Shiloh Methodist Church Located between Hartford and Mansfield Submitted by Jack W. James The Shiloh Methodist Church is a wonderful old church in the front of the Shiloh Cemetery. Almost everyone in South Sebastian county over the age of 45 has wonderful memories associated with the church. The pews have been removed and placed in the pavilion at the Hartford Memorial Cemetery, the pot bellied stove is now at a local home and my sister and brother-in-law own the old upright piano from the church. History of this church. list of pastors and the "Story". (Photos below that were submitted by Bonita Bateman) History of the Shiloh Methodist Church (This was written Sept. 7, 1932) The first organization of M. P. Church after the Civil War, at Shiloh was made by Rev. Blake Wilson about 58 or 60 years ago. It was organized with 40 charter members: John Dill and wife Mary, with other men and their wives, in the old house with shed and fire place which stood west of cemetery. A. J. Smalley help construct and dedication of the next church building, a box house on the same site east of cemetery, where the frame structure now stands. Brother B. A. Thompson dedicated the present frame building. List of Shiloh Pastors 1. Walter J. Hill 2. Blake Wilson- Organized Church in about 1874 after the Civil War. 3. John Williams 4. A. J. Mackey 5. J. R. Wood 6. James Whitaker 7. R. V. Tunstall 8. A. J. Steinbaugh 9. John Stockton 10. A. J. Smalley 11. S. T. Shackleford 12. A. Roark 13. R. R. Nichols 14. Lee Neal 15. W. S. Murdock 16. R. V. Moore 17. Clark Mason 18. W. F. Jacobs 19. J. B. Hopkins 20. J. A. Grubb 21. H. T. Floyd 22. R. B. Cole 23. J. E. Carnett 24. Polk Burr 25. J. A. Burrows 26. Robert Bounds 27. Findley Brooks 28. B. F. Avery 29. George Hullinger 30. B. A. Thompson 31. J. A. Kilgore 32. J. A. Moody 33. J. L. Land 34. Milburn 35. Dr. Rutz 36. Rev. Lewis 37. Rev. Miller 38. 39. Wadie Harrison 40. ? Wheeler W. S. Murdock, Rev. Miller and Blake Wilson are pastors who were buried at the Shiloh Cemetery. Jack James shared this from https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/3dcjm1/shiloh_methodist_church/ The Story of Shiloh Methodist Church in Hartford, Arkansas This church was built sometime in the late 1800's and doubled as a schoolhouse. It had a fairly large congregation that consisted mainly of the town's early settlers and their families. The pastor was a great man who had a lot of pull with the community and was, overall, an upstanding founder. Bob had told me that it was a place to go to for counsel, guidance and overall acceptance. Everybody was family there. However, as it was told to me, the pastor became a little too close to the young girls that attended. Bob said that he had gotten away with it for years until one day, he could no longer hide or deny his infidelity. One of the girls, aged 15, became pregnant and hid it as long as she could. But, as we all know, that's a secret that you can't hide forever, and eventually the other members started to talk. The girl came forward during a sermon and admitted that the pastor had raped and molested her, along with countless other girls. The members of the church were outraged at the girl's claim. There was no way that their beloved leader could have committed such an atrocity, and it was best if she never spoke of it again. Bob said that the adults took the children out of the church, all but the pregnant girl. The men of the church had their way with her, then burned, mutilated and tortured her before finally dragging her to the tree outside and hanging her there. Bob said that they left the girl to hang overnight, and then buried her in the morning. She was the first person to be buried in the cemetery. Now, being young and stupid, I had to check it out. I was fascinated with ghosts and the paranormal at the time, and just couldn't let something like that go, especially with it being so close to my own town. That weekend, I had arranged for my friends Josh, Brandon, Tina, Michael and I to go out there and do some ghost-hunting. The weekend came and we were all set to go. We managed to pack the five of us, along with our equipment (literally just a camcorder, a handheld recorder and two cameras), into the cab of my old Ford F150 and we set out to drive the 2 1/2 hours to Hartford, Arkansas. It was already late afternoon, maybe 6:30 PM, by the time we arrived, and the sun was setting fast. We only had about an hour of daylight left to investigate before we would be left in complete and total darkness. We decided to roam the cemetery first, taking pictures here and there, however, we didn't really find anything of interest. Just some busted headstones and a few creepy cherub statues, but none of us could deny the feeling that we were being watched. Josh decided that we should go inside the church and lead the way. He stopped just past the threshold of the doorway, and began shaking. As quickly as he had gone in, he came back out and refused to go in any further. Josh told us that he would wait in the car until we were done with our "ghost sht." The rest of us should have listened to him. As soon as we stepped in the doors, the urge to vomit was overwhelming. There was a foul stench in the air but nothing that we saw that could have been causing it. The air was hot and heavy, almost like a sauna, despite it being well into October. There were no lights inside, save for the blue glow of our cellphones, and the flickering beam of the single, laughably small flashlight that we had brought. I could feel every hair on my body stand up, and felt like the space I was in was collapsing. Even though there were three other people inside with me, I felt completely alone. That's when the noises started. It was just a simple rustling at first. A scuff of shoes on the old hardwood floor. A squeak from stepping on the wrong board. Outside, the tree branches scratched the side of the church. And then there was a strange sound that I couldn't quite place - creaking, but steady and rhythmic. I called out to my friends, asking them if they were just fooling with me. No response. Had they ditched me? I admitted that I was creeped out and ready to leave but still, no response from anyone. Just silence, and that rhythmic creaking. Something brushed my hand. I turned, expecting to see either ungodly horrors or one of my friends standing beside me, but instead there was nothing. That's when I realized that I was the only person still inside. I'm done. I've seen way too many horror movies and knew better than to stay in a dilapidated, supposedly haunted church any longer than I had to. I turned to go out of the door, and then realized that I was completely on the other side of the building. Now, this is a sizable building, somewhere between 1,500 to 2,000 square feet; just one room, three doors leading in and out and a raised dais where the podium once sat. Had I really walked that far in? I didn't remember going that far into the building, but whatever. I could barely make out the door, but started walking toward it, a little faster than I expected to, until I saw something that made my stomach sink. There was someone standing in the doorway. The figure was just a silhouette, but I could tell that this was not one of the guys this time. Whoever stood in the doorway was much taller and thinner than any of my friends, and I will admit that I was absolutely terrified. The door to the left was clear, so I walked toward it, watching whoever - whatever - that was standing there, ready to run my ass off if I needed to. I couldn't make out features, but I could see the figure's head moving as it followed my movement. Just as I reached the doorway, it chuckled. But not like a normal person would. No, this was more of a guttural, raspy chuckle, and to this day I can still hear it. And it still makes the hairs on my neck stand up when I remember it. I got outside unscathed, aside from tripping on the last step on the way out, and I bolted toward the truck, expecting to see my friends waiting. There was only Josh sitting in the passenger's seat, smoking a cigarette. "Where are the other guys?" I asked him. He jumped, and looked around. "Thought they were with you?" "No," I tell him. "They ditched me inside. I thought they were out here in the truck." We both look to the church, but neither of us could see inside. It was pitch black, and I wasn't about to go back in there, especially not knowing that it was still inside. "Didn't Tina have a flashlight?" "Yeah, she did." "So, why don't I see it in there?" Just as Josh had finished his sentence, Tina came running out of the church, crying hysterically. "Why would you guys leave me alone in there!?" She screeched at us. "Take me home, NOW." I tried to explain to her that I had just been inside there, too, but she wouldn't listen. She just cried and kept asking us to take her home. A few minutes later, Brandon came out, out of breath and practically holding on to the truck to keep himself upright. "That was NOT funny," he panted. "I hate you guys." The only one left inside was Michael. "Which one of you lucky guys is going in to get him?" Josh asked. "We need to get out of here, now. I've got a really bad feeling." Not one of us were brave enough to walk back into that building, so we all just looked at each other, each waiting for someone else to go. And then we heard screaming. Not just panicked screaming, but what you would imagine coming from someone being tortured or murdered. It was coming from the inside of the building, but it seemed to be coming from everywhere else, too. It was almost like the church itself was screaming. Brandon and Josh (who suddenly had a newfound courage) ran to the door and disappeared inside. They emerged moments later carrying Michael between them. Even in the dark, I could see that his face was ghostly white and his shirt was covered in something dark and wet. (We later realized that he had puked all over himself, probably from fear.) The guys got him into the truck, and climbed into the back, screaming that we needed to leave. The drive home seemed to take forever, and despite us all growing up close to that area, we kept getting lost. It was almost like every road we turned on lead us straight back to Shiloh. Finally, after almost an hour, we saw street lights from the town nearby and knew that we had made it far enough away from that place. Tina had calmed down, and Michael had finally regained his color and composure. We decided it would all be best if we stayed together that night, so we drove straight back to my house. When we got back to my place, it was almost 7 AM. There was no way we could have been that long, and we all agreed that we had only been there for about two hours, tops. However, here it was, almost twelve hours later and none of us could explain how it had happened. Now, after we had all slept off the previous night's occurrence and had lunch, we started talking about what had happened. Each of us had the same experience - turning around and realizing that we were alone in the building, thinking that it was a joke. The thing was, we were all right there, inside of the building and couldn't see each other. It was like we were isolated from everyone and everything. We had all called out for one another, but never heard anything. Even Josh couldn't hear us from outside. However, we all heard the same sounds, felt something touching us, and saw the figure standing in the doorway. There was only one difference; the figure had said something different to each of us. For me, it had just laughed. Tina said that it asked her about the baby, and when she would get rid of it (turned out that she was 8 weeks pregnant at the time). Brandon said that it told him exactly how his mother would die (she committed suicide 3 years later). For Michael though… his was worse. He wouldn't go into detail about it, but he said that it was enough to make him never want to sleep again, and even to this day, he refuses to talk about it with anyone. Whatever it was that was inside that church had gotten to him the most, and I don't think he's ever fully recovered from it. It's been almost 10 years since we went to that place, and I just recently starting thinking about it again. I haven't talked to Tina or Michael since the whole thing happened, and the last time I spoke with Brandon was about 4 years ago, but every once in a while, I hear from Josh. He sent me these pictures recently, and I immediately thought back to that night. We had taken a lot of pictures but he said that most of the files were corrupt and these were the ones he was able to recover. There's something very, very wrong with that place, and I have a feeling that we were lucky that night to make it out unharmed. Bob had warned me to "stay away from that place," and I wish we had listened. So, this is just a warning to anyone thinking about going to this place. Don't. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`` Following photos are from Bonita Bateman made in January 2021.