Arnie----we are all DYING to hear if that was Mr. Van Der Hout or not!!! Don't leave us hangin'!!!

topping for arnie, come back arnie!!!

Arnie,<BR>Please give the exact location of the B&B. We are looking for a place to stay for a few days along the Maine coast, the first week fo June. Any contact information: name ,phone, address would really be helpful. Looking forward to the finish of your story. How long will it take?

Pam,<BR><BR>I Lived in Portland (Maine) for fifteen years and visited the Aekney (sp?) place at least half a dozen times. Frankly, I don't know why it wasn't ever used as a haunted house in a movie because it is BAR NONE the spookiest place I have ever seen. <BR><BR>I have heard bits of Arnie's story before and I know there is info about the place at the local library. For a brief time they even let people stay there overnight--for a price. An end was put to that practice several years ago, although I don't know why.<BR><BR>Anyway, my understanding is it closed permanently about 7-10 years ago and that they barbwired the whole property.<BR><BR>Tam<BR><BR>Tam<BR>

Oooohhh, Tam, too creepy!<BR>Arnie: Let's go, lad! Dying to hear the latest episode.

http://www.lizzie-borden.com/<BR><BR>It says you can even have a breakfast comprised of the same items that the Bordens ate the morning they were murdered. How cheerful.<BR><BR>Come on Arnie!!!!

The following section is a continuation of Lisa “Smith’s” account concerning what transpired the night of February 10th, 1980. It is important to keep in mind that neither the Smiths nor the Kerns were aware of any of the history of the Aeckney place until after their stay there.<BR><BR>Just as Lisa began to take a tentative step toward the front desk/partition, the man turned around. It wasn’t Mr. Van Der Hout, it wasn’t Terrie and it wasn’t Mr. Kern. In fact, even though it was dark, Lisa was sure it was no one she knew; she took an involuntary step back. The stranger, although now facing her, gave no indication that he even saw her. He came around the partition and slowly walked toward her—while seemingly looking right through her. <BR><BR>Lisa backed away, afraid. The man walked right by her and, as he did, she caught a whiff of what she later described as “rotting hamburger”; she also noticed that he had “dark dirt smudges” smeared on his cheek and clothes. Not having heard about any of the history of the place (she didn’t even know it was called the Aeckney place) Lisa decided to follow the man. Sure she was a little frightened, but she was also curious as to who this rude stranger was.<BR><BR>So she followed him as he walked through the moonlit darkness of the living room. Lisa said, “excuse me, sir?” a couple of times but the man continued to ignore her, as if she didn’t exist. When he got to the foyer, the man stopped and removed a key from his filthy overalls pocket. He then inserted the key into the lock of a door that, somehow, Lisa had failed to notice during the two days she had stayed at the Inn. <BR><BR>The man pushed open the mysterious door, exposing a pitch-black room, and entered. As curious as Lisa was, she wasn’t about to follow this stranger into a dark room. Instead, she hovered at the entrance and waited to see if she could hear anything. “Hello?” She said into the dark, “do you work for the Van Der Houts?”. In answer to her question, Lisa heard a hissing sound and then saw a match begin to ignite in the dark room. As the match caught fire, the light emanating from it partially illuminated the stranger’s hand and face. <BR><BR>Lisa watched as the well-worn hand moved down to a table and lit an oil lamp resting there. Once lit, the hand shook out the match and then turned up the flame on the lamp—pushing back the darkness several feet. With more light now in the room, Lisa found the courage to walk in and confront the silent stranger. As she entered the room, the stranger left the glow of the lamp and moved to an area of the room untouched by the light. Unable to see him, Lisa stopped where she was, making sure that she was in close proximity to the door—just in case.<BR><BR>Although she still couldn’t see him, Lisa could now hear clunking sounds coming from the opposite side of the room. It sounded as if the man were lifting something metal and then letting it fall on the wood floor. Suddenly, the stranger reappeared in the light—facing Lisa dead-on. For the first time, she could see him clearly and she knew that, what she had mistaken for dirt smudges on his face and clothes, was in all actuality, blood.<BR>

Arnie<BR><BR>Checked Portland library. No info on Syrus Aeckney or anything close. <BR><BR>Please give legitimate info on where we can get the whole story, if there is one.<BR><BR>Tired of the April Fools joke.

MORE, MORE, MORE!!!

1. Brown Palace Hotel, Denver, Colorado. Haven't seen any spooks but you can feel them in the air. <BR>2. Litchfield Plantation, Pawley's Island, South Carolina. Didn't see the ghost myself but have been many sightings, the old doctor who originally built the plantation in the 1700s, he appears on dark and cloudy afternoons and at night, rushing off to take care of a sick person<BR>3. Anywhere in Glastonbury, England. Stayed in a haunted turret in a hotel, very scary, too many years ago to remember the name of the hotel, saw lightening bolts on the inside of the canopy top on the bed. Room was ice cold with the heat going full blast. Weird, weird, weird.

I don't care if this IS bogus - I LOVE it!

Arnie-------quit stalling! You're killing me! Finish already!!!!!!!!!!!

Justahoax,<BR><BR>Tam, Maineman and at least one other on this posting claim to have seen the place or been there. Just how many do you think are involved in this conspiracy?

Been trying to figure out just where this place is and I think I've got it. In the first part of the story Arnie says they "landed in Portland, drove up to Lewiston and headed directly to the coast.. near the town of Hadleyburg." I collect Atlases and maps and couldn't find ANY reference for Hadleyburg until I went back 100 years. According to one of my older atlases, "In 1899 the township of HadleybErg was formed when several groups of European settlers united to build a church and meeting hall. This coastal Township was located about halfway between what are now Lincolnville and Belfast, Maine. In the early 1940s almost nothing was left of this small township and by 1950 it was dificult to tell where it once stood."<BR><BR>Just thought some of you might be interested.<BR><BR>MG

So if it's in Maine then this story really is by Stephen King! ;)

Alright, Nodoubting:<BR><BR>I dare someone (anyone) to come up with a legitimate website, or book currently in print, that says ANYTHING about Syrus Aeckney. Arnie says he was at Syrus Aeckney Inn 10 years ago. Why does absolutely nothing come up when doing a search.<BR><BR>I have some swampland for you, if you are interested.<BR><BR>OK

Oh you naive nymphettes, you know he is making this up, don't you. Like a novel.

Has anyone wondered where Shelley is? She never has posted again after the original question. Maybe she & Arnie are in cahoots.....

to the top

to the top, again!

Again, does it really matter if this is a true story or not? (Highly doubtful that it is.) But, who cares? Arnie spins a damn good yarn! Come on, Arnie, give us the next installment.

Trevor: The gay area is in the Lakeview neighborhood - approximately Halsted Street & Belmont Avenue. Log onto www.chicago-bed-breakfast.com or call 773-394-2000 for any B&B's in the Lakeview area. Have fun - hopefully, you are planning on being here for the Gay Pride Parade on June 30th.

OOOOPPPPSSSS - sorry, posted under the wrong header!

ttt

ARNIEEEEEEEEE----we can't wait anymore, we need to hear the rest of the story!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok everybody, What is this ttt, Topping and to the top mean? Maybe a dumb question to some of you, but I am new to this. Thanks. PS: Arnie we are waiting!!!!

Curious: just means "to the top" - brings the thread to the top 50 if it has slipped beyond - makes it easier for someone to see and post, if they so desire.

Oh no.. I got wrapped up in this. Anyone out there think Arnie IS a Ghost... a tech-happy ghost who is all leading us on..in some devilish plot to lure us into visiting Portland Maine???? lol

Ok. I had a friend of mine who works at the NY Public Library research this and she came up with ..... NOTHING! This place DOES NOT exist.

Thanks Michelle. That's what I've been trying to day all along, but No Doubting, Natalie, Boo, Tam and a few others seem to be buying it.<BR><BR>Oh well, as P.T.Barnum said, there's one born every minute.

Thyra: I thought the same thing - Arnie is a ghost!!!!<BR>Katerina: No..I posted that I DO doubt this is a true story - but who cares????

annrice- shelly originally posted this over 2 years ago, it was a poster named maria that brought it back up. I can not believe that I have let myself become so engrossed in this. Even if it is made up, Arnie is a good story teller. Arnie you should think about writing short stories, of course you might never have the chance if you don't finish this story soon.<BR>

Come on, Arnie - it's time for milk, cookies, my blankie and story-time!!! And it's raining & gloomy here in Chicago - a perfect setting.

annrice- shelly originally posted this over 2 years ago, it was a poster named maria that brought it back up. I can not believe that I have let myself become so engrossed in this. Even if it is made up, Arnie is a good story teller. Arnie you should think about writing short stories, of course you might never have the chance if you don't finish this story soon.<BR>

Heard the phrase 'serious acne' at work. I thought 'where have I heard that lately'. Hmm, then realized Syrus Aeckney. Just sounds similar? Oh well. Come on Arnie, let's hear the story.

Here is the next installment, only two more to go!<BR><BR>Lisa was terrified. She looked at the man—now fully immersed in the glowing light from the lamp—and saw that he was swathed in blood. Her eyes dropped down to his hands resting at his side, and she noticed the long wooden handle of some sort of tool extending upward through his loosely clasped left hand. Because the light only radiated in a fairly small circle around the lamp, Lisa couldn’t see the head of the tool resting on the floor. “An axe,” she thought “or perhaps a scythe.” <BR><BR>Of course all of the above took place in less than two seconds. Lisa felt her heart pounding like a freight train and yet she didn’t move. She stood there, staring in horror at the stranger’s unwelcoming visage and didn’t move a muscle. Likewise, he stood there bathed in the glow of the lamp--staring, not at her, but through her. Knowing she had to get out of there, Lisa began to back up—slowly—toward the doorway. As she took her first tentative step back, the blood-soaked stranger took a matching step toward her. “Oh my God!,” she thought, “He SEES me!” <BR><BR>Not sure if she was right or it was just a coincidence, Lisa took another step back; the stranger matched her. Believing she had no other choice, Lisa took a third step back—and felt her heel and back thump against the wall: somehow, she had misjudged where the doorway was. The second Lisa’s back hit the wall, she let out a shriek; the moment the shriek left her lips, the stranger’s eyes found her. <BR><BR>For the first time since Lisa had encountered him, the stranger was looking right at her. At first he looked surprised—almost as if she had appeared out of nowhere. Then, as his eyes focused on her, the look of surprise was replaced by a look of anger, and then the anger replaced by mad glee. <BR><BR>As the man continued to stare at her a slow grin crept across his face. The look of his horrifying rictus was more then enough to rid her of her temporary paralysis. Lisa turned 180 degrees to where she knew the doorway must be and bolted for it: She slammed into the wall—head first—and fell back on her ass. Stunned by the blow to her head, she slowly got to her knees and turned to see where the stranger was. Fortunately, he hadn’t moved--except to turn his body so that he still faced her dead on. Lisa stood up, refusing to take her eyes off him. Once again she backed to the wall and felt for the doorway but with no luck. Somehow, she must have lost her bearings when she fell down.<BR><BR>With her head clearing a bit and her back against the wall, Lisa began edging her way along, feeling for the doorway with her hands behind her. As she moved, the man‘s gaze followed her progress, the grin never leaving his face. All of a sudden she realized the section of wall she was sidling along had brought her within about three feet of the silent stranger. Lisa stopped. The man’s left hand began slowly rising forward from his side—directly toward her. She could plainly see the worn and cracked wooden handle as it rose through the light of the lamp. Forward and upward it ascended until, finally, Lisa could see what kind of tool he had: It was a pickaxe. And it was covered in blood.<BR>

Here is the next installment, only two more to go!<BR><BR>"Lisa was terrified. She looked at the man—now fully immersed in the glowing light from the lamp—and saw that he was swathed in blood. Her eyes dropped down to his hands resting at his side, and she noticed the long wooden handle of some sort of tool extending upward through his loosely clasped left hand. Because the light only radiated in a fairly small circle around the lamp, Lisa couldn’t see the head of the tool resting on the floor. “An axe,” she thought “or perhaps a scythe.” <BR><BR>Of course all of the above took place in less than two seconds. Lisa felt her heart pounding like a freight train and yet she didn’t move. She stood there, staring in horror at the stranger’s unwelcoming visage and didn’t move a muscle. Likewise, he stood there bathed in the glow of the lamp--staring, not at her, but through her. Knowing she had to get out of there, Lisa began to back up—slowly—toward the doorway. As she took her first tentative step back, the blood-soaked stranger took a matching step toward her. “Oh my God!,” she thought, “He SEES me!” <BR><BR>Not sure if she was right or it was just a coincidence, Lisa took another step back; the stranger matched her. Believing she had no other choice, Lisa took a third step back—and felt her heel and back thump against the wall: somehow, she had misjudged where the doorway was. The second Lisa’s back hit the wall, she let out a shriek; the moment the shriek left her lips, the stranger’s eyes found her. <BR><BR>For the first time since Lisa had encountered him, the stranger was looking right at her. At first he looked surprised—almost as if she had appeared out of nowhere. Then, as his eyes focused on her, the look of surprise was replaced by a look of anger, and then the anger replaced by mad glee. <BR><BR>As the man continued to stare at her a slow grin crept across his face. The look of his horrifying rictus was more then enough to rid her of her temporary paralysis. Lisa turned 180 degrees to where she knew the doorway must be and bolted for it: She slammed into the wall—head first—and fell back on her ass. Stunned by the blow to her head, she slowly got to her knees and turned to see where the stranger was. Fortunately, he hadn’t moved--except to turn his body so that he still faced her dead on. Lisa stood up, refusing to take her eyes off him. Once again she backed to the wall and felt for the doorway but with no luck. Somehow, she must have lost her bearings when she fell down.<BR><BR>With her head clearing a bit and her back against the wall, Lisa began edging her way along, feeling for the doorway with her hands behind her. As she moved, the man‘s gaze followed her progress, the grin never leaving his face. All of a sudden she realized the section of wall she was sidling along had brought her within about three feet of the silent stranger. Lisa stopped. The man’s left hand began slowly rising forward from his side—directly toward her. She could plainly see the worn and cracked wooden handle as it rose through the light of the lamp. Forward and upward it ascended until, finally, Lisa could see what kind of tool he had: It was a pickaxe. And it was covered in blood."<BR>

Two more installments! Anie, you are cruel

Now the question is...Is Arnie telling us a story he made up or one that someone else made up and he is merly copying? Good story nonetheless but this is getting annoying!Better have a good ending!<BR><BR>I used to work graveyards (by myself) at The General Palmer Hotel in Durango, CO. General Plamer built the hotel back in the 1898 (he also built some railroads which is what took him to Durango I think). The hotel was victorian and just scary to be in by yourself at night. I think I just had an overactive imagination but I did hear that people had seen/heard/felt ghosts at the Strater Hotel(another Victorian built around the same time) just down the block.

I don't believe in ghosts, but this is very entertaining...can't wait for the rest.