Ridgeway Haunt

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. I had never been so far off Ridge Road but my dog, Lady, had seen something in the woods. The sun was getting lower in the horizon. I needed to get to the store just another quarter mile away. I began to think I should have driven. As I walked, I had a suspicion I was being watched. You can always feel someone’s eyes on you.

Ridgeway is a very small town in Wisconsin. Route 151 meanders through the haunted grounds of a shapeshifting ghost known to locals as the Ridgeway Ghost. This stretch of road I walked was previously used for lead mining in the 1800s and early 1900s. I’ve always had a fascination with history and wanted to see if the rumors and ghost tales were true. I had been here many times and never once encountered the paranormal.

In 1902, on the stretch between Dodgeville and Blue Mounds, a man named John Lewis experienced a violent encounter with the paranormal. He had just finished helping a neighbor with butchering and was returning home that night to his farm. He cut through some fields and was climbing a stone wall when out of thin air a figure appeared, seeming aggressive. He fled but the ghost followed him and blocked his path with its arm raised.

Mr. Lewis was found the following morning on the inside of the wall, semi-conscious. He stated he encountered the Ridgeway Ghost and was caught in what seemed like a vortex and got crushed into unconsciousness. He said with his last breath that he was done in by a supernatural agent. If the New York Times wrote about it, who would question it?

The origin of the ghost remains mysterious. Some say two brothers died in a bad bar brawl in town in the 1840s and combined, make up the ghost. The ghost can appear as livestock, a headless man, sometimes a woman, or a man carrying a whip. An aggressive shapeshifter is already a daunting presence. The cabin the brothers lived in sat just off the old road in a field. Seeing a candle lit inside made me think some kids from the high school were up to no good.

I am no poor soul looking for an end to my life. I like to think of myself as a curious paranormal follower. My inspiration started with my grandmother’s house following her death, ten years ago. An avid concert pianist while alive, she loved performing compositions in addition to the classics.

Once she passed, the piano in the parlor of her Victorian house used to play itself while I helped Mom clean and organize things from her estate. It frightened both of us at first but it became an odd comfort over time. I always wondered if some unfinished business made her linger or if she was there to comfort us while getting her beloved house ready for sale.

I’ve known ghosts to take some actions and appear, but to kill someone? The documented murder of Mr. Lewis was something I doubted. Did someone he couldn’t see in the night surprise him and knock him senseless?

It was after this thought I felt something ice cold on my left shoulder. I suddenly could not move my legs. I dared one glance. It looked like the shadow of a tall man. My mind did not quite understand exactly what it was processing. Because of this, I was frightened even more. I closed my eyes and came to terms with the end of my life, like Mr. Lewis must have all those years ago. I felt myself kneel on the ground, ready to receive any blows from this angry spectre whose land I had trespassed. Lady was barking and whimpering, tail between her legs. She hid behind me.

When her barking stopped, I looked up and it was gone. I looked behind me and to each side. No trace of the man to be found. I decided to run if my legs would allow it. But as soon as I started forward, I heard footfalls behind me. The ghost was chasing me. This time, he carried a whip in hand. I could not afford to lose my footing. My blood went cold. No matter how fast I ran, he stayed the same distance behind me. Lady was whimpering alongside me. As soon as I reached the store, a sound like a gunshot rang out. I instinctively ducked and fell forward on the ground, shocked. The wind was knocked from my chest. The ghost was gone again. I got up, shaking, and dusted myself off.

I went inside and held onto the door for support. The few staff working the store looked to me, obviously concerned.

“What was that noise outside?”

“Did you just get shot at?”

“Are you okay?”

I realized I was dizzy and my chest was rising more rapidly than normal. “I saw him. The ghost. He - followed me.” I gasped. The manager looked at me quizzically with a hint of understanding. “We haven’t had a ghost sighting in nearly forty years.”