I am a wife, a mother, an employee of Biltmore Estate in Asheville, NC…and a psychic. Yes, I see spirit people. Sometimes it happens when I least expect it but I can both “see” and “hear” them, often at the most unexpected times. Most recently this occurred on a chilly Sunday afternoon in the mountains of North Carolina as my husband Bob and I were going for an afternoon drive.
The Land Of Madison County, NC
Madison County, where my husband’s family has lived since the 1700’s is about a 10 minute drive from our home. The mountains that make up this part of the state are old…very old; the Cherokee Indians consider much of the mountain areas in this part of the state a sacred, mystical land. Madison county is a part of this land. On this particular afternoon Bob decided to drive up to his family’s old homeplace along Anderson Branch Rd. in Madison County, NC
Spirits At The Church In Walnut
Heading North on U.S. Hwy 25-70, we turned left onto Old Rd. and found ourselves in the tiny community of Walnut. At the point where Old Rd. intersects with Bernard Rd stands an old,white former church that now appears to be some sort of second-hand store. Small headstones of the cemetery that had encircled the old church over the years sat this way and that, weather-worn; lichen covered. Many were simply old field stones stuck vertically in the hard dirt to mark a place where a loved one had been buried both years and generations before. No name. Just a stone. But what I saw other than headstones were spirits…spirits of various ages and dress. The majority were in dresses or suits from the 1800’s. It seemed to more women than men. They appeared to be milling about, reminding me of a hive of bees I’d seen once as a child. The hive had been disturbed and you could feel the bee’s agitation growing…growing until they lashed out viciously at those around. I had the same feeling watching these spirits as I had that day at the hive. I did not like what I felt would unleash there one day.
The Spirit of Alice
As we were winding our way down Bernard Rd., we reached the community of Bernard. Right before we crossed over the French Broad River near the only two buildings that still stand nearby, I could see the spirit a woman whose name I felt was Alice. She looked to be in her mid to late 20’s, dressed in a worn grayish dress from the early 1900’s. The hem was about 8 inches above the ground. The reason I recall the length was because I had easily seen the tops of her high-button shoes. With thin, wispy hair fixed into a small bun, Alice was standing about half way between the two building, watching for a man she knew would be coming. But her wait would be useless. He would never come. I felt she would sometimes see the people across the road from where she stood who today use a parking area there as a launch site for canoes and kayaks. She’s curious about them but doesn’t want to bother anyone. She’s like the people who have lived in these mountains for generations…she minds her own business and has little to do with others. So she watches and waits.
Spirits Of The Mountain Families
As we crossed the French Broad River, we took an immediate hard left onto Anderson Branch Rd.. Bob drove and I sat silently as we winded our way to the top of the mountain which the road crosses. I found it fascinating to see so many spirits every few miles as we meandered our way down the north side of Bernard Rd.. I recall a young spirit boy around the age of 10 years who seemed to be from around the Depression era. He was at his house in one of these hollers along Paw-Paw Rd., shouting to someone to “Wait! Come back! Don’t leave!”. There was such despair and desperation in his voice. Down the road I saw an Indian spirit in buckskins, his head slightly higher than the dried cornstalks he seemed to be standing in. There was a spirit of a black bear on one of the high, wooded hillsides near the peak of the mountain the road took us across. A spirit woman, about 38-40 years stood in the crook of a hillside beside the road near a spring. She showed me that she had been there one evening around dusk and something had happened where she couldn’t breath and had died as a result. A barefoot boy bouncing along on a mule in a field, both dead long ago; Two little girls making a playhouse in the overhanging bushes and shrubs beside their home. They play house with homemade rag dolls. They as well as the home and dolls… long gone. All of the preceding occurred from the top of the mountain until Anderson Branch Rd. intersected with Paw-Paw Rd..
More twists and turns in the road; more spirits here and there. When we arrived home, I felt exhausted. I had not planned to have a “spirited” afternoon but sometimes it happens. For some a drive in the quiet of the autumn mountains is a thing of unspeakable beauty. Sometimes it is simply…unspeakable.