Appalachia Ghost Stories Ghosts - Haints - Spooky

My Favorite Ghost Story spooky october

Today ends my Spooky October Series-and since it also happens to be Halloween-I thought I’d share my all time favorite ghost story with you.

My dear friend Ethelene Dyer Jones sent it to me when I held my first Spooky October a few years ago.



(A Mountain Story)

by Ethelene Dyer Jones

This morning is cloudy and dark. The overcast sky puts me in mind of days in the mountains in my childhood when the clouds hung low and fog rose like a giant shroud hiding the majestic peaks that stood like sentinels over Choestoe Valley.

Then I thought of the tradition of mountain storytelling, and how we were entertained as children by hearing stories that had been passed from generation to generation by our Scots-Irish forebears. My favorite storytellers from my childhood were my first cousin, much older than I, my mother’s nephew, Earl Hood and his wife Allie Winn Hood. This delightful couple had no children of their own, but they seemed to be very pleased when Earl’s nephew and nieces and his young cousins went to spend the night. With no electricity then in that mountain home and the only heat being from an open fireplace, we settled down to a wonderful night of entertainment provided by master storytellers, Earl and Allie Hood.

The recipients of this rich legacy of mountain tales, many of them about ghosts and haints, were Little Ed and Bertha Hood Dyer’s children, our cousins Wilma, Genelle, Harold and Sarah Ruth, and my younger brother, Bluford Dyer and I, Ethelene. We all got permission in advance to go to Allie’s and Earl’s to spend the night on certain Friday nights, and walked the distance from Choestoe Elementary School to their house. It must have been more than three miles, but the anticipation of what we would enjoy once we arrived made us skip along, laughing and talking all the while, with the boys, Harold and Bluford, outstripping the girls and arriving first, boasting that they were stronger than we girls.

After the evening chores of milking and feeding and getting in the wood were finished, Allie served us a wonderful meal of hot cornbread, vegetables and country-cured ham, topped off by dried apple stack cake. We quickly washed the dishes and then settled down for an evening’s entertainment, the likes of which has never been surpassed, even with the advent of television years later.

One ghost tale I remember them telling—and they had a way of making us “see” the scene they laid out before us with their words—was one about a mother’s love for her baby. Allie would warn us that we should not try to match the names in the stories to people, living or dead. This had happened so long ago it would be hard to remember them exactly. The story went something like this:

Years ago, when sawmillers first came to our mountains to cut down the virgin trees and saw them into lumber, there lived far up near Round Top Mountain, a couple named Sexton, Eliza and John. They loved each other dearly. And in the course of time, Eliza had a beautiful baby girl whom they named after her mother but called her Liza. The midwife or “Granny Woman” named Mary had attended little Liza’s birth. Things were going along well until two days after Liza’s birth her mother came down with a raging fever. Granny Woman Mary administered her herbal remedies, but none had any effect on the fever. Eliza grew worse.

John told Granny Mary that he was going to Blairsville, some fourteen miles from his home, to get the doctor. He took off down the rutted mountain road, made worse by the snaking out of the saw logs and the rough treatment from big trucks, just then coming into the mountains, hauling out the sawed lumber. John finally arrived in town in his buggy drawn by his horse. But the doctor was out on a call delivering a baby and was not expected back until the next day. John decided to stay in town and wait for the doctor, because he would have to take the doctor in his buggy back up to his cabin on Round Top. John didn’t get much sleep that night, trying to rest in his buggy. Fortunately, he had brought along a blanket to protect himself from the night’s cold. All he could think about was how sick Eliza was, and even how still the newborn baby seemed in the large basket that was her crib.

About daybreak the doctor came back from his all-night call, tired and sleepy. But he agreed to go with John to examine Eliza and little Liza. After a hot breakfast and coffee which the good doctor’s wife prepared for her husband and for John, the two men got into John’s buggy and took off at a lope, as John urged the horse to a trot.

Finally they arrived at the John Sexton home. Granny Woman Mary met them on the porch. “I’m afraid you’re too late,” she said. “Both Eliza and little Liza died during the night.”  John, gripped with deep grief, went inside his cabin where he saw his beautiful Eliza and the little baby laid out for burying. How could this have happened? If only the doctor had been at home, maybe his wife and child could have been saved.

The doctor and Granny Woman Mary tried to console John. Neighbors came, and made a casket. They placed the bodies together in the homemade casket, the baby in Eliza’s arms.  They were buried in the cemetery near the little log church called Salem. John, so devastated, did not want his neighbors’ sympathy or their food which they always took with loving concern to the household that had experienced death. John latched his cabin door and told his neighbors he would have to bear his burden of grief alone.

The next morning John’s neighbor, James Collins, went to his barn before daylight to milk his cows. Times were hard in those days, and there were always people on the road dropping by farmhouses and barns to beg for food. James realized someone was in the barn with him. He turned and saw a woman, dressed in black, the sort of finer dress like the women in the community wore to church. She sat a tin cup down on a bale of hay. James knew she wanted it full of milk, so he took the cup and soon filled it with warm rich milk. The woman nodded her thanks but did not say a word. The next morning and the next, the same woman visited James as he was milking, begging with her cup. On the fourth morning, James decided he would follow the woman who would not give him her name. Maybe he could find out where she lived.

He saw her dark form disappear into the woods, but, running, he was able to follow her to the cemetery. Then it was just as though she disappeared into one of the newly heaped graves. This frightened James, but he knew he must do something.

James quickly returned home, got his shovel and ran to his nearest neighbor’s house. He told Lish Hunter what he had seen. “Get your shovel,” James said, “and come with me.” Lish wondered what had come over his neighbor James Collins, but he grabbed his shovel and the two men went in that early, foggy morning to Old Salem Church Cemetery. There they began to dig into the newly-formed grave. Getting down to the casket, they gingerly removed the lid, and there was the woman James had seen four mornings in a row at his barn, rigid and cold in death. There was the cup in her hand. And lying on her breast, gurgling but weak, was a beautiful baby girl, still alive, still breathing.

Then they removed the baby, and covered the grave. They went to John Sexton’s home. The door was still barred with the grieving husband and father inside. “Open  up,” James ordered. “We have a gift for you. Here is little Liza, alive and well.”

John could not believe his eyes or the story James told him about the baby’s rescue. What rejoicing he had as the baby, safe in his arms, began to cry. “Come down to my barn and I’ll give you some milk for the baby,” Jim Collins told John. And he did. Nevermore did James Collins see the woman in a black dress with the tin cup come to his barn begging milk. But you can be assured that he remembered it the rest of his life, and told the story again and again.

Little Liza grew up to be a beautiful young lady. Her daddy, John, married again and had more children. But Liza always held a special place in his heart because she was the miracle baby, his first-born rescued from the grave by his neighbors James and Lish.

“Is that true?” we kids asked Allie and Earl. They only smiled and told us it was time for bed. But every time we climbed the hill to Old Salem Cemetery, we looked at the grave marked with a fieldstone, with no names readable on it. We always remembered the story told to us by Allie and Earl, and wondered about the mother who loved her baby so much she would return from the grave to get warm milk to keep little Liza alive. And as we milked our own cows early on foggy mornings, we were always aware that if a woman with a cup appeared, we were to fill it promptly with warm milk. I think we were a little disappointed that no woman ever came to our barn for us to do this service of love and mercy.


I hope you enjoyed Ethelene’s story as much as I did!




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  • Reply
    November 5, 2011 at 7:50 am

    I DID enjoy that story! It is one of the BEST ghost stories I’ve heard.

  • Reply
    November 2, 2011 at 11:57 pm

    Gave me the goosebumps! What a wonderful story of a mother’s love and a wonderful story teller as well!

  • Reply
    Ethelene Jones
    November 2, 2011 at 2:02 pm

    Thanks for posting my “A Mother’s Love Defies Death” again this year! What wonderful comments, and how much I appreciate everyone who read it for the first time, or read it again, and how much I loved writing what I had heard as a child! Did the story itself really happen? I guess we’ll never really know, but as Earl told it to me long ago, I could believe it happened, and wished it happening. I think as my brother and I would walk to Old Salem Cemetery and see the tombstone, we would really believe it happened–that the mother kept going beyond the grave to get sustenance for her baby, erroneously buried alive!

  • Reply
    brenda s 'okie in colorado'
    October 31, 2011 at 11:39 pm

    I loved this story, Ethelene! Keep ’em comin’.
    Also, just wondering if you have relatives in Oklahoma. I was born and raised there and my maiden name was Dyer. I am a member of the Muscogee Creek Nation. One of the 5 civilized tribes.

  • Reply
    October 31, 2011 at 10:46 pm

    I love this story! A perfect ending for October.

  • Reply
    October 31, 2011 at 9:09 pm

    No doubt about it, the love of a good mother can warm one’s heart beyond her grave. When our dad’s Alzheimer’s got worse and worse, long after he had forgotten everyone and everything else, the one thing he always remembered was the one who had always loved him most – his Ma.
    And I believe it may have been that that finally led him home, for it wasn’t long after we began telling him his Ma was in the light that he passed to follow her there.
    God bless.

  • Reply
    October 31, 2011 at 8:56 pm

    Happy Halloween, Tipper. Hope you receive all treats and no tricks. 🙂

  • Reply
    Mary Rutherford
    October 31, 2011 at 8:10 pm

    Tipper, what a great ending to a spooky month on the Blind Pig! I usually read your posts at night, but this month I found myself putting them off until daylight hours. My husband works the “graveyard” shift and I didn’t want to spend the lonely nights scared silly!

  • Reply
    janet pressley
    October 31, 2011 at 6:37 pm

    Very good story. Enjoyed the month of stories. Loved your crow video. Trick or treat! Nana

  • Reply
    John Stonecypher
    October 31, 2011 at 6:36 pm

    Thanks Ethelene for a very good story. The best I every read

  • Reply
    Janet Smart
    October 31, 2011 at 3:59 pm

    Wow, I understand why this is your favorite story.

  • Reply
    lynn legge
    October 31, 2011 at 1:40 pm

    tipper that is my very favorite of your tales.. i just love it and can imagine it.. i have tried to tell it to others.. but wish i could sit with you by a campfire and hear your storytelling… 🙂
    may you and yours have a happy halloween… and as always big ladybug hugs and love

  • Reply
    October 31, 2011 at 1:31 pm

    Thanks for sharing Mrs. Jones’
    story of A Mother’s Love. It was
    as warm and heart warming as the
    last time I read it. She really
    knows how to bring a story to life.
    I have enjoyed all the commentors
    and story tellers for the Spooky
    October series…Ken

  • Reply
    Eva M. Wike, Ph.D.
    October 31, 2011 at 11:37 am

    Ethelene: ‘You take the cake’ on story telling! So believeable! HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
    Eva Nell

  • Reply
    Elizabeth K
    October 31, 2011 at 10:53 am

    A wonderful and interesting story!

  • Reply
    B. Ruth
    October 31, 2011 at 10:44 am

    and Ethelene….A wonderful story told as it was told to your family and made it seem so very real and much more believable…
    The Heartland series here in Tennessee..does their little spooky stories every year around Halloween…this story is one that they do…but I think the way you told the story is much better…
    Thanks and thanks Ethelene
    Happy Haunting everyone!

  • Reply
    October 31, 2011 at 10:00 am

    i think this one fits the spookiest of your spooky stories. or it does for me.

  • Reply
    Sheila Bergeron
    October 31, 2011 at 9:52 am

    This was the best and it gave me chills all over my body! Nothing like a good ghost story.

  • Reply
    Melissa P (Misplaced Southerner)
    October 31, 2011 at 9:33 am

    Thought the “Blind Pig…” readers might like to read a funny and true Halloween story. Check out my blog @
    Please feel free to add your stories to the reply section.

  • Reply
    B f
    October 31, 2011 at 9:23 am

    as to inexpensive christmas gifts i use to make and give hand made crafts
    one year i went to walmart and bought small bottles (preferbaly small) then i made a tag that takes the Bible verse that says :put thou thy tears in thy bottle ‘parapharizing , then tied a bow aroung the neck of the bottle and put the verse on that ribbon ,older people liked that and it was something from the heart
    gold ,small ribbon works well
    have a good day

  • Reply
    October 31, 2011 at 9:09 am

    Enjoyed Miss Ethelene’s story.Thanks for sharing.

  • Reply
    Bill Dotson
    October 31, 2011 at 8:46 am

    Thanks Tipper for your wonderful ghost, I enjoyed everyone of them.

  • Reply
    Sheryl Paul
    October 31, 2011 at 8:42 am

    What a heart rending story. Thank you Tipper, this is one I have not heard before.

  • Reply
    Miss Cindy
    October 31, 2011 at 8:30 am

    Tipper, that story rips my heart and makes me cry. I’ve read it before and it still makes me cry. I guess it speaks to the mother in me.

  • Reply
    October 31, 2011 at 8:27 am

    Riveting, haunting, touching…
    How fortunate for Ethelene to have such wonderful storytellers in her family!

  • Reply
    Gary Powell
    October 31, 2011 at 8:15 am

    Fantastic story!! Wish I could tell them like that.

  • Reply
    Melissa P (Misplaced Southerner)
    October 31, 2011 at 7:51 am

    What a wonderful, touching, sweet story. Thank you for sharing it.

  • Reply
    October 31, 2011 at 7:31 am

    Great story! Thanks ladies.

  • Reply
    October 31, 2011 at 7:19 am

    This story grabs you with the first paragraph and never lets you go! VERY atmospheric. Ethelene is quite adept at the Scots-Irish ghost story telling tradition herself!
    It’s been a most enjoyable Spooky October, thanks to Tipper and everyone who shared their wonderful ghost stories!

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