Steamboat Dispatch
Letter to the Editor: The Steamboat Dispatch
Dear Esteemed Staff of the Steamboat Dispatch,
I trust this letter finds you all well, tucked away in the warmth of your office while the winds howl and the leaves dance their autumn waltz across Lower Chateaugay Lake. It is I, Thaddeus “Owlbone” Frawley, a local guide of some repute, well-seasoned by years of wandering these woods and waters, and a witness to the tales that swirl like the mists over our dear lake.
Today, I wish to lend my voice to a tale that, while whispered in the shadows, deserves a robust telling, lest it fade like an old photograph. I speak of none other than the ghost of the once-proud Banner House. Ah, the Banner House! A grand edifice that once rose regally from the shores of our beloved lake, its windows sparkling in the sunlight, its dining hall echoing with laughter and the clinking of fine china. Yet, as is the way of life, the winds shifted, and the glory dimmed, giving way to a hush that settled heavy as a winter snow.
Now, dear readers, I know what you’re thinking: a ghost story? Yet hear me out. It is said that the spirit of a young maid named Eliza still roams the halls of that dilapidated mansion, trapped in a sorrowful embrace with the very place where her life was cruelly snuffed out in a kitchen fire—an inferno born from a simple spark of fate. Her laughter, once mingling with the aroma of fresh bread and spices, now lingers as a haunting melody, echoing softly through the cracked and weathered walls.
Visitors to the Banner House have reported, with wide eyes and trembling voices, the faint strains of a haunting song wafting through the night air. As one fisherman staying nearby described, the sound is like a lullaby—soft, yet heavy with the weight of grief. Picture it, if you will: the moon hangs low over the lake, silvering the waters, while the gentle breeze carries the mournful notes of a spirit longing for the life she once cherished.
And it doesn’t stop there! Imagine the kitchen, long devoid of life, yet still imbued with the essence of the past. The clinking of dishes can be heard at odd hours, as though Eliza herself continues to prepare meals for the guests who now remain but a memory. One can almost see her, a flicker of white against the darkness, moving with grace through the shadows, a soul bound to a place she can never abandon. A local neighbor, too, spoke of seeing a figure in the window, her sorrowful eyes watching the lake with a longing that pierces the heart.
Let me be clear: the Banner House may have crumbled, its walls now standing as mere sentinels of its past glory, but Eliza? She has not wavered. Her spirit clings fiercely to the place where her laughter once filled the air. It is a reminder of the joys and sorrows that dwell within the heart of our beautiful Chateaugay Lake.
So, dear readers, the next time you find yourself in the haunting shadows of the Banner House or hear the whispers of the night, remember Eliza. Take a moment to listen, perhaps even offer a gentle word of solace to the spirit that lingers. For in our bustling lives, we sometimes forget that the past remains intertwined with our present, and the echoes of those who came before us deserve our remembrance.
With all the stories still echoing in my heart and a steadfast belief in the shadows that weave through our world, I remain, as ever,
Yours faithfully,
Thaddeus “Owlbone” Frawley
Guide and Storyteller
Lower Chateaugay Lake
What mysteries of Chateaugay Lake haunt you?