From the Oct. 25, 1985 edition of the Gazette. It's almost Halloween.


Vineyarders needn’t look too far to find something going bump in the night. Take, for instance, the ghost who resides at the county jail.



In the nearly two decades since I’ve been writing about Island ghosts there are a few I’ve kept mum about. I did this for two reasons. The accounts were so scary they seemed implausible, and I also didn’t want to implicate people and properties. Even if I used pseudonyms and pseudo directions, these ghosts guaranteed that their hosts could never sell their homes or even invite anyone over for coffee.



What follows is an excerpt from Holly Mascot Nadler’s latest book, Vineyard Supernatural, True Ghost Stories from America’s Most Haunted Island.


The Island has more than its fair share of ghost stories — tales of haunted swamps, buried treasures, spiteful spectres and benevolent phantoms.


The night is dark. And it is Halloween.

You are driving home from a party in Chilmark near Windy Gates when your car's engine suddenly and unexpectedly dies on a dark, quiet road. Attempts to restart it prove futile, and with no cell phone reception, you are forced to search for help. A faint light far off in the dense woods signals a flicker of hope for salvation, so you grab your flashlight and head out.