Sunday, October 30, 2011

The Mirage of the Maremma ~ Ghost Stories from Grosseto

~ True Story ~

This time last year, I was traveling with a group in Italy. We were one day away from being finished and were in Grosseto to meet up with Morellino producers. At the end of the day we headed back into town, checked into our hotel and agreed to meet later for one last dinner.

Settling into my room, I opened my window, only to be greeted by the onerous barking of a hound below. I went down to see what the poor little creature was crying about, but was unable to find his owner. About then it was time to go to dinner.

We’d had a long day and most of us were tired. One in our group, a young buyer (let’s call her Carrie), wanted to stay up, so I hung out with her. She was cool, had good energy, and although she probably would have rather been there with her boyfriend, humored me. She was kind of an old soul, and that was how we interacted.



After hanging out in the main piazza of Grosseto and finishing off a bottle of bubbles, it was getting rather late. I mentioned to Carrie that we should probably get back to our rooms, as we had an early departure in the not so distant morning. As we were walking back to the hotel, she said to me, “I think my room is haunted.” I pressed her for more details, but she only said she had a creepy feeling when she went into the room to drop her bag and wash her face. I said, “OK, let’s go investigate.“

As we walked up to the hotel, the town had an eerily deserted feeling. The front desk was abandoned. I walked her to her room. As we approached the room, my left side went chilled and numb, with a tingling sensation. Not a heart attack. Not warmth. Utter chill. Goosebumps. My head felt like it was going to explode. As we rounded to corner to her room, there was a picture on the wall right before her door. It was an odd image, like a death bed scene. Not very cool for a four star hotel. As we got to the door, Carrie became more fearful, but I volunteered to go into the room and check it out. Inside, the room was freezing. There was some kind of energy in that room that was out of place. I didn’t fear for my life, but I wasn’t about to swap rooms with her.

She stepped inside. Nothing changed. Still cold. My head was still on the verge of exploding. I looked at her and asked her what she wanted to do. Carrie was uncertain, but I could tell she was afraid. She wanted to change rooms, find the clerk downstairs. It was after 2AM. So we walked downstairs trying to find the clerk.

We found him and told him there was a “disturbance” in her room. We asked him to come up and see. Upstairs we took him in and showed him the room was cold and that the young lady was afraid. He looked at us as if we were crazy and told us the hotel was all full. No other rooms. I told him there was something evil in this room. He made the sign of the cross and left us to our own devices.

I mentioned to Carrie that I was not going to change rooms with her; for I could see what she was telling me had some substance to it. Something was very wrong. I offered to her my bed and I would sleep on the floor. “No funny business,” I promised. She didn’t think that was such a good idea. I wasn’t looking forward to sleeping on the floor, but it amounted to the best offer I could come up with. It was now 3AM.


“No, I think I’ll just stay here,” she said. So I left her in the room and took the small set of stairs back to my floor. The whole place stared feeling just a little too weird.

In my room, the dog had long stopped barking, but I wasn’t about to open up my window. My room, on the other hand, was burning up. What was with this hotel in Grosseto? I jumped into my bed and tried to get 4 hours sleep.

At 7AM I went down to breakfast and on the way down I stopped by her floor and I knocked on her door. No Answer. I thought she might have already gotten up as was at breakfast.

At Breakfast, Carrie was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she was out running. I settled into a seat in front of a picture of a young girl.


During breakfast, the picture drew me towards it. There was a little breakfast bar nearby, so as I got up to gather a fruit or refill the coffee, I would walk close to it. As I got closer it was is the energy of the picture told me something. That something was, “It’s only me in that room, nothing evil. Just an unresolved issue.” So it was the energy of a little girl. Maybe she had died there; maybe her father was the manager. Or the owner. Somehow there was a sadness in that hotel, that manifest itself as this weird cold and hot vibratory energy. I was glad we were leaving for Rome.

On my way back up to my room, I stopped at Carrie’s room and knocked again. She answered, looked disheveled, as if she had not had a wink of sleep all night. But she was alive and was going to grab a quick shower and meet us at the bus in 20 minutes.

Outside as I was waiting for our group and Carrie, I stood looking at the hotel. In the early morning with the morning sun on the front fa├žade of the building, it shimmered, as if it were a mirage.


To this day, I get goosebumps when I recall this story or tell it. Tell me it’s nothing. My visceral response tells me otherwise.


5 comments:

Do Bianchi said...

maybe the next question after "can wines be good or evil?" is "can they be possessed?" great post!

Ondra said...

It´s nice to see that the wine people are as much people as they are wine. I mean - there is no point writing about wine if you are not a human, right?

bianca said...

These pictures look straight out of Argento! What is it about Italians and stuff that's REALLY scary?

My left arm crawls just thinking about this . . . .

Alfonso Cevola said...

these photos were from the real place I wrote about, including the picture of the little girl in the breakfast room (and in the mirror).

I just heard from "Carrie", who just told me about the Bible that went airborne in the room after I left.

bianca said...

I figured they were the real pics. Jeepers!

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