The Edgewood Cemetery Haunting: A Vicki Ashton Paranormal Thriller-Book2: A Vicki Ashton Paranormal Thriller

By Vicki Sutherland

Vicki and Robin's thrilling genealogy search in Tennessee takes a chilling turn when they discover dark family secrets tied to Robin's ancestor, a wealthy 1800s businessman in Memphis. Their journey unfolds in a haunted mansion and the eerie Edgewood Cemetery, where ghostly curses and unsettling encounter

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vicki
• Release date: Jan 30, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869160362

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THE EDGEWOOD CEMETERY HAUNTING

A Vicki Ashton Paranormal Thriller

Book Two

BY

VICKI SUTHERLAND

Copyright© 2023. Vicki Sutherland. All Rights Reserved.

No part of this work covered by the copyright herein may be reproduced or used in any form or by any means—graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any request for photocopying, recording, taping, or information storage and retrieval systems of any part of this book shall be directed in writing to the author.

This publication contains the opinions and ideas of its author(s) and is designed to provide useful advice in regard to the subject matter covered.

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated with love to my Mom and Dad, who have both gone on to be with the Lord. They loved reading my writings when I was growing up. Found all of them among my Dad’s belongings when he passed away. Much love, Mom and Dad, until I see you on the other side.

CONTENTS

DEDICATION

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

About the Author

CHAPTER 1

Not every trip you take to explore your ancestors’ history turns into a haunted nightmare. This one did, though, one of the worst of its kind—and it wasn’t even my family.

The things that happened to us? Not many people in this world believe it to be possible, much less feasible. Yet the darkness of the gruesome underworld always haunts us. We just don’t always see it. But it’s there, grasping for our attention in the most inexplicable ways. Groping for ways to enter our reality and make our lives a living hell…just like some families.

It's scary visiting family at times, even when they’re alive because…well, you know how family can be. They can often be the death of you. But what if your dead family from centuries ago visited you from the hereafter? Made their presence known in some weird outré way that showed their true colors…the way they really are instead of how others believe them to be?

Would you welcome their presence or run? Would you dig deeper into the archives of their tainted past or leave well enough alone? Curiosity kills the cat, you know. If you’re the cat that pries a little bit too closely, it might backfire and come back to curse you.

Run, I say, and leave well enough alone if you know what’s good for you. If you search for them, they may just come back to haunt you in the most shocking and terrifying ways. You may inadvertently dig your own grave. They will bury you alive if you let them.

Run, I say, run…and don’t look back.

My name is Vicki Ashton, and paranormal happenings are nothing new to me. I help run the White County Museum of the Cherokee upon Bear Cross Mountain in Sparta, Tennessee, where I live with my husband, Terry Ashton, and our German Shepherd, Keefer.

There’s a whole team of us that helps run the museum. David, Lori, Coy, Robin, Connie, Cody, Valerie, Randy, then Terry and me.

We buy all the supplies, pay the bills, take turns greeting guests, and conduct guided tours. We clean the place, pay the taxes, and decide as a group the best way to invest the profits. Anything that needs to be done to keep it up and running, we do it.

We didn’t build the museum for profit. We built it to honor the Cherokee, the original inhabitants of the land. They never had a chance to tell their side of the story, so they tell it through us.

Our paranormal investigator friends, Rob and Jeremy, conduct ghost tours at the museum for the brave and daring. They show real video footage of apparitions that have appeared in different places throughout the land.

They also play real audio recordings of paranormal voices captured during their investigations. It’s wild and freaky, but people like to know about such things. It keeps them guessing and gives them something exciting to talk about.

When we first moved to Sparta, the land reeked of paranormal activity. We fought a long, hard battle to bring peace to our lives and to Bear Cross Mountain. The Cherokee spirits of ancient days helped us clear the land of evil, and now it’s a great place to be. Friendly neighbors, beautiful rolling hillsides, waterfalls, and the best that nature has to offer.

We all devote time to running the museum, meeting awesome people from all over the country, and honoring the culture and traditions of the Cherokee people.

I greet people as they come into the museum and sometimes do guided tours for groups who want to hear the history. I guide them through the museum, then take them to see the campsite out a way on the land where people can camp out in teepees.

There’s also a labyrinth there. It’s a huge circle of rocks, with pathways of smaller circles of rocks inside it. A huge rock is placed in the middle of the labyrinth, which signifies the end of the labyrinth pathway.

It was a sacred walk to the Cherokee, so we rebuilt it and continued the tradition. It’s for meditation and contemplation and for offering up prayers for whatever is on your mind. People find comfort there. Strength, courage, balance, and answers to the many complex situations life often brings.

Sometimes, I play the Native American flute there to enhance people’s spiritual experiences, just like the flute player did in the days of old. It seems to inspire people. The flute player? His spirit watches over and protects Bear Cross Mountain in his afterlife, just like he did when he was alive and walked upon the earth.

The land is quiet and peaceful. Guests can walk the labyrinth or sit down on one of the nearby benches to relax and enjoy the view. The labyrinth never closes, but if you’re there at dusk or during the night, you might just see some…

Others…who lived here long before you and me. They ruled this same land long ago, and it was nothing then like it is now.

Good spirits appear and reappear here often, including the flute player. They bless the land and keep it safe from the horror that once ruled here. One thing is for certain-- when you’re here, you’re never alone.

Anyway, this haunted nightmare I’m referring to with family all started when my best friend, Robin Sanders, invited me to take a trip with her to Memphis.

Robin helps run the gift shop in the museum along with Cody, Connie, and Lori.

A few months ago, she started studying her genealogy and became obsessed. As it turns out, her father, Raymond Lee Fontana, was a direct descent of William Redgrave Fontana, a prominent and wealthy businessman in Memphis.

He was a carriage maker by trade and owner of the Memphis Carriage Company in the early 1800s. That made him her great-great-great grandfather or something like that.

So, we made plans to go to Memphis. I’d spent 53 years of my life living there, and so did Robin. We could find our way around it blindfolded. We know the best hot spots to go to and the most crime-filled areas to avoid so we could make the most of our trip there.

Robin’s husband, Coy Sanders, had started a remodeling project at their house in Spencer, Tennessee. He was adding an extra den to make the house roomier and more spacious. She hated being there while he was working—the noise, the dust, the disorder. She always loved the finished product, though.

My husband, Terry, was working with him, so one stifling hot August day, we decided that it would be a good time for us to venture out together.

I called my good friend and neighbor, Lori Ledford, and asked her if she’d cover my shift at the museum while I was away.

Sure, I’ll take care of everythin’, she assured me. You just go and have a great time. The rest of the team is here; we’ll all pitch in."

I said, "Thanks, I owe you one.

I can’t wait to hear all about it when you get back, she said.

Lori and her husband, David, were part of the team that worked at the museum. In fact, the museum was located on Lori’s Uncle Jim’s land, which was right beside me. She became heiress to that land after he passed away.

Uncle Jim’s spirit still dwells here at times. He’s one of those others. He sends us his blessing through the celestial plane. Visitors sometimes report seeing an elderly gentleman dressed in blue jeans and a red flannel jacket. That’s him. He usually appears at the museum or at the house behind us where he lived. He’s still connected to the homestead and watches over us daily.

The labyrinth and the teepee campgrounds are located behind me on that land beside a beautiful waterfall. Lori and I fought some paranormal battles together here in the past, along with the rest of our team, so our friendship runs deep.

In fact, our whole team is a close-knit group of friends and neighbors who work together to keep the museum and campgrounds thriving. We always have each other’s backs.

I said good-bye to Terry and Keefer. They both seemed sad to see me leave, but I knew they’d take good care of each other until I returned home.

Robin and I packed our clothes and headed to Memphis in her blue Pathfinder. We didn’t know it at the time, but we were headed for not only the most extraordinary family reunion we’d ever been to but also the paranormal adventure of a lifetime.

CHAPTER 2

It had been three years since I moved away from Memphis. I was looking forward to enjoying some of the touristy sites and reconnecting with old friends. Other than that, the only thing on my agenda was helping Robin explore her genealogy.

Even though our trip had a historical purpose, Robin and I had a way of making an adventure of nearly everything. So, in some form, we knew it would be quite an escapade. However, I didn’t expect it to become a Thelma and Louise trip on steroids. Nor did I expect the paranormal twist that transpired. It makes my head spin to think about how quickly things changed for us once we arrived there.

William Redgrave Fontana was well-known and respected in his day and kept company with the highest of Memphis’ aristocratic society. James Overton, Andrew Winchester, Frederick Peabody, and other prominent founders of Memphis were among his many acquaintances.

According to Robin’s historical research, the whole town looked up to him and admired his work and success. Townsfolk of that day spoke highly of him and doted on the Fontana’s as the perfect family whom everyone wished to exemplify.

The loss of his passing away from influenza in 1860 was felt by all who knew him, according to history and his obituary.

He was buried at the Edgewood Cemetery in Memphis along with more of Robin’s ancestors and other upper-class Memphians. She wanted to check it out for sure.

After Mr. Fontana’s passing, the city opened a museum at the mansion where he had resided. He had it built in 1825 for him and his wife, Margaret Adaline Scott-Fontana. It’s known as The Scott-Fontana House, but most people just call it The Fontana House.

It's a huge, elegant 3-story beige brick mansion with a Victorian type of style. Its long windows arch into a semi-circle at the top and bottom and circle the house on each of its three stories. The front porch is long, the same length as the house, with six white pillars spaced out across the entire structure. I’d driven by it many times but never gone inside. Everybody says it is haunted, and it sure looks like it, even from the outside.

It has its own set of eyes that stare back at you through dark blinds and dingy curtains. Some say they’d seen Mr. Fontana peering at them through one of those windows on the 2nd floor.

Others said they saw Mrs. Fontana and the faces of their children appear and reappear in the 1st and 3rd floor windows. They’d gawk at you with those solemn, unsmiling faces, waiting for you to arrive and be their guest of honor for the evening.

Will they welcome you with open arms like the honorable hosts they were believed to be? Will they ensure your comfort and wellbeing while in their care? Most certainly not. The city may have purchased the mansion, but the Fontana’s still rule it for sure. It’s their salient yet formidable domain.

I heard even scarier stories from those who’d gone inside. Their experiences there differ, but they all say you never know who’s watching you, and you’d better watch your back.

We came for history, though, not haunts. Robin simply wanted to learn more about William Fontana’s life, his home, business dealings, contributions to the city of Memphis, and her related family history with him. So, what better place to start than The Fontana House?

Yes, we found the history there, but the haunts found us.

Me? I just wanted to go listen to some bands rocking on Beale Street and eat some ribs at The Rendezvous. So, we checked into The Peabody Hotel, an elegant and old historic hotel located in downtown Memphis. It was close to most everything we wanted to do. The most popular hotel in Memphis, it’s also known world-wide, and continues to uphold many age-old traditions.Everybody wanted to stay there. A lot of people say it’s haunted, too.

We reserved the 3-room executive suite, a huge bedroom with two queen-size beds, a separate living room with two sofa beds, and a kitchenette/bar in the corner. Such style!

The bathroom was elegant, too, and huge. A vanity and chair for grooming were strategically placed by the sink. Catty-cornered behind a small, plush loveseat was a lavish jacuzzi tub.

We were living on high cotton and styling it up, as the old saying goes in the South. In retrospect, that means we were living like rich folks.

It was 4 o’clock when we arrived, so it was too late to go to the Fontana House today. We purchased tickets online for noon the next day, Thursday. They weren’t doing guided tours at this time, so we’d be on our own self-guided tour.

That’s probably better, I thought. We can take our time, explore it all, stay a long time if we want to, and not be rushed. Maybe, just maybe, there’d be no one there to disturb us, but that was highly doubtful. Would we want to take our time to stay a long time? Over my dead body!

After driving 6 hours from Sparta, we were hungry and tired. We ate supper at BB Kings Blues Club, a couple of blocks away on historic Beale Street. It, too, was known to be haunted mostly by the spirits of those who played and sang there in the past. Great legends whose memories are kept alive and who will never be forgotten.

Artists such as Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis, BB King, Isaac Hayes, Johnny Cash, Otis Redding, Roy Orbison, Charlie Rich, Sam & Dave, Muddy Waters, Carl Perkins, and the list goes on. Of course, Rev. Al Greene was still around, too, in case you needed a prayer while walking in Memphis.

I didn’t see any of these great legendary artists, but their spirits were alive in the music and in the hearts and souls of the listeners. They were the heartbeat of Beale and the soulfoundation of its history.

I frequented Beale Street often as a resident of Memphis, and now, as a tourist, it was much more fun. I enjoyed the bands—the intriguing music of all styles and the legendary talent that gathered there to soothe people’s souls and make memories that last a lifetime.

Memphis Jones gave a Beale Street music history lesson each time they performed. They kept Elvis, Johnny Cash, and Jerry Lee Lewis legends alive. They also told the history of those amazing talents who never received the honor and recognition they so deserved, such as Big Mama Thornton and Memphis Mini. Captivating the crowd and keeping them dancing was one of the things they did best.

The Brad Birkedahl Band knew how to rock The Blues City Cafe with their magnificent toe-tapping gigs. Whether it was Johnny B Good or Whole Lotta Shakin’ Goin’ On, I couldn’t sit still. I just had to get up and dance, especially when they played Rebel