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Mr. Casiuss Monroe: Halloween Edition: A Spooky Turn – Pt. 12

Pt 12 A Spooky Turn Halloween Edition Historic Fiction


This is meant to be a piece of historical fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of history and the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely historic and a work of fiction to guide the reader through history in an engaging way.

It was a cool and crisp October evening, and the leaves barely held to their branches. Those trees that had already passed through to the dormant state of life were left gnarled and twisted ripping through the sky. The family had gathered around the hearth in the den, and as it was customary this time of year, we told scary stories. The wood crackled and spat embers up the chimney, I had turned down all the lights in the house and the only source was from the hearth itself. The flickering light cast out shadows upon our faces, and all was set. Within the Monroe custom, it was said that everyone had to tell at least one story tonight, I felt it necessary to tell one about the hotel. The story I was to tell was one that Rose knew but never had experienced, so in fact, not all of the details had been laid out for her. Maybe I would get her to jump right out of her seat tonight, it was very unlikely, but I would try. It was also possible that maybe Lilly or Robert would get her this year, but who knows?

It was Robert who started, the flames danced menacingly in his eyes as he began to speak. His voice was wobbly, he was – if I had to guess – trying to be scary, but to me, it was just coming off like an old howlin dog.

Robert in that wobbly voice began, “It was a cool and crisp evening, just like tonight.”


There was a man who was out in the woods, having a good walk until a rainstorm started to come down. He started to walk a little faster, it wasn’t too bad yet, but it was still raining, and it was going to get worse. As he rounded the corner it came down pourin like buckets. It was like the bath that you don’t want, but this here guy – he got it. Way up on a hill there was a house, it was a scary, nasty-looking house. He ran towards it, and it seemed like it took him forever.

Eventually, he reached the house on the big hill, he stepped up on the porch going up to the door he knocked.

No one answered.

So he knocked again.

Nothing happened.

He knocked a third time.

The door slowly began to open.

He pushed his way through into a musky, stinky and dusty house. It was dark and scary, he didn’t like it, it was also cold. He went over to the fireplace and started a fire. He curled up on the floor and fell asleep.

Suddenly, he was awakened by a creaking floorboard. He shot up looking around, he saw nothing and checked his watch, it was 3:30 am. He rolled over and tried to fall asleep. Before he could he heard breathing and he jumped away, and there before him was a creature.

It was green with sloppy goop all over it, he had long green fingers and no eyes. The only other thing that was seen was his big red lips.

The creature hopped over to him and asked “Do you want to see what I can do with my long green finger and my red, red, lips?”

“NO!” the man yelled, jumping further away.

The man jumped up and started to run, but the creature was faster and blocked him from the front door.

The creature yelled, “do you want to see what I can do with my long green finger and my red, red, lips?”

“NO, I do not” The man replied and darted up the stairs.

The chase was on and the creature followed close behind him yelling all through the house “Do you want to see what I can do with my long green finger and my red, red, lips?”

“NO! NO!” the man whimpered, racing through the first door he could see.

This was it, there was nowhere else to run!

The man backed up against the wall and whimpered and cried, pressing further and further into the back wall.

The creature swayed creepily and moved closer to the man, repeating over and over the closer he got “Do you want to see what I can do with my long green finger and my red, red, lips?”

The man could smell the fishy breath and could hardly stand it, he tried to scream but couldn’t.
One last time the creature asked “Do you want to see what I can do with my long green finger and my red, red, lips?”

“Fine, Fine, show me!” the man was terrified.

Without skipping a beat, the creature put his finger in-between his lips and went



The room busted out in laughter. I laughed and laughed, I’d never heard a story quite so funny.
“Where did you hear that one?” I asked.

“School,” Robert said gasping for breath between his laughs.

“That one was good, but mine is better,” Lilly said, settling down only chuckling now.

Everyone settled down as I went over and stoked the fire, and it breathed with life, casting shadows about the room once again.

Lilly began “Once there was a little girl, between Robert and I’s age, and she hated walking home from school.”

She would have to walk over three miles every day to get to her one-room schoolhouse which was on the other side of town. The problem was she also had to cross the black bog. The mist could always be seen hovering just above the bog floor.

On this particular evening, the night had come unusually fast, which made the bog even worse. The reason being was that it was always much darker in the bog, due to the thick foliage. The little girl started walking through the bog and she ran at a hurried pace. She came to the rickety log bridge that crossed the heart of the bog to get her home. While running across she slipped and fell in, she scrambled her way out, but her only day dress was ruined. This is when things got very weird. She started to hear heavy breathing behind her, she spun around and nothing was there.
She hurried along.

Going faster and faster now.

She felt something pulling on her dress, wrapping around her.

She stumbled onto the dirt path and was met face-to-face by a horrible monster. It was the Bog Monster. It had no eyes to speak of, it appeared more as a blob than a humanoid figure. It only had sharp brown and green teeth and slunk along the ground leaving a trail of mud behind it. Seemingly her dress and clothes were being consumed by the thick bog substance. She wiped it away, or so she tried, jumping up she tried running home.

She was almost through the bog when all of a sudden it was like she hit a wall on the edge of the tree line, her house was in sight. A sudden grip of horror engulfed her.

She ran really hard and hit the invisible wall again. She flew back!

Looking behind her, she saw the Bog Monster. He said, “You are mine now, you are the bog. Let it take hold and consume you!”

She fought and fought but it was no use, the slick black acrid goo was enclosing all around her. She began to scream, but the goo poured over and into her mouth and no sound came. Tears streaked her face, and the goo latched hold until only one eye was exposed.

She could see her father on their porch calling out her name, and she could do nothing. She was frozen in fear and the final bit of goo flowed into her last good eye. All was silent.

When she awoke, she was not herself she felt all sloshy, she crawled over to the bog’s edge to see why she felt that way. The problem was staring back at her as a big bulbous blob and not her own face. She screamed out and a grotesque sound shot out, she began to wail and only a gurgling sound came forth.

It is said that still to this day that the Bog Monster is no longer there… but the Bog Banshee, now she runs around yelling and screaming making guttural sounds begging lone hikers for help only for her to eat them alive. Their screams were engulfed only by the sounds of their drowning carcasses.


Lilly jumped up out of her seat screaming, she lunged at Robert and he screamed. Rose and I laughed.

“Aww man, you all always get me first!” He said in an angry tone.

“It’s alright, maybe next year,” Rose said, pausing. She continued “It’s my turn, I’m going to tell you one that my grandmother used to tell me. She knew the old lady that this happened to.”
Rose sang it as an old eerie hymn, to me this story was always a little freaky, especially when it was sung to her around this time every year when she was a little kid, younger than Robert if I remember correctly.


There once was an old lady who lived next to the graveyard.

Ooohhhooohhhh She went to sweep the walkway that snaked through.

Ooohhhooohhhh She went to the graveyard.

Ooohhhooohhhh To sweep the bones.

Ooohhhooohhhh She sweeped and sweeped.

Ooohhhooohhhh She heard the creaking coffins groan.

Ooohhhooohhhh Back and forth.

Ooohhhooohhhh. Back and forth. Ooohhhooohhhh When she finished sweeping.

Ooohhhooohhhh She went back to her house for the night.

Ooohhhooohhhh She went to the closet to replace her broom.

Ooohhhooohhhh When she opened the door and



Robert and Lilly both jumped backwards!

I chuckled slightly “You didn’t get me.”

“I knew I wouldn’t but I know that song gets to you though, I could tell by the look in your eyes, Cass,” she said.

I leaned over and whispered into her ear “I know, that’s why I love you.”

She leaned her head close to mine and our lips almost touched and I went in for a kiss. It didn’t happen, she drew away slowly.

“It’s your turn, Cass,” she said with a grin.

Oh, she teases me so. I love her!

“Alright everyone I am going to tell you a ghost story about a certain Mr. Eisele,” I said with a devious grin.

It was said that there was once a man here in Parkersburg that came from Germany, he was an immigrant of sorts. The problem was he no longer went by his original name and it could only be stated later on that he did this for the most nefarious reasons. He was once known as Joseph Eisele, but from his first steps off the boat in America, it had become John Schafer. He was of a stout figure, known for being of fair complexion accented by his light brown hair. It was also said that he had stark grey eyes that could pierce your soul, and even melt the heart of women. He had a strong chin and a square jaw. Overall, he was seen as a sad and timid man.

It was said that he moved here and lived above a bakery and that is where he would stalk his prey. Three men in their time went one by one, the names will go down in history – Lilienthal, Ulrich and Tsutor. All of them in broad daylight, behind a boarding house. He had no shame and never covered them up, for it was his way. The problem was that his fourth victim never met an untimely fate, but escaped having been clobbered to death.

As it would be the fourth man ran to the police and turned him in. He was arrested and his trial began at the stroke of two on January twentieth. He pleaded guilty and was the last man to be publicly hung in Parkersburg.

Eisele’s story doesn’t end there, it is said that he now haunts The Blennerhassett Hotel. The place in which he lived was there before the hotel, and he wanders the halls of the hotel still looking for his prey.

The problem that plagued many of the kitchen staff in my day, even my late good friend the Irish Chef. Don’t mistake the term plagued for the emotion of fear, but it could be that he started the ghost stories of Mr. Eisele, but who knows?

It was said that he was prepping late one night and he had run out of potatoes, he was three short, and him being him, he couldn’t handle the lack of potatoes. As the story goes, he went down into dry storage, grabbed up three potatoes, and looking around he thought he saw someone in the back corner. He went down to the other end to find no one there. He mumbled under his breath in Gaelic, as he began to walk, he nearly ran right into the ghost.

He stopped abruptly looking at the figure before him, a silhouette of a man in a bowler’s hat.
“What are you doing here?” the chef asked in his thick Irish accent

The ghost did not respond.

“Are ya deaf?” the chef asked, he paused awaiting a response, nothing but heavy breathing “Are ya daft man, get yer arse outta the way ya grey-eyed bastard!” He yelled as he shoved passed him
From henceforth the dry goods storage has been haunted. Mr. Eisele plagues the staff with destruction and mayhem, he destroys stock and rots the potatoes, and that is the only horror that scared the Irish chef. Not the ghost, not the destruction but that of the potato mold. He would be in fear of it every week.

Once he called out to Mr. Eisele’s ghost, “I’ll cut you up for stew you daft fool! You leave me potatoes out of this!”

It was said that the potatoes never rotted again, but Mr. Eisele can still be seen wandering dry goods late at night.


We all sat in silence, no one moved or spoke, breaking the void I stood to stir the coals, and suddenly there was a floorboard that creaked. I noticed it, but Rose had drifted to sleep by this point and I saw Robert dressed in a white sheet sneaking closer and closer to Rose. It was then that he pounced with a yell.

“Ahhh” Rose screamed awakened by Robert.

“I got you – I got you!” Robert was laughing and so happy that he finally got someone.

“Someone finally scared Grandma,” Lilly said.

“I think he cheated, but we’ll give him a pass,” I said.

We all sat around and chuckled looking into the coal of the fire, all sitting on the couch together.
Then there was a thump and heavy breathing, we all looked around at each other. Again, it happened and the breathing got closer. I felt a bump under the couch and so did Rose and we just stared at each other. She began to breathe heavily, she was truly scared, I hadn’t seen her like this in a long time.

Then Lilly jumped up yelling “Something touched me on the ankle” She ran from the room and we all scattered.

Briefly, I looked back around the corner as we all fled. There just poking his head out from under the couch was my sweet old hound, Maxwell, sniffing under the couch looking for a nice warm place to sleep.

About the author:

My name is Logan M. Saho I am the Concierge at The Blennerhassett Hotel. I have been in the tourism industry since my thirteenth year of life, I started out as a tour guide at the Beauchamp-Newman Museum in Elizabeth WV. I also since that time have become an early American period reenactor (1730s-1890s.) Beyond that I have a dual-degree in History and Political Science with a minor in communications concentrating on theatre. After my college years I worked as a living historian at Blennerhassett Island Historical State park for 2 years which geared my path to be working where I am today.

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