be the Huguenot Cemetery,” I said as I led my group across Orange Street. “This cemetery is a Protestant burial ground, as opposed to the Catholic Tolomato Cemetery, which we’ll see later. It was opened in 1821, shortly after Florida became a territory of the United States, and the same year a yellow fever epidemic swept through the town. The most famous ghostly resident is Judge John B. Stickney. The judge was a widower with three children, who came to St. Augustine after the Civil War and became a prominent citizen. He died of typhoid fever after a business trip to Washington, D.C., in 1882.”
I went on to finish the story of the judge and mentioned some of the other ghosts who reside in that particular cemetery before herding my group to the next stop. The oldest pharmacy, one of the buildings we were supposed to have gone into, took only a few minutes to highlight before we moved on to the Tolomato Cemetery and beyond. I kept a sharp eye out for any trouble, but once I’d put a bug in Etienne’s ear to back off, the groups seemed to have arranged themselves into camps. The writers followed me in a clump, three of them furiously taking notes, while the two with digital recorders added their comments to my running dialogue or fired questions as fast as I could answer them. Etienne strolled with Shalimar Millie and her friends and ignored Yolette, who flounced along ahead of him, pointedly out of his reach. Yolette tossed her hair and generally looked down her nose at all of us. Not even a hint of honeymoon pheromones in the air tonight, though I thought there was the lightest scent of blood. One of the writers had a Band -Aid on her thumb. Paper cut, perhaps?
Stony was busy at the back of the pack answering Gomer’s questions about fishing. When I tuned in to eavesdrop once, Stony’s gravelly voice answered one of Gomer’s questions. Something about trips to go deep sea fishing was all I bothered to catch.
Ahhh, wouldn’t it be nice if Stony had a hobby that kept him off my back?
Compared to the night before, I darn near double-timed my group through the tour. I knew it, and I didn’t care. The ghosts are traditionally more active during the summer and during stormy weather, but tonight they were in a frenzy. My opinion of the activity level? The group tension transmitted itself to the ghosts. Every tourist saw and felt multiple phenomena—
apparitions, orbs, and cold spots. Even old Stony looked distracted and pale a few times, though he didn’t say a word. When we arrived back at the tour starting point, I was exhausted and praying—yes praying, I can do that—that everyone would leave quickly.
Yolette was the first to grant my prayer. She sashayed off toward Orange Street when Etienne seized my hand and placed a kiss on it again. Ick and double ick, because his lips left a faint smell of blood behind. Had she belted him one in the kisser and I missed it? Darned shame if I did, but I let the thought slide away as Etienne strolled off after Yolette. Stony stabbed me with a look that could stake and followed Etienne. I might ’ve been alarmed for the couple, but I was sick of all three of them. Doesn’t make me a good person, but it does make me human. Gomer was the next to leave with a drawling “Bye, ma’am” and a wave. I did feel better when he strolled off in the same direction the newlyweds and Stony had taken, sure that he’d report it if Stony got violent. See? I’m not totally heartless. Shalimar Millie looked tired and troubled as she and her friends left, and I hoped the fast pace I’d set tonight hadn’t done her any harm. They headed in the same direction as the rest, toward the tourist center parking garage. When just the writers remained, I chatted with them for a while. I learned two of them were published —the two with the recorders—and three were aspiring. After getting their names and titles of their books, I offered to get them passes for another tour that would take
I went on to finish the story of the judge and mentioned some of the other ghosts who reside in that particular cemetery before herding my group to the next stop. The oldest pharmacy, one of the buildings we were supposed to have gone into, took only a few minutes to highlight before we moved on to the Tolomato Cemetery and beyond. I kept a sharp eye out for any trouble, but once I’d put a bug in Etienne’s ear to back off, the groups seemed to have arranged themselves into camps. The writers followed me in a clump, three of them furiously taking notes, while the two with digital recorders added their comments to my running dialogue or fired questions as fast as I could answer them. Etienne strolled with Shalimar Millie and her friends and ignored Yolette, who flounced along ahead of him, pointedly out of his reach. Yolette tossed her hair and generally looked down her nose at all of us. Not even a hint of honeymoon pheromones in the air tonight, though I thought there was the lightest scent of blood. One of the writers had a Band -Aid on her thumb. Paper cut, perhaps?
Stony was busy at the back of the pack answering Gomer’s questions about fishing. When I tuned in to eavesdrop once, Stony’s gravelly voice answered one of Gomer’s questions. Something about trips to go deep sea fishing was all I bothered to catch.
Ahhh, wouldn’t it be nice if Stony had a hobby that kept him off my back?
Compared to the night before, I darn near double-timed my group through the tour. I knew it, and I didn’t care. The ghosts are traditionally more active during the summer and during stormy weather, but tonight they were in a frenzy. My opinion of the activity level? The group tension transmitted itself to the ghosts. Every tourist saw and felt multiple phenomena—
apparitions, orbs, and cold spots. Even old Stony looked distracted and pale a few times, though he didn’t say a word. When we arrived back at the tour starting point, I was exhausted and praying—yes praying, I can do that—that everyone would leave quickly.
Yolette was the first to grant my prayer. She sashayed off toward Orange Street when Etienne seized my hand and placed a kiss on it again. Ick and double ick, because his lips left a faint smell of blood behind. Had she belted him one in the kisser and I missed it? Darned shame if I did, but I let the thought slide away as Etienne strolled off after Yolette. Stony stabbed me with a look that could stake and followed Etienne. I might ’ve been alarmed for the couple, but I was sick of all three of them. Doesn’t make me a good person, but it does make me human. Gomer was the next to leave with a drawling “Bye, ma’am” and a wave. I did feel better when he strolled off in the same direction the newlyweds and Stony had taken, sure that he’d report it if Stony got violent. See? I’m not totally heartless. Shalimar Millie looked tired and troubled as she and her friends left, and I hoped the fast pace I’d set tonight hadn’t done her any harm. They headed in the same direction as the rest, toward the tourist center parking garage. When just the writers remained, I chatted with them for a while. I learned two of them were published —the two with the recorders—and three were aspiring. After getting their names and titles of their books, I offered to get them passes for another tour that would take
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