Population
Danger Level
Path Hands
BCWPA Case Number:
May 7, 2025 at 2:03:52 PM
Last Updated:
Though young Jacob Taylore was an outsider, he was a welcome outsider. Handsome, ambitious, and single, many sought his attention for themselves or their daughters.
A logrolling was in order.
Not grand events, the thrown-together affairs were nonetheless exciting. For a day, villagers put aside their own duties to gather and work as one; land would be cleared of tree, stump, and brush. But after, fires and food and dancing and plans. Jacob would be expected to do the same for new and old faces alike. He would also be expected to give special favor to those who contributed the most.
At the end of the day, the gathering had grown loud. Spread out over smoothed earth, fires popped up, encompassing piles of debris atop rough stumps. The clink of cookware and savory smell of meat caused the clearing to be filled with not only light, but fellowship. Laughter, singing, and the tap of feet joined the happy chorus. Only a handful of particularly diligent women continued to work into the twilight. A sudden shriek, however, stilled everything, even the firelight.
Tripping on her skirts as she twirled, Miss Beth Turner fell hard and headfirst into the middle of the largest bonfire. A broken leg kept her grounded; pushing herself up, tangled among the burning brush, she could not pull or back away, only scream. An unexpected horror, a few seconds passed before help rushed to her thrashing side. So badly burned and cut were her hands that they sloughed off and fell back into the flames.
Water extinguished the suffering woman, the bonfire, the logrolling festivities, and her hands. They sizzled and smoked atop a charred stump.
The gathering wordlessly collected their tools and dishes, leaving the new resident a solemn pile of leftovers. Everyone avoided staring at the horrific display, though a few paused to say a prayer for Beth and those treating her. Her wounds tended as best as they could be, the last of the party carried her down the trail to rest. Jacob had seen plenty of burns, but none this bad. Before returning to his rented room, he decided to take care of the hands first; if she were to die, it would be proper to bury all of her－not leave those for the animals to devour. Unfortunately, they were already gone.
Beth lived for another six days. Her hands were never recovered, though people still claimed to see them. In the forest, it was said that one could see the disembodied, burned fingers pulling their palms across the ground, sometimes chasing, grabbing, and scratching at whoever came by.
Was Beth's fearful, angry spirit trapped in her disembodied hands? Were the hands possessed by residual emotional energy? Was something more malicious at work in the forest? Or was it all just a story? While the tale evoked more questions than answers, it was the beginning of great discoveries.
Investigations proved the bit of folklore to be at least somewhat true: there was an entity living in the woods and Beth was a real person. But, these disembodied hands were most certainly not Beth. These things were not trapped souls, but organisms - life from another dimension. Was there another Ohio ghost story linked to a real organism? Was this just a stroke of luck, or were most, if not all, ghost stories partially true?
Paranormal entities are always attracted to events we would only describe as terrible; some beings have preferences, others requirements; some pretend, others possess; some feed on substances imperceptible to our senses, and others feed on us. While the latter are always more immediately dangerous, they are the most easily understood.