplainable incidents but nothing like what would occur in the 2 second floor units. My apartment had a window that would not stay closed. We always assumed that when the ropes that allowed the opening and closing of the window were replaced, they were installed too tight which caused the window to open. It wasn't discovered until later, during the gutting of the house by the new owner that the ropes were never installed. Yet that window would open itself unless it was locked. It was the only window in the house that didn't have to be propped open with something, it just wouldn't stay closed. The last owner of the house decided it had too many apartments and was too difficult to maintain. He wanted to renovate it back to the grandeur it once enjoyed. He moved all the tenants out and gutted the interior. During the demolition he began to have problems with members of the work crew not wanting to work in certain areas of the house by themselves. They too began to experience what so me of the tenants dealt with in the upstairs apartments. Keeping workers became such a problem that George stopped work on this house after the new floors and stairways were built. Before he could resume the renovations, it was discovered that he had cancer of the brain. He couldn't find a buyer with enough vision to see past the wreck it had become and the old house was torn down. Now it's just a vacant lot in the Historic District of town and no one remembers the house at 219 N. Washington St. any more. Except me, and I still don't know whether what we experienced was a haunted house or just the creaks, groans, and drafts of an old house. One that had seen too many greedy owners that had destroyed it's character and it's beauty.



Are ghosts real? Or are they little more than what goes on inside of each of our own imaginings? real or perceived no one can doubt that when they are alone at night, the cold chill that some nights comes into your company when the lights go out, and keeps you awake with the feeling that you are not as alone as you might think, can make even the strongest of doubters wonder even if only to themselves. What was that? is there anybody there? It isn’t the questions that bothers us so much as that cold, almost indifferent silence, that follows the sounds of our own voices as they slowly echo down the dark empty hallway and come to a slow dead stop at cold thin air. So many questions.. Is there life after death? Perhaps it is that morbid curiosity in all of us that keeps us looking for the answers while we precariously live all of our lives on the edge of the Darkside.

Strange Trip

Its 4:00 am Friday morning here at the Darkside.. I’m sitting here with my gorgeous assistant Elvie, we’re sipping on the Java juice deluxe, her and me are trying to figure out the Saturday Roundtable problem, when she sits back in her chair and crosses those legs.. “Boss man” she says. “you seem a little distracted, but not by me, what’s up with that?” I look up at her “Ah, got a slight case of the twilight zones I think” I have been thinking bout this all week, and its just kinda weird spooky, not really scary spooky. When I was riding the mountain Bike to work on Monday morning I was going down lone mountain hill on Roop St, and I pass this older Guy and I take notice that he’s got long gray and white hair and wearing a back pack . So we exchange “Good mornings,” and I haul ass across the Wal mart parking lot to get to work, and I look back and the old guy is still comin down the hill about four blocks back.. So I kick it in the ass thinking that I’m gonna be late, 5 minutes later I’m a block and a half from work and I pass the same old guy from the hill for a second time, not more than five minutes later.. I know there’s no way for him to get ahead of me after being so far behind, so how is that possible, and when I pass him the second time he looks right at me so I can see it’s the same guy.. Freaked me out… still does I tried to find a way that he could have gotten ahead of me.. Not scary spooky just weird spooky.. So people if you have a story to share us this Saturday at the Darkside’s roundtable.. Please feel free to submit it via Private comment. Elvie Smiles at me.. “Drink your Coffee boss man.. Before it gets too damn cold..

It is almost midnight here at the Darkside, standing beside in front of the Tavern are two of tonight’s guests, of course Miss sherry wouldn’t miss a Roundtable if she could help it.. But also gracing us with her presence is the sultry beauty we know in chat as Miss Moon. While the rest of the guests are making their way to the Round, we stand watching as the long Black limo makes its way down Crows crossing Road and stops in front of the Tavern.. Good my special guest has arrived.. A woman near and dear to my heart, we greet each other with a warm hug and retire to the round with Miss Sherry and Miss Moon. And when our special guest takes her seat, everyone draws a deep breath and holds it slightly.. We are in the presence of a spirituality that only the most gifted of shamans know of.
PolarB



Spirits Hide..



I thought I would take a seat at the round table and tell you a little tale. It is one of spirits and sightings and things that make cold chills crawl up your spine. All fine and dandy for a little midnight ghost story however, I must warn you this is completely and utterly true. Nothing made up here for! I have witnessed it for myself. Settle in and I will tell you about the place were the spirits walk freely. It is an old dilapidated place down by the river on a lonely road where things go bump in the night. It is gated with heavy chains so you cant get in but more I think it is to keep you safe so the things hidden in the cobwebs wont suck you in to the dark abyss. It was called the old Peter Cartridge Powder plant back in its heyday. Gershon Moore Peters who married into the Kings family founded it along the banks of the Little Miami River near Kings Mills, Ohio in 1887. King Powder Company, which was founded by Joseph Warren King, built its factory on the Kings Mill side and across the river stood the Peters plant. The buildings themselves were built in imposing stone and tile back in the late 1800’s with it’s high shot towers and tall impressive buildings. They just don’t make them like that anymore. It employed hundreds of people along the scenic river and was a thriving hub of activity and production back in its time. Local me n from around the area would walk for miles there each day trying to earn a decent day’s wage to feed their families. The company made smokeless gun power that went in cartridges and shotgun shell casings for guns and other artillery. The company was prolific and an innovative maker of ammunition. With this and the invention of the automatic cartridge-loading machine, by Gershon Moore Peters, the company became a great success. The unfortunate thing was that when a mistake was made, men died. I found this place to be fascinating and oddly beautiful and haunting at the same time. You could almost see and hear the sounds of what it was like back them. The railroad cars and trolleys hustled along bringing men to work in the wee hours of the morning. Men walking together in groups like soldiers marching to the beat of a lonely drum early in the morning across the bridge to get to work. Others would row their boats down the river and dock them on the side and climb the banks of t! he river each and everyday to earn an honest pay. I came to know of the place because there is a bike hike trails that runs along the Little Miami River, which is to the backside of the Peter Cartridge powder plant. Everyone knew of it and referred to it as the old powder plant. From the outside it looks haunted and indeed it is abandoned and dilapidated with windows all broken out. Every time I passed there when on the trail, the building would draw me to it and I would get off my bike and try to take a look around. Little did I know at the time, that I would learn more of it’s history and get an up close more personal view of the insides of the buildings. There were many rumors surrounding the old place. Some say that Satanic cults used the towers to have meetings and ceremonies there. It was once thought that a small boy had been murdered there and the grounds were searched for weeks looking for his body. They never found it of course. I had heard that many people! died there when there were explosions and their bodies had been blown to bits and rested in the woods and river. This is a fact that I was able to research and found to be true.

On July 5th 1890 the Peter’s plant had a huge explosion. It could be heard from as far as six miles away. On that dreadful day, a train car rammed two cars loaded with 800 kegs of powder and cartridges. The resulting explosion killed 11 people that day. An estimated 1600 kegs of powder had exploded in the blast. Everything took fire and much was destroyed, however the plant survived and continued to make ammunition for soldiers during World War 1. I was able to find the archived newspaper articles that confirmed this fact and there have been several books written on the history of the plant. My company that I worked for in the early 1980’s decided to lease parts of the building for our manufacturing facility. It was the hopes of the local owners of the building to restore it to it grandeur and make it a fully functioning operating facility full of manufacturing businesses. As we prepared to move our operations into the building, we were able to go on tours of all the buildings and up into the shot towers, which still stand today. Let me just say those were certainly interesting and for those of you who are so inclined to actually feel the presence of spirits, you would not have been disappointed. I went with a group of about twelve people. Most of the insides were dirty and barren and you could tell it had not been used in centuries. You had to watch where you stepped and you were warned you might see snakes and all kinds of other critters in there until they were able to clear out the rest of the stuff. Inside the shot towers you had to go up a small staircase, which was narrow and daunting. About half way up I got confirmation that indeed some sort of cultish activity had taken place. Most likely by kids messing around however the presence of burnt out wax candles and the definite makeshift alters and all the pentagram sign! s that were spray painted in red everywhere were a dead giveaway. Nobody really said too much but I know it freaked out a couple people. Further up the air changed and it was colder in there. Two women said they could not go any further because if they did they felt something dreadful would happen. They opted to stay behind alone and wait for us to come back down. Now if that were me, there would be no way I would stay in that building by myself. I opted to go on with the group. I didn’t experience anything at that time and we went on to go look at the rest of the buildings. We took a tour of the grounds, which covered about 10 acres. Up behind the building into the hillside were little bunkers that were moss covered and hard to see if you didn’t know what you were looking for. Those were used they to test the cartridges. It was said that sometimes men died or lost limbs performing the testing. Nothing worst than a mistake like that. Explosions and loss of life was not uncommon, however, the companies never seemed to have much difficulty in finding workers except during the labor shortages when the two world wars were going on. I am not much of a history buff but I found this to be very interesting and I wanted to learn more. World War I brought enormous growth to Peters Cartridge. In 1930 in the Great Depression Peters sold out to Remington, his competitor. World War II started off with great success for the Cartridge Company but in the middle of the war, the Peters plant in Kings Mills was shut down due to overproduction. There has been much written on the history of the powder plants and if you are interested, there is a book written by Thomas D Schiffer called “Peters & King: The Birth and Evolution of the Peters Cartridge Co and the King Powder Co.” You can also go online and find old nostalgic cartridge packaging from the Peter Cartridge Company.

Soon after we moved in and so began the glimpse into the spirit world of those who resided there. My guess is that because of the violence of their! deaths, they are stuck and cannot move on. But one thing is for sure, they do exist. I have personal experience of this. One day I was sitting at my desk working and my co-worker said to me, “Hey who was that man that was standing there?” I told her I did not see a man and I asked what he looked like. She told me he was an older man with white hair and kind of scruffy looking with bib overalls on. She said she saw him and she looked over at him and he looked right at her. She turned away and then he was gone. I told her I had no idea who he was. The next day another woman reported seeing a man walking in the hallway. She described the exact same man and when she did another person piped up and said she saw him carrying a lantern walking up behind the buildings in the woods. They all described the same man, except he was not a live man. It was his spirit. Many others had reported seeing him walking along carrying the lantern like he was looking for something. I never saw him but I felt him on several occasions. I would walk along the hallway to go to the office or to the restrooms and it would feel someone watching me. My hair would stand up on my arms and on the back of my neck and I could feel the presence so strongly. I saw images at other times but never a clear face or person. Many times people would see other spirits walking in the hallways or going up a flight of stairs throughout the buildings. Weird things happened like windows opening and closing by themselves in rooms that were sealed off. A woman used to do cleaning on the weekends and she brought her daughters with her. She was cleaning on 2nd floor and heard them coming up the steps so she turned just in time to see their legs and shoes going up to the next floor. She hollered at them to not go up there and they did not answer. She didn’t want them going off exploring on their own for fear they would get hurt, so she went upstairs to get them. They were nowhere to be found yet she heard the footsteps and had seen their feet. She gave up and! went back outside to get something from her car and there standing next to the car were her two daughters waiting for her because the door had locked on them. And they weren’t able to get in. It spooked her and they left. Things like that happened all the time. The buildings and shot tower with the big “P” on it still remain, some of the buildings are still in use and others just sit vacant. I have taken many a photo of this magnificent structure and each and every time I have felt the presence of the spirits who live there. Shadows have shown up on my film that are unexplainable. I am still intrigued and captivated by this place. The thing about this place is nobody ever stays long. I don’t think it is just because of the spirits though. No sure what it is but somehow the plans never come through to restore it to the original shape. When they built this place long ago, they went for quality and I know they were proud of their factory. You can tell that by the tiles designs on the outside of the structures. There is! a lot of history to this place and through it all it is still standing. Some other interesting facts are Annie Oakley visited once. Two movies were filmed there, a rap video and three or four album covers have been shot there among other photo shoot. Of course there was also plenty of haunted houses done there too from local radio stations. It really is a cool place... Just don’t go alone… Currently there is an art studio in there and a few small family type businesses. I think last I heard there was also a theater company that leases out space there.



I check the looks around the table for reactions and Miss Moon is sipping on her tequila while her dark eyes search the room as though looking for some unseen question, the same guarded silence reverberates around the table until PolarB rises from her chair.. All those present have been honored by her presence here and warm thanks are shared by all, and we all walk her back to the limo where Lovey has arrived to take her home, and she smiles at me and gives a sly knowing wink just before she gets into the limo, slowly disappearing from sight. It pulls away followed by the rest of my guests and now I stand alone beneath the flashing neon, between the light and the dark, where the spirit world will always stay open.. Here at the Darkside..

Currently there is an art studios in there and a few small family type businesses. I think last I heard there was also a theater company that leases out space there. If you want to check out the history and the photos of this place there is a website- www.forgottenoh.com/Peters/peters.html This website has a haunting’s section specific to the Peter Cartridge Company if you want to read more, but my accounts are from first hand experience. I truly hope you enjoyed this midnight hour tale of spirits along with a bit of history. And don’t forget…. I will be watching… and I will l be waiting and if any of you misbehave or step out of line here at The Darkside Tavern, you might just find a shape shifter with glowing red eyes coming towards you and a big bear paw will tap you on your shoulder. Trust me… a bear’s sharp claws slashing the flesh of your pretty little face is not a pleasant experience…. So you better behave yourselves.

PolarB ;)