Haunted Canada 8 Read online

  The instructor had a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach, so she hurriedly finished packing up and hauled everything out to her car as quickly as possible. But as she was dealing with her final load, she felt eyes staring at the back of her neck. Goosebumps spread across her skin and she froze, torn between the desire to turn and look or run and hide.

  As bad as the cold and the sensation of being watched were, the next thing she felt was much worse and far more threatening. Somehow an unseen presence got inside her head and demanded that she leave the building immediately. She grabbed her last things and rushed out, pausing only to frantically lock the door but unable to pause long enough to set the alarm.

  The next morning she told the staff member on the phone that she was certain she’d been chased from the building by a ghost — a very unfriendly ghost — that had scared the living daylights out of her.

  The red-brick building was built in 1925 and originally served as a schoolhouse. It was due to be demolished in the early 1970s, but a group of concerned citizens banded together and formed the Heritage Agricultural Society to save the building. Little did they know they were also saving the ghosts.

  Rebecca Still, who used to be the Multicultural Heritage Centre museum manager, also experienced the hostile presence that sent the instructor running out of the building. She claims that there were many instances where she got a really bad sensation and felt like she had overstayed her welcome. Something wanted her to get out. Sometimes when she was working alone in her office, she looked up and spotted a woman in an old-fashioned dress standing in her doorway, but the woman always disappeared in a heartbeat.

  The ghostly woman has company on the property in the form of a man who haunts the Oppertshauser House, which is part of the Multicultural Heritage Centre and stands beside the old schoolhouse. His footsteps can be heard passing over the creaky floorboards and he’s been known to knock paintings off walls. Items placed in the second floor closet have been discovered in other parts of the house, or have disappeared forever. Some people have heard his voice from within the house while they walk past outside, and a few other particularly unfortunate souls have seen his face peering out at them from one of the upper windows. A staff photo taken outside in broad daylight revealed an odd bluish-white orb floating inside the house.

  Oppertshauser House

  Debbie Truckey, who worked there, was alone one Sunday after working a late shift. She locked up and then passed by the Oppertshauser House. When she looked up at the same window, she saw a man with a high collar staring down at her. Debbie wasted no time deciding how to react; she ran as fast as her legs could carry her.

  Running from the Stony Plain Multicultural Heritage Centre isn’t uncommon. Some return … but others never — ever — come back.

  FRIGHT AT THE MUSEUM

  Ottawa, Ontario

  It was summer vacation when Anie and her family visited Ottawa for a little sightseeing. On their very first day in the nation’s capital they went to the Canadian Museum of Nature, an imposing gothic building that looks like a castle, located in the south end of downtown. Anie saw on a map that the fourth floor had only one permanent exhibit, so she assumed there wouldn’t be much to see, but her curiosity got the better of her and she insisted on checking it out, if only briefly. It was a decision she’d soon regret.

  Anie headed to the west wing as soon as she reached the fourth floor, her sister and mother trailing behind her. She didn’t get far. Before she’d taken more than a step or two into the empty space, she stopped and doubled over in pain. A feeling of dread filled her stomach and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the west wing was a bad place. Although Anie couldn’t take another step forward, her sister wasn’t afflicted by whatever premonition had rooted Anie to the floor. The younger girl walked quickly past.

  “STOP!” Anie yelled as loud as she could.

  Normally if she’d yelled at her sibling like that their mother would have been angry and would have insisted on an explanation and an apology, but not that day. Instead, their mother only agreed that they shouldn’t walk any farther into the west wing and didn’t question Anie at all. It was as if she’d picked up on something too.

  Later that week the family went on a ghost tour of the city. When they passed the museum, the tour guide, with a dark hood framing her head and an old-fashioned lantern held aloft, paused and told the assembled tourists and thrill-seekers about the building’s fourth floor — specifically, the west wing.

  Countless people, both museum staff and visitors, have seen doors swing open and shut on their own. People often feel like they’re being watched when they’re all alone. The elevators travel up and down despite being empty. Unnatural cold and hot spots materialize with no explanation. Alarms go off for no reason. Vacuum cords have been yanked out of electrical outlets while janitors try to clean the floors. Security guards have been grabbed by invisible hands; many have sacrificed a day of pay when assigned the graveyard shift on the fourth floor, and a guard quit after one night spent in the old, spooky museum.

  The building’s official name is the Victoria Memorial Museum Building.

  A woman called Mary, who worked at the museum for many years, was skeptical of the ghost stories. But one morning, while she was walking through the fourth floor, her opinion suddenly changed. It was 9:55 a.m. and the museum would open in five minutes, but at that moment Mary was all alone. Or so she thought. Suddenly she was overcome by the sensation that there was someone creeping up behind her, and that the spirit — yes, she was already starting to believe in ghosts — desired nothing more than to scare her.

  “It’s okay,” Mary said to herself in an attempt to calm her nerves. “The museum is not really haunted.” But the belief that not only was the museum haunted, but the ghost was right behind her took hold as her heart began to pump faster and her palms grew sweaty. Mary stopped in front of a mirror and looked at her reflection, standing alone in the large, empty room. But then, just before she turned to leave, a cloud of grey fog appeared behind her. It swirled in the air, and the head, shoulders and arms of a tall man appeared within it.

  Mary’s body grew so cold that she felt like she’d been dunked in ice water. The ghost approached her silently. Although her mind was screaming at her body to go, flee, run!, she couldn’t move a muscle. The man then walked straight through her, and she felt incredibly hot — as if a great surge of electricity had run through her veins. Mary watched as the man carried on for a few more steps … and then disappeared.

  The most unusual sighting of all took place in the Fossil Gallery. Amidst the reconstructed skeletons and life-sized models of dinosaurs, Mary has seen a dark shadow travel across the floor in what she describes as a “wave-like motion.” Had she found the courage to peel her eyes off the floor and look up, would she have seen the ghost of a prehistoric flying creatures, such as a pterodactyl or pteranodon, flying overhead?

  There are many theories as to who the ghost (the human ghost) is. Some believe it’s David Ewart, the architect who designed the building and oversaw its construction between 1905 and 1910. The museum was constructed on unstable clay, causing the building to sink, heave and crack in many places. In 1915 three storeys of the tower were removed to remedy the problem, and some believe Ewart was so upset by this change that he returned after his death. Others believe the ghost might be Sir Wilfrid Laurier, seventh prime minister of Canada, since his body lay in state in the museum for three days after he died in 1919. Some staff members think it might be the ghost of one of the ancient Egyptian mummies that used to be stored in the basement. And an exorcist who was called in by the museum in 1989 claims to have made contact with the spirit of a Cree man from British Columbia, whose clothing was part of a display at the time.

  With so many different theories, it’s hard to pinpoint the source of the ghostly activity in the museum. Of course, it’s always possible there is more than one spirit in the building, so when you visit the Canadian Museum of Nature,
make sure to look up when passing through the Fossil Gallery, and behind you when passing through the fourth floor.

  BEAR ATTACK

  Connoire Bay, Newfoundland and Labrador

  It was a cool, crisp fall night in the late 1960s when James, a man from the town of Burgeo, was drifting off to sleep. He was settled in a small cabin he had recently purchased in the woods near Connoire Bay. The cabin had been sold many times over the years — it was as if no one was able or willing to stay there for long. And when James had seen that it was up for sale, he decided to purchase it for himself, despite any misgivings or unease he might have felt.

  The night was dark, the forest chilly and peaceful. James’s eyelids began to close and his mind slipped toward dreams, but he was shocked wide awake by a jarring sound. He sat bolt upright in bed and listened.

  Scratch-scratch-scritch.

  It sounded like a bear clawing at the side of the cabin … looking for a way inside.

  James leapt out of his bed and loaded his gun, then took up a position in front of the door and aimed the barrel at it. He waited. The scratching continued, and James followed the source of the sound. It passed by the front door but the bear didn’t break through. Instead, it continued to circle the cabin, scratching at the walls. This lasted all night, preventing James from getting any sleep. He peered out the windows but could see only darkness. He only had an old oil lamp. Without a flashlight he couldn’t see the creature with his own eyes, and he had no desire to venture out into the dark. But when the sun finally rose in the early morning, the scratching suddenly vanished.

  An extensive search of the area and the cabin’s exterior walls revealed no sign or trace that anything had tried to claw its way in throughout the night, but that gave James little comfort. He was exhausted, so he slept through the day. But before night fell, he placed fresh mud on the ground all around the cabin, like a moat, in the hopes that — if the nighttime creature should return — its paw prints would be captured for examination the following day. With his plan in place and the moon rising in the sky, James went to bed.

  Scratch-scratch-scritch! Scratch-scratch-scritch! Scratch-scratch-scritch!

  The bear was back, but now it sounded like it had doubled its efforts to get in. And not only that, but it was on the roof right above his head, ferociously attacking the shingles. As he had the night before, James got out of bed and loaded his gun, then stayed awake all night in case the bear — he was more certain than ever it was a bear, but he had no idea how it had gotten up on the roof — managed to break in. Fortunately it didn’t, although it did scratch and claw at the roof all night. When the sun rose, the commotion ended.

  At least the bear would have left its tracks in the mud around the cabin, and then James would be able to see how big it was and maybe get a hint about how it managed to get up on the roof. But when he searched the cabin’s perimeter, he couldn’t find a single track. That was impossible. He had spent two nights awake with fright as he listened to the bear try to claw its way in. How it hadn’t left a single paw print, James couldn’t fathom.

  He had one last desperate idea to afford himself a little extra protection for the night ahead. He nailed a small piece of wood to the door, which prevented it from closing all the way while maintaining a barrier between him and the beast. His plan was to stay up one more time with his gun already loaded and pointed through the small opening. As soon as the bear passed by, James would shoot it without hesitation. If it returned — and James had no reason to believe it wouldn’t — he’d be ready for it. He took up his post inside the cabin.

  The sun set. Night fell. The woods grew quiet and still, but only for a moment.

  The bear began its attack on the cabin immediately, and from the sound of the scratching on the wooden boards it was angrier and more vicious than ever. The walls shook and the sounds were both deafening and terrifying.

  SCRATCH-SCRATCH-SCRITCH! SCRATCH-SCRATCH-SCRITCH! SCRATCH-SCRATCH-SCRITCH!

  James swallowed dryly and readied to squeeze the trigger. He listened as the bear clawed at the cabin and moved closer to the door, closer, closer …

  But then, just when the bear should have appeared through the opening, the sound passed by the open door and continued on the other side of it. James hadn’t seen anything pass, because nothing had passed. At least, nothing he could see. But he had heard it, and that was perhaps worse than if it had appeared in the flesh before him.

  For the third night in a row, the ceaseless assault lasted until the sun rose. At that time, James immediately packed up and fled from the cabin. He was exhausted, fed up and frightened, and he wasn’t willing to spend one more night there. He was so upset that he couldn’t bring himself to tell anyone about the experience for a number of years, not even his wife and children. Perhaps talking about the ordeal was too scary, like reliving it all over again. He certainly could never return, especially not with his family, so he sold the cabin to someone else. The new buyer didn’t own the cabin long before he too had to get rid of it. And the next buyer quickly decided to move the cabin farther inland, as if it was the location on Connoire Bay that was cursed or haunted, not the cabin itself.

  And maybe that was true. Just a few days after the cabin was moved, a horrible storm ravaged the area where it had once stood. Giant waves crashed on the shore and pushed large rocks, some weighing nearly twenty-five kilograms each, great distances across the land. Once the storm died down, it was discovered that the spot where the cabin had stood was covered by rocks and gravel. The cabin, had it been there, would have been crushed … along with anyone who might have been inside.

  PHANTOM FLIGHT

  Airdrie, Alberta

  Little did Clive know when he picked up his ringing phone one day in February 1992 that he was about to take the strangest call of his entire life.

  On the other end of the line was a worker from the Airdrie Airport, a short drive northeast from Clive’s home in Calgary. Clive owned a small plane, a 1940s Piper J-3 Cub, that he had restored at the airport. But the plane wasn’t acting as any plane should. In fact, it was acting as if it was possessed.

  The airport worker told Clive that strange things had happened. Clive’s plane had been securely fastened, with each wing and the tail tied down, but it had somehow broken free of its bonds, taken off, flown a short distance away and landed right on top of another small plane, where it had finally come to a rest. And it had done all this without a pilot.

  Clive hung up the phone, took a moment to process what he’d been told, then grabbed his wife and rushed north to Airdrie. There were three witnesses to the bizarre event and all of them were either aircraft owners or airport mechanics with no reason to lie, so Clive couldn’t find any way to discredit the story. Furthermore, all three of the witnesses were shaken by what they’d seen and clearly a little apprehensive to approach the possessed plane. When they led Clive to it, he found his plane exactly as they’d said: on top of another aircraft.

  But it hadn’t landed exactly as Clive had expected. It was upside down. The fact that his plane was balanced on top of another without falling off seemed to defy the laws of gravity. Its tail rudder was impossibly balanced on the other craft’s rudder, both of which were rounded and only twelve millimetres wide. If his plane had been positioned a millimetre or two to either side, it would have slipped and crashed to the ground. To make this landing would have been impossible for a human, but apparently not for whatever spirit had flown it earlier that day.

  A gust of wind kicked up and blew Clive’s plane’s rudder off of the other plane’s rudder. Clive’s plane fell with a loud clunk that made everyone jump. His plane was still atop the other, but at least Clive could now tie them both in place so no more damage would occur if the wind got any worse. He’d deal with righting the plane the following morning.

  A 1940s Piper J-3 Cub

  But before anyone could leave in search of rope, the J-3 Cub lifted straight up off the other plane and into the air. Everyone jum
ped back in fright. Empty, the plane flew away from the shocked spectators, heading south and still upside down. It accelerated rapidly and pulled into an incredibly steep climb. One of the pilots told the others that there was no possible way that type of plane could pull off such a manoeuvre — they simply weren’t built to do so.

  Once it was about 100 metres up in the sky, it did a loop in the air and flew straight back down to the runway, where it made a perfect three-point landing and taxied back to the other plane, stopping less than a metre away from it. Clive and the others stood in silence with their mouths hanging wide open. They were all in complete shock.

  In retrospect, Clive realized he’d had an eerie feeling about the plane almost as soon as he’d purchased it. He’d gotten it at a great price because it needed some work, and at first he was a little hesitant because he knew it might be difficult to find parts and make repairs to a fifty-year-old plane. But the entire process had gone incredibly smoothly — perhaps too smoothly. It was as if fate was on Clive’s side and there was an extra, unseen set of hands helping him along the way.

  After watching the J-3 Cub fly on its own and make an incredible landing, Clive decided to do a little research into it. He discovered that the plane’s previous owner was a pilot who had died a short while before, when the helicopter he was flying crashed in the Yukon. The deceased pilot’s family contracted an auction company to quickly sell off his private collection of aircraft, and that’s how Clive had gotten such a good deal on the J-3 Cub. But had he known that the plane he’d just taken possession of was itself possessed by the ghost of a pilot who refused to leave the cockpit, Clive might not have seen the deal as being half as good as he’d thought.