Bow Mansion is a traditional, New England style family home from the early 1800s, that sits next to a private beach, in a quiet, residential area of Mattapoisett, Massachusetts. The 13 bedroom, seven bathroom Mansion was constructed at least 200 years ago, and it would seem some of the history of this structure never really left.
Third Floor Bedroom |
A friend of mine, Katja stayed in the house a decade ago as a child one summer, when the home was rented out by her extended family for a beach-side holiday. She was kind enough to tell me about her experiences in the house, this is her story.
The first day that Katja's family arrived at Bow Masion, she was up in her room on the third floor, changing into her bathing suit before going down to explore the private beach.
The narrow bedroom consisted of a small bed, a dresser, and two chairs in two corners of the room. As she began to undress, Katja glanced over to the corner of the room, seeing that one of the chairs was now completely turned, facing into the corner.
Katja was quite disturbed by this, asking relatives if they had turned it. No one came forward saying they had.
Later that evening, Victor was in his bedroom down the hall, playing music, when he heard his name being called in a whisper from down the hall. Thinking it was his sister Katja, he responded, and wandered down the hall to her bedroom.
The whispers continued, leading him toward the top of the stairwell. Victor stopped at the top, calling out to Katja to see what she wanted. Then, right behind his ear, he heard again a whispered "Victor." Turning and seeing nothing, Victor ran to his bedroom and locked the door, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
No one else would admit being upstairs or playing any trick on the kids. An aunt did complain however, about Katja and her brother Victor, running up and down the stairs all night long. She asked Katja's mother to tell them not to do it again.
Living Room of Bow Mansion |
That night, Katja was sleeping next to Grandmother when she was awoken suddenly, to the sound of panicked screaming. The old woman was asleep on her back, screaming as if she was being murdered. Katja said it was one of the most disturbing sounds she had ever heard. Immediately shaking her Grandmother awake, the woman was confused and disoriented, and rolled over, drifting off to sleep again. She had no recollection of this the following day.
Another relative mentioned that she had trouble sleeping because she kept hearing cats meowing in the stairwell, and running up and down all night long. There where no cats on the premises however, that anyone could discover.
Victor and Katja went with their cousins a couple days later to play frisbee in the yard next to the house. The Frisbee landed in some tall bushes and they went in to retrieve it.
They came to a small clearing with twelve small tombstones with first names etched into them. They were clearly very old and quite close together.
Katja later asked a neighbour about the little graveyard, and he said it was where the family had buried all their pet cats.
Katja had grown so scared in the passing days that she had taken to sleeping on the floor in blankets next to her parents bed at night. One night Victor got up to use the bathroom, and upon leaving he opened the door to find Katja standing there, in the dark hallway, alone. She was staring straight into space, and she was fast asleep. Katja had never been known to sleepwalk before in her life and woke up there in the hallway, without any knowledge of how she got there.
The complaints of hearing meowing and smelling cat urine very strongly in some rooms continued over the next two weeks of the holiday.
The owners have never admitted to any strange occurrences in the residence, yet there was one room in the house; the master bedroom that is kept entirely off limits to vacationers. To ensure that no one sleeps in the bed or uses the room, black and white photographers of the house and old, framed, family portraits have been laid out on top of the bed, covering every available inch.
There is nothing uncovered about the history of the house or those who lived there, and the house is still available for rent to vacationers over the summer.
Perhaps the owners have something to hide, perhaps the truth about this property would be bad for business, but undeniably there is a presence lingering for better or worse.
Victor and Katja went with their cousins a couple days later to play frisbee in the yard next to the house. The Frisbee landed in some tall bushes and they went in to retrieve it.
They came to a small clearing with twelve small tombstones with first names etched into them. They were clearly very old and quite close together.
Katja later asked a neighbour about the little graveyard, and he said it was where the family had buried all their pet cats.
Katja had grown so scared in the passing days that she had taken to sleeping on the floor in blankets next to her parents bed at night. One night Victor got up to use the bathroom, and upon leaving he opened the door to find Katja standing there, in the dark hallway, alone. She was staring straight into space, and she was fast asleep. Katja had never been known to sleepwalk before in her life and woke up there in the hallway, without any knowledge of how she got there.
The complaints of hearing meowing and smelling cat urine very strongly in some rooms continued over the next two weeks of the holiday.
The owners have never admitted to any strange occurrences in the residence, yet there was one room in the house; the master bedroom that is kept entirely off limits to vacationers. To ensure that no one sleeps in the bed or uses the room, black and white photographers of the house and old, framed, family portraits have been laid out on top of the bed, covering every available inch.
There is nothing uncovered about the history of the house or those who lived there, and the house is still available for rent to vacationers over the summer.
Perhaps the owners have something to hide, perhaps the truth about this property would be bad for business, but undeniably there is a presence lingering for better or worse.