The M family loved visiting Yellowstone, making the trip almost every other year. One year, P bought a Yellowstone Ghost Story book to pass the time driving. As a majority of the family trip was local to their rented RV. After a while, the family had to make a pit stop and found a rest area in front of a huge lake reasonably closeby. As the van stopped, P opened the book to a random page and started reading the pages’ story about Maddie, the singing ghost. After a few paragraphs, the setting and location seemed too familiar. The family, now returning to the car, asked what was wrong. They looked at their highway map and it turned out they were close to the ghost’s supposed home. Sure enough, 10 yards behind the rest rooms was Maddie’s grave. History says that many hiker and travelers have heard singing or talking in the area. In fact, a few people have drowned looking for the source of the voice out on lake. The family returned to the car and started to drive away, but P felt that they should go back and take a family photo to commemorate the day’s funny events. They hopped back to the spot to take a photo, then got back on the road. It wasn’t until later that night that P finished the story and read that most visitors feel a need to revisit the grave – almost universally. Ever since, the family visits the grave every time they visit Yellowstone.
Background:
The informant, MK, is one of my close friends from highschool who had heard this story from his wife’s family and their encounter with ghosts on their many travels. P is MK’s wife and is from the M family. Being Catholic, the realm of spirits, souls, and ghosts would not stray too far from his world views.
Context:
Looking to expand my collection’s scope, I contacted my friends from highschool through Facebook and asked if he had any he could share with me. By coincidence I contacted him in the middle of his trip to visit some of his in-laws and he promised to deliver some of the ghost stories he had previously heard from his in-laws.
My Thoughts:
A more traditional ghost story where the named ghost has gotten popular to have a book published about her. The way the story is framed almost feels as though the ghost, through its own book, has led P’s family to its old home and made it a tradition for them to visit its grave every time they’re in the area. It isn’t so much about being haunted than it is about compelling others to come visit it instead of the ghost making the visit to them. The tourism board for the Yellowstone Area probably had a hand to play in the sale of Maddie’s book as to drum up more supernatural intrigue for the area, especially suggesting to the audience to return to Maddie’s grave. The last thing I would have associated Yellowstone National Park with would have been ghosts since I’m more worried about Yellowstone’s dormant super-volcano. Maybe this focus on ghosts was to either drum up renewed interests in the area to promote further tourism or try and help people forget the grim fact that some catastrophic force resides below the park.
There’s a theater in Downtown Chicago called the James M. Nederlander Theater, back then known as the Iroquois Theater, which apparently burnt down once in 1903 with around 2000 people inside where at least 600 patrons ended up dead. The panic caused mass hysteria, the crowds of people tried to force doors that opened inwards, meaning that a wild crowd could not properly open them. Many other doors were locked by foreign locks, exits were not properly labeled, and the upper floor patrons as they were locked in as VIP 2nd floor rooms were locked from the outside as to keep the 2nd floor exclusive and not have anyone sneak in after the shows sold out. While many burned to death, others stuck on the 2nd floor threw their bodies out the windows, barely managing to cushion their falls from the bodies of those who fell before. The back alley served as a temporary morgue, accounts saying that bodies were stacked 6 feet high, and the area trapped the spirits of the dead to wander in and out of the back of the theater. Countless remarks about the inexplicable amount of noises, moving objects, and sightings of ghost inside and outside the theater and around the alley have been reported. The area is known as the Coach Place, Death Alley.
Background:
The informant, NC, is a friend from my highschool days who I bonded with over videogames and appreciation for animated shows who I still keep in daily contact with today. NC is particularly religious but loves to partake in the knock on wood superstition.
Context:
Because he was living separate from his family, NC did not necessarily have too many folklore or tradition to share and instead asked one of his friends if she had any interesting tidbits to share.
My Thoughts:
Reading up on the story some more revealed to me that there has not been a formal memorial marking the location of the incident, which might be the entire reason that these tortured souls have not been able to move on from their suffering in the first place. Much like how desecrated grave sites are the classic grounds on which angered spirits haunt those who disturbed their rest, this story feels as if these spirits haven’t been at peace at all. More than a ghost story, the entire thing reads like a historical account on how fire safety protocols were implemented because something horrific had to happen at least once for these things to be taken seriously. An infrastructure problem with the theater itself most likely led to many basic amenities and fire safety procedures we take for granted today. It seems strange that this particular location hasn’t been taken by the city’s government to be made into a tourist zone, one of the few examples of how things are left as they are and the story is allowed to speak for itself.
A young woman is returning home after a busy day of work at night. She managed to avoid the worst of the rain but she had to run a bit to get to her apartment. Slightly exhausted, and with even slighter foot pain, she pressed the button to call the elevator and waited around. The elevator doors opened, she stepped in, but before she could press her floor, she heard some fast-paced steps. “Hold the door!” rang out a young man’s voice and she pressed the button to allow the boy into the elevator. “Thank you so much”, he said, grateful.
“What floor are you on? I’ll get the button for you”
said the man panting for breath.
“Oh, it’s the 10th, how kind of you”
replied the girl.
“No way! I live on the 9th!” said the man,
in a surprised tone.
The two engaged in short casual conversation, how work
was killing her feet, etc. The girl noticed that the boy had some pretty looks
to him and was teetering on the edge of asking if he was free anytime soon. She
was puzzled at how she never met him before especially when they lived a floor
apart. The elevator reached the 9th floor and the man stepped out.
“Goodbye!” said the man. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again…”
“…really soon”
As soon as he muttered those words, the man turned around. The pleasant and reserved visage now was grinning ear to ear with a wide, eerie smile, his eyes bloodshot. In his hands was a bloodied kitchen knife and he dashed up the stairs as the elevator doors closed.
Background:
My informant is my brother who told me this story when we lived in South Korea which was around 18 years ago and clearly it was effective in its fright factor if it stuck with me for this long despite my entire family not being particularly good with horror stories. He states that he read it online and was particularly spooked and began spreading the story around by himself.
Context:
My brother retold me the story for good measure during the time I asked him to share folk stories with me when I brought up how I remembered this one in particular because of how it frightened me when I was younger.
My Thoughts:
While not a memorate, the paranoia instilled by this story can affect any regular person who frequents the use of an elevator, as it has spread from my brother, to me, and hopefully to anyone reading. The greatest way to experience this story is through Korean message boards and blogs where people have drawn comics to illustrate this story and the final panels become animated to properly convey the shock factor. Unfortunately most of my access to these sort of sites are through my brother and I haven’t been able to find them. In this way, it would be difficult to assign any one person as the author to this story as someone who makes the scariest comic could become its sole owner just by being the one who owns the version of the comic that is most shared across the variations. Among other types of real life horror stories about dying in an steel cage of death called an elevator, I was convinced pretty early in my life that I was just way better off taking the stairs and get some exercise while doing so. It’s effective in the Asian apartment context as it is an incredibly common sight in South Korea so it works off its mundane set-up for something horrifying. The point of the story is to lull the readers into a false sense of security with superfluous little additions to the setting detail when really, the most important part is the end. I think there was a string of elevator murders in Japan around the early-mid 2000s, which is where the story might have originated.
YS: Alright hold on, let me take a sip. You ever heard about the one with the tiger?
YJ: Is it the one with a bear?
YS: No that’s a different one. So there’s this guy, in the old times, farmer and Lumberjack. Living with his widowed mother. Taking care of his mother and selling his lumber. Typical day of working and taking care of his work. One day a tiger appears by the mountain he lives. The man is scared and fears for his mother who will be left alone if he dies. The tiger starts prowling him ready to strike. The man has an idea and bows down to the tiger, and he exclaims to the tiger, calling him his brother. “It’s you, I’ve finally met you”. The tiger has lived a long life and asks what the hell guy is talking about.
“Do not try and trick me, you are doomed.”
Says the tiger
The man laughs and says he has heard about his brother and how they were separated at birth and how he had a “king” written on his forehead. The tiger is confused and asks what he means. The two go to a nearby pond and shows him the tiger marks on his forehead and the tiger is convinced that they are brothers.
YJ: You’re going to need to explain that one to me
YS: Look up the word for tiger in Chinese in Google
YJ: Ohh so the character in the word looks like the pattern on its face
YS: So the man continues “Mom lost you in the mountains and the natural energies turned you into a tiger to protect this mountain and I’m glad to see you’re still alive”.
YS: The tiger is somehow “remembering” and buys into the story. The man is just relieved that he himself is alive. The man says just to come by the house from time to time. The tiger agrees and leaves. The man comes back home and tells the story and how he survived a tiger encounter. Tells him he lied about the lie about the king’s mark. The tigers are smart, warned the mother, I’m not sure how you will continue with this situation. The man says he won’t treat the tiger badly and won’t take advantage of his kindness. Time to time, the two receive dead game animals on their doorstep thanks to the tiger. The tiger’s occasional visits him during the lumberjack work and share drinks. The tiger begins to dress as a human and walks upright. The two share life stories and become good friends. The tiger says one day that he knows that there are some really valuable roots up the mountain, and the son becomes rich selling these roots. The tiger continues to help the two with food and the lumberjack begins to appreciate the tiger’s help. Time goes by, the man is rich but a lumberjack and has no title in society. The tiger happens to be friends with another rich man in town, a government official, and asks for a favor to introduce his brother to high society, the official says he knows a single lady and settles the marriage. Years later the mother gets really sick, the younger brother says he needs help and that mom is sick and comes to seek his help in genuine concern and dependence. The tiger wishes he could help but was scared to show himself in front of her as a tiger. He says that there’s a legendary root in another mountain and says he will find it. The tiger brings his own children, and they know how they’re related to the humans, to the next mountain. A giant centipede protects the root in the other mountain, the battle is unimportant, the tiger is powerful and brings the root back. The mother is still dying and as the tiger steps through the door and hears crying in the house as the mother had passed away. The tiger in grief runs into the mountain unable to save her and he yells out and dies in sorrow. The tiger’s corpse becomes a stone and the tiger’s children tells what happened to the younger brother and he holds the funeral for both his brother and mother. He says he lied about the tiger’s relationship and how he used them for his advantage and vows to take care of his children as in honor of him.
Background:
The informant is my brother who shared the stories he remembers the most from our parents to share with me when I asked him to assist me in this project. Tigers are a powerful symbol in Asian cultures and the key facet of this story relates to how the Chinese character for “king” is written as “王” and the tiger in the story has similar black patterns on its face. The Korean language is derived off of a simpler form of Chinese and the former has many roots in traditional Chinese writings. My brother likes these types of folklore as he is an avid fan of mythologies and belief systems all over the world despite having been active debater against organized religion as well as having it be a fond memory of his country and family’s history before Christianity began phasing things out on the traditional spectrum of Korean culture.
Context:
This is another story from a session between me and my brother sharing the stories he heard from the family before I was born.
My Thoughts:
I had a terrible feeling that this story would have some repercussions for lying being the source of someone’s good intentions. Thankfully the ending isn’t completely depressing and ends on a positive note that one’s wrongs can still be corrected and redeemed, particularly if a lie did not hurt either party. Tigers are a powerful symbol in Asian belief systems, at some points rivaling a dragon, and the story goes to show how tigers have this inner ability to communicate and live as humans after having lived so long. The Confucian virtue of honoring one’s parents, the ability for beasts to honor their parents, and honoring siblings are brought up and these notions have been ingrained in me pretty naturally. While I learned of actual Confucian principles later in life, the attitude towards respecting elders in particular is emphasized greatly in Korean society was and I never felt that it was an entirely bad thing to respect those who have experienced life longer than I have. I think the emphasis on family touches upon a rather important part of life and how indispensable is to maintain a good relationship between friends and family and see through one’s promises.
See E.B Landis’ collected works of Korean folklore pg.8 for another example of how tigers are portrayed in a noble light in Korean legends.
Landis, E. B. “Korean Folk-Tales.” The Journal of American Folklore, vol. 10, no. 39, 1897, pp. 282–292. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/533279. Accessed 3 May 2021.
–Informant Info– Nationality: United States of America Age: 30 Occupation: Lead Associate of Operations, Chase Bank Residence: Laguna Niguel, CA Date of Performance/Collection: 4/19/2021 Primary Language: English Other Language(s): Spanish
Main Piece:
The following conversation is transcribed from a conversation between me (HS) and my co-worker/informant (MR).
MR: So La Mano Peluda translates to “hairy hand.” It’s basically an old legend that my parents used to scare me with when I did something that I wasn’t supposed to do, like not taking out the trash or doing chores. So I would literally crawl into a ball at night and make sure that my legs weren’t hanging out of the covers because I genuinely thought that this terrifying hand would come out from under my bed and drag me by my ankles out of my room to who knows where.
HR: Hahahaha. So how old were you when you heard this story?
MR: It went back to when I was probably like 5 or 6. Because I was in school already, and if I didn’t do my homework my mom would be like, “If you don’t do your homework La Mano Peluda is gonna come and get you!”
HR: And do you know where this legend came from?
MR: Well my mom got the tradition from her family in Mexico, but after you asked me about it I did a little googling. Apparently, it was a man’s hand that had survived from the Spanish Inquisition. He wanted to seek revenge on the people who had pillaged his home or something like that. But when I was little, I didn’t really care about the origin and just got freaked out when I thought about an old hand hiding under my bed.
Background:
My informant is my co-worker from my job. She is essentially my supervisor and she enjoys helping me to practice my Spanish and telling me a lot about her culture and heritage. She was raised in a Spanish-speaking household by two parents who both immigrated to the United States from Mexico. She used to be intimidated by the legend of La Mano Peluda as a young child but grew to see it as a funny way that her parents made her do her chores.
Context:
The legend of La Mano Peluda was brought up while having a general discussion with my co-worker about her culture and traditions. She had told me about the legend before but I asked her to go more in-depth for the sake of the collection project. We were sitting next to each other on the teller line at work and we would chat in-between customers.
Thoughts:
The story of La Mano Peluda is a classic legend that is prominent across a wide range of Latin-American cultures. I would equate it to classic American campfire stories where the goal is to scare and entertain the audience. I have heard multiple recollections of this folk tale and they all seem to stem from having a fear of something hiding under one’s bed. For particularly young children, the legend of La Mano Peluda is used as a sort of scare tactic to get them to do their chores, while in older adolecents it is seen as an entertaining folk tale. What is interesting is that there is a pattern of “hairy hand” stories across the globe.
For another “hairy hand” story, see:
Mary Curtis Special to The Star. “Dartmoor Nights and Scary Tales Stir Imagination: SA2 Edition.” Toronto Star, Torstar Syndication Services, a Division of Toronto Star Newspapers Limited, 1990.
