A Capitol Ghost

55f this morning, gray and wet after a day and night of rain. 

As promised, the ghost story:

A Capitol Ghost

“You want to see something weird?”

Who can resist a question like that?

 John Snowden was a security guard at the Capitol, an elderly English man who was working as a guard after retiring form one of the chemical plants in Charleston. He’d been a guard in the State Capitol building for years, and he knew all its nooks and crannies. I always enjoyed talking with John, although he could be difficult to understand due to the strange lisp his dentures gave to his English accent. But when he asked me if I wanted to see something weird, I was definitely interested.

I too was working as a guard, working four-to-midnight in the Capitol building in Charleston, and I loved it. That building has so many unique features, like the little winding stairs that go up the sides of the House and Senate chambers, the plain little door that leads up inside of the dome itself, the wide marble flights of stairs, the huge round crystal chandelier that is lowered by chains and motor for special events—and stories. Lots of stories. I was about to find out about one of them.

The old guard led me to the West Wing and we went up the creaky brass elevator to the 2^nd floor—his knees were bad and the stairs were a problem for him. It was shadowy in the marble hall which was lined with oak doors emblazoned with gold leaf to signify the importance of the faily occupants. At this dusky end of the day, I thought I could still hear the ringing footsteps of workers who had departed at 5pm. John’s voice echoed back at us from the high ceilings as we walked to the end of the wing.

 “There,” he pointed. “See it?”

 I looked down, but I didn’t see anything special, just a brown stain by my feet.

 A brown stain in the marble floor. A stain that spread out free-form, it seemed. But as I looked at it, a shape in the stain became visible. The shape of a human torso from the waist up.

 I looked at my companion. “Is that what I think it is?”

 “Well, if you’re thinking it looks like a body, that’s right. Story is that once a beautiful woman worked up here, and her husband thought she was seeing another man who worked with her. They say he came up here one day and just shot the man dead, right here in the hall. That’s his bloodstains there, soaked into the marble. A janitor told me that they try to clean it our once in a while and it will go away and they think they got it all out. Then after a few days, it comes right back. No amount of cleaning will take it out.”

“Who was the guy? Who was the woman? Did this really happen?”

“Oh, now I don’t know about that. All I’m telling you is what I’ve been told. Folks tell me they hear that gunshot up here sometimes though, and hear screams. I never heard anything myself. Might just be a story. You can believe it or not, all the same to me.”

John walked back to the elevator, but I stayed, staring at those stains. Did I believe him? Did it really happen the way he said, or had someone just spilled a cup of coffee that stained the marble? I thought for a minute or two, then…

“Hey John, wait for me!” I called as the elevator doors opened.

 I still don’t know if the story he told me is true, but I never wasted time on the second floor of the West Wing when I did my rounds. And nowadays when I’m at the Capitol with visitors, I always take them to the West Wing, and show them the blood stains on the floor. The stains are still there—go see them and decide for yourself.

Grandson Clayton's feet as he looked at the stain in 2006. This was the same trip where he threw up in the Echo Chamber. Now he's almost 30, finished with college and the Navy, and a working man in Northern Virginia. But he still remembers this day.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.