The old stone well in John Parmley’s meadow was haunted. Legend had it that on the night of the full moon three headless ghosts would rise up out of it carrying their head under their arm.
When my grandfather was about 12 years old all that was left of the old well was a pile of rocks but the legend lived on. At that time grandpa's only source of entertainment was to spend an evening listening to the local men spin yarns down at his Uncle Wilbur’s cabin. That was where he first learned of the ghosts and their legend. When he left the cabin at night he had to walk home alone in the dark... Through the woods, and the meadow… passing right by the old stone well. "It was a fate worse than death," he said.
Then came a night when the full Harvest moon rode the sky and he was sure the legendary ghosts had him and he nearly died of fright.