Rackliffe House

Near Assateague Island, the Rackliffe House is unusual even by haunted-location standards: a murder, an accidental death, and a suicide all happened here, which paranormal investigators refer to as a "haunted trifecta."

Standing on the shores of Sinepuxent Bay near Assateague Island, Rackliffe House has earned a chilling reputation as what author Tom Patton, a Rackliffe family descendant, called "the most haunted house in the country." Built around 1742 by Captain Charles Rackliffe, this elegant Flemish bond brick plantation house possesses what investigators term the "haunted trifecta" -- a documented murder, a tragic accident, and a suicide all occurred within its walls, creating what many believe are optimal conditions for supernatural activity.

The most verified tragedy involves John Rackliffe, who inherited the plantation and by 1790 owned ten enslaved people, nine horses, 220 cattle, and 28,000 pounds of tobacco. Court records confirm that John was a notoriously cruel slave owner whose brutality eventually led to his demise. One night, as he returned to the plantation, enslaved workers ambushed and killed him. Some accounts suggest his wife was murdered shortly afterward, while others claim she fell down the house's long, turned stairway and died from her injuries. The identity of the woman on the stairs remains disputed, with some believing it was Sara Rackliffe dressed for a ball.

The third death in the trifecta occurred during the War of 1812, when a widow living at Rackliffe House with her only son fell into despair after British forces recruited him into military service. Unable to bear the loneliness and fear for her son, she hanged herself in the third-floor attic.

The house stood through marauding Spanish galleons, Barbary pirate ships, and English men-of-war. It witnessed the Revolutionary War, the War of 1812, and the Civil War. Local folklore suggests the upper floors may have been burned during a Revolutionary War attack. A devastating fire in 1928 destroyed the interior and roof, and the house was later divided into apartments before standing vacant for decades.

Activity at Rackliffe centers predominantly on mysterious sounds. Residents and visitors report babies crying, pianos playing by themselves, gunshots, and glass shattering -- often with some people hearing the sounds while others in the same room hear nothing. Former resident Denise Milko, who lived there in the 1960s when a 20-gable barn and outbuildings still stood, recalls the horses becoming agitated before strange events occurred. She would sleep through nights while family members reported hearing stomping and banging from her upstairs bedroom -- sounds she never made.

Milko experienced numerous odd phenomena: a piano playing softly by itself, footsteps in empty rooms, and expensive-smelling perfume wafting through the house. One particularly frightening incident occurred while she was studying alone -- she heard the unmistakable sound of a window shattering followed by a gunshot, yet found no evidence of either when she investigated.

During a dinner party, when a skeptical guest denied the existence of ghosts, all the house lights suddenly extinguished. Candles flared mysteriously before the lights returned on their own. Another guest reported hearing "a noise so loud it sounded like a piano crashing through the floors." Multiple visitors have fled the house in broad daylight, disturbed by sounds they couldn't account for.

The haunted legacy is compounded by the house's ancient location -- built atop an Assateague Indian hunting camp where archaeologists have recovered artifacts dating back 10,000 years. Several investigation teams have documented a wide range of activity, and Tom Patton dedicated an entire chapter to the ghost stories in his book "Listen to the Voices, Follow the Trail."

Restored by the Rackliffe House Trust beginning in 2004 and opened to the public in 2011, docents and board members privately acknowledge events continue to occur -- described as pleasant rather than frightening, but definitely present. The spirits of Rackliffe House, it seems, have no intention of leaving the beautiful bayshore plantation they called home.