Amelia, in the story collected by HauntedPlaces.org, lived and died in the former Melbourne Hotel and continues walking its corridors in search of a lost love. Some visitors instead sense a sea captain. These two traditions belong to the same building, later reused for businesses and offices and named for its street number.
HauntedPlaces.org’s story describes a playful presence moving jewelry around the former inn. The Martha Lee room is singled out for a bed that squeaks without an occupant and guests feeling as though unseen hands tuck them in. A separate investigator account also identifies Martha Lee’s cat Toby among the inn’s supposed residents.
Gwen F.’s HauntedPlaces.org account describes footsteps coming from the empty space above the antiques shop and presences interpreted as children. Community investigators add reports of whispers and unseen touches. The store occupied an earlier city-jail building on Aviles Street, physically distinct from the better-known Old Jail on San Marco Avenue.
Eugenio Arbona is the presence named in HauntedPlaces.org’s museum account. Staff describe cigar smoke, rearranged objects, upstairs noises and an elevator that runs unattended. One story says three loud knocks interrupted a volunteer who called Arbona a mean man. Visitors in the former Military Room also reported their clothing being tugged.
Ashley’s published history links its ghost stories to Ethel Allen, a former patron whose death became part of Brevard County folklore. A manager reportedly saw old-fashioned shoes beneath a restroom stall, only to find it empty. Other restaurant accounts describe a woman appearing in the bathroom mirror, whispers, displaced objects, and an unseen push on the stairs. These stories concern the restaurant itself, separately from legends at Allen’s burial place.
Callum Swift’s HauntedPlaces.org submission describes a ghostly sea captain and a former owner associated with the guesthouse’s nineteenth-century residences. The most whimsical report concerns an invisible presence that takes guests’ chocolates. These different personalities make up one property’s haunting tradition, rather than several independently countable haunted buildings.
Along Florida’s Chipola River, an iron bridge left behind by a newer road still draws visitors into the legend of Elizabeth Bellamy. The white-clad figure and mysterious lights of local tradition wait at the end of a public daylight heritage trail—and the real woman’s history is more complicated than the ghost story.
HauntedPlaces.org connects the Biltmore’s thirteenth-floor stories with its period as a wartime hospital. The supposed residents are soldiers who once convalesced there. Unaccountable sounds and lights that briefly appear and vanish are part of this account, giving the hotel a military-hospital haunting distinct from the better-known gangster tales attached to the same property.
Callum Swift’s HauntedPlaces.org account describes a ghostly signalman communicating from the house in Morse code. A second presence is a former female owner, seen looking across the bay. Rather than a violent haunting, these stories imagine maritime routines continuing after death, attached to this particular waterfront-city residence.
HauntedPlaces.org tells of Bertha Starkey, a woman supposedly killed by her husband and now associated with the pub. After closing, witnesses report cries and footsteps, while candles allegedly ignite or go out without help. One especially specific tale concerns a heavy glass shelf that shattered on the anniversary attached to Bertha’s death.
Murder account is folklore, not verified history.
The inn’s Miss Mabel, in HauntedPlaces.org’s telling, lost her new husband when his fishing boat overturned despite her pleas that he stay ashore. She supposedly remained at the inn until death and afterward. Witnesses describe a woman carrying a suitcase, asking when she can leave, and moving a crystal decanter stopper in the Queen Isabella room.
HauntedPlaces.org describes Randolph as the inn’s playful, invisible housemate. Objects disappear from where staff remember leaving them, and the customary response is to ask Randolph to return them. In the story, the missing possessions eventually reappear, making this a small-scale mischievous haunting rather than a tale of an apparition menacing guests.
SpookFinder’s account of Cassadaga Hotel centers on Arthur, a spirit associated with Room 22 and remembered through the smell of cigars and gin. Guests reportedly feel a shoulder tap or a presence beside the window. Retellings disagree about whether Arthur was an Irish tenor or a New York opera singer. The hotel itself acknowledges a tradition of friendly resident spirits, but the detailed identity remains part of the lore.
Room-22 Arthur identity varies between retellings; operator only corroborates general friendly-spirit tradition.
Ghosts & Gravestones recounts a headless soldier pacing the ramparts, accompanied in some accounts by marching sounds and sudden chills. Another legend concerns a woman’s cries echoing through the coquina corridors. These are military-fort stories with shifting explanations for the spirits’ identities, preserved in the city’s commercial ghost-tour tradition.
HauntedPlaces.org connects this Delray Beach hotel’s haunting reputation to some of its early owners. Reported manifestations are brief dark figures, unexplained noises and lights that pulse. The account offers no secure names for these supposed residents; its story is of former proprietors lingering in the hotel rather than a named murder victim.
HauntedPlaces.org attributes the Coombs House Inn’s haunting to its original owners, whose deaths followed a damaging house fire in 1911. Visitors reportedly see their apparitions, hear footsteps, and find doors moving by themselves. One named commenter describes hearing hard-soled footsteps above Room 6, then being told no guest room occupied the space directly overhead. The family history and the later witness stories should remain distinguishable parts of the account.
HauntedPlaces.org connects the Cuban Club’s reputation with stories of an actor who died onstage and a fatal shooting involving club officials. Their spirits supposedly remain in the building. Visitors also describe a woman wearing a white dress with red shoes and a small boy playing with a ball, giving the club several distinct characters within one haunted location.
Local folklore transforms a red-brick mourning bench in the Lake Helen–Cassadaga Cemetery into the Devil’s Chair. Retellings say someone sitting there at midnight may hear a whisper or encounter an unseen presence. Another version claims an unopened beer left on the bench becomes empty while its seal remains intact. News 6 identifies the chair with the Thatcher family burial plot, grounding the legend in a specific memorial rather than the whole nearby spiritualist community.
In Callum Swift’s HauntedPlaces.org account, night staff see a woman in blue watching from the upper floors, only to have her disappear when noticed. Unoccupied rooms reportedly produce voices, elevators run by themselves and cigar smoke appears without a smoker. These stories concern the historic hotel building during its later residential use.
HauntedPlaces.org describes two different presences in this nineteenth-century inn. One is a melancholy-looking male apparition. The other is a female spirit who supposedly joins sleeping guests in the bed of the room she occupies. Neither is securely identified in that account, which treats them as lingering residents of the old lodging house.
The Florida Theatre’s official history tells of a 2010 paranormal investigation in which playback apparently showed a man sitting in Section 500, Row E, Seat 2, although nobody had noticed him during filming. The story became attached to the venue’s “Ghost Seat.” When the theater later replaced its seating, it retained that seat and its companion, preserving a very specific piece of the theater’s modern folklore.
HauntedPlaces.org describes a woman in a long dress haunting the old restaurant building. Laughter is reportedly heard when no woman is present, and cold patches accompany sightings of her shadow. The women’s restroom features in accounts of objects being thrown. Local lore associates the presence with a death on an upper floor.
HauntedPlaces.org places Robert the Doll’s modern haunting reputation at Fort East Martello. Once owned by artist Robert Eugene Otto, the doll is said to carry a malevolent presence. Its reputation follows the object from its former home into the museum, making this a museum-based haunted-object tradition rather than a claim that every historic room shares the same haunting.
Omitted unsupported claim that Robert inspired Chucky.
HauntedPlaces.org recounts sightings of soldiers in French and Spanish uniforms at Fort Matanzas, along with unexplained footsteps around the premises. The stories connect the landscape’s military past with the earlier massacre remembered in its name. The present fort and the sixteenth-century killings belong to different periods; the haunting is best presented as local military folklore.