AOTP Campfire Tales Ep.9

Accounts of the Paranormal's Campfire Tales 

The Whispering Halls of Blackwood Manor

A lavish 1927 masquerade party at Blackwood Manor turns into a night of terror as guests vanish one by one, trapped by a vengeful spirit.

Paranormal and mystery short stories told around the campfire, straight from our Accounts of the Paranormal YouTube channel! https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC9zKn4LcW3VJROe1-l9EAcQ

If you have an account to share and would like to be a guest on the show, email me at show@accountsoftheparanormal.com and tell me what you saw!

Accounts of the Paranormal -

Creator/Producer/Host: Gino Barreto

WEBSITE: https://accountsoftheparanormal.com/ 

YOUTUBE: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC9zKn4LcW3VJROe1-l9EAcQ 

INSTAGRAM: https://www.instagram.com/accountsoftheparanormal/ 

FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61578228277599 

TIKTOK: https://www.tiktok.com/@accountsoftheparanormal

X: https://www.x.com/aotparapodcast

Accounts of the Paranormal (theme song) 

Written by: Gino Barreto / Produced by: Kobe Ofei

All music produced by: 

Kobe Ofei https://www.fiverr.com/kobeofei 

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:01

Welcome to Accounts of the Paranormal's Campfire Tales. I'm Julia, your host and guide into chilling tales of the paranormal. Join us around the campfire for tonight's story. In the autumn of 1927, just north of New York City, stood the sprawling Victorian estate known as Blackwood Manor. The mansion sat high on a fog-covered hill overlooking the Hudson River, its towering spires and stained glass windows visible for miles. Locals whispered that the house was cursed long before wealthy socialites Charles and Evelyn Ashmore purchased it. Young, glamorous, and richer than most movie stars, they were famous for extravagant parties that drew politicians, musicians, actors, and aristocrats from all over the East Coast. And on one cold October evening, they planned their grandest event yet, a lavish masquerade party with two dozen guests staying overnight inside the mansion. As the chauffeurs arrived through the iron gates, thunder rolled over the river. Guests emerged wearing feathered masks, velvet gowns and tuxedos, carrying champagne and laughter into the glowing and lively mansion. The party roared with excitement, but several servants refused to stay after dark, and one maid had reportedly begged Evelyn not to host the party at all. She claimed that strange footsteps had echoed through empty halls for days, and that someone had been softly weeping behind the walls at night. Evelyn dismissed her fears with a smile. By midnight, the ballroom pulsed with music from a live jazz band. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead while masked couples danced beneath enormous portraits of long dead owners whose painted eyes seemed to follow everyone across the room. Then the first strange thing happened. The music stopped. Not gradually, instantly. The instruments let out a horrible screech, and every light in the ballroom flickered dark for several seconds. When the chandeliers glowed back to life, one of the guests, a stockbroker named Vincent Moore, was gone. At first, everyone assumed he had wandered off drunk, so the party resumed, though quieter now, where nervous laughter replaced the earlier excitement. Then came the screaming, when a woman rushed down from the second floor, pale as death, claiming she had seen a man standing at the end of the hallway wearing an old funeral suit. She swore his face looked swollen and grey like a drowned corpse. Several guests went upstairs to investigate when they found Vincent Moore in the bathtub of a guest room, dead. The water was black with dirt and dead leaves, though no one could explain where they came from. Worse still, Vincent's fingernails were torn and bloody, as if he had clawed desperately at the porcelain trying to escape something. Panic swept through the mansion. Charles Ashmore ordered everyone to remain calm while the chauffeur went for police, but the storm outside had worsened, roads flooded, telephone lines went dead, they were trapped until morning. As the hours crawled on, the mansion seemed to awaken around them. Doors slammed on their own, footsteps echoed overhead when nobody was upstairs. Guests reported hearing whispers behind them, only to turn and find empty corridors. Then another guest vanished, and another. By three AM only nine people remained gathered, trembling inside the ballroom, while rain hammered the windows. That was when Evelyn finally confessed the truth. The mansion's original owner, Edgar Blackwood, had murdered his entire family there decades earlier after accusing them of conspiring against him. Legend claimed he hanged himself inside the mansion shortly after the murders, but his body was never found. Charles demanded to know why she had never told him. Because, Evelyn whispered, Blackwood Manor had belonged to her family all along. At that exact moment, a loud thud shook the ceiling above them, then another, then dozens, as though people were walking across the attic floor, slowly, deliberately. The ballroom doors suddenly burst open and a freezing wind rushed through the room, extinguishing every candle and chandelier, and in the darkness, guests heard heavy breathing surrounding them and the sound of ropes creaking overhead. When police finally arrived after sunrise, they found Blackwood Manor silent. The ballroom was empty except for Charles Ashmore, sitting alone in shock near the fireplace. The other eight guests, including Evelyn, had vanished completely. No bodies were ever discovered, and to this day, locals near the ruins of Blackwood Manor claim that during heavy storms, faint jazz music still drifts from the hilltop, followed by the sound of people screaming behind the walls.com, where you can access full episodes and links to all our socials. And while you're there, be sure to sign up for our blog so you never miss show info or other announcements. I'll see you next time.