Twisted South Magazine/Radio owner Zeke Loftin has started a public Blog and invites everyone to come by and read about a little bit of the weirdness in his Twisted South. He and his wife Phoebe Lewis-Loftin (Jerry Lee Lewis's daughter/manager,) live in an almost 2 century old home that was host to a paranormal investigation last night. Please follow his daily blog and let him know what you would like to see in the magazine/radio when we relaunch in a big way in 2012.
http://zekeloftin.wordpress.com/Nobody wants a ghost. Well, that is not exactly right people do want them nowadays they are very trendy. Tons of TV shows surround the paranormal and ghost busters looking all hip in their Global Rebels clothing are chasing around the country trying to see mist move or find a magnetic field whilst telling a creepy story to their viewers. We found out we had a ghost quite by accident and lets say he/she is not a ghost and just call it the, “thing,” for the sake of sanity.
My wife and I had some weird experiences in her fathers house before we were married and it is just accepted that the Jerry Lee Lewis Ranch has a ghost or two hovering about considering the history of the place. My wife feels like one of her dad’s ex-wives Shawn is still around and making herself known now and again. She OD’d while married to Jerry Lee at the Lewis Ranch in Nesbit, MS. and though her death was untimely the ghost of Shawn causes no trouble but seems to be active in the home according to my wife. As a note Jerry really loved Shawn and was very distressed about her death even flying her body to be buried in the Lewis family cemetery. Regardless of rumor, “The Killer,” is no killer.
When my wife and I married we moved to an antebellum home built in the 1840′s that has an even older foundation beneath the 170 or so year old home. This was our dream home. Lots of rooms and a master bath that was fashioned from a bedroom and though it looks old it is pure heaven. We rarely go upstairs we have a huge bedroom suite and the rest of the house just sits on it’s own most of the time. The upstairs we use to lodge our traveling friends primarily musicians, writers and photographers in and also as storage and a laundry room but most rooms up there are vacant 80% of the time.
Our first experience with our, “thing,” was when we were up very late watching TCM and not under the influence of anything stronger than chocolate. We heard this loud moan emanating from our basement which has a stairway that leads into the bedroom. It was such a comical, stereotypical ghost moan that we both began laughing hysterically. I remember saying, “You have got to be kidding me,” followed by more laughter and then a late night flashlight illuminated trip into what has been called, “The spookiest basement in Holly Springs, ” which turned up nothing that could make such a sound.
The second time we experienced the, “thing,” was when we were again in bed and night and we heard someone walking in the rooms above and then the Boom Boom Bang Boomp Boomp Boomp THUD of someone falling down the stairs. At first we thought it was our blind, red-bone coon hound Kelly but she was sound asleep at the foot of the bed and even a slight tap at the door makes her let out an earth shaking AAAARRRROOOOOOOOO sound that only coon hounds make. But NONE of the dogs even heard it. Again we investigated to find nothing and about every couple of weeks someone, or rather the, “thing,” takes a big tumble down the stairs and we still look but never find anything.
Then a guest came from Pennsylvania a woman who does our Twisted South Radio show and she is in the first floor guest room we call the, “weird room,” (Because my wife and I both collect unusual things and store them in there. From ancient Roman rings to pieces of plantation columns that are in ruin it all ends up in there,) and she looks disturbed and wild-eyed and is motioning me with her hands to come look. As I enter the room we are both looking at a box that is emitting scratching noises as if someone has thrown a cat in there and a small piece of paper on top of the box is spinning in circles for no apparent reason. I flip open the box and though I was not surprised to find nothing in there my guest Mars Blomgren was visibly shaken.
In the course of running Twisted South Magazine I meet some interesting people and a rock and roll photographer heard people marching up our large front steps one night while he was smoking on the porch. Our house was occupied at various times by Union and Confederate soldiers and used as a hospital during the Civil War so it is ripe I guess to be haunted so we just live with the, “thing,” and short of scaring our guests we rarely find the, “thing,” problematic. But during a civil war graveyard shoot we met some paranormal investigators and since this investigator assured me she first tries to find logical explanations first we agreed to allow them full access for an evening in our home last night. We had night vision cameras, magnetic sensors and recorders in what they considered to be the, “hot,” areas of our home. As usual while, “things,” were going on my wife and I were tucked into our big bed with the dogs having a pretty normal evening all considered. Some things happened last night and the investigators are now researching the material that they gathered. But regardless of the outcome we are here to stay and perhaps so is the, “thing.” Maybe one day we will just let the, “thing,” fall violently down the stairs and not even bother to rise from the bed to investigate, But, we are still getting used to the place and the, “thing,” is still getting used to us. The thing is not the reason we have a multi-thousand dollar alarm system with a British accent. We are loners though most people do not realize that. My wife and I are one step above hermits most of the time and I think the, “thing,” perhaps can relate to that and considers us not
too much of a bother.
The very old graffiti on the horsehair plaster in our basement has unusual drawings and wording exclaiming in one area I DO LOVE MY WIFE near an odd numbered drawing of a box and what may read THE SINS OF WILLIAM which has been whitewashed over so we may never know what those sins were. Perhaps William is the, “thing .” Either way anyone who knows my wife and I knows we are way more bizarre than the average, ghost and we are not moving. I guess with all the recording devices on last night if the, “thing,” had anything to say we will be notified shortly.