A Williamsburg Christmas- The Open Door

In the darkest, bone chillingly coldest month of the year, I give to you two ghost stories that happened to me at this same time of year, many years ago. 

For those of you who are unfamiliar with Colonial Williamsburg, it's a part of Williamsburg, Virginia, that has been restored to the way it looked back in the 1760's. Since Williamsburg was the capitol of Virginia at the time, Colonial Williamsburg takes itself pretty seriously. There are reenactors in costume, the stores sell the same goods they did long ago, and the food is apparently cooked from the same recipes they used back in the day. You can even stay in the historical district in buildings that are in their colonial dressings. Honestly, it's just a big old tourist trap, but there are many people who don't care about that part.

When I was eighteen, my parents decided that for that Christmas, we would be staying in Colonial Williamsburg, in one of the old buildings. It wasn't terribly exciting because once you've been there once, you've seen everything there is to see, but it would be a change from the usual holiday routine, and the novelty of that was enough that I was a willing participant. 

The way Williamsburg works, you pay for your room, board, and meals in their entirety months before you actually go. It's not cheap, either. I include this detail because it means that my family had already paid quite a bit of money before I learned the nature of the building where we would be staying. Apparently, this building was reserved for the lodging of the enslaved people owned by slaveowners visiting the area. If true, it's horrifying, disrespectful, and absolutely tasteless of the establishment to use such a place as a glorified AirBnB. Happy holidays- here's a five star room where people used to be held as chattel property against their will! I've tried to either validate or disprove this, but all it says for the history of the house on the Colonial Williamsburg site is: "An original eighteenth century building." The house is called the Quarter, which doesn't bode well to me. 

But I was the only one who seemed to mind and we'd already made the commitment, so on we went. 

We arrived on Christmas Eve. The rest of my family went out to see the sights while I stayed home to take a shower. Even though I was home alone, I locked the bathroom door just like I always do. The lock was a latch with a metal bar going across the gap between the door and the frame and the fit was so snug that I wondered if I would have trouble getting out. But that was a problem for future me, so I went ahead with my shower.

I hadn't been in there long when I heard a very loud BANG!  I stuck my head out of the curtain and stared in shock. The locked door was wide open. The first thing that went through my head was how impossible that was, and yet, it was. Had my family come home? Had someone played a prank? I called out. No response. 

I threw on a towel and checked the entire house- not difficult since it was a tiny place with very few hiding spots. The house was empty. The street outside was deserted, and there was nothing in the back yard, and anyway all the doors were still locked. Once I was satisfied that I was alone I went back up to the bathroom.

"Whoever did that," I called out, "I don't want any trouble. I just want to finish my shower in peace." With that, I turned the water back on and did indeed finish my shower in peace. 

Then I tested the door. Even throwing my whole body weight against it while it was unlocked, it didn't budge. The only way I could recreate the bang I'd heard was by using the side of my fist. And for the latch to unlock itself? I had no earthly explanation for that. It was so tight there's no way it popped or fell out. I had exhausted all the mundane theories I could think of.

I don't know if whoever opened the door was angry with me for being a tourist in a place that should have been treated with more regard to its horrific past, or if it was some kind of colonial pervert. Whoever it was, I don't think they meant any harm. Nothing else happened for the rest of our stay, and I don't know why that would be, either. But this occurrence only marked the beginning of a paranormal, colonial Christmas. 

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