I’ve written many original ghost stories to tell during the ghost tour. I like to call these “campfire” stories since they are the type of stories that I would have heard as a boy while camping with family or friends. I’ve posted some of my favorites at this site for you to enjoy. For each story, you will find both an audio version of me reading the story and a printable version for those who want to read it themselves. It is my hope that you enjoy my work, and happy “spooking”!
Several years ago, I was working on the corner of Fourth and Allen Street, like I usually do. It was October, one of our busiest tourism seasons, at about 6:30 in the evening. It was already pretty dark and the streets were unusually empty. Suddenly, the wind picked up and I could smell a sulfurous odor in the air. Shortly after that, the bell that is hanging on the front of the trolley depot building began to loudly ring, almost like a fire alarm. I looked toward the depot and saw the shadowy figure of a man walking toward me. He was short and rather fat, and he was wearing old clothes that were tattered around the wrists and ankles. He was wrapped in a cloak and wore a top hat. When he finally got close enough for me to see his face, I could immediately tell that this was not a normal Tombstone guest. His face was pale and lined with deep crevices, almost like a parched desert floor. His lips were thin and lifeless and his eyes were very dark.
The man stepped up to me and said, “Good evening. I’m Neezer — and I’m a ghost.” Now, I’ve seen a lot of unusual things in this town both on and off of my trolley tour, but this was the first time anyone had ever introduced himself to me as a ghost. I guessed that his name was short for Ebenezer or something and he continued, “I came here to warn you about a problem we’re having on the other side. I’m the president of the Ghost Union of Tombstone…”
“What?” I interrupted, “A union? You’ve got to be kidding. Especially the ‘Ghost Union of Tombstone.’ Do you realize that spells GUT?” Neezer looked at me through his tired eyes and replied, “Of course we know what that spells. Don’t get me started…”
I replied “OK. So why are the ghosts going on strike?”
“There is just plain too much work for us in this town, and we’re all getting pretty tired. You have half a dozen ghost tours running every night, along with our normal work at dozens of buildings around town. We just need some vacation time.”
“I understand, but why did you come to me? How can I help?”
“The union decided that all of our ghost guides would have a contest and the winner would get full union support.” Neezer explained that the goal was to have a guest say his name. Of course, the tour guide couldn’t just tell someone to say “Neezer,” it had to happen naturally. Neezer also said that union members would be watching all of us carefully and if anyone broke the rules then they would be automatically disqualified.
It was only about two days later that Neezer stopped by to see me again and told me that Texas Red had been disqualified when she passed a note with Neezer’s name on it to a guest.
Things went along and I kept trying to figure out how to get someone to say “Neezer.” Finally, one night we stopped at the Bufford house, as usual. A little girl, who was maybe only five or six years old, started sneezing due to an allergy. She sneezed four or five times and I mentioned that we seemed to have a sneezer on board that night. She innocently shouted out, “I’m your ‘neezer.” A few seconds after that, I heard a voice say, “You win.” The other guests thought that someone in the back of the trolley had said that for some reason, but I knew better.
After that, I noticed a huge increase in the amount of ghost activity on my tour. There were numerous strange noises, including a chain rattling, guests were getting pictures of orbs and other manifestations, someone even reported that he thought he saw a white mist disappearing around the edge of a building.
And that is why guests on my ghost tour tend to regularly get photos of paranormal activity, but only rarely on any other tour. And that’s just the way things are in Tombstone, the Town Too Haunted To Die.