Monday, October 14, 2013


Hello everyone,

I'm Laura Wright LaRoche and I would like to share a couple of paranormal events which I encountered as a child. I'm not sure if I believe in paranormal activity, but what I've witnessed has opened my mind to the possibility of ghost and other spirits. Some of my published works reflect these life experiences and the chilling emotions I felt at the time.

I will start with some of my childhood background to give you a bit of insight as to my family and upbringing.

I was born into a loving family on January, 28, 1968 to S. Lloyd and J. Louise Wright, the sixth and last child to be born into our family and I thoroughly enjoyed being the “baby.” From birth until age five, we lived in Carmal Indiana, and we owned a forty acre farm in Martin County, Indiana where we vacationed often. It was in the middle of “nowhere” with a home address of Shoals and the phone was a French Lick number. We visited the “farm,” which at the time, had a two hundred year old log cabin without electricity and plumbing. We, the children, loved the roughness and countryside this land offered. We carried our water from a well and used an outhouse. Every time we visited it, we didn't want to go back to our beautiful home where my family owned a gas station, grocery store and restaurant. We would cry and beg to live in the country. Finally, our parents gave in and agreed to sell everything and move. Within one year, we had running water and electricity, but to say the least, living in an old home surrounded by woods, had its scary moments which I will share.

This first event happened within months after we settled into our new living arrangement. One of my sisters and brothers, Julie and Eddy, and I went outside after dark, carrying our dim lit flashlights. We bravely made the hundred yard journey to the outhouse. Of course, along the way, my older siblings had to start off with telling a scary story they had heard from schoolmates. This story was about the area we now lived. The locals called it Peggy Hollow, and the legend was as old as our home. I'll give a brief description of the story.

A young married couple by the names of Paul and Peggy supposedly built the log home nestled on the highest hill in the valley. Paul was a traveling salesman and would leave he wife alone for weeks. Well, one day he trotted his horse that was pulling a wagon up the long driveway. Thinking of his love, he eagerly jumped down, carrying a bouquet of flowers and rushing toward their home. What he found inside was devastating. His beloved wife lay dead in a pool of dried blood after someone had beheaded her, and took it as a trophy. Paul searched for days, looking for his wife's head, refusing to believe it was her body on the kitchen floor. He spent the rest of his life yelling her name as he searched. Legend has it that this couple's ghosts can be observed roaming the area in search of each other.

By the time we reached the outhouse, we were so scared beyond belief that even my brother. Julie and I rushed in, with Eddy following right behind. We told him to wait outside, but he turned his back to us and said “hurry up” while he danced needing to pee. When we finished, we slowly looked out the door to make sure all was clear. After we decided it was safe to return, we huddled in a group as we kept our eyes peeled on the wooded area to our left and right. Grant it, I was only five years old on that night, but I will never forget what I saw and heard.

We suddenly stopped after a faint cry “Peggy” sounded from our left. Goosebumps covered our bodies on a hot August night as we strained to listen, hoping the cry wouldn't sound again. Then from nowhere, straight ahead of us, a floating image was only one hundred feet away. It blocked the path to our home. It rose and fell slightly, never touching the ground. It looked to be a headless woman in a long white gown. We screamed at the top of our lungs, and another cry for “Peggy” sounded to our left. The floating figure drifted toward the man's voice before disappearing. Stumbling over ourselves, we rushed into our home, slamming the door behind us.

Okay, was it our imagination getting the better of us? We thought so at the time—until it happened again and again within the next twelve years we lived there. After some time past, we were no longer scared of the sounds and floating images. Instead, we became accustomed to the events, and we enjoyed a few times that they scared our friends.

My novel called, Broken Soul is based on this log home I lived in. For years, we wondered what sort of people had lived under its roof and what the house had witnessed throughout its life. Did it approve of the families or only tolerate them? A question we always wondered, we knew it could never be answered.

If you do happen to take the time to read, Broken Soul, I think you will noticed that I finally came up with an answer on my own.

Another event I would like to share was a time during April, when our family ventured into the woods to mushroom hunt. No, you don't use guns to hunt for fungus, although I've been asked that question numerous times. Giggle.

Anyway, my father led us into an area that he said was “ideal for morels.” At that time I wasn't an avid hunter I am today, so I took him at his word. He was in charge of eight children, including three of his grandsons. Patiently, he pointed out the delicate sponges growing in the most peculiar places; moss covered rocks and logs, under a fallen tree and some out in the open. We squealed each time a mushroom was located. Within a few hours, our bags were full and dad was ready to go home. But most of us wanted to stay and play in the cool creek water, and look for “treasure.” He gave the okay before he went home carrying the bagfuls of mushrooms with him. A few minutes later, we were bored and we decided to play deeper into the woods where our father had warned us not to go. Given that we were children, it was the most likeliest if places for us to play.

An half hour later, we were laughing and swinging on a grapevine when something cracked in the nearby trees. We instantly said, “uh oh” thinking it was dad returning. We scattered behind this and that tree, hoping to hide from him. A few seconds later, another sound echoed throughout the woods. This sound was frightening, not something we had heard before. It was a low growl and we worried it was a wolf or fox. Needless to say, we ran as fast as we could and the whole time we ran, something followed us from behind, thudding the ground as it went. It sounded way too heavy to be something as small as a wolf. The thudding would stop if we paused, and then pick back up the minute we moved. Within a few feet from the creek bed, whatever was following us skidded to a stop—as if it couldn't go any further. Terrified, we screamed all the way home, praying we made it before the monster showed itself.

We stayed away from that area for several weeks, until our curiosity got the better of us. Slowly, we ventured back, keeping quiet as we walked. The closer we got the more our hearts sped up. Suddenly, as if we opened a door, the unnerving sound was heard. Shaking, we stepped back and the sound stopped. We stood still, unsure which way to move and the animal stayed quiet as we decided. One of us stepped forward and the sound emitted again. We did an about face and ran home. Over the years we learned to stay away from that spot in the woods, and for some reason we knew we were safe as long as we didn't cross the line which set off the sound.

I'm not sure if this was a freak phenomena or as simple as an animal protecting its home. The thing that always made me uneasy about this experience was how it only stalked and growled when we crossed an area about fifty feet away from the creek bed. As long as we stayed on “our” side, the creature kept to itself.

This event led to the creation of Black Woods, along with other life experiences and incidents, which most often occurred while mushroom hunting.

I hope you enjoyed my childhood stories and maybe you can find the time to read one or two of my books.

Thank you for letting me ramble on and I wish you the best in all you do.

“In a world of words anything is possible.” - Laura Wright LaRoche

Author website,




Today's giveaway consists of one copy of one of three books. Laura will also include bookmarks with the prize. The three books are:

- One ecopy of Broken Soul

In order to win, you must go to HALLOWEENPALOOZA's Official Event Page on Facebook.

Comment in the October 14th post announcing this giveaway that "I WANT TO WIN BLACK WOODS 1," or "I WANT TO WANT TO WIN BLACK WOODS 2," or "I WANT TO WIN BROKEN SOUL." If you're one of the first three to do this, you'll win! 

Avid mushroom hunters and volunteers with the local Search and Rescue Department, Laura and Julie, who are in their sixties, remember that first encounter in the woods years ago.

Four young men, who are fun by nature, travel to the woods with high hopes of a hunt they won't forget.

A call to the Search and Rescue Department will bring them shockingly together in the...
Black Woods.

Explore another tale of the Black Woods in Black Woods Revealed.

The fierce creature lurking in the woods now has a buddy in the lake. Laura has visions of disastrous events. In order to help find out if what Laura is envisioning is true, Julie and Laura team up with a reporter named Beth, who specializes in historical facts and myths. The three of them dive into the past to see what is hiding as they search for answers to the Black Woods mystery. In a race against time, they try to find closure to the killings that have occurred. Can the disasters be stopped before anyone else dies? How is the creature in the Black Woods connected to the monster in the lake? Find out, in Black Woods Revealed!

Enter a century-long journey of love and pain as an old log cabin shares its memories in . . . Broken Soul.

Meet Aca Wayne Duran III as he narrates the many-faceted stories of the house he calls home. An elderly man who thought he might be crazy as the visions were revealed to him through vapors and smoke.

From beginning to ending, the stories within will captivate you while you struggle with the realization of human impact upon a wooden structure.

Is it just condensation on the walls, or the normal “cracks, pops, and pings” of a house settling? You be the judge as you read about murder, love, lust, kidnapping, torture, and more.

Each vision shared has been painfully recorded by both the house and the writer. While some tales are softer than others, they all relate to the cause of the. . . Broken Soul.


  1. Thanks everyone for making this such a success! Have a great spooky October! :D

  2. Very spooky stories, Laura! I wouldn't have lived in the country for anything! You certainly adjusted well, though!