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Believing in Ghosts on a Civil War Farm in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania
Seated at the desk at in the corner, she's up late again, her blue dress iridescent with the otherworld. She is writing or reading—who can know?—eternal parchment spread before her. Once, she spoke her name: Anna. Scrawled in the guest book of Hart’s Artillery, accounts of Anna only begin to tell of the many hauntings at the Battlefield B&B and of tormented mortals doomed to see no spirits. It’s said Old Cornelius Houtelin stomps nightly up the stairs on watch, his boots’ march unfettered even by bolted doors. Others swear cavalry hooves of the phantom regiment thunder past the very grounds where it once did battle. Those seeking a chill can find it here, but answers are elusive. Is that Confederate soldier you see really dead, or is he Mr. Miller after a foray into the dining room’s period dress-up rack? A puzzle for the guestbook, indeed.
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