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The haunting of Glen Burnie












The haunting of Glen Burnie


by David Jensen


Copyright 2016 by David Jensen


Shakespir Edition









The haunting of Glen Burnie


After leaving his parents homestead, he had proceeded to travel to the big city of Boston to study academics in the hopes of becoming a teacher. As a natural born intellectual he confronted no problems with the studies at the Boston University, and upon completion of the studies, applied at many a school. But to no avail, for he was from the countryside, a farmers son, and he lacked the social connections that was needed to acquire any position as a scholar. For food and a place to sleep as winter came to Boston, he started working on the harbor docks unloading schooner ships which were bringing cargo from Europe or the newly discovered Caribbean Islands. Hard work was not a stranger to him, as he came from a very strict protestant family working the land in Maryland. But his was a different calling, a thirst for knowledge and the wish to pass his knowledge onward to young persons. His calling is godly and pure, but he felt he was being cheated out of the chance to prove himself. This thought burned in him throughout the winter months of bailing the docks, and when springtime came, he made the decision to go back towards Maryland. He simply had to heed Gods calling that he be scholarly and teach the young.

Stopping in a small burg called Glen Burnie, he overheard two gentlemen discussing about who would find a new tutor for the schoolhouse. He realized that god works in mysterious ways and that God must have sent him purposely to this town. So he presented himself to the other gentlemen and offered his services for only housing and sustenance. The children at first respected him but as time wore on, their hatred of him burned to the bottom of their souls. He started to rule the school with an iron fist, much like his fathers raising where only Gods word was law, only as a tutor, he was much harder. The first thing when the children arrived in the mornings and stood in a single line, was an inspection for cleanliness of the pupils hands and fingernails. Newcomers children had to find out the hard way when during the first inspection, they had dirt on their hands or under their nails. For the Schoolmaster of Glen Burnie was already known and praised throughout the area as a religiously thorough man. To pray to God with dirty hands was to shake hands with Lucifer himself, and therefore he had a stick for metering out punishment always hanging at his side. A child had only to make the mistake once, and when punishment was metered out,it came severely. But cautiously, because there could be no fingers broken on a child’s hand. For children still had Gods work to do on the family farms.

Then came two new children from families recently settled down on farmland. They took a position in line, and Susanne was standing next to James. Looking down, the Schoolmaster seen the near perfection of James hands. Long fingers, perfect skin, although very pale white in color, and the fingernails all perfectly cut and spotless. Right down to the cuticle. “You are James, correct young man?” The Schoolmaster asked. James nodded and the Schoolmaster said; “With your name and your immaculate hands child, you make God proud of you!” “Another great James of Maryland!” He commented to the other children.

Then he side stepped to the young girl next to James. The sight before his eyes made him irritant, and he asked in his surly tone; “Tell me your name girl, for you cannot be from same blood as good James here!” “He is not of my family Sire, for my name is Lusuanne. From the great country of France, Sire.” “Aye! Thou art from France, it speaks from your scroungy ungodly hands!” The Schoolmaster yelled, and went heavily down with the stick upon the hands of Susanne!

Her cry was great, but she cried alone. For the other pupils knew to sustain from comments or noises when the Schoolmaster heaved the stick in the name of the Lord. But James was oblivious to this, and looking at Susanne, he sneered and laughed at the immense pain wailing from her throat. “Tis a beautiful sound!” James said and laughed loudly. Now the other children were starting to silently pray, with tears running down their cheeks. For they and the good Lord knew that he refused to believe in, “Spare the Rod and Spoil the Child.” The parents bespoke great words of wisdom about this man, but the children knew different, caught in the middle between the Love of their families and their respectful hatred of this man.

The Schoolmaster stepped in front of James. “You like to play young man?” He roared at James and the schoolmates. Smirking, James looked him in the eyes and quietly said; “Ay, and we did not stop playing outside to come in and be beaten from the likes of you!” “Thou shall not speak to me in this manner and with such words child!” He yelled. He brought his stick up quickly from his side and swung it down as hard and with as much speed as he could. He was in a rage and meant to break the fingers of this insolent boy, to teach him and his family a serious lesson about respect. But something totally different happened.

As the stick broke and shattered into two, at first, the children were silent, saying prayer that the Schoolmaster would not see their weakness when they started crying. As the two children closest to James seen what had happened, they started to cry out loud. For the sight of the stick breaking, but not the hands of James, put a tumult of fear in the air. James, smiling at the Schoolmasters with his hands still stretching his long fingers out, laughed at him and said; “We children were playing, not being bad. And I laugh at you because you can never hurt me, Schoolmaster of God!” Breathing heavily, the Schoolmaster tried to hit James on the cheek, to no avail. And the thought of hitting a Blarney Stone came to his mind, a second after he registered the immense pain of his broken hand. He now submitted to the fact that James was of the supernatural world, so loudly crying out and in severe pain, he yelled at the children that they will never be allowed to play outside again. Going to the doorway, he bolted the heavy oak plank across the door, as if the Indians were outside, ready to attack. “We want to go out to play! Schoolmaster! Let us out.” James teased, knowing fully well he could not force his will on the Schoolmaster.

Turning, the Schoolmaster grabbed the oil lamp which was barely burning to stay lit, and turned to James. He threw the oil lamp at the feet of the boy, and screamed as the flames curled around James body and the burning whale oil spreading over the wood floor; “Nobody will ever play outside again!” The flames quickly engulfed all of the tables and chairs, and as the smoke was getting thick and pitch black, James again started laughing aloud. Screaming for the help of his Lord and Saviour, the Schoolmaster then screamed; “Thou art Lucifer himself, as not to burn!” The laughter from James was louder than all the screaming when he proclaimed; “No. His son, and thanks to you, the children will again play outside, for all of eternity!”

The Schoolhouse was starting to fall into itself as it was engulfed in a big bonfire from hell. As James walked out through the flaming schoolhouse wall, his father was standing outside in the grass, smiling at the flames. “Son, you bring out the best in man! I like that!” As some of the families who lived nearby ran toward the building, they was sure that they seen a man and boy simply disappear in the smoke and flames of the inferno. For many years to come people would swear on the Bible that it must have been the devil himself walking amongst the flames. The ashes and parts of burnt timbers was all that was left of the old schoolhouse. And the spot of land lay barren for many a year, for when one would wander to the charred remains of the old schoolhouse, it was said that children’s voices and laughter could be faintly heard, as if still playing outside. The magistrate of the town was a wise man when he decided that a new schoolhouse was to be built on the other side of the township. Eventually, as nobody would purchase the supposedly spirited tract of land for farming, or anything else for that matter, it was decided to be written off of the property books. As if the patch of land simply doesn’t exist.


Glen Burnie, Maryland.

The year of our Lord 1820.


Maryland 2010

They had sold their cars, fishing boat, house and pretty much everything else. With the freedom which comes from no permanent responsibilities, they were nowadays touring throughout the countryside in their newly bought motor home, which had become their residence since they had both retired from their teaching positions. They were slowly driving along the lazy meandering road, when his wife asked if they could stop and simply take a little walk in the woods to stretch her legs. So he pulled over as far as he could onto the shoulder of the road. Although he hadn’t seen any traffic at all on this stretch of backwoods country road, he still turned the campers warning lights on, and after getting out and stretching their backs, they wandered a little ways into the woods amongst the thick undergrowth and Maple trees. Then suddenly he commented that his hearing aid must be starting to mess up again, because he could’ve swore that he had just heard the sound of children playing in a playground.


The haunting of Glen Burnie

  • ISBN: 9781310403637
  • Author: David Jensen
  • Published: 2016-05-01 15:50:07
  • Words: 1699
The haunting of Glen Burnie The haunting of Glen Burnie