THE ASHTABULA BRIDGE DISASTER
A Medium's Experience
By Ladyhawk

     Before telling of my experience, I have to give some historical background. I have shortened the details due to the length. If you are interested in finding out more, there are numerous websites devoted to the bridge disaster.
     On the night of December 29, 1876, about 7:15, the Pacific Express #5 was making her way westward. She was running two hours behind her arrival time at the Ashtabula Station due to a heavy snow covering the tracks from the previous day. On that fateful night, the wind was howling at an estimated speed of 40 mph. It was cold and biting. The #5 had two heavy engines, two baggage cars, three passenger cars, one smoking car, one drawing room car and three sleeping cars. It was just after Christmas and before New Year's, so I think it is safe to say the train was filled to its capacity. The number of people on board the train was somewhere between 156 to 250. The number varies as there are numerous accounts of the disaster.
     The Iron Bridge was of the Howe type. The designer and architect was Mr. Amasa Stone. Mr. Charles Collins was the bridge engineer. He had also done the final inspection of the bridge and deemed it safe for use. The bridge carried two sets of tracks. The length between the abutments was 150 feet and the drop to the Ashtabula River below was 70 feet.

     On that terrible dark night, as the #5 was on its journey to the Ashtabula Station, the first engine steamed its way across the bridge. It cleared the bridge, but the second engine plunged through the bridge. It fell 70 feet into the river, the other cars following it and crashing on top of one another into the gulf. The fires raged quickly through the twisted wreckage. Some of the passengers managed to escape out into the deep snow. One of the survivors reported how she heard screams for help, moans and the prayers of the dying. She said that she could see bodies and body parts strewn about the area in the light of the fires.

     Rescue efforts were slow in coming because of the heavy snows and the steep climb on the treacherous terrain. At least 80 perished in the wreckage, 63 (more or less) wounded were rescued, five of whom died later. Burned beyond recognition inside the wreckage were 48 people and it was speculated that others had washed away in the river and were never found. A coroner's jury ruled that the disaster was caused by improper bridge design and that many of the deaths were caused by improper heating apparatus which added to the fires that consumed the train.

     Charles Collins was so taken by the accident that after he testified in court, he returned home, ending his life with a single pistol shot to the head. The Collins Mausoleum is very close to the Ashtabula Bridge disaster victims' memorial in Chestnut Grove Cemetery.

     A couple of years later, Amasa Stone also committed suicide. He rests at Lakeview Cemetery in Cleveland, Ohio.
     That was 129 years ago. Their night of living Hell should have been over long ago, but for many, it's not.
     Chestnut Grove Cemetery sits high on a hilltop. It's filled with lovely Silver Maples and tall majestic Oaks. Even on the hottest summer days, at Chestnut, you can always find a shady tree and a light breeze. It's peaceful and quiet. All you hear is the breeze coming up out of the Ashtabula Gulf and the chirping birds. Many has been the time when I have grabbed a favorite book and sat in the back of Chestnut reading just letting the stress in my life drift away for a few hours. But, that was in the before time. Before I had an experience that left me so scared that I won't go back again. Especially not alone. I'm a spiritualist medium. For me to make that statement should tell you a lot. Paranormal events don't spook me like they may spook other people. I'm used to it as it's happened to me since childhood.
     About eight years ago, I was under a large amount of heavy duty stress. Most of the time, my head felt like a pressure cooker about to explode. I decided, to keep my sanity, I needed to go some place and chill for awhile. So, I found a book, packed a snack, and headed for Chestnut Grove. It was a lovely June evening. Warm, but not overly so, and a sweet breeze was coming up from the gulf, scented by the blossoms of the Black Locust trees. My only companions (visible) were squirrels and birds. I really didn't feel like reading, so I kicked back the seat in my van, letting the feeling of peace wash over me. I could feel my tensed up muscles beginning to relax, my breathing becoming slow and deep. I had finally found the peace that I had been seeking and my mind floated free. Little did I know how that was about to change.
     Please forgive me for taking a little detour here, but as I said, I am a medium. Most of the time, I can close the door on it, but not all the way. I am not a trance medium, but have been in trance before. It's happened a few times, but its too much like work for me.
     Anyway, as I was saying, I was lying there in my seat slipping deeper into a state of relaxation and just drifting along. No fear - no worries - just peace. All of a sudden, I began feeling sad. It was lightly touching my mind, then a split second later, it was as if a hot wind was blowing in my mind. On that wind came sadness, grief, confusion and loss.
     Another side note. At first I thought what was happening was an emotional link up. A link up is where I connect strongly with a soul that has just departed the body or the soul has left the body, but the body has not died yet. This experience is not a pleasant one. Sometimes it is very hard to break the connection.
     Whatever this feeling, I did not like it. Not one little bit. I was trying to come out of it, but instead, I slipped deeper. It was like something had me and it wouldn't let go. As the connection grew stronger, I was overwhelmed by blind terror and burning pain as though my clothes were on fire. I was flooded - drowning in the emotions of confusion and deep grief. In my mind's eye, I was seeing what resembled a large ball. It was like a mass of squirming worms, entwined around one another. But, these weren't worms. They were human souls. I knew that they were the victims of the bridge disaster.

     I had never seen or heard of any type of phenomenon like this before, yet there it was in front of me. They were trapped inside... inside of a nightmarish Hell that was never ending... constantly replaying over and over again. As I watched and listened, my shock and horror began to subside, replaced by deep empathy. The injustice of these poor souls being trapped for 129 years was tearing my heart apart. I wanted to help free them, but they were totally absorbed in their own suffering. If I could just get their attention for an instant - to draw their attention away from the "ball".
     As if in answer to my thoughts, I saw a woman come to the surface. Her dress was on fire. Her waist length hair was beginning to burn and her fingers were charred black stubs. (I swear I was screaming inside my head at the horror I beheld in front of my eyes) She was screaming, "My children! Where are my babies?" Tears were streaming from her eyes. This hit me so hard deep in my heart - to my very soul. This woman, living in a nightmare of pure agony, was concerned not for herself, but for her lost children. A purer love I have never seen. I knew I had to do something and quick, but what? I had never encountered a situation like this. I was playing it by ear. God forgive me, but I lied to her.
     "Here. Here. Your children are HERE!!!" I kept shouting it over and over trying to be heard over the roaring sound coming from the "ball".
     After what seemed an eternity, she stopped and looked at me.
     "Yes, here. Come here. Your children need you."
     She stepped out of the "ball". As she did so, a most amazing thing happened. Her clothes and hair stopped burning and her hands and fingers were restored to normal. I had lied to her and I felt like crap for doing it, but I had her attention now and I was going to play it for all it was worth.
     It was about this time that I sensed another presence. It was a dark, malevolent spirit. Very powerful. It was not happy with me and what I was hoping to accomplish. Now, I may sound like a cowardly dog, but to say that I was terrified by that darkness is an understatement. It was also then that I could feel the "ball" trying to suck me in. Pulling me down - drawing me in.
     The woman was coming slowly toward me, steady in her course, but dazed and confused. She was, even in her misery, exceptionally beautiful. It was then I said a prayer to the Archangel Michael. He had helped me two times before with bad spirits that had been deviling people's homes. I had been doing my best to get rid of them and kind of got in over my head. As to why he chooses to help me, I have no clue. I'm just grateful that he does.
     "Michael, I beg you, in the name of the Creator, God Almighty, come to me now. Have mercy upon this poor woman's soul and protect me. And please, hurry it up!"
     The woman stopped ten or twelve feet in front of me. She spoke to me in a shaky voice.
     "My children. Where are my little ones?" Her pleading blue eyes were brimming with tears.
     I sent out another plea to Michael, throwing everything I had into it. By now, I was crying myself not knowing what to do next.
     "Your children are with the Lord. They have been waiting for you. It is time for you to cross over and join them in God's love."
     I was at a loss as to what to say or do after that. I could feel the dark presence getting closer to me and that was really terrifying me. Then, I heard what sounded like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. The light around the woman had taken on a clear golden hue, like honey in the sunlight, and became more intense with each passing moment. I felt the darkness quickly retreat into the shadows. I was so very thankful for that.
     I said to her, "Go into the light. Your little ones are waiting for you. Go with God. Peace be with you."
     She turned and moved into that incredible light, stopped and turned to face me. Her face was radiant. "Thank you", she said, turned and walked a bit, then faded into the light. I was crying tears of joy for her.
     A voice spoke to me. It was gentle, firm and directly to the point. "Leave now while I am here. The time is short."
     "Thank you, Michael. For everything." He didn't have to tell me twice that it was time to beat feet... get the Hell out of Dodge.
     The more space between the "ball" and me, the less the pull. I could feel the connection weakening. It felt like a rubber band being stretched to the max, then SNAP, I was back in my body. Oh, Glory be to God, I was back in my body safe and sound. I opened my eyes. My body felt heavy. Glancing at my watch, I saw that only ten minutes had passed. This surprised me as I'd felt like the experience had lasted for hours. Since then, I have not been alone in Chestnut Grove. I just don't want to take that chance of it happening again when I am not prepared for it. On the other hand, how does anyone prepare for something like that?
     I have tried to enlist the help of other mediums in my area to free more souls from that Hell that they are trapped in, but after hearing my story, they respectfully decline. But I still hope that I will find other mediums that are willing to help me. It is a job for mediums who have courage enough and have command of their gifts well enough to free those souls. Then, they can finally have the peace they deserve.

* Author's note: This experience happened at least eight years ago. This is what I remember of the incident. The wording may not be exact, but it is close. This story is true.

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