In downtown Apalachicola, there’s an old hotel. Sometimes the floors creak and the pipes leak, but it’s filled with southern charm, reflective of a bygone era. And local legend has it that certain spirits of long ago inhabit the place. Many have heard footsteps or voices in empty rooms. Some have had televisions or water faucets turn on in the middle of the night. And a few have even seen apparitions.
One of the most mysterious of these legendary ghosts is the ‘gray lady’, who is said to float up and down the hallway of the second floor, peering into open doorways. She is attired in a long gray dress adorned with ruffles and lace. Her platinum hair is put up in a bun and she wears a pearl hairpin that shines in the hallway lights. No one knows exactly who she is, but there’s plenty of speculation. Some claim that she is ‘Sunshine’, one of the Gibson sisters that bought the hotel from it’s original owner.
Another story is that she is the sad, rejected lover of a wealthy farmer from Georgia. They were supposed to marry in the spring, after his cotton crops were planted. She checked into the hotel, expecting him to meet her there in a few days, so they could get married in the luxurious inn. But time passed with no word from him. She tried to get in touch with him, but never received a reply. Finally, one moonless night, she found out that he had run off to South Carolina and married another woman. This broke her heart so deeply, that she walked out onto the veranda and shot herself. There are those who have heard the distinct sound of weeping on dark nights when there is no moon and sea winds blow mournfully. Others say she walks the halls endlessly, trying to find the lover who never came.
One evening an elderly man arrived at the hotel and came into the bar for a nightcap. He struck up a conversation and began to describe the inn as it was back in the forties. He said he used to come up from Miami to visit a cousin that lived close by. He remembered screen doors on all the rooms and how folks would open levers above their doors to let cool air circulate. One night he came out of his room in search of a blanket. He saw a woman pass down the hall and thought she must be one of the housekeepers. But when he called to her she kept going and finally rounded a corner. “Perhaps she’s hard of hearing.” he thought to himself as he followed her. But when he turned the corner, no one was there. “I didn’t hear a door shut, so she couldn’t have gone into one of the rooms.” he speculated. “One thing I’ll never forget is that long gray dress with it’s lacey neckline and a pearl hairpin in her pale hair - almost like a dream.”
Several years after that, a lady came down from Canada to look at properties on the water. She checked into a room on the second floor and later proceeded into the bar for an evening libation. “It was the strangest thing.” she began. “As I was leaving the room, I saw a woman dressed in a long gray gown. Her hair was put up in an old-fashioned style, and she was watching me. As I approached her, she began to fade away. By the time I would have passed her, she was gone.”
As the years go by, stories continue. Guests occasionally report seeing her as she glides down the hall on her endless journey. Housekeepers sometimes say they feel as if she’s keeping an eye on them to make sure they’re doing a proper job. Once, a while back, I went upstairs to retrieve a bottle of Kahlua for the bar. And as I was leaving, I had the distinct impression someone was watching me. It was so quiet, I would have heard someone approaching, but when I looked, no one was there. I tried to shake off the feeling and started down the stairs. At this point, the feeling was stronger than ever, so I took one last look down the hall - just in time to see a figure in a long gray dress disappear around the corner behind me.
