Gossamer Ghost of Florida
by Gary Wright
“. . . sometimes, they come uninvited.” – Stephen King
Ghost stories are a staple of life in the South. They’re as plentiful as Friday night football; their entrance can be as fluid as sweet tea, and the telling of them is about as trustworthy as the U.S. Congress. We learn them from our grandparents or some other oldster, and, almost always, they happened to a “relative of a friend of a second cousin who was adopted, then twice-removed” — or some such. We usually hear our first “haint” story just after we are old enough to know the true meaning of fear and what it means to endure a sleepless night wondering. Magically, they are almost always told just before bedtime. How can a truly good ghost story help a child go to sleep? Every moment and every movement of air for the remainder of the night becomes the prickly finger of something — or someone — from the beyond, reaching out for a youngster to take back to the grave.
One sad and mysterious tale, worthy of retelling, comes from middle Florida. The story is about Elizabeth, the beautiful young bride of a prominent Jackson Countian, Dr. Samuel C. Bellamy. The two were deeply in love, and they planned an exquisite wedding to take place in the cool springtime of 1827 in nearby Marianna at the mansion that Dr. Bellamy had built for his wife-to-be. The wedding was idyllic, with guests coming from far and wide to watch the couple promise sweet, devoted love, which each vowed for eternity. The nuptials — vows of love and hope of a life of bliss and splendor — were repeated in a garden of sweet-smelling roses, as throaty violas and singing violins filled the air with music.
Ah, but if only such bliss would be so. Fate and doom were soon to take their place on the stage of their lives when, shortly after the wedding, terrible tragedy and horrible misfortune struck. Elizabeth, they say, took time out from a tiring day to rest upstairs in a comfortable chair. Fatigued, she dozed as she sat near the warmth of the soothing fireplace. As she slid further into slumber, the unspeakable happened when a floating ember from the open fireplace landed on her long, flowing, gossamer gown. The flimsy material fairly exploded into flames, and engulfed in fire and screaming in agony, Elizabeth ran from the house, spreading the fire even more. She was horribly injured by the burns which brought unspeakable pain and hideous disfiguring.
The young woman survived for a few days, suffering incredibly, before finally and mercifully fading into the peace of death. She was removed to the plantation of Samuel’s brother, Dr. Edward C. Bellamy, and laid to rest in a grove of trees near the Chipola River. According to the legend, she would not be contained in her grave because she longed so dearly for her beloved husband. Since that time, a spectral figure dressed in a white gossamer gown appears at irregular night-time intervals along the banks of the river, seemingly searching in vain for her husband.
Near the family graveyard just outside of Mariana, Florida stands an old steel frame bridge spanning the Chipola River. It was built many years after the horrible death of Elizabeth, but it became the haunt of the specter that many say is the earthly remains of Elizabeth Bellamy. She, they say, still longs for her dear husband and the lifetime of love which was denied them. They say the bridge offers an excellent vista for Elizabeth to watch over her own grave and to look for her husband’s eventual return along the winding road that leads across the Chipola.
After the untimely demise of his beloved bride, Edward Bellamy served his community as a physician, a judge, and as a politician for many years. He never remarried, instead devoting his life to his community and to nurturing an unrequited and eternal love for his wife. He died an old man, never knowing any further happiness but he instead found peace in service to his community and its people. It is said that out of respect for and in eternal remembrance of his late bride, even in the coldest of winters, Judge Bellamy refused ever again to permit a fire in his fireplace.
Even today many locals and a few occasional tourists swear that on cool evenings, with the scent of magnolia blooms hanging in the air and a hint of fog on the river, an iridescent female figure with gossamer wings can be seen. In the eerie summer’s evenings, she seems to be swirling and then silently floating over the river to meet the rising mist. What ensues can only be described as a mysterious dance macabre as the gossamer form meets the mist on the water which slowly encompasses the figure until it is consumed in the swirling eddy of the current.
Sleep well tonight, my dear.
Rose garden photo credit unknown
Bellamy Bridge near Marianna, Florida: www.dothaneagle.com
“Misty River,” painting by Deborah Fagan Carpenter, (Bill Carpenter owner)
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Well written.