Ghost Stories and Tall Tales of the American South

The Ghost of Bill Sketoe’s Hole

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The story of Bill Sketoe and the “hole that would not stay filled” is one of Alabama’s most famous (and true?) ghost stories.

Outside Newton, Alabama on the banks of the Choctawhatchee River is a spot where, in December 1864, Confederate soldier Bill Sketoe was wrongly executed for desertion. But the ghost of Bill Sketoe would continue to haunt the town and his tormentors. Watch the Legend of Bill Sketoe below (courtesy of Roger Powell/WDFX-TV in Dothan, Alabama).

Want to find the haunted spot for yourself?

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Bill Sketoe Hole, Newton, AL

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Bill Sketoe Hole, Newton, AL 31.344099, -85.613596 Story: The Ghost of Bill Sketoe\'s HoleOutside Newton, Alabama on the banks of the Choctawhatchee River is a spot where, in December 1864, Confederate soldier Bill Sketoe was wrongly executed for desertion. But the ghost of Bill Sketoe would continue to haunt the town and his tormentors.

If you’d like to learn more about The Legend of Bill Sketoe, check out these outside pages:

Current Photos of the Haunted Area

The Ghost of Sketoe’s Hole

More on the Sketoe Bridges

-THE END-

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3 Responses to “The Ghost of Bill Sketoe’s Hole”


Bill:

Fill the hole in, while camping out there all night. See what digs the hole back out if you dare.

Marsha Lorraine:

I have been enamored of your site for years, (since around 2006, in fact!), although there is one ghastly ghost monkey that I must shake off my back. Of all the Southern stories that abound as full as a southern table, rich and redolent with food for the soul, you lack any delicacy of the southernmost variety. Florida is as thick as the Everglade swamps with true and compelling folklore, yet you do a grievous injustice, a disservice to yourselves and your loyal southern followers in excluding an entire southern state.
Florida claims within its fair shores prairies of still-roaming buffalo and deer, rattlesnake and wild horses once hunted by white men and Native American Indians, alike. Here you will find marsh and swampland, where the black knees of cypress and water oak rise from sinister, serpentine waters too dark to make out the gators and water-moccasin that cut through them; here, the sugar-soft expanse of white beaches and deep pine forests still populated with beasts, where one might mistake the scream of a prowling panther for that of a woman. In St. Augustine, (founded in 1536 as the nation’s oldest city), the memories of pirates, Spanish conquistadors and the slaves of sugar-plantations are whispered in the night breeze that rustles through the palm-fronds and in the thick, hypnotic songs of cicadas. The very perfumes of the officers wives and the giddy wives of the night mingle like the echo of laughter in the heady waft of night-blooming jasmine and honeysuckle.
Perhaps you would remember the lost souls of Florida, lest they remember you first. I would be flattered to offer those stories I have collected myself, in my own writing for your editing and, so that you have source with a history and no infringement of copyright.
I hope with all of my southern-fried heart that you continue to tend such an enticing Venus Fly-trap of a site,
Marshraine
p.s. Please feel free to use this note as you wish.

themoonlitroad:

Hi Marsha, we would love to have more Florida stories! If you’ve written some or have story ideas feel free to submit at feedback@themoonlitroad.com and I’ll take a look.

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