As I sit writing this not-so-little post it is Saturday night and my daughter-in-law and her middle child (my grandson Anderson) are on an adventure.  They have traveled to Red Boiling Springs, Tennessee for the sole purpose of spending the night in the Thomas House Hotel (‘tis a mere coincidence that the hotel shares its name with these two particular travelers).  And to hunt ghosts.

Allegedly, (or at least according to CNN), this hotel is the second most haunted location in the United States.  Originally constructed in 1890 by general store owners and brothers Zack and Clay Cloyd, the hotel was meant to house the rich and famous who began visiting the mineral springs of the area.  A fire leveled the building in 1924 but it was rebuilt and reopened in 1927.  At some point it became the Thomas House Hotel, a historical albeit rather normal structure with the normal flow of guests.  Normal, that is, until the early 2010s at which time the paranormal investigators discovered it and promptly descended upon it, never to leave.  Much like the ghosts they spend their time hunting.

This trip is the result of Anderson’s desire to attend a real ghost hunt with his mommy as a present on the occasion of his 10 ^th birthday.  The adventure was booked, his brother came down with COVID, and the adventure was cancelled in favor of quarantine . . . actually just postponed until this weekend.  Now they are there, in the midst of all the haunting (and I understand there is a great deal of haunting), hoping to encounter friendly spirits who will provide them with stories to tell for years to come.

They may meet Edwin who drowned in the swimming pool in 1969.  Or the gentleman who fell from his horse and drowned in the creek in I-don’t-know-when.  But they are really hoping to meet Sarah, the daughter of one of the Cloyd brothers, who died at the hotel as a child.  I don’t know the actual cause of Sarah’s death, but I do know room number 37 was her room.  It is said to be the most haunted room in the entire hotel . . . the center of all the ghostly activity . . . and it is the room in which Anderson and his mommy will be staying the night.

According to those who have encountered Sarah, she is a mischievous little girl who never appears until you are fast asleep.  At some point in the night, you become aware of someone standing beside your bed and, when you open your eyes, you find Sarah, quietly watching you.  Your awakening will cause her to vanish but not before she utters one word, and only one word.  “Play.”  Is it a command?  Is it a request?  I don’t know.  And if I have my way, I never will.

You won’t catch me saying there are no ghosts in this world, simply because, if there are, I’d just as soon they didn’t provide me with proof of their existence.  The truth of the matter is, none of us really knows.  We don’t know why someone would be trapped—or choose to continue walking—upon this earth after death while others are whisked away never to be heard from again . . . if any of that is even a thing.  Frankly, we really don’t know what the moments after death are actually like.  We know what we’ve been taught.  We know what we believe.  But we have no first-hand experience in the matter and those who’ve made that trip haven’t seen fit to share the details of their journey with the rest of us.  Granted, in the age of modern medicine there are some who have passed through Death’s doors into the great beyond, only to be yanked back by technology, but if they can be revived, were they really dead?  (Kindly read that with your head cocked and your eyes slightly squinted.  Or with one eyebrow raised, if that’s something you can manage.)  Again, I don’t know the answer.  And again, I’m not sure I want to.

With all that being said, I will simply observe that Death is most assuredly one of Life’s greatest mysteries, presenting us with so much that is unknown—something which many of us fear.   Perhaps we’ll have the opportunity to wander about the earth afterwards, unseen by mere mortals whilst moving stuff about and rapping on walls.  Perhaps we’ll be whisked away and allowed to observe from afar.  Whatever the end result of the end may be, one thing is certain.  I may not know the answers to all the questions now, but one day I will.

About the author:  Lisa Shackelford Thomas is a fourth generation member of a family that’s been in funeral service since 1926.  She has been employed at Shackelford Funeral Directors in Savannah, Tennessee for over 40 years and currently serves as the manager there.  Any opinions expressed here are hers and hers alone, and may or may not reflect the opinions of other Shackelford family members or staff.

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