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The Forbing railroad crossing at Flournoy-Lucas road

Legend # 1

The brakeman of a locomotive slowly traveling south through Forbing was supposed to maintain the burning wick in a lantern on the rear of the train, to warn any approaching train that the track was occupied. For some unknown reason, the flame was lost, and the train moved along in darkness. Hearing the whistle of another train approaching from the rear, the brakeman realized to his horror, the lantern was unlit. In a panic, he tried desperately to relight the wick. But the lighted warning came too late as he frantically swung the lantern from side to side, and the approaching locomotive slammed into his train, killing him instantly, and many others on the train. And it is said you can walk the tracks at Forbing in the darkness, and sometimes see the brakeman down the tracks, still waving the glowing lantern as a futile warning to an approaching locomotive that no longer exists...

Actually...

There was never a train wreck at the railroad crossing at Forbing and Flournoy-Lucas road. The story originated in Crossett, Arkansas, and while I was growing up was always told as a challenge to any kid that had the moxie to find a way to Crossett, and go looking for the haunted, light-carrying brakeman ghost in the darkness.
And I have heard...that on a moonless night in Crossett...



Legend #2

A school bus stalled in the middle of the tracks one morning, taking a load of children to elementary school. To the driver’s horror she saw a fast approaching train bearing down on the bus, and everyone panicked. The train hit the bus, killing many of the children. And, to this day, you can drive your car on top of the tracks at the crossing, put the shift lever into neutral, take your foot off of the brake, and the car will start to move on its own until it is clear of the tracks, even though the ground is level. And if you dust the trunk of the car with talcum powder, you will find the handprints of the children from the school bus that have pushed you off of the tracks, and out of danger...

Actually...

Again, no train wreck, this time with a school bus. This story actually happened in a town in south Texas. The phenomenon was reported on film by a television crew where it happened. The car was put in neutral, on film, the brake was released, and the car began to roll until it was off of the tracks. The trunk was dusted, producing children’s hand prints. But, not at Forbing...





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The Taylortown Bell Tower

The Legend...

A hundred years ago, a wealthy plantation owner near Taylortown had a daughter who was engaged to be married. So overjoyed that his daughter had found the love of her life, and would soon be wed, he built a church for the sole purpose of her marriage. Alas, on the day of the ceremony, the groom failed to appear, having run off. The young girl was heartbroken; the dreams of a happy future were destroyed. Day after day, and long into the night, she would stand in the bell tower, looking for her beloved, hoping he would return and become her husband. But it was not to be, and she finally died of a broken heart. The father became so distraught over the death of his beautiful daughter that he set torch to the church, burning it completely to the ground, yet the bell tower remained. He decided to spare that part, as a lasting memorial to his daughter...
And now, it is said, that sometimes under the light of the pale moon, she can still be seen standing on the upper tower platform, still searching the countryside for her love...


Actually...

The church was built in 1906, by a Methodist congregation in Taylortown. It was designed by architect John Dortch. The church was used during the first few decades of the twentieth century, and due to a dwindling membership, the church was eventually abandoned, and fell into ruin. It was at one time used as a barn to store hay, and either accidentally or purposely caught fire, destroying all but the bell tower.
My father was born in Ringgold, Louisiana, about thirty miles southeast of Taylortown. We would travel from Shreveport to Ringgold every few weekends, to visit remaining relatives there when I was a child. As I grew up through the 50’s and early 60’s, I would see the tower every trip, and through the years, watched the wooden shingled roof slowly disintegrate. It eventually collapsed down into the interior of the brick structure. Within the past few years, the roof was replaced with a steel framed facsimile, protecting the structure below once again, as seen in the picture. The structure is now fenced in.