Ghost Tours Miami

An invisible evil caressed the whole world.
Her old country, Her new country.
She had only intuition to know who had died so far. 
Died of this flu, or grief, or both.

If she danced, how many women friends would leave invisible
footprints on the circle?
It was time to honor her loved ones. The ones gone on before.

Her porch was full of coffins. Not one corpse was known to her,
although some friend might lie there.
Her neighbors, running out of space, filled her porch while she slept.
How quiet they had been; The neighbors and their dead.
She hoped the coffins would be collected soon.
There were too many bodies to embalm and no money for it,
but the scent of Cedar and Clove lingered.
So far there was no science or medicine to stop this plague.
She studied and used what remedy she thought might help.
She understood contagion. Semmelweis explained bacteria 70 years 
ago and she believed what he said.

She washed, and scrubbed, and stayed away from humans
as best she could.
Three years before she was born, The Centennial Exhibition of 1876
was held in Philadelphia.
They exhibited a device called a box telephone, and this year
she read in the newspapers, someone was measuring people's heads
for the telephone parts we would all be using to speak to one another.
No one had asked to measure her head,
but if she had use of such a device she would make it fit.
She would join two of the children in a few days.

For now she was alone.
She cleaned and scrubbed. She sang to dispel the silence.
She prayed to dispel her fears.
In her prayers she mentioned that 'poverty was a burden
she could not afford' and that made her laugh out loud.
The sound echoed in the empty rooms.
She ate the rest of the cabbage and onions,
washed herself and went to bed.
She woke before dawn, dressed in a clean black dress.
Was it still a little damp? It did not matter.
Dress, coat, hat; all black. Black for so many years.
She prayed while the water boiled and the tea brewed;
Peppermint and a pinch of Black Tea, drunk hot.
Clean sacks, waxed paper, a length of rope, and
the good knife in the basket, taking her digging stick
she slipped out the back door.
Matches, a small wooden bowl and an envelope in her left pocket.
One old leather glove wrapped in a clean rag, in the right pocket.
The last house on the street, she had only to pull back the piece of
fence and she was on the crest of the ridge.
The fence board swung closed behind her.
This was truly the edge of town.
The drop off was steep but she knew a spot she could climb down
and then she was in the woods.
The Sun was rising. She began to gather right away, eating a few
of the mushrooms and fern heads as she moved into the woodland.
She prayed; 'Thank You'.
Mullein for toilet and tea. 'Thank You'.
A small clearing ringed by Lamb's Ear.
Pine needles, mature but not too old. Eight bitter apples.
Thimbleberry and a nasty thorn prick for the gathering;
Fair trade for the berries. She ate more than she meant to
and gathered what she could. 'Thank You, Thank You'...
She had to get water. Almost an hour but she made her way
to drink and wash her face and hands.
It was mid afternoon.
She found the Sassafras. She had never been strong enough,
but nimble and determined. She dug and pulled at the youngest trees
and finally had enough roots to make it worth the work.
She returned to the water and drank and washed.
'Thank You for Your Mercy, Your gifts, Your Blessings.
Thank You'.
The woods were dark before the Sun set.
She reached the small glade, set aside her gathering,
her hat and coat. Hung the ripening fruit in a tree.
She felt rushed and calmed herself.
Saying Prayers, she loosed her hair.
She made a small fire and fed it the prettiest wood she could find
and a piece of dry Sassafras branch, saved for this fire.
She placed the envelope on the fire.
The paper and the little sugar it held, burned quickly and bright.
The words written on it, of worry and fear, hope and forgiveness,
went up in smoke. She prayed.
She began to dance. Graceful though she did not intend grace.
She opened her arms, her body, her heart.
She danced in a circle around the fire.
She thought of her Mother, her Grandmother.
She asked for forgiveness.
She told them how much she loved them,
and then they were dancing with her.
Women she had never seen dance in life, moved in the circle with her...
and there came others.
Heart beats, a drumming in the blood... and music. A flute.
Friends here and strange wild souls too. Gentle enough, but not timid.
How long they danced, she could not say.
Finally the drumming became distant. The flute faded.
The dancers left the glade one or a few at a time until
she slowed and stopped before the fire. It burned as if just fed.
She bound her hair and prayed.
On the ground she saw the prints of deer, coon, fox,
dog, human, and prints she did not know.
Wrapped in her coat, she lay down and slept.
She woke before Dawn; Began the Day... started for home.
'Thank You'.

                                                      ♥

                                                      ♥

                                                      ♥

                                                      ♥

We ask that you do not film or record the Tour locations or Guides telling stories -------
Photos are welcome and encouraged. We capture orbs and 'ghostlight' photos
on almost every walk through this haunted area.
The more pictures you take, the better your chances of getting great pictures!

Womens Club of Coconut Grove

On October 31st 1921 members and their families gathered in the new Clubhouse. Mrs. Woolley whimsically suggested "how necessary it was to dedicate the fireplace on Halloween because it was the time of witches, elves and fairies, when they could bring their protection to the hearth." When the fire was lit, the lights lowered, the "Bomb of Happiness" exploded and hurled its parts all over the room. It was thought that those who caught bits of the bomb would be successful.