Ghosthunting in Nantucket

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Ever since we arrived, we had all been entertaining the idea of taking the Nantucket Ghost Walk, a guided tour of the supernatural side.  Knowing as we did that many area houses were said to be frequented by visitors from beyond the grave -- probably sailors sent to Davey Jones' locker by reluctant sperm whales -- we  playfully mused over the possibility of our antique dwelling being among the lucky homes.   I pondered what it would feel like to encounter an apparition in the night, and decided that the sight of me in the wee hours would be enough to drive any unsettled spirit on to its final destination.  In any event, we were all looking forward to an interesting evening stroll and hearing some local history if nothing else.

While relaxing at the house one night with this anticipation on our brains, Dale pulled me aside to ask me if I'd noticed a particular piece of art he'd just discovered.  I had not, so I followed him to an uninhabited living room where he introduced me to the following print on the wall.
The Ghost Walk was entertaining enough and while none of us have become true believers, something unexplained did happen during our stay.  No joke or trickery forthcoming.  We had purchased some new paper plates to eat on, and kept them in the kitchen cabinet.  On several occasions during the week we would get one out and notice a sizeable black ink spot in the middle of the plate, still wet.  Each time that it happened we would look at the adjacent plates and all around the cabinet for any explanation as to why there would be fresh black ink on these pastel yellow  and pink plates.  We'll never know where the ink came from, but if it was put there by malevolent spirits, they have no sense of color coordination.
On the final night of my relatives' visit we did do the Ghost Walk, which was conducted by an eskimo named Bill.
He did a special tour just for the eight of us, which lasted about two hours.
During that time we saw haunted houses, restaurants and barns and heard the accompanying, moderately intriguing stories, more than once involving ill-fated lovers.

As we neared the house below, the moon and the clouds created a classic spooky sky, of Disney quality.
A ghostly child may once have appeared in this room but the moon overhead disappeared into the clouds when I tried to get a picture.
"Does this remind you of anything?" Dale asked.
Indeed, we were both instantly struck by its similarity to a scene in Stephen King's The Shining where two dead sisters haunt an old hotel.  In the movie those twins also held hands and were surrounded by flowery wallpaper.
The Shining is a movie I have always associated with Dale, because it is one of his favorite horror flicks, plus he does a great impersonation of Jack Nicholson.  I found it rather amazing that there would be such a vivid reminder of it here in this old house where we were reuniting.

Of course, this picture is creepy enough in its own right because their heads are just plain big.
We invited the others in to view the artwork, and while they acknowledged its odd nature, no one was as affected by it as were Dale and myself.  "What would possess someone to paint such grotesque children?" we questioned, curious beyond necessity or reason.
Soon Dale, Howard and I sat there in the living room and tried to ignore it.  Even when we managed to steer the conversation into less shadowy subjects we found our eyes continuously drawn to "the twins", as they became affectionately known.  It was while we were coming up with wild scenarios like "What if those candelabras suddenly started floating across the room?" when there were very loud knocks at our feet.

We were instantly silenced and startled, looking at the floor and each other in disbelief.  A quick glance at everyone's feet confirmed that none of us had made the noise.   Moments later there were several more even louder knocks emanating from the floor.  In unison we wondered where the rest of our traveling companions were, and sure enough, they were in the basement and heard us talking upstairs.  Sherry had taken a broomstick and knocked on the ceiling to get our attention.  It worked.

Later that evening, Dale came to me again and asked if I knew where the twins were.
It seems they were no longer on the wall, and were now sitting in a window.  I couldn't bear to prolong the charade and confessed that I had moved the sisters in one of my mischievous moments.  This would begin a series of twin relocations in which Dale or I would leave the painting in a place where the other would happen upon it, hopefully to disquieting effect.  The only rule of the game was that we wouldn't put it in anybody's bedroom.

As if we hadn't had enough of this chicanery, we rented The Shining and stayed up til 2AM watching it.
This house is called the Greater Light.  Forgive the garish colors, but I'd like you to pay special attention to this one.  The Greater Light was owned by a pair of sisters.  Since their death, they've been seen walking in their garden, among the flowers.  Just so you'll know.
Boo.