The Myrtles Plantation: The True Story of America's Most Haunted House

The Myrtles Plantation: The True Story of America's Most Haunted House

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by Frances Kermeen
     
 

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Broken clocks tick...beds rise in the air...paintings fly across the room...locked doors fling open...crystal chandeliers shake...heavy footsteps and eerie piano music sound in the dead of night-and that's just for starters. Welcome to the Myrtles Long recognized as America's most haunted house both by parapsychologists and the media, The Myrtles is a

Overview

Broken clocks tick...beds rise in the air...paintings fly across the room...locked doors fling open...crystal chandeliers shake...heavy footsteps and eerie piano music sound in the dead of night-and that's just for starters. Welcome to the Myrtles Long recognized as America's most haunted house both by parapsychologists and the media, The Myrtles is a twenty-eight-room Louisiana bed-and-breakfast once owned by Frances Kermeen. In this spine-tingling chronicle, Frances tells the story of how she was drawn to this former plantation mansion, its bone-chilling history, and the incredible encounters of the ghostly kind she had that forever changed her beliefs about the supernatural-and just may change yours. Along with the sometimes terrifying, sometimes benevolent hauntings, her years at The Myrtles also brought death threats from the Ku Klux Klan, the tragic loss of friends, a catastrophic betrayal, and other personal challenges. They would all converge with the paranormal phenomena around her into one cataclysmic event...

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9780446510721
Publisher:
Grand Central Publishing
Publication date:
09/03/2007
Sold by:
Hachette Digital, Inc.
Format:
NOOK Book
Sales rank:
263,844
File size:
503 KB

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Read an Excerpt

The Myrtles Plantation


By Frances Kermeen

Warner Books

Copyright © 2005 Frances Kermeen
All right reserved.

ISBN: 0-446-61415-7


Chapter One

The idea that I would one day be the owner of the house considered by many to be the most haunted house in the United States had never entered my mind-not in my wildest dreams, or darkest nightmares. We never sought out such a place. It was almost as if the house had somehow selected us.

Looking back now, I realize that my destiny, or fate, as you would have it, the road that would take me to the most memorable and frightening days and nights of my life, began on the captivating and mysterious island of Haiti.

I arrived in Cap Haitien, Haiti, with my boyfriend, Jim Meyers, aboard a pristine white cruise ship that sailed out of Miami. The mysterious land of voodoo, Haiti has always captivated me. Voodoo, the practice of worshiping spirits and placing curses, originated in West Africa, but in the eighteenth century it moved across the Atlantic with those of its unfortunate inhabitants who were sold in Haiti as slaves. "Haiti" is an Indian word that means "high lands," and the lush, mountainous island of Hispaniola is one of the most beautiful in the Caribbean.

Feelings of fun, adventure, and romance permeated the sea air as we prepared to dock in Haiti, the last port on our itinerary, having previously explored the exotic nightlife of San Juan, Puerto Rico, and ascended the Dunnes Waterfall in Ocho Rios, Jamaica, during our romantic seven-night cruise. We had scoured the shore tour offerings the night before we arrived and found the following offerings: 1) a tour of a famous Haitian rum factory that offered thirty flavors of rum (and free samples of all thirty!); 2) a shopping excursion down the main street of the quaint village, where one could become immersed in a world of wood carvings, straw crafts, colorful Haitian art, and brightly colored clothing; or 3) a burro ride deep into the Haitian jungles, to the Caribbean's most famous monument, the Citadelle, passing primitive voodoo tribes and exotic vegetation along the way. Perched high atop a steep mountain, this extraordinary fortress was built in the early 1800s to defend against any possible French invasion. Twenty thousand people were ordered to construct the massive, towering structure, and thousands of them died in the process. This third option was the one that captured our interest.

Once on shore in Haiti, Jim and I were led to a rickety old bus, where we were joined by a few other adventurous passengers who had chosen this exotic call of the wild over that of intoxication or shopping. The old coach chugged, burped, and backfired its way along the bumpy roads of town, barely missing a few of the locals, who quickly jumped or dived out of the way of the hell-bound vehicle. It veered off the main road, following a harrowing, twisted dirt road, finally depositing us at a small rustic camp. Waiting there was a motley group of burros, outfitted only with faded wool blankets and ropes. I looked over at Jim, wondering how I would ever manage not to fall off. Jim shrugged, and after three embarrassing attempts to hoist me aboard, finally managed to successfully situate me on an animal before mounting his own.

At last we were off, and I held on for dear life as our native guide led us, bouncing and swaying, down a dirt road. I was hardly a vision of my childhood idol, Annie Oakley, but my spirits still soared. Anyone could walk down the main street of town, trying on some silly big straw hat, but this was an adventure-something to remember.

As we traveled deeper into the jungle, we came upon a row of primitive huts made of mud, grass, and twigs. Inside, ebony women dressed in colorful print wraps were singing as they swept their dirt floors, or leaning in their open doorways to study our little group. Other women passed us on the road, balancing large grass baskets or clay jugs on their heads. Some of them paused as we passed, whispering and giggling among themselves, before sauntering off on their bare feet. They seemed friendly enough, but I could not help but detect looks of concern on some of their faces. Maybe they were afraid we would suffer sunstroke, or get lost in the jungle before returning to the safety of the large white vessel that brought us to their island.

I suddenly realized that I hadn't seen many men. Other than one old gentleman sporting a long white beard, sitting under a tree, smoking the nub of a well-used cigar, we had seen no men in this little tribal village. Perhaps they were off tending fields, stalking wild pigs, or enjoying lazy siestas in the deep cool of the forest. We were soon to find out.

As we continued deeper into the jungle the trees and knotted vines nearly consumed the path, and we began to hear voices drifting through the bushes-scary, garbled voices. I looked to our guide for assurance, and although he offered none, he didn't seem too worried. The voices grew louder and more intense as we came upon a clearing, where patches of sunlight fought through the thick canopy of vegetation to reveal about twenty-five scantily clad men stomping and dancing feverishly in a circle. They wore nothing but loincloths and heavy necklaces made of shells and bones, their bronze bodies glistening with sweat. Their faces were smeared with paint, making them look angry and scary, and they danced zealously round and round in a circle, some shaking primitive rattles made of unknown gris-gris, others waving long bones (animal bones, I hoped), chanting in a strange tongue. The longer it went on, the more wild and uninhibited they became.

Focused on their ritual, I was relieved that they did not seem to notice us.

"What you are observing is a sacred voodoo ceremony," the guide whispered. "It's something few outsiders ever witness."

I had a strange feeling we were seeing something not meant to be seen, and I began to wish that we were shopping back in the marketplace, or delightfully tipsy at the rum factory. The event was spellbinding, however, and wanting to capture the moment to show my friends, the "tourist" in me took control, and I reached for my camera. Big mistake!

As the camera's flash illuminated the festivities in harsh white light, the attention of the dancers was suddenly drawn to me, and all their heads turned my way in that instant. Suddenly they were all lunging toward me! My legs turned to jelly and I clung tightly to my burro as I quickly found myself surrounded by the manic performers. I sat frozen, paralyzed. Luckily, our guide, maintaining his composure, grabbed for my animal's rope and quickly led me away. The voodoo warriors followed, still shaking tightly clenched fists and shouting unfriendly, unrecognizable words until they finally dropped away behind us and disappeared back into the jungle.

My heart was pounding so hard I'm sure you could have seen it through my blouse. "You okay, honey?" Jim whispered.

I quickly nodded my head "yes." Jim was such a sweetheart. I knew he would rather be at the rum factory, but he had chosen to join me in the primordial jungle. We had been dating for three years, living together the last two. Although we were very different, with my interests leaning toward architecture, history, and antiques, and his toward beer and sports, we were very much in love. Jim was my Luke Spencer and I was his Laura. His resemblance to Anthony Geary was so remarkable that when Geary curled his straight blond hair, Jim followed suit. We rode a long way in silence before I dared to speak.

"What happened?" I asked the guide. "They put a curse on you," he answered. "Why?"

"Because you took their picture. According to their beliefs, you were stealing their souls."

When we arrived back at the camp, both my head and my fanny were throbbing. I quickly slipped the camera out of my pocket, took out the tainted film, pulled and twisted it into a ball, and quickly tossed it like a hot potato into the nearest trashcan.

(Continues...)



Excerpted from The Myrtles Plantation by Frances Kermeen Copyright © 2005 by Frances Kermeen. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Myrtles Plantation: The True Story of America's Most Haunted House 4 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 50 reviews.
LaurenRaz More than 1 year ago
Anyone wanting a decent and realistic history on the Mrytles should definately search elsewhere. I was highly disappointed. It says fiction in the first pages and plays on the sadly mistaken and distorted 'legends' of the mrytles. This author, who previously owned the house, has shaped an entire story around loosely gathered 'facts'. Basically she just played off the infamous name to sell her work of fiction, which probably would have never been published without it.
Guest More than 1 year ago
Having visited the Myrtles several times and being an avid ghost story enthuiast, I was very disappointed in this book. The author was extremely prejudicial and demeaning of the entire South, stating several things that simply are not true. The description of her 'experiences' were overly dramatic and did not agree with the stories told by the current owners and employees. I ended up throwing the book in the trash in disgust.
true-stories-fan25 More than 1 year ago
this was a great read. By the end, you feel so awful for everything this poor woman went through. I am always reading true haunting type books and this is by far one of the best written.
Dani Kennedy More than 1 year ago
I love this book..my mom read it and then i followed..after reading it makes you want to visit the plantation. And i will be doing so next monday :) all because of this book
Holt Sears More than 1 year ago
i loved this book you felt like you were right there with her i would LOVE to go there in person
mclark More than 1 year ago
This book keeps you interested. It makes me want to visit Myrtles Plantation.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This book was amazing, I would love to visit, although I probably would not stay the night.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
While it had many interesting parts, I found the majority of the book to have lost my interest. I think the short chapters were a bit of an overkill and some of what supposedly happened seemed more of a mind playing tricks type of thing, but hey who knows, I wasnt there to experience any of it. I think a movie version would be much better. The timeline and house layout was a surprise at the end and should have been moved to the front of the book. Could have been bettet but then again, I have reaf worse.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
If you like ghosty stuff, this one is for you. Made me tell my husband we will be visiting the Myrtles Plantation next time we go to LA.
KHarvick29 More than 1 year ago
This book was OK but a little disappointing. I thought it would be very scary and more realistic. It also seems that there must have been some serious editing especially towards the end of the book. Characters appear in the story, others leave with no explanation.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I loved this ghostly book, very well written. Not sure if all is true but who cares it tells a very spooky story with a twist at the end!
bertha green More than 1 year ago
loved it could read afain
Jennlvs2read More than 1 year ago
Good story! I want to visit the Myrtles Plantation now!
Guest More than 1 year ago
Easy to read and follow. I was able to read it in a few hours and I thoroughly enjoyed. It is really creepy and makes you think.
Guest More than 1 year ago
This book forced me to get a fish tank for my bedroom so that I could keep the light on ha ha ha. I absolutely LOVED this very descriptive story. I had seen documentaries of this house on TLC long before I stumbled on the book. When I saw it on the shelf, I knew I had to read it. This book was an incredible read and it's now being passed around the office. I recommend this book to anyone who isn't afraid of the dark. Hee hee.
Guest More than 1 year ago
A true gem. Reading this book a second time. Scares you but somehow it pulls you in to where you cant put book down. Excellent read dont miss this one!
Guest More than 1 year ago
MY FRIEND AND I READ THIS BOOK BEFORE WE WENT ON OUR TRIP TO SPEND 3 NIGHTS AT THE MYRTLES! THIS BOOK IS GREAT....IT GIVES YOU ALL THE HISTORY OF THE HOUSE, FLOOR PLAN, AND PREVIOUS OWNERS. I BELIEVE EVERYTHING SHE SAID HAPPENED TO HER!! WE HAD QUITE A BIT HAPPEN TO US IN OUR SHORT AMOUNT OF TIME SPENT THERE.
Guest More than 1 year ago
I have been to the Myrtles before reading this book and I knew only a fraction of all the happenings and facts that this book reveals. This book is excellent.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This was an okay read and the beginning held my interest strongly. But after the first half it began reading more like the author's journal or diary rather than a good ghost story. I also didn't like the author's portrayal of how Black people talked back in that time. Needless to say, the ending was not what I expected and I was a bit disappointed.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Best book I have read in a while
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Very insightful book about a place I love. So much history and agony..
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Great read even went to stay there fascinating
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Got addicted to this book really fast. But the only thing is, there is a lot more history to the plantation than whatis being said in this book. Very disappointed she didnt add in alot of history. Other than that its a really great book.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago