Whetstone
I am a 22 year old English major (pre-law) at the University of Kentucky. I have always been fascinated by ghost stories, both real and fictitious. I think it has something to do with the death of my grandfather. I was extremely close to him and I've always felt that he has watched over me and been a strong presence in my life. The story you are about to read is EXTREMELY true. I have never in my life encountered anything like it.
Upon returning to UK for my senior year, I moved into and apartment complex called Campus Downs. It's a glorified dorm. Everyone knows everyone and neighbors are always popping in and out. I moved in with 2 Michaels. One was named Michael Collins and the other was named Mike Asbury. Asbury had a family history of hauntings. His mother came to visit one time and corroborated several true ghost stories that he had told me prior to her arrival. Sometime around Halloween, a bunch of us in the complex became very "in the spirit" if you will of the holiday in question. One night a few of us were sitting around watching horror movies and pretty soon, the movies were over and a few of our guests returned to their apts. Asbury, Kristie (a neighbor from across the parking lot), and I began to tell ghost stories. Asbury and I are from the same hometown (Flatwoods, Kentucky/Greenup Co.) and he soon brought up something that I had never heard of before. He began to talk about a house called "Whetstone."
According to my roommate there is a house in Greenup Co. called Whetstone Manor. It was built around the turn of the century back in the late 1800's. Greenup is a very small, white trash, hillbilly, redneck county and at the time that the house was built, it was probably the closest thing considered to being a mansion that Greenup had ever seen. The couple that built it had 3 sons. One day the couple were outside in the garden doing garden things while the 3 sons went to swim in the pond over the hill behind the house. The first son jumped in and began to drown. The middle child jumped in after him and he too began to drown. The youngest (he was very very young) ran back to the garden to get his parents. By the time they reached the pond, the 2 boys were dead. A couple of years later, the couple had a little girl and shortly after that . . . again the couple was outside gardening while the kids were upstairs in the house playing in one of the bedrooms. A kerosene lamp turned over, the children ran into the closet to hide out of fear, and they died of smoke inhalation. All 4 of the children are buried side by side on the hill behind the house. The tombstone has a portrait of each child engraved on it and when the moon shines on it, it glows like nothing I've ever seen in my life.
Asbury told the story of the Whetstone house to Kristie and me. All I could do is sit there in awe. He then proceeded to tell me that many people know about it and it's a place for high school kids to go to get a good scare. Apparently there is a caretaker for the place that WILL chase trespassers away with his shotgun. Asbury then told me of a couple of his experiences.
One night Asbury, his girlfriend, Trish, Chad Malone (the high school quarterback), and a few others went to the Whetstone house to see what it was like and what would happen and what have you. The house, as I've said, is extremely old and very condemned/abandoned. If one were to try to climb the stairs in the house, fall, and get hurt, he/she would surely be in serious trouble. Nonetheless, these young people that I have mentioned reached their destination and began to watch the house. At first the glow of the tombstone was enough to make everyone happy, but that soon wore off. Asbury decided that the best way to raise the spirits (if you will) would be to go into the house and explore. He did this with a zippo lighter all alone. When he came out, everyone began to stare at the window on the second floor. Asbury, reaching his friends, noticed they were staring at something, turned to see what it was, and saw . . . there in the window . . . a small gray figure looking at them with its little hands up on the window pane. As if that were not enough to scare them, a larger gray figure soon appeared, stood over the smaller figure, and then bent over and brought half of its entity outside of the window for a closer look. They became so scared that they left. Chad Malone and the others would never return, but Asbury, Trish, Devon Henson, and Brad Frazier did return soon after.
On Asbury's next visit with his new sidekicks, he once again decided to go through the house. This time he took his friends with them. He walked around the corner with Brad behind him. He looked into the kitchen and looked back at Brad and said, "Don't let the girls in here. Just get the hell out and don't look back." Brad replied, "What? What is it?" Asbury insisted, "Brad just get the hell out. NOW!" As they ran out of the house, a white image chased Asbury to the pine tree in the front yard. Needless to say . . . they didn't go back. None of them went back, except for Asbury who returned only because I could no longer stand my curiosity.
I called up a high school friend named Jason Duke. He was a senior at the University of Dayton at the time. I told him about the stories that Asbury had told me and Duke, being the skeptic that he is, decided he wanted to see this house first hand. Duke, Asbury, and I agreed that we would visit Whetstone together over Thanksgiving break. This was a decision that has changed my perception forever.
Thanksgiving break came quickly. I hadn't forgotten about our agreement and neither had Duke. All we had to do was wait for Asbury to get in touch with us so he could show us where the house was. Upon our arrival to Whetstone, we hid Asbury's car on a side road about 20 yards away from the house and walked back toward our destination. As we were walking toward the gate, we noticed a light in the window on the first floor. We dismissed it as being a reflection of a light far behind us. We stared at the light (which I thought was a candle) and proceeded to climb the gate into the yard. The house sits back from the road about 30 yards or more and the road itself is in the middle of nowhere. We were very careful to be quiet so not to wake the caretaker. Once we were within 10 feet of the house, a noise became extremely apparent. The sound is best described as a LOUD whistle and humming at the same time. The closer we went toward the house . . . the louder the noise became. What happened next . . . well . . . I'm glad I wasn't a part of it.
Duke and Asbury decided to go through the house. Asbury of course pulled a zippo lighter out of his pocket and they approached the doorway. I stayed outside because I was scared to death and ready to throw up. While they were inside, I looked at the windows and the door. The noise was loud enough to drive anyone crazy. Suddenly I noticed distortions that are best described as what a cloaked klingon bird of prey looks like from a star trek film. The distortions hovered around me, but they mainly stayed right beside the door. Asbury and Duke returned to me and all 3 of us stood in front of the house looking for any sign of paranormal activity. I asked Mike, "Do you see the distortions that are hovering by the door?" He said he did, but Duke says he never saw them. Then the distortions started moving toward us and we ran for the car. As we crossed the gate in a mad dash, I kept looking toward the first floor window for the candle. I finally saw it again, stopped my friends, and said, "Watch the way that tiny light flickers and tell me that's not a candle." Duke's jaw virtually dropped to the ground and Asbury just stared at the candle in the window and said, "You're right." We left Whetstone behind with all of us scared so much that we were sick to our stomachs. I've never returned to Whetstone and have no desire to do so. Duke, to this day, will not talk about that night with anyone.
