In 1871 or 1872, the Ashmore family moved from Troy to Richmond, Indiana, and a year or two later – in the vicinity of Quincy, Illinois, where Mr. Ashmore bought the farm and settled on it. Almost next to the house was a creek in which pure cold water flowed, from where the family took water for home use at any time of the year.

In the evening of November 9, 1878, at about nine o’clock, the young Charles Ashmore was sitting near the fireplace, then he got up, took a tin can and went to the stream. Because he did not return for a long time, the family became worried. Approaching the door and opening it, the father called his son, but received no answer. Then he lit a lantern and with the older daughter Martha went in search.

A light snowball fell, and on the path were visible traces of a young man – each track was clearly visible. After walking a little more than half way, about 75 meters, his father stopped suddenly, he lifted the lantern and peered into the darkness. “What’s wrong, father?” The girl asked.

And the following happened: the traces of the young man suddenly broke off, and then there was smooth, untouched snow. The last prints of the tracks were as distinct as all the preceding ones – even the depressions from the hats of the nails in the snow were visible. After walking past the last traces to leave them intact for further investigation, the man went to the stream, followed by an instantly weakened and frightened girl.

Both were silent, shocked by what they saw. The creek was covered with ice for a considerable time. In the morning the light did not reveal anything new. Smooth, clean, untouched first snow lay everywhere.

Four days later, heartbroken mother herself went to a stream for water.
Returning, she told me that when she passed the place where the trail ended, she heard the son’s voice and immediately began to call him. As it seemed to her, the voice came from one direction, then from another direction, then she was exhausted. When she was asked what the voice said, she could not answer, but she insisted that the words were clearly audible.

At one point the whole family was at this place, nothing was heard of, but about the voice it was thought that it was a hallucination caused by the anxiety of the mother and all the nerves that were upset. But months later, at uneven intervals, a voice was heard by several other family members. Everyone claimed that it was, undoubtedly, the voice of Charles Ashmore.

All agreed that he proceeded from a great distance, was barely able to hear, but with clear articulation, but no one could determine directions or repeat what he said. The intervals of silence grew longer and longer, and the voice was weaker and more distant, and by mid-summer it was no longer heard.

What really happened to this kid? He was gone without a trace just like that. That poor mother having to hear those cries from a far and never being able to help. Very strange case.