Ghost Stories of Old New Orleans

Warring Wraiths

Warring Wraiths What is anger like when it is engendered in a mind without form, a heart without being, a spirit without the familiar armor of flesh? Bootless and futile it must be ... yet they tell us it flamesand rages, driving the poor wraith to utter madness and to acts of unthinkable fury. We have this exemplified in the case of a haunted spot in Cherokee street. It is an old tale, but still bitter with hatred and revenge. It began years ago and lasted for months. Suddenly one day a shower of bricks, stones, iron and bits of wood descended into the rear yard of this house. The occupants laid it to small boys, or somebody who wished to even up an old grudge. However, when they ventured out to chase the hoodlums away, there was no one to be found. But the rain of missiles continued. The family found it difficult to dodge them. A trip into the yard became dangerous—not only dangerous but terrifying. Where could this bombardment come from? Watched closely by the family, by neighbors, even by members of the police force, no one ever could spy out the source of them. They just came, seeming to materialize out of thin air. But always they fell in the back yard of that particular house— heaps of them, heavy and substantial, apparently of the earth earthy. They did not come from the back nor from either side nor from the house itself. Direction they took, certainly, but it was as though they were hurled by unseen hands. "And that," avers one of the old neighbors, "is exactly what it was—a ghost war.I know who was fighting, too—an old 277 (i89o) 278 Ghost Stories of Old New Orleans man and a little girl. Sounds unlikely? But the things ghosts do are most often unlikely. They're always up to something queer and unreasonable. "I'll tell you now. There was old Abner White who used to live a piece down the street. He hated children—girl children especially. He claimed they made fun of him and called him names, although nobody ever believed that they did, for in that day little girls were mighty modest and shy. More likely they were afraid of him, he was so dour and stern. "Well, one day old Abner met a group of small girls on the banquette. They were bunched together, in a way they have, whispering and giggling and winking and making funny faces. "When Abner passed them they jostled him, not meaning to, of course. They started to laugh, but he turned on them like a madman, cursing them at the top of his voice. One of them, little Ollie Voss, he seized by the arm. In a panic, she screamed —and they all began to scream, thinking Ollie was going to be killed. Old Abner shook her until her teeth rattled and then flung her away from him and stamped off down the street. "Nothing was done about it, because everybody was afraid of starting a feud. Then one morning word went round that Abner White had been found dead in his bed. The neighborhood heaved a deep sigh of relief when he was safely buried. "One night soon after, Ollie Voss was standing in her cotton nightgown in front of an open grate. Suddenly a red-hot brick came hurtling out of the fireplace. It set fire to the child's nightdress and she was burned to death. Only one name did she shriek as her mother fought to save her—'It's old Abner White! He's there in the fireplace grinning at me! It's old Abner White!' "They buried her in the old family tomb. The years went by and the tomb began to crack and crumble. So the family bought a new tomb in another cemetery and moved all the ancient bones. And that is when the bricks and stones and iron and wood began to rain down in the back yard where little Ollie had lived. "A few of us knew what it was. The new tomb stood next to the one where Abner White was buried. He couldn't stand Warring Wraiths 279 it. Even in the Other World he hated Ollie Voss, and he didn't intend to have her bones lying near his forever and forever. So he rushed across the Still...