The Wilson Chronicles
We all grow up hearing tales. Whether you want to call them Campfire tales or Urban legends. Every place has a story to tell, but some refuse to tell the story. I’m about to share with you a haunting tale that appeared to be just a “story” that my grandfather used to share with me against everyones wishes. I found out the hard way that sometimes these “stories” have a real foundation that they rest on. Or should I say un-rest?
The following events are based on actual accounts taken from stories my grandfather used to tell me when I was young, some of the events were recorded from journals that were found in the attic of the actual home, and are events that myself and my cousins witnessed first hand. Names were changed to protect the privacy of the families involved.
Most of you may or may not believe in Ghost’s or mysterious happenings, but what you’re about to read is something that haunts me and my cousins to this day.
Let’s start with a brief back-story…
There’s a small town in Eastern Tennessee called Elizabethton. It was settled in the early 1800’s. As with many towns and its founding fathers, you have settlers who find a new area to call their home. This held true for a young couple named Tom and Marie Wilson.
Tom was a farmer that saw Carter County having very fertile ground. Marie was your typical house wife that you seen early on.
They found a lot that they thought that drew them in- almost like a magnet. Quickly, Tom started working on building their new home. Marie, though being a house wife, dabbled in home remedies. Taking herbs and leaves from around the area and creating quick fixes to most ailments.
Finally, in 1828, Tom finished the modest home for him and his wife, they quickly began working on a family.
Both grew depressed as they couldn’t seem to produce an offspring,. Tom was under greater pressure as his vision of blossoming farmland depleted each and every day after his crops would die as soon as they bloomed.
They both became recluse, feeling shame for their misfortunes and the legend says that strange noises could be heard by passersby. No one could pinpoint what was going on, but left the family to their business as they didn’t want to intrude.
In 1856, the legend says, they spotted a younger teenaged boy outside, but once he noticed he was seen, he went running back inside… The boy was never seen again.
The area started to grow and new settlers came to the area, one of them being my ancestor. Paul Peters I.
My grandfather used to tell me stories that Paul used to tell him. It was almost like a boogeyman story.
Strange sounds, candle light masses held in the wee hours of the morning, animals trembling in fear when they had to walk by the house.
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