Haunted Histories 4 Part 1: Gettysburg: Farnsworth House Inn

Let me start out by saying I had every intention to only do one post for my number 4 Haunted Location: Gettysburg, but I feel that it would be better suited broken into 2.

It’s been almost 10 years since by husband (at the time we were just dating) and I went to Gettysburg. I had been there before with my family, but it was his first time visiting. On a whim, while googling places to stay I came across the website for the Farnsworth House Inn. Touted as one of the most haunted inns in Gettysburg, I was immediately interested and easily talked him into staying there. See, I’m the kind of person who believes in most things until they are proven otherwise but my husband is the complete opposite. For him, he is a skeptic first and foremost until he sees it for himself. This is probably how I get him to go along with all of my crazy ideas.

For this trip I booked us in the Custer Room, which is located outside of the main house with its own private entrance. At the time, I also booked two different ghost tours through their website. I’ll be detailing the first ghost tour in the 2nd post.

 

Inside the Custer Room

On night two, we were supposed to go on a walking tour of the battlefields but due to extensive rain the conditions kept us from continuing onto the walking part of the tour. Instead, they took us into the Farnsworth House basement where they told us stories of the property. The guide was very knowledgeable about the location, and the stories were extremely interesting. I hung on every word that was spoken until all of a sudden I felt pressure on my legs. I leaned over to tell my husband what I was feeling but I  just tried to play it off as dampness in the air. That was until the guide made mention of the spirit of a child that liked to sit on people’s laps in the basement. I couldn’t believe that more than one person had experienced the same odd sensation that I was feeling.

As the story of the child continued, the guide stated that he liked to move objects in the rooms as well; that if you left a quarter in one place you would find it on the bed. I was intrigued, and instantly wished we had left some change or something out on the nightstand to see if it would be moved when we returned.

Around 10:00 we made our way back outside and up to our room. I decided to wash my face, and when I looked at my hand I was missing my ring that I knew I had on when we left the room earlier. The ring had fit snuggly around my finger so I knew it didn’t just fall off, but I started to panic. I asked my husband if he saw it when we went to the basement and he said that not only did he see it, but had felt it on my hand. The entrance to the basement was on the outside of the house and since it had rained almost nonstop, there had been a giant puddle at the bottom of the steps. In order to make it over without falling into the water (which I am more than capable of doing) I grabbed onto his hand to make sure I made it over, and it was here that he noticed that I was wearing it.

Not wanting to wait till the morning to try to find the ring, we started out the door to retrace our steps. I turned to make sure that we had the room key, and across the floor something shiny caught my eye. I went over to it, and there behind the leg of a luggage holder was my ring on the floor. Now the first reaction would be It fell off of my hand, but the floor was tile and we would’ve heard it hit then roll to where it lay. I was relieved that we had found it, and I was anxious to get a good night’s sleep before having drive back home the next day.

But, as fate would have it a peaceful night’s sleep was not to be had. At about 2 am, I woke to the feeling of an icy hand grasping my shin. To this day, I can still remember what it felt like that night with the imprint of a hand lingering on my skin.

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featured image from Farnsworthhouseinn.com

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