My name is John. I am 90 years old, and I have been 90 for a long, long time. I am by myself in my home, Cooch-Dayett Mill. I have been here by myself, mostly on the third floor, since the 1980’s when the mill closed. I witnessed the fires that struck the Mill in 1933 and 1916. In fact, I was here when the Mill was built in 1838, although I was alive then. My grandfather was alive when former Governor Sir William Keith owned this land, 666 acres south of Newark, in 1725.
I usually roam the mill after dark, and not once have I been interrupted in the past 25 years…until last Saturday night. On this night, I was contacted by several groups of people in the mill. They were asking me questions. I answered.
The strange wands they held I recognized from when my father found water in the backyard. They were dousing rods. The other equipment my visitors held, I did not recognize. My how times have changed.
The strangers asked me to respond to their questions with the dousing rods. Yes to cross them. No to wave them back and forth. “Is there someone here with us?” they asked. I responded by crossing the rods. “Are you a man?” I crossed the rods again. “Will you speak with us tonight?” Again, I crossed the rods.
My visitors wanted to know if I could touch them. I crossed the rods, then blew on either side of one visitor’s face. This certainly surprised my visitor, and perhaps scared her. The lights were off. Yes, it scared her. Good.
To another who was wearing a fancy camera around his shoulder, I pulled on the strap. This was in the basement of the mill, which is a dark, dank, old place. Scary even in daylight. This young man was not deterred, but I know he felt it. I heard him whisper so to another.
At one point, I believe this person caught a photo of me in my orb form. Some thought it was a dust particle in the flash. No. It was me. In my orb form. I sat on another man’s head while he tried to contact me with the dousing rods. I lied to this man, saying I was a woman and wanted to talk. Sometimes it is fun being a ghost!
After midnight is when my fun really started. I didn’t think they would realize it, but I moved an old nail several times in the dank basement. Even I don’t like to go down there. My visitors did in fact find that the nail was moved. They placed it on a railing, and when they left the room, I moved it to the floor. I did this multiple times, but it seemed to only amuse my visitors, not scare them.
My favorite place after midnight is the old sewing shop. Many of my late-night visitors feared this room. I am able to start a severe headache in certain people who enter. Over the years, others who enter the room start crying for no reason. I try to make anyone who enters the sewing shop feel horrible. It works on some people. Stay out. This is my Mill!
Story from John the ghost’s point of view on a recent Delaware Nature Society ghost tour of Cooch-Dayett Mill, run by Delaware Ghost Tours. Join us next year if you dare!