“Believe half of what you hear and nothing that you see,” penned the famous author and poet, Edgar Allen Poe.

Wise words coming a very literate man who, when it came to the romanticism of spookiness, had it all down.

They are good words to live by at this time of year, when even the most serious of us open our minds to a little more of the macabre.

Nights of telling haunting tales, or listening to a local legend, can be recalled by most. Whether it was sitting by an outdoor October fire or as a child in your friend’s basement hidden under tents of blankets with only the glow of a small pen flashlight, the stories that wafted through the chilly night air somehow found permanent homes in our brains.

The town of Millheim and it’s surrounding areas run abundant with scores of spine-chilling accounts of the real, and maybe not so real, darker side of Penns Valley.

Today, I’ll guide you through some of the most told, hair raising tales that sit over this beautiful valley with its rolling green hills, Amish farms, and wooded thickets.

Musser’s Bleeding Tombstone

My Dad, was quite the story teller, and anytime that he could get my friends and I fired up over ones of his parables was all the better for him. So, naturally, one of his favorite local urban legends he shared was the one about the bleeding tombstone in Millheim.

“A bleeding tombstone in Millheim?” you ask. Yes, a bleeding tombstone. The Union Cemetery sits right along route 45 west, across from Harvey’s gas station, and just to the left, on the graveyard’s front lawn, lies the grave of a Mr. Daniel Musser (1822-1888).

Legend has it, that Mr. Musser had been a murderer and, after his tombstone was placed on his grave, blood stains started to materialize. Many believed that the dark red streaks and blotches that were coming through the granite was those of the people that he had killed.

More detail was added to Musser’s story as it spread across the valley, and eventually the description of the crimson markings became even more elaborate. Locals began to say that not only was it blood that they were seeing, but rather a blood stained knife. The tombstone was again replaced, and more bloody blemishes transpired. Rumor has it that a third monument was erected, and again, more red stains.

According to local recollection, finally someone came up with the idea of placing an iron plate over the markings. The tombstone no longer “bleeds,” at least nothing visible to the eye. However, if you peek around the edges of it, there is a deep hole in the front of the tombstone that has been corroded by something dark and, yes, red. In all fairness, one must tell the other side of the coin.

True history does not recount Mr. Musser’s past the way that the speculations around the area have made it seem. William Musser was a kind, peaceful man who owned a local business and had no known past of murder or violence. But what was coming through the heavy stone still remains a mystery.

Go see this tombstone for yourself and come to your own conclusion.

Millheim Hotel

Speaking of “haunts”, the Millheim Hotel is rumored to have a very special, permanent guest. Not many people know this but, the 13th President of the United States of America stayed at the Millheim Hotel quite often and, while visiting, fell in love with a Millheim woman who became his mistress.

President Millard Fillmore was in office for only three years, from 1850 through1853, filling his Vice Presidential duties after elected President Zachary Taylor fell ill and died.

To make a long story short, Fillmore’s mistress became pregnant and, upon learning of an illegitimate baby on the way, nonetheless a baby conceived out of an affair, the President wanted nothing to do with the woman or the child. The legend states that the woman was so in love with Fillmore, that she waited for him for quite a long time, and died of a broken heart.

Her ghost is said to roam the halls of the Hotel. Current Millheim Hotel owners, Buddy and Beth Cowher, say that there are daily run-ins with the woman. “Over in the old house that’s attached to the Hotel, there’s all kinds of noises. Doors slamming. The feeling that someone is nearby. Sometimes it sounds like someone is walking around,” tells the couple.

Swamp Hill Church

Churches, primarily the old, abandoned kinds, make the perfect scenario for any good urban legend. Penns Valley is lucky enough to have two of these.

The first of the pair being the Swamp Hill Church, which sits on one of the back roads to Penns Cave. The story dates back to the late 1800’s when a farm couple who lived very near the church,came almost face-to-face with a ghost of a young lady who appeared to be carrying a baby. She went into the church and cried out the name “Will,” and as she made her way into the building, she was flinging the doors open and lighting candles using only her ghostly powers. She went to the front of the room and stayed a short time before leaving and, fortunately, had the courtesy to extinguish the candle flames and shut the door behind her, in the same fashion that she arrived.

According to local historian, Jimmy Brown of Spring Mills, the couple who saw the ghost were Mr. and Mrs. Jacob and Rebecca Shultz, and the woman who came for a visit that day is all that remains of a love unfulfilled. “I have heard about the ghost stories,” said Brown. “The young lady in the story was a member of the Swamp Church. She walks with her baby and was in love with a soldier during the Civil War. In 1862, he enlisted in the 148th, Company D. The young girl was hurt when her love was killed at the battle of Chancellorsville in May of 1863. They had plans of getting married. They had a baby together. I found the information in the book, “Pennsylvania Fireside Tales,” by Jeff Frazier,” he continued.

The ghost of the young lady is said to appear around 12:00 midnight, each May 3rd, still searching for her immortal impended betrothed.

Egg Hill Church

As long as I’ve been running around Penns Valley, I’ve heard numerous tales of Egg Hill Church which was built in 1860, and was open through 1927, in Lower Georges Valley. With all kinds of accounts about the church floating around, from the pastor of the church going a bit bonkers and slaughtering his entire congregation, to rumors of Charles Manson’s followers breaking in and painting the cellar walls with blood, we never went closer to the place with anything other than our eyes. Some people say that the bell rings on its own and others have said that there is the ghost of an old man who will chase you with his walking stick if you get too close.

The church is one of the older standing churches in Penns Valley and was humbly built with nothing but plank wood siding, and no fancy garnishes. This lends to its atractive eerie charm. The doors to the church are kept locked and, due to a rash of vandalism of the sacred grounds over the years, both the church and its adjoining property are both no-trespassing zones that are frequently patrolled by the local Pennsylvania State Police.

Penns Valley Historical Society President, Vonnie Henninger, said that years ago, the heavy, iron church bell was stolen. “They found it in a parked car up in State College. Whoever took it caused lots of damage to the church, and they dropped the bell out of the belfry to get it down,” she said.

The church’s mysterious legends draw people from near and far, and photos of the building are found all over the internet. One historical building photographer from the website “Old Structures & Interesting Places in Central Pennsylvania & Beyond”, stated that he was there for a quick photo shoot recently and that this would be his last trip. “I was there in August, and these will be some of the last pictures I ever take there after my experience.” He did not comment further on what had happened to him while visiting Egg Hill, and possibly never will.

Ingleby Monster

You can’t be in Penns Valley for long without eventually running into the story of the Ingleby Monster (pronounced Ing-Gel-bee). My Grandpa always told the story, since he had grown up near Farmer’s Mills, but it seems like with every good campfire tale comes with it a dozen different versions and, depending on who you ask, you’ll get an array of good ones.

Late nights with car loads of teenagers heading up to Ingleby, which can be accessed through a dirt mountain road east of Coburn, painted my later teen years. Stories of a half man half deer being, living in the deep woods were what I’d heard most of my life, but others say that there was an entire family murdered at one of the remote houses up there. Other people, who I personally know, have told their own experiences of feeling like they were being watched and possibly stalked while at Ingleby. At one time Ingleby had a lighter reputation and was home to a railroad stop, a picnic area, a one room school house and even a resort. Even now, if you drive up at the long windy road, you find something really neat – a weather stone suspended on a tri-pod with a quirky little guide to reading the rock. “If it’s wet, it’s raining. White means snow. Warmth indicates sunshine and swinging means wind.” And then the darker side creeps in.

According to local historical documents, provided by the Penns Valley Historical Society, there is a graveyard at Ingleby with only 6 graves-all children. A son and a daughter of Mr. and Mrs. William Koonsman, a son of Mr. and Mrs. Harry Kreamer, and the triplet girls born to Mr. and Mrs. John Barker. The same document also mentions the monster and how it may have affected the Ingleby population. “As the story goes, when a family didn’t show up for their usual Friday night out on the town, local Ingleby people would go back and check on them. One time, they found an empty house with a table full of prepared food sitting on it. The people were frightened and left quickly, never returning. The house remained vacant for a number of years and then, an elderly man who kept to himself, bought the property. He was seldom seen or spoken to and then, one day, a neighbor stopped by and found him beheaded. This was the second unsolved mystery in the same house.” Spooky indeed.

My own mind remembers Ingleby as a place that bored local youths wandered to when there was nothing else to do around Halloween. I recall being in the pitch dark standing with a bunch of other girls, while the guys in the car wandered off into the woods toward one of the old abandoned houses in search of the monster. Huddling together under the full harvest moon, only shadows around us could be seen, until out of the darkness, two glowing eyes appeared. However, it was no monster. It was one of the silly boys tricking us with two cigarettes. Nonetheless, I think that was my last trip to Ingleby in the dark.

The Eutaw House

The Eutaw House is an old hotel that was built on the estate of the late General James Potter who built it during the third quarter of the sixteenth century. Potter was an aide to George Washington during the Revolutionary War. Upon leaving the military, Potter started constructing what was then a large log house for weary travelers, on an ample track of land in what is now his namesake town of Potter’s Mills (formerly Potter’s Bank).

When Potter died, his grandchildren decided to build a new roadside abode that would be grander than the last, in the hopes of attracting large amounts of visitors. Thus began the well-over two hundred year long history of the Eutaw House. Over the centuries, the Eutaw House, welcomed many upper class residents. And local legend says that one very famous writer mentioned at the beginning of this very article was one of them – and that he never left. Rumor has it that in 1939, Edgar Allen Poe spent a few nights at the Eutaw House on his way to Poe Valley to visit some relatives that lived there. The tale continues and becomes even more entwined.

Local residents tell that Poe fell in love with an area woman, named Helena. She swooned him so much that he couldn’t stop thinking about her and, while finally in Poe Valley which is only 3 miles away from Potter’s Mills, Poe enjoyed a stroll in the woods. While he was on his nature walk, he came upon a bunch of large black birds flying down through the valley, squawking as these birds always seem to do when someone is interrupting them in their habitat. Poe related their calls as cries of sorrow and reckoned that they, too, were as sad and mournful as he was. Falling in love so quickly with the local girl had left his heart heavy and his cries, although not outright, felt much like the way the birds sounded. Many in the area have passed down the tale, and say that Poe’s most famous poem, “The Raven,” was really about Helena and his undying love at first sight for this girl, who he wrote about in the famous passage, but gave her a pseudo name of the now famous, nevermore “Lenore.”

Those that have worked at the Eutaw House have shared their stories about feeling a presence there. Dishes lifting with nobody near them, bells ringing, thuds in the night, and cold drafts on warm days. Poe’s initials are said to be carved in a small table upstairs. Becky Guisewhite, of Millheim, worked there in her early twenties and said that, due to the eerie feeling of the hotel, she was only employed there for a short time.

“I only lasted a few days. Nothing really happened that I can put my finger on, but there was an over whelming feeling of fear that went with the place. Even when the hotel was full of people, and once there was a Christmas party full of guests that I knew upstairs, it didn’t make it any easier. You just did not feel alone-and not in a nice way either. I don’t know what else to say-there are just no words. When I resigned, I told them that I had to quit and couldn’t be there anymore-ever. There was just something wrong. My last night working there, I left and I never went back.”

So, if you want a night out of a little scaring and sharing, head on over to Millheim, mugs of hot chocolate and blankets in hand, and check out a few of the local scares, and heed the signs with posted rules – especially the ones that read to beware of the ghosts.

Have a happy and safe Halloween.