Ghost Stories

Ghostly Scents

Here are a coupleof personal experiences regarding ghostly scents.

My husband and I recently bought and moved into a small, 50 yearold cottage in North Carolina. It does its share of creaking andgroaning, but considering the building codes here 50 years ago, Idon't attribute anything other-worldly to the noises.

However, about a month ago, my husband and I were getting dressedto go out to dinner. I was going back and forth between thebathroom and our bedroom, through the little hall, when I beganto notice an odd odor. Maybe something burning, but sweeter. Ichecked the kitchen; nothing burning there. The fireplace hadn'tbeen used in two weeks. I went back to the hallway, and the smellwas now very distinct - cherry pipe tobacco.

I called to my husband to sniff the hallway. He's always accusedme of having super-smelling powers, and makes fun of the way Isniff around trying to find out where odors are coming from. Onthis occasion, however, he walked out into the hallway and said,"whew! Who's been smoking a pipe?"

We checked all around our house - not a soul to be seen outside.The heat hadn't been on for at least a half hour, and when Iturned up the thermostat to start the blower to check for asmell, there was none. The scent disappeared after a short time,and we haven't smelled it since. I can just imagine that our 1945cottage was built for a WWII verteran who enjoyed a good pipeevery now and then.

My other story takes place in Florence, Italy, about 7 years ago.My husband and I were looking for a cheap place to stay, and weredirected to a large building by the train station that containedeight separate pensiones. We had to climb to the fourth floor tofind one with a vacancy, and we settled into a beautiful, butsmall, room with a view of the mountains, some antique furniture,and a sink in the corner. The bath and shower were down the hall.We met two girls from Australia that day who took the room nextto ours. One of the girls could speak fluent Italian.

That night, I went to the sink in the corner of the room toremove my contact lenses, and I swore I smelled wax burning - theway churches smell when many candles are lit. I made my husbandsniff the area, and he didn't smell a thing. The next morning,the smell was gone.

I asked the girls next door if they had been burning a candle thenight before, and they said no. That night, I smelled the waxagain, and this time had the girls come in to sniff. (Theyprobably thought I was crazy) However, they smelled wax too. Thegirl who spoke Italian found the proprietor of the pensione andasked about the smell.

It seems that the entire building had been a monastery for a fewhundred years, and that the fourth floor had been where the monkshad their cells. In the corner of each room, they had had aprayer stool and candles, so they could pray through the night.The proprietor said that the smell was "in the walls,"but I wondered why the wax could only be smelled at night, onlyin my room, and why didn't my husband smell it? I kinda hopedthat some monks would appear to me that night, but no luck. But Idid smell the burning wax every evening we were there after 10pm.