Whispers, Whoops, And The Witch Beneath The Stone
The mirror never sleeps, it keeps the light of the past, the faces of the lost, and everything that we wish we could forget. The Mirror Watches listens to the reflections, a collection of true hauntings, restless souls, and that strange heartbeat that lingers in old places. You might come seeking stories but you will leave with something watching over your shoulder.
Across New Brunswick, the air itself remembers. From those deep woods in Renous, where the Dungarvon Whooper continues to scream his rage into the night. Those quiet trails of Wolastoq Park, as unseen voices murmur from the trees, the Province actually hums with the restless weight of its past.
In the grand halls of the Algonquin Resort, phantom staff go about their duties, drawers closing, lights flickering, crying echoing from empty rooms. Or at the Loyalist House, where it's the giggle of invisible children playing among the relics of another century which chills the blood more than any cry. And beneath a slab of concrete on a lonely patch near Moncton, Rebecca Lutes, the witch of the Lutes family farm rests uneasy if she even rests at all.
Each of these hauntings are in a different tone, one violent, one sorrowful, one kind, one innocent, one tragic. However, all of them share the same heartbeat, memories refusing to die. These echoes of human emotion are so strong they outlasted flesh and time. Anger, love, duty, curiosity and fear. What binds these screams, the whispers, the laughter, and silence is not darkness itself, but the refusal to be forgotten.
These are merely not ghost stories, they are reminders that every place remembers what it has witnessed, and sometimes if you listen closely, the mirrors of the past still watch back.
Dungarvon Whooper, Renous, New Brunswick
Tucked away in central New Brunswick, you will find the Dungarvon River which is home to the Whooper. Around the late 19th and early 20th century this heavily forested area was once home to various logging camps. It is in one such camp where this terrifying tale unfolds.
It was in the dead of winter when a young Irish cook named Ryan Garvon had arrived at such a camp with little belongings, and a small money belt that held his life savings which he was not shy to admit.
He was adored at the camp for serving the lumberjacks warm, home cooked meals. Yet, on a dark night, while the others were away, someone slit Ryan's throat, and robbed him before burying him in a shallow grave out in the woods. Ryan who had been known to whoop and holler, screamed throughout that night and ever since. Haunting the lumberjacks, and the sound not only terrified them, but it spooked the horses as well.
It was from that day forward, that the mysterious blood curdling screams could be heard around the area, all night, every night. The lumberjacks believe it is Ryan, and even the locals avoid the area. Yet, whatever screams in those woods, one thing is sure, it can't be good.
He was adored at the camp for serving the lumberjacks warm, home cooked meals. Yet, on a dark night, while the others were away, someone slit Ryan's throat, and robbed him before burying him in a shallow grave out in the woods. Ryan who had been known to whoop and holler, screamed throughout that night and ever since. Haunting the lumberjacks, and the sound not only terrified them, but it spooked the horses as well.
It was from that day forward, that the mysterious blood curdling screams could be heard around the area, all night, every night. The lumberjacks believe it is Ryan, and even the locals avoid the area. Yet, whatever screams in those woods, one thing is sure, it can't be good.
Wolastoq Park, Saint John, New Brunswick
The park itself sits along the river known in the Maliseet Language as Wolastoq which means beautiful river, also known as the Saint John River. This river was once the central source for the Maliseet people for food, medicinal plants, materials, and transportation. The name of the park was meant to honor their heritage.
However, the land in which the park sits was the former home of the psychiatric hospital known as Centracare, and before that name it was known as the Provincial Lunatic Asylum. The building was closed in 1998, and demolished in 1999. The remains of the building and tunnel system were bulldozed and buried and developed into a public park by J.D. Irving. The park was officially opened in 2004. It features walking paths, lookouts over the Reversing Falls, and statues that highlight both historical figures and indigenous histories.
Located at 228 Lancaster Avenue, the vantage point gives a dramatic view of the river, industrial landscape and the Reversing Falls. It also features a depiction of the legend of Koluskap smashing the beaver dam that lead to the creation of the rapids.
However, due to its shady history the park is known to be haunted. Most park goers have often reported hearing crying babies, and disembodied voices, as well as feelings of being watched, strange lights, and a strange mist. It is believed that this activity stems from the asylum standing there a good 150 years, and though now gone the spirits remain.
However, the land in which the park sits was the former home of the psychiatric hospital known as Centracare, and before that name it was known as the Provincial Lunatic Asylum. The building was closed in 1998, and demolished in 1999. The remains of the building and tunnel system were bulldozed and buried and developed into a public park by J.D. Irving. The park was officially opened in 2004. It features walking paths, lookouts over the Reversing Falls, and statues that highlight both historical figures and indigenous histories.
Located at 228 Lancaster Avenue, the vantage point gives a dramatic view of the river, industrial landscape and the Reversing Falls. It also features a depiction of the legend of Koluskap smashing the beaver dam that lead to the creation of the rapids.
However, due to its shady history the park is known to be haunted. Most park goers have often reported hearing crying babies, and disembodied voices, as well as feelings of being watched, strange lights, and a strange mist. It is believed that this activity stems from the asylum standing there a good 150 years, and though now gone the spirits remain.
The Algonquin Resort, St. Andrews By The Sea, New Brunswick
The resort opened its doors in the seaside town of St. Andrews, New Brunswick in 1889. This was NB's first sea side resort. In the early years the resort had thrived by attracting visitors from the large inland cities who were looking for sea-air, salt water baths, and a retreat near the bay. It was doing so well that they even added expansions. The "Painter Wing" in 1908 and the "Kitchen Wing" in 1912, this had brought additional rooms.
Yet, in 1914, a major fire had destroyed most of the original wooden structure. Only one year later the hotel was rebuilt with the tudor revival style its known for today. Which features a half-timbering facade, and red slate roof. and much of the 20th century, the resort continued to thrive. The railway service had once brought guests, and there were some major renovations in the 1990s and 2010s. To this day the resort still thrives and it remains a landmark in the area.
However, the resort is so loved that some staff and guests refused to leave even in death. Like the ghostly bellhop that is often seen wearing a vintage bellhop uniform. He is noted as friendly, seeing guests to their rooms and giving a bit of a history lesson on the resort, but vanishes before he can receive his tip. And the night watchman who makes his rounds every night on the stairs and tunnels. He makes his presence known by the jangle of his keys.
Or the weeping bride in room 473, in which they believe she was left at the altar and died of a broken heart. As she is still in the room and can often be heard weeping. Or the young lad named Ben, who had chased a ball out a window and fell to his death, he can be heard playing in the hallways. While in the tower, guests have reported a woman in white, and mysterious lights even though the tower had been closed to the public for years.
Other happenings include, doorknobs turning, items vanishing and reappearing on the second and fourth floors, and things being rearranged in the dining room by phantom staff.
Loyalist House, Saint John, New Brunswick
This two-storey federal style house stands at 120 Union Street in Saint John, New Brunswick. It was built from 1810 to 1817 for David Daniel Merritt and had been occupied for five generations of the family until the late 1950s. This National Historical site is one of Saint John's oldest intact buildings that had survived the great fire of 1877 and later became a museum which is operated by the New Brunswick Historical Society.
The Merritt's were a United Empire loyalist family who fled New York after the American Revolution, and established themselves in Parrtown, which was early Saint John. The house still has many of its original interiors, including the grand central staircase, original kitchen, beehive oven, and Georgian and Victorian furniture. The house has remained unaltered throughout the five generations that the family lived in the house. This makes the house a valuable part of history.
Rebecca Lutes Grave, Moncton, New Brunswick
This gravesite is located off Gorge Road in Moncton. The legend claims that a 16 year old girl named Rebecca Lutes, was accused of being a witch for seeing the future and other gifts that she possessed. They hung Rebecca from a poplar tree, and then once she was dead, they buried her upside down so she couldn't dig her way out, and covered her grave with cement as an extra precaution.
This site is known for paranormal activity, mainly strange lights and floating orbs coming from around the cement. There has also been reports of strange fires and occult rituals in the woods near by. And a ghostly black cat often appears and disappears on the grave.
The ghosts of New Brunswick are not confined to old houses or forgotten graves, they linger in the air, in the soil, in the cracks of every mirror that seen too much. The Dungarvon Whooper's endless cries, the whispers in Wolastoq Park, the kindly spirits in the Algonquin, the laughter within the loyalist house, and the sorrow of Rebecca Lutes: all bound by the same truth, the human spirit leaves traces.
Perhaps hauntings are not a curse at all, but Earth's way of remembering us, in holding on to the moments in which we poured too much emotions to truly let go. Every echo, every cold breath, every flicker is a communion between then and now. So, when night falls and the world goes quiet listen closely. Whether it's a cry, a whisper or a laugh. It's not just the dead that speaks, it's the past still alive in the mirror that watches us all.
This site is known for paranormal activity, mainly strange lights and floating orbs coming from around the cement. There has also been reports of strange fires and occult rituals in the woods near by. And a ghostly black cat often appears and disappears on the grave.
The ghosts of New Brunswick are not confined to old houses or forgotten graves, they linger in the air, in the soil, in the cracks of every mirror that seen too much. The Dungarvon Whooper's endless cries, the whispers in Wolastoq Park, the kindly spirits in the Algonquin, the laughter within the loyalist house, and the sorrow of Rebecca Lutes: all bound by the same truth, the human spirit leaves traces.
Perhaps hauntings are not a curse at all, but Earth's way of remembering us, in holding on to the moments in which we poured too much emotions to truly let go. Every echo, every cold breath, every flicker is a communion between then and now. So, when night falls and the world goes quiet listen closely. Whether it's a cry, a whisper or a laugh. It's not just the dead that speaks, it's the past still alive in the mirror that watches us all.
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