The Haunted Christmas Quilt

"Los Angeles Times," October 12, 1963, via Newspapers.com

I love Christmas ghost stories. I love reports of "haunted objects." Naturally, I was delighted to come across a an incident that manages to combine both.

Behold, the Haunted Christmas Quilt.

Our little tale originates on the farm owned by Dora and William Monroe just outside of Poy Sippi, Wisconsin. The couple bought their home in 1955, after the previous owner died. Among the furnishings they acquired along with the farm was a colorful black, red and yellow patchwork quilt, about 60-75 years old. The Monroes kept it stored away for a couple of years, until Mrs. Monroe brought it out to use in the guest bedroom "because it was so beautiful and so old." Soon afterward, the Monroes' daughter, Florence Delfosse, spent the night at the farm. She was given the bedroom adorned by the old quilt.

Then things got weird. Around midnight, Mrs. Delfosse was awakened by a jerking sensation from the bottom of the quilt. Too surprised and frightened to make a sound, she just desperately held on to her end of the quilt. This spectral game of tug-of-war was interrupted by a voice snapping "Give me back my Christmas quilt!" Not knowing what else to do, Florence stubbornly held on to the quilt until dawn, when the tugging stopped.

Florence's account of her disturbed night created quite a family sensation. Another Monroe daughter, Margaret Lowther, came over to test the quilt for herself. Just after midnight, she too felt the violent jerking of the quilt. The blanket also became extremely hot--"as if the heat came from an oven." The alarmed woman flung the quilt off the bed. When Margaret's daughter-in-law Margie Monroe used the quilt, she swore it had an audible heartbeat.

Margaret's teenage son Tom decided to get in on the fun. He spent the night on a sofa wrapped in the quilt, while another Monroe grandson, Richard Hobbs, stayed awake to view events. Sure enough, right after midnight Richard saw invisible hands yank the quilt from the sleeping Tom. According to Richard, the quilt raised itself about a foot above Tom, after which it floated away from the sofa and landed on the floor.

The boyfriend of a Monroe granddaughter brought to quilt to his home. He was alone in the house, something which he probably soon regretted. After midnight, he was awakened when the blanket began to move. He got out of bed, and observed the quilt straighten itself out, as if no one had slept there. Then he heard a knock on the front door. When he opened the door, he saw a man...a man with no face. Although it was raining hard, the man was completely dry. Without saying a word, the eerie figure vanished. When the young man went outside, he saw no sign of the visitor. And no footprints.

William Monroe was the next to test the quilt. Same story. The quilt jerked itself away from him. He held on to the quilt for a while, then let go, curious to see what would happen. He said the quilt "dragged itself across the floor" and crawled under the dresser.

Faced with this paranormal mystery, the Monroes and their friends knew there was only one thing to do. That's right: a supernatural slumber party! Yes indeed, a six of Dora's female relatives and interested observers--including a reporter from the "Oshkosh Daily Northwestern"--decided there was strength in numbers. On the night of November 1, 1963--right after the "witching hour" of Halloween--they would challenge this cranky crazy quilt en masse. (Dora herself begged off from the experiment. She had a heart condition, and she feared the strain would be too much for her.)

Sadly, this unique episode in parapsychological research appears to have been a big fat bust. The women reported that on the night they gave the quilt the "acid test," it didn't do a thing. Mrs. Monroe attributed the quilt's uncharacteristically docile behavior to the fact that there were too many women at a time testing it. "If the women were silly about it, it wouldn't work either," she added.

"The Republic," October 31, 1963 via Newspapers.com

The story of this haunted bedding appears to end there, for one very good reason: the quilt disappeared. Mrs. Monroe mailed the quilt to relatives in Oakland, California, so they could test its remarkable powers. She never got it back, and apparently the quilt was never seen again. It's unclear if the blanket was lost in the mail, or if it's still lurking somewhere in Oakland.

Or perhaps that faceless man finally got his damned Christmas quilt back.