A Ghost story, in a windmill..

I have been updating the List of windmills in NY and was working my way thru the smock mills of the east end. I visited this mill in the daytime, and found that the sails were gone. Still, I did what I came to do, the campus was deserted and I parked across from the police station, which showed no activity. The mill was once part of an estate owned by a rich scion of industry, his daughter used the mill as a playroom. Her name was Beatrice. This mill was originally from Southampton, on Mill Hill. It moved only once, here to the hill on once Shinnecock owned land. The Shinnecock’s have sued the county and state to recover the lands they were cheated out of, so all is in contention. But I digress, you’re here for the ghost. Beatrice, sad to say, fell down the stairs and died here, in the Clafin windmill cottage. Folks since have claimed to see the face of a young girl looking out from the windows of the cottage. I saw no such ghostly image, but curiously, neither did I see a living soul on my visit there. Not driving around the campus, by the windmill, or the police station. The windmill has variously been, Mill Hill I, The Shinnecock Mill, The Clafin windmill, The Southampton College Campus cottage - and it is haunted. I have a picture, so, please do not doubt, but make your own decision. That is my local story.

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@BeeCee Sad story. Anyways stories about ghosts and places where they live always draw much attention.

Have you thought about what you will do if you really meet a ghost?

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I think I have met a ghost or ghosts and you probably have had the same experience. Think back to when you visited some place while it was deserted, yet you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching, and you would look around to try to find who was there, but there was no-one… that’s a ghost. Once when I was a small boy, I was trying to get away from bullies and took the wrong bus, ending up far off route. So I got off and walked in the direction of my school, climbing into the hills for a shortcut. When I was going up the gully to the top, I slipped and fell, and when I resumed my climb I thought I heard someone call me. There was no-one there but me. I got scared. Looking around I was drawn back to where I had fallen, and there was a smooth white stone in the dirt poking out. I picked it up and found it was a split rock, the inside face was a perfect fossil of a trilobite, from when those hills were part of a pre-historic seabed. Later I gave it to my teacher, but the experience was probably my first encounter with a ‘ghost’…

Hello @BeeCee ,

Thank you for sharing this story!

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