Singleton tells of witnessing roadside ghost of woman in Monroe County

George 'Buster' Singleton

(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Halloween revives ghost story” was originally published in the Oct. 24, 1985 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

That time of year is here again, when the witches and goblins abound across the land. The time when the tales of the supernatural take on special meaning, and unfamiliar sounds in the night are heeded more.

I will share with you a true-to-life story that I have witnessed during my travels throughout Monroe County and the surrounding area.

As I have written on other occasions, Monroe County has several “ghost stories” or stories about the “supernatural.” This is due largely to the age of the county and the many, many years that this area has been settled.

I am not one to put a lot of belief in a story or a happening just for the sake of it – unless I see firsthand that there is something unusual, or the story has survived down through the years among people who believe it themselves. But the story that I’m going to tell was seen by not only myself but three other persons. These people later told me after I had disclosed it to them.

One evening late as I was returning from one of my excursions, I was headed home through the area northeast of Monroeville. As I rounded a bend in the narrow road, I glanced off to my right, alongside a small stream. There stood, to my disbelief, what appeared to be a young woman. She was dressed in a long, ankle-length dress, as it appeared from the road. I could not believe that she was way out there in the woods by herself.

It took a minute for what I had just seen to register in my mind. I applied the brakes of my trail bike and turned around. I imagined in my mind that perhaps she was looking for something, perhaps an old cemetery or an old house place, maybe where some of her ancestors had lived. Perhaps she had trouble with her transportation. Realizing that I had not seen a vehicle or even any fresh tracks on the road only deepened the mystery.

I would go back and offer my assistance; then I would know what the situation was. In turning around, I lost sight of her for a moment. Brief as it was, I looked back to the spot where I had seen her last. She was not there. As my eyes followed an old, abandoned pathway that headed toward the bend in the small creek, I saw her hurriedly walking toward the stream and the deep woods.

Afraid that I would frighten her if I tried to follow on my trail bike, I stopped and called to her. “Wait! Can I help you?” I received no answer. I called again. There still was no answer.

She left no tracks

By this time in the evening, it had grown quite dark there under the heavy timber. I got off my trail bike and began walking down the abandoned path.

Being familiar with the art of tracking, I began to look closely for signs of her tracks on the leaves and exposed soil along the pathway. I looked for footprints and the signs of broken twigs that would give evidence of her passing this way.

There were no such signs. Then I discovered a large spider web stretched across the path. I knew that she could not have walked down this way without going through this large spider web and destroying it.

The hair on my neck by this time had begun to tingle. I had to turn around. In the growing darkness, I had to follow the pathway back to my trail bike. The 50 or so yards back seemed like miles.

As I mounted my motorcycle and started the engine, I glanced one last time down the path that I had just returned from. There she stood, motionless in the growing darkness, looking toward me as though she was going to speak.

It happened again – twice

I was breathing heavily from excitement. I tried to put the transmission in gear; the stupid engine went dead. I started it once more; then I looked again. She had disappeared.

Twice since; this story has been repeated. Always in the dark hours of the late evening, at the time when the shadows have settled in and under the tall, heavy timber. The young lady in the long, dark dress walks into the night.

(Singleton, the author of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of 79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime resident of Monroeville, he was born on Dec. 14, 1927 in Marengo County and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from 1964 to 1987. He is buried in Pineville Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of Singleton’s other columns are available to the public through the microfilm records at the Monroe County Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns are presented here each week for research and scholarship purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work and memory alive.)