Tag Archives: Narrative

The Ghost of Avalon

Text: “In the summer of 1987, right after I graduated from high school, my family rented an old beach house on the 200s block Claressa Street in Avalon on Catalina Island. For those who know Avalon, it was founded in the late 1800s and became an upscale vacation destination in the early 1900s. My great-grandparents had a long-sold off house there and once the iconic Art Deco casino was built in the 1920s, the big bands would come and host their national radio programs from there while dressed-up couples danced the night away overlooking the bay. 

The old beach houses (and Casino) are known for being haunted with spirits from vacations past, but there wasn’t any reason for me to believe it since I’d never seen anything myself in all the years my family had vacationed there. That changed that summer of 1987. 

The original Avalon beach houses all had a similar design with the bedrooms often opening up from each other rather than a hall. In other words you had to walk through one bedroom to get to another, train car style. I was in the bedroom that you could only reach from the one my parents were in, and I had to walk through their room to get to the bathroom.

We would spend the days on the beach and in the sun, and go to bed fairly early since almost all activity takes place there around the ocean. Not much happens at night in Avalon. So after dinner we’d play board games or cards, then go to bed so we could get up early for another day of surf and sun. 

I had gone to sleep that night as always and was awakened by a man standing at the end of the bed looking at me. He was dressed in a dated-style suit with a freshly starched dress shirt with crisp collar points that came up higher on his neck than was the style during the Reagan administration. He was wearing a tie and had a brown hat, rounded bowler style, on his head. He just stood at the foot of the bed looking at me. 

At first I thought I was still asleep, dreaming, or in the confused state between wakefulness and deep sleep. But once I sat up and knew I was 1000% awake and was scared even though he was just standing there looking at me with a benign expression on his face. 

I screamed thinking someone had broken into my bedroom and my mom came running out of her bedroom. She also saw him but knew immediately he wasn’t ‘real’, or flesh and blood like we were. 

She explained to him that he didn’t belong there, that we were in the house now for a visit and that he needed to move along. Just a few seconds later he disappeared into the air. No walking through walls or talking, just dissolved into the air at the foot of my bed. 

I was rattled the whole rest of our vacation but he didn’t appear again. The house is still standing as it was 40 years ago. I’ve walked by it on subsequent trips and thought of the tall, thin man in the suit that visited me.”

Context: This story was shared by the informant, who was a young child at the time of the experience. The event marked a significant moment in the informant’s life, as it was the catalyst for their belief in the supernatural. Prior to this encounter, the informant had not paid much attention to stories of ghosts or spirits, but the vivid and unsettling experience that summer changed their perspective. The informant interprets this as the beginning of their belief in such phenomena, as it was the first time they had directly encountered something they couldn’t explain through logic or reason.

Since then, the informant has experienced several other supernatural encounters, reinforcing their belief in the paranormal. The informant’s perspective is further shaped by the fact that their mother had similar beliefs and, before she passed, shared other stories of her own supernatural experiences. This shared experience between the informant and their mother helped to strengthen their connection to the supernatural world and solidified the informant’s conviction that these types of encounters are real.

Analysis: The figure in the story—a man dressed in an old-fashioned suit—seems to reflect a historical presence tied to the location, adding to the eerie atmosphere of the old beach house. The figure’s benign, non-threatening demeanor contrasts with the fear that the informant felt, suggesting that the supernatural can be perceived as both unsettling and intriguing, rather than immediately harmful.

The way the informant handled the experience—by accepting the figure’s presence and interpreting it as part of a larger, supernatural world—illustrates how personal beliefs can be shaped by direct experiences. This encounter became a touchstone for the informant’s worldview, influencing how they view similar occurrences in the years that followed.

This story also underscores the broader cultural theme of haunted locations, especially in areas with long histories like Avalon. The idea of spirits lingering in places with significant pasts is a common motif in folklore. The informant’s ongoing belief in the supernatural and the continuation of similar experiences suggest that such encounters are seen not as anomalies but as part of a larger, unexplainable reality that transcends time and space.

Informant Info

Race/Ethnicity: White

Age: 55

Occupation: Mother

Residence: Westlake Village, CA

Date of Performance: April 3, 2025

Primary Language: English

Other Language(s): N/A

Relationship: Parent

The tale of Heungbu and Nolbu

Nationality: South Korean
Age: 27
Occupation: PHD Student, Electrical Engineering
Residence: Los Angeles, California
Language: English

Informant: “Nolbu is the older brother. Heungbu is the younger one. Although they are family, Nolbu makes more money and is very greedy. His success puts Heungbu in a bad situation financially. On the other hand, Heungbu is a good person who tries to help other people. So, Heungbu goes to Nolbu’s house to get some rice since he is poor. But Nolbu slaps his face with a spoon and refuses to give him any rice. Nolbu is then going back to his home and sees a bird being attacked by a snake. He tries to save the baby bird by healing its broken leg. Heungbu cures him and lets the bird go. The bird comes back with a seed. A Calabash seed. When the Calabash is grown, he cuts it open and finds tons of gold and money, so Heungbu becomes rich. Nolbu hears his brother became rich by helping the bird, so he breaks a healthy bird’s leg to cure it. The bird then goes to Nolbu’s house and gives him the same seed. But when Nolbu cuts open the Calabash, goblins come out and bite him and take all his money.”

Context: The informant heard this story from his older siblings and claims that it is a common story in Korea. He compared this story to the American story of the tortoise and the hare, saying that it is frequently told to young children like the story of the tortoise. He believes the story is designed to teach kids to avoid greed and help others out of the kindness of their heart rather than to receive something in return. The informant is from South Korea and says that this story has been passed down from generation to generation, mostly orally.

Analysis: I think this tale expresses some cultural and moral values that parents likely wanted to pass down to their kids. The story is relatively simple, with clear moral signals presented throughout, likely to help drive home the point to a young audience. The story clearly puts an emphasis on the idea that kindness can not be (or should not be) faked for personal gain. It also serves to teach children that bad actions can come back to bite you, even if you think you’re tricking the system. Lastly, the story teaches children to be kind, paradoxically, by telling them they will be rewarded for it only if that act of kindness is genuine and not in pursuit of a reward.

The Legend of Elias White (Ghost Story)

Informant’s Retelling:
“It all began in the dense, foggy woods of Bass Lake, a place so quiet you could hear your own heartbeat echoing through the trees. Legend has it that many years ago, a slave named Elias White escaped into these woods, never to return. Elias was a big man, known for his piercing white eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. Some said he had a gift for seeing things others couldn’t—things that weren’t meant to be seen.

One cold October night, Elias vanished. The slave owner searched for days. When they caught him, he was hung. A group of young campers watched from the brush. Elias, hanging from a tree branch, staring at the hikers, screeched in a strangled voice: ‘The forest keeps what it takes.’

The woods became a forbidden place after that. People whispered about strange lights flickering between the trees and an eerie voice that called out to anyone who dared enter. But the most terrifying part? Those who ventured too far into Bass Lake claimed they saw two glowing white eyes watching them from the shadows.

Fast forward to a summer night not too long ago. A group of teenagers, much like you guys, decided to test the legend. They laughed off the warnings, armed with flashlights and bravado, and headed into the forest. As they ventured deeper, the air grew colder, the trees seemed to close in, and a strange silence fell over the group.

Then, they heard it—a low, raspy whisper. At first, it sounded like the wind, but the words became clear: ‘The forest keeps what it takes.’

Panic set in, but when they turned to leave, they realized the path they came from had vanished. The forest had shifted, trapping them in its maze. One by one, their flashlights began to flicker and die. And then, they saw him.

Standing between the trees was a figure cloaked in shadows, his glowing white eyes piercing through the darkness. He didn’t move, but the teens could feel his presence, heavy and suffocating, as if the forest itself was breathing down their necks.

One of the teens, desperate to escape, shouted, ‘What do you want from us?!’

The figure tilted its head, and in a voice that sounded like leaves crunching underfoot, it replied: ‘To see what you’ve seen.’

The next morning, the search party found the teens huddled together at the forest’s edge, pale and trembling. They were alive, but something had changed. Their eyes—every single one of them—had turned a ghostly white, glowing faintly in the sunlight. To this day, they refuse to speak of what they saw, but they all agree on one thing: ‘Elias White is still out there, watching, waiting… and the forest keeps what it takes.'”

Context:
My information first encountered this chilling legend at a summer camp, narrated by an older counselor around a nighttime campfire. The setting enhanced the story’s eerie effect, amplifying its emotional impact and embedding it deeply in their memory. According to them, counselors would often use the tale of Elias White as both entertainment and a subtle warning to campers not to stray into restricted or dangerous areas of the forest. My informant recounted that the legend served as a rite of passage among campers, marking their initiation into the collective camp culture and identity.

Analysis:
The legend of Elias White embodies classic motifs found in ghost stories—escape, pursuit, punishment, and enduring hauntings—and taps into broader themes of historical injustice, lingering guilt, and retribution. Elias’s ghost symbolizes unresolved historical traumas and the oppressive past of slavery, turning a personal tragedy into a supernatural warning.

This narrative structure effectively uses fear to reinforce community boundaries, functioning as both a cautionary tale and a mechanism for social control within the camp environment. The transformation of the teenagers’ eyes symbolically conveys a loss of innocence or an irreversible awareness of darker truths.

Additionally, the phrase “the forest keeps what it takes” alludes to nature’s dominion over humanity, reflecting anxieties around human vulnerability and the unknowable mysteries lurking just beyond civilization’s edge. Thus, the legend of Elias White persists not only as entertainment but as a potent reminder of historical injustices and the enduring power of folklore to express cultural anxieties and collective memories.

The Legend of Paul Bunyon

Text:
“The story that comes to mind for me is the legend of Paul Bunyan. The gist of the story is that Paul is a giant lumberjack who cut down trees in Wisconsin and Minnesota with his blue-colored ox, Babe. He goes on adventures, fights other giants, and helps to build up the Midwest. While I’ve heard many variations, these facts always stay the same, along with the ending—he goes west and drags his axe across the ground, carving the Grand Canyon.”

Context:
My informant first encountered the legend of Paul Bunyan around age 3 or 4, initially introduced by his grandfather during an overnight visit at his grandparents’ home. Shortly after, his parents continued sharing variations of the tale, reinforcing its familiarity. He specifically remembers his grandfather’s spontaneous storytelling, vividly associating it with the comfort of bedtime narratives. This story typically follows a serialized format, beginning with Paul finding and befriending his iconic companion, Babe the Blue Ox.

Beyond its role as a comforting bedtime story, my informant emphasized its significance as a source of regional pride, especially prominent within Wisconsin and Minnesota. He noted its pervasive presence in Northern Wisconsin, stating, “Paul is everywhere, and people are proud to say they come from his legacy.” The story functions as a cultural identifier, often shared with younger generations, family friends’ children, or even in casual conversations sparked by attire featuring Paul and Babe.

Analysis:
The legend of Paul Bunyan serves as more than mere entertainment; it actively reinforces a sense of community and cultural identity unique to the Midwest. Paul Bunyan’s mythos encapsulates a romanticized, larger-than-life portrayal of Midwestern pioneering spirit and resilience. By attributing major geographical landmarks—such as the Grand Canyon—to Paul’s extraordinary feats, the story implicitly elevates the cultural and historical importance of the region, framing the Midwest as foundational to America’s growth and folklore tradition.

Historically, Paul Bunyan emerged from oral storytelling traditions among loggers, symbolizing exaggerated but relatable qualities of strength, bravery, and ingenuity. These tales reinforce communal pride, distinguishing the Midwest culturally from other regions of the United States. Additionally, the informant’s experience highlights the legend’s intergenerational nature—passed down from grandparents to parents to children, symbolizing a collective effort to preserve regional heritage and foster a shared Midwestern identity.

In essence, Paul Bunyan’s enduring popularity underscores folklore’s capacity to bind communities together, foster regional pride, and sustain cultural continuity across generations.

Kissing Bench

Age: 17

Date of Performance: 4/01/2025

Language: English

Nationality: American

Occupation: Student

Primary Language: English

Residence: United States

  1. Text

The informant is a high school student. She referenced a myth at her local university regarding the “Kissing Bench.” It’s said to give couples good luck if they embrace while sitting on the bench in the center of the university campus.

2. Context

“I heard this one from a friend when we were walking around the campus, actually not too long ago, probably a few months ago. They basically just said that both of their parents went here and they told them about this tradition on this bench but apparently, it can also be applied to friendships and if you hug on it you’re supposed to have good luck in your friendship too. I don’t know, it’s kind of wholesome, I like it.”

3. Analysis

This is a myth, in that, it is not subject to literal truth, but rather rooted in a playful, social commentary. It is a fun, light-hearted tradition to engage informants with the university campus and create tradition in the environment. We talked in lecture about the role of folklore in formulating tradition and how it shares culture through storytelling across generations. The Kissing Bench feels like a myth that transcends generations in that it can be applied to various points of time, and it involves a long-standing object, making it more applicable to multiple people.