On my last night in town, my friend and I headed towards the river. We decided to go the Shrimp Factory on River Street for dinner. There were a couple reasons for my suggestions; the main one was because of its haunted history. We had a ghost tour booked after dinner which had headquarters nearby so that is another reason I pushed for the Shrimp Factory. The long stairway down to the river made me regret not taking the elevator.

River Street draws all kinds of people; tourist and locals mingle in the riverfront shops, restaurants and bars. I was looking for a chance to mingle with my friend that I hadn’t seen in years. During the 19th century, Savannah was one of the largest exporters of cotton and its port was a major stop on the transatlantic slave trade route. Warehouses on River Street stored both cotton and slaves. Some believe voices and chants can be heard in the upstairs storage room of the Shrimp Factory. I did not hear anything as I contemplated what drink to order. We were downstairs, sitting at the bar under original heart of pine beams, and grey brick and ballast stones, which gave it a dark and seedy feel. It wasn’t too dark because the light coastal art that adorned its walls. The decorations balanced the room making for a cool coastal pirate vibe. It is a place where pirates or sailors hung out and meet maidens.

           “They don’t have much of a wine selection here! I’m just going to stick with beer,” I said.

            “I can’t drink wine, it gives me a headache,” Kimberly II said.

            “I think I am going to try this beer, Dragon’s Milk. It sounds good and will be a tribute to my new tattoo,” I said as I elevated my newly tattooed leg on the chair.

            “You’re crazy,” Kimberly II said. “That is a big dragon tattoo. It must have hurt like hell!”

            “Comparable to child birth,” I said jokingly but with a little truth.

            “Really?” she asked and looked concerned.

            “No,” I reassured her. “It hurt, but not that bad. I looked at a painting of a demon the entire time I was tattooed and thought of my ex.”

            “Oh my God,” she said. “It’s pretty bad ass.”

            “Good because I feel pretty bad ass, fuck him, fuck ‘em all,” I said and winked at her, referring to both our exes.

            We had a couple of beers and moved to the dining room. During this time, Kimberly II ordered crab legs. They were on special for $9.99.  They never came after an hour of sitting in the bar so she told the waitress to transfer the order to the dining room. Everything else we ordered came and was eaten but the crab legs never came. The waiter in the dining room had no recollection of the order being placed.

            Another waiter apologized for the mix up and blamed it on Joe. Some of the longer-term employees refer to the ghost there as Joe. A middle aged man (Joe) dined there one night when he collapsed and died suddenly on the staircase.

            “For so many years we wondered why the fan lights flickered,” the waiter said. “We thought it was because of an electrical problem.”

            “Oh, yeah,” I said. “I saw the lights flicker earlier.”

            “Maybe old Joe likes you and is playing a trick on you,” he said.

            “Great,” Kimberly II added to the conversation.

“About 10 years ago, our electrical wiring was replaced and we installed new switches and dimmers,” he said. “It became real clear after that that Joe was just having fun with us.”        

He handed us the bill and we made our way to the ghost tour.  About half way in the tour it started it started to rain. He talked about the dark history of the city and it started to pour down harder.

“See that Irish bar over there?” Kimberly II said.

“Yeah,” I replied.

“That is where I will be when you’re done with your tour,” she said.  “I’m sorry but I am done.” She smiled and started to laugh as she crossed the street to the bar.

“Ok,” I said as I followed the others on the tour. After we toured the graveyard and a couple of squares in town, I made my way back to the Irish bar to find my Irish friend.

“Hey,” I said as entered the bar and saw her to the left at a barstool eating pasta and drinking a beer.

“Hey man,” she replied. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s all good,” I said and cut her off. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get a beer.” I walked to the bar and it was full so I went around the patio where there appeared to be another bar but the smell was so bad that I quickly came back inside. While I stood at the bar waiting for my beer, I heard a guy next to me complaining about the smell in the back.

“Yeah, it’s awful,” I agreed. He gave me a strange look and walked closer to me.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” I said back. And that is how it started and for the next couple hours we talked and drank beer. Much different than Cinderella, the clock struck 2 a.m., and the bar dimmed its lights; signifying it was time to close.

             “So, you are going to come into my life and leave just like that?” he asked and smiled.

            “I have to go,” I said as I laughed.

            “I have never met anyone like you,” he said.

            “And you never will,” Kimberly II piped in and smiled. “I am serious man. That one right there is a keeper. You should marry her and then she will move out here.”

            “Oh my God Kim! What the hell?” I said embarrassed. She laughed and walked to the corner. We kissed and then I walked away, glancing back to see him smile and put his hand on his heart.

            Kimberly II and I strolled back to the hotel.

            “Our room is this way,” I said as Kimberly II walked in the opposite direction of the room.

            “Oh, I’m tired,” she said. We turned around and walked down the brightly lit hallway.

We followed the red runner down the hall and turned the corner and something ran down the hall. I saw a shadow of a short person run and giggle and so did Kimberly II.

            “What the fuck was that?” I asked. “Did you see that?”

            “I did,” she said with no enthusiasm whatsoever. “Go away ghosts!” she yelled. “I am in no mood so you can just go away.” I was so surprised at her reaction that the only thing I could do was laugh. I also did not want to go chasing after whatever ran down the hall so we opened the door to our room and passed out.  The next morning I got a text:

            “I just wanted to make sure you made it back to your hotel okay,” the local guy I met the night before asked.

            “I’m fine, thank you,” I text back.

            “It was nice meeting you,” he wrote. “I wish you weren’t leaving today.”

            “I will be back,” I replied.

                                                                        ***

            My second trip back to Georgia and I booked a room at the 17Hundred90 Inn and Restaurant. I requested the haunted room in Savannah’s oldest inn. Guests who’ve heard the story of Anna Powers ask to see room 204, but few dare stay the night in the room she lived in. During the 1800s, Anna fell in love with an English sailor while staying at the inn and she married him. Like my marriage, the love did not last. Some say she jumps to her death out of the window but others say she was pushed out of the window and it was made to look like a suicide.

Regardless, Anna still haunts room 204 and, couples in particular staying at the inn. I came alone but planned to meet up with the guy that I met in Savannah the last time I visited in Spring. The airline lost my luggage and after a long a flight with two layovers, I needed a drink.

            My makeup and clothes were in my suitcase so the only thing I had was my purse and the sundress on my back. I was grateful that I wore my cute dress because I made plans to meet up with my new friend that evening. Joseph was a sailor and worked on the port of the Savannah River. He also drove the large ship when he was in the Navy. He told me that he manages uploading the cargo off the ships. He charmed me with his southern gentleman flattery that guys in California seem to fall short of, or at least the ones I have dated.

            “I’ll try your peach martini,” I said to the bartender in the hotel.

            “Coming up,” he said.

            “I need a drink, the airport lost my luggage,” I said. “Maybe give me a beer too and I’ll take that one to-go. I can do that, right?”

            “Yes ma’am as long as it is in a plastic cup. Where you from?” he asked.

            “California,” I replied.

            “You are a long way from home,” he said.

            “Yes, I am,” I replied as I dusted the dog hair off my dress. I have a large dog that sheds a lot and he is a big baby who follows me around everywhere. Sad but true, he is the man of the house. I also noticed a piece of hard candy cemented onto my cute sundress. “Oh my God, that’s just lovely.” I said and started to laugh as I peeled the sticky piece of candy off of my salmon-colored dress. “This candy has been stuck to my dress since California.”

            “Oh lord, that’s funny,” the bartender said and laughed while he handed me a drink. I took a sip of the martini and knew that I should have just stuck with beer or wine. It was much too sweet for my liking. I got a text from him, the cute local pirate who spoke funny. His niceness felt refreshing for my soul after the last guy I dated.

            Similar to Anna, I was still heartbroken from my last boyfriend but when her sailor lover skipped town, so did her life. Poor Anna was either murdered or committed suicide by jumping from the balcony of the room that I was sleeping in for the next three nights. Her spirit is said to cry out at night.

The minute I walked into the room I got a weird vibe but I was trying to figure out if it was because of everything that I read or if it was genuinely haunted. A lot of guests have seen her standing by the bed.

“Some people bring Anna gifts,” the lady said when she showed me to my room. I really do not like creepy porcelain dolls and became irritated by the sight of it next to the bed. I sat in the Inn’s bar, drinking my too-sweet peach martini, and dwelled on the doll in the room that I booked for the next couple of nights.

  I had been texting and talking to the sailor for a couple of months and assumed he would keep me company in the haunted room.

“I am staying in the haunted room,” I said to the bartender.

“With Anna,” the bartender said and then added: “People were just here filming that room earlier today.” He then quickly told me about the side entrance to the inn that I will enter at night because they lock the front door.

I just finished reading what guests chronicled in their encounters with Anna; some had their personal belongings misplaced. Some people say Anna was pushed out of her bedroom window by Anna's husband's mistress and that is why she doesn’t like women. Some female occupants have been kicked off the bed.

“People usually end up requesting another room for the rest of their stay at the inn because they get spooked in that room,” the bartender said.

         “I’ll be fine,” I said.

Kimberly Horg received her Master of Fine Arts from California State University, where she worked as nonfiction editor for The Normal School. She’s previously been published in Dove Tales, Writing for Peace Literary Magazine, Abstract Elephant Magazine, Iris Literary Journal, East by Northeast Literary Magazine and Sterling Clack Clack Magazine.