I worked for a group of museums in a small town in South Dakota. It was a fun job. I met people from around the world, and heard some interesting stories. A common question I heard at one museum in particular was, “Is this place haunted?”

My boss had told me stories of things happening that couldn’t really be explained. On my third day, I saw my first apparition there. That was pretty mellow for me.

One day as I played a wooden flute, terribly I might add, I heard music. I was tired of hurting my own ears and decided to put the flute away. I heard music again.

I listened and heard beautiful flute music playing. We had 2 videos that would play on repeat, so I decided the music was coming from them. When I checked, it was neither.

After about 5 minutes the music stopped. I have had experiences my whole life. For me this was nothing new. I enjoyed it.

I walked through opening the museum in the mornings and get to the basement and say, “Let’s have some fun today guys,” to our ghostly friends. These were the days I had the most questions.

Most were stories of one horse drawn hurst in particular. This was a beautiful white hurst. I loved seeing it every day. The best story actually got me pretty excited and almost scared.

I had a guest come in one day and we had a sign up for paranormal tours at another museum. It was just before closing time and they had walked up from the basement.

The lady of the couple asked me angrily, “I suppose you expect me to believe this place is haunted!”

I responded, “ma’am I don’t expect you to believe anything, but I will say I have had reports of strange occurrences.” I figured this would be enough to relax her a little. She got even more angry. For the next bit let’s call her G.


Me: “Well I’m sorry to hear that if it’s something you were looking forward to.”

G: “where are these supposed ghosts.”

Me: “I have the most reports of things happening in the corner by the white hurst.”

At this point the she stopped talking, her new dropped and went white. I grinned at her then asked, “What happened?”

She stared for a minute before she replied quietly, “I was taking a picture by that hurst and my camera died. It was fully charged when I came in. If I walk out of this museum and my camera turns back on I will be furious!”

I told her that was not an uncommon complaint, and for her sake, I hoped her camera didn’t turn on. She stepped outside and I locked the door behind them and changed the sign over to “Closed”.

I watched for a second as they went down the stairs and she turned around, glaring at me. Her camera had turned on woth no problems. They walked to their car and I turned to lock up.

Normally I would lock up the upstairs portion of the museum first. This time I went right to the basement. I got to the room with the carriages, that they had just left and the energy in the room was intense.

It was the only time I felt uncomfortable in this room. As I got across the room to the white hurst I heard, KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK! It was coming from the front of a carriage.

I walked to the front and heard the same KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK, from the back of the carriage. I walked to the back and heard three more knocks from the front. At this point I knew my ghostly friends were mad.

I told them, “calm down guys. I’m sorry she upset you, but she’s gone now. Just have a good night.” Yes, I talked to the ghosts. Why not?

The intense energy in the room lightened after that. I got out of the room as fast as I could and finished closing the museum.

I decided that I needed to pick up a recorder to see if I could get anything on there. I picked up a few things, but nothing major. There were spurred footsteps, wood creaking, and a sound I couldn’t identify.

This was easily the most interesting job I had. I am convinced this place had something going on. I welcomed them and enjoyed them. Why not have someone to talk to on a dead quiet day, right?


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