Our story begins on All Hallows Eve 1849.
A full silver moon rose high on this darkest of nights.
Fog lay like a shroud, clinging to the moonlight shine.
Mary Englebright sat sewing by dim candlelight.
Alone in her cabin, she shivered with dread.
Shadowy faces danced on the wall,
Grinning and grim, faces of the dead.
Taking a deep breath, she awaited the call.
The story her mother had told long ago
of what happens to the Englebright three.
The spirits will come to collect their soul
on their twenty first year of All Hallows Eve.
The last in her line, she sat frozen in fear.
The wind began to rage and moan
blowing the door wide…the spirits appear.
Screaming in terror, she was carried from home.
Never again to be seen in the light of day,
but if you listen closely on All Hallows Eve
you may hear her cries rising…then fading away.
ÓElizabeth Melton Parsons