Retired Haunted History

Downtown Wake Forest’s buildings and sidewalks have seen well over 100 years of history—and they have some eerie stories to tell!

Each season of the "Spirits of Wake Forest" ghost walk, new tales are brought to life while others are retired from the tour. Want to revisit some of those chilling classics? You can read a selection of retired stories from past tours below.

Be sure to join us this upcoming season to experience the current spine-tingling stories!

Previously Told Tales 

The Wilkinson Building, one of Wake Forest’s oldest structures, has a long and eerie past. Once a doctor’s office and funeral parlor, it’s no surprise whispers of hauntings linger within its brick walls.

Not long ago, Jubilation Skincare & Massage moved into the back of the building. On move-in night, the owner and her friends heard children laughing and a baby crying—but all the nearby businesses were closed, and they were alone. Weeks later, strange flickering lights, late-night security alerts, and ghostly orbs caught on camera confirmed something was off. One orb moved on screen just as a distorted sound echoed through the footage.

She wasn’t alone in her experience. Employees at The Burger Shop recalled similar encounters—like a chair mysteriously kicked over in a locked room.

Jubilation has since moved out. But the spirits? Many believe they never left.

If you pass by after dark, listen closely… the Wilkinson Building still has stories to tell.

"BOO-dega!" - 110 S. White St. 

Now we turn our attention to Bodega Tapas, Wine, and Rum. This charming establishment holds more than just delicious drinks and dishes – it also harbors a lingering tale of haunted mischief. In the not-so-distant past, a server here wasn’t exactly a favorite among the staff … let’s just say she wasn’t exactly the nicest of servers. Picture this – a bar wine rack, the kind where the glasses slide in and dangle from their stems. Well, one particular night, when this not-so-nice server was working, one of the wine glasses aggressively flew from the wine rack – hurtling right at her with alarming force, just narrowly missing her head. Needless to say, that night she worked her final shift, as she quickly quit. Was it a disgruntled spirit, displeased with her less-than-friendly attitude, who flung the glass at her? Maybe so … and maybe, instead of Bodega, it should be called “BOO-dega!”

"Charles & Casper" - Renaissance Plaza

Catty-corner to where we are standing lies Renaissance Plaza, a vibrant hub housing the Renaissance Centre and local businesses like Arrow Tree Boutique, Destiny Dance Institute, Over The Falls, Duvall and Co., and several more, including our first spirited location. At The Lemon Tree, multiple employees speak of a friendly ghost they’ve affectionately named “Casper,” a presence known for his pesky yet harmless antics. Patrons and staff alike report constant, inexplicable tapping sounds echoing through the café, accompanied by objects being knocked over as if by an unseen force. The disturbances don’t stop there, though – they spill over next door into Page 158 Books, where visitors are gripped by sudden shivers that creep down their spines. Books tumble off shelves on their own, as if an invisible hand is rearranging the literary landscape. Could it be that Casper roams freely throughout the shared space, his ghostly fingers trailing through the latest mysteries and thrillers?

At neighboring Strike and Barrel, one of the owners declares “Oh yes, we have a ghost!” They have named it “Charles,” and he is believed to have arrived with the retro 1970s bowling lanes they brought in several years ago. Charles, it seems, is quite the mischievous spirit. Staff members recount they have to fix errors on the lanes that happen for no explainable reason, and the Pinsetter machine makes very strange clunking and scraping noises – understandable when it’s in use, but much more frightening late in the evening when the machine is actually turned off. But Charles doesn’t stop there. He’s been known to play tricks like tipping over full glasses at the bar and regularly making his presence known with phantom footsteps and whispered conversations when workers are alone in the building at night. After hours, items mysteriously get moved around, and cabinet doors left securely closed are found wide open come morning. I guess for Charles, bowling was right up his “alley,” and he can’t “spare” any time away from it, even in the afterlife!

“Felipe, the Phantom of the Pizza” - 143 S. White St.

As the sun dips below the horizon and the streets of Wake Forest grow quiet, a soft glow still shines from the windows of the local Domino’s Pizza. The ovens hum, the smell of garlic and melted cheese drifts into the night air, and the final pizzas of the evening are boxed up for delivery.

But once the rush is over… things start to change.

Employees have grown used to the oddities that unfold after closing time. A door creaks open in the back—slowly. Then, moments later, it clicks shut. No footsteps. No voices. No one nearby.

And yet… they’ve heard them. Whispers. Soft and low, barely more than a breath. Just out of earshot, just enough to send a shiver down the spine.

No one’s ever seen anything. Not really. But the staff agree: something—or someone—lingers in the quiet corners of the pizzeria once the world outside has gone to sleep.

They’ve even given their unseen guest a name: Felipe.

Not a menacing spirit, but a mischievous one. A friendly phantom who seems content to roam the kitchen tiles and peek through the swinging doors—never making a mess, never causing real harm. Just… watching. Whispering. Reminding the closing crew that they’re never truly alone.

Now it’s tradition. New hires are told about Felipe on their first late shift, and seasoned employees nod knowingly when the doors sway without reason. “That’s just Felipe,” they’ll say with a smile—though they still glance over their shoulder.

So if you find yourself craving a midnight slice and step inside the Wake Forest Domino’s, keep your ears open. And if you hear a whisper with no source, or a gentle door creak when no one’s nearby… just smile and say hello.

"The Fire Bug"

While on this tour, you’re hearing stories of train wrecks and terrible tragedies, frightening folklore, and spooky spirits that haunt the history of Downtown Wake Forest. But did you know that our town’s past also includes a time when it was terrorized by a “Fire Bug?” Yes, 90 years ago an arsonist was on the loose, wreaking havoc and spreading destruction across the Wake Forest College campus and striking fear among the town’s citizens who lived nearby. 

From 1933 – 1934, this unknown arsonist set fire to several buildings on the campus, as well as around town. The first blaze struck in May of 1933 in Wait Hall – now known as Stealy Hall – the oldest building on campus. There were a number of students living in the old college building, and most were able to escape down the stairs – but two had to shimmy down a rope from the fourth floor to safety, a rope that had been left there for just such an eventuality. Several weeks later, fire engulfed and destroyed the new high school building on West Sycamore Avenue. The first high school in town, it had just been completed and was the object of great local pride. It should be noted that at the time, it did not have any electrical connections.

By this point, widespread terror spread around town. During those 2 terror-filled years, men organized themselves into all-night guard units to protect their homes, sitting up at night with a gun on their knees, keeping watch on the house while the family slept. Scared students at the college formed informal watch groups, and one suspicious student even chased a fellow student across campus one night without being able to absolutely identify him. Everyone was on edge. 

Over 70 fires were set over the two-year period, and 17 buildings were burned. The arsonist – if there was one – struck again and again. In fact, every building on campus had a fire set in it. Thankfully, most were saved. 

Townspeople were convinced the culprit of these fires, which made national news, was a “fire bug” and a student of the College. Investigators were brought in from other states, and one even pretended to enroll as a student and roomed with the suspect. And at one point, bloodhounds were brought in to try to track the arsonist. Twice the hounds followed the scent down an indirect path to Hunter Dormitory where many believed the suspect student lived, but no arrest was made. 

A suspicious student, who reportedly had a long-standing grudge with several students and faculty members, was eventually caught in Alumni Hall and brought in for questioning. His story didn’t add up with investigators, but having no tangible evidence, that individual was released and quickly left the college. The fires stopped, yet the arsonist was never found.

"The Garage that Never Sleeps" - 113 Brooks St.  

Doc’s Garage has been a staple business here in Downtown Wake Forest for over 3 decades, but the building has been here much longer than that. Built in the 1940s, complete with a bomb shelter in the basement, it originally housed B&E Cleaners. The story has been passed down through the years that a young lady was working here in the late ‘40s when a malfunctioning piece of machinery exploded, killing her. The young lady has long since been forgotten to history, but she still makes her presence known today. The owners of the garage have been plagued by constant calls from various security companies over the years – calls of opened doors or broken windows. When summoned by the security company in the dead of night, the owners would rush down to the shop, usually to find a Wake Forest police officer already there, walking around the building with a flashlight, looking in windows, trying to determine what could have set off the alarm. They would check the building inside and out, only to find that everything was just as it had been left.

Over the years, the folks at Doc’s Garage have blamed the security companies they hired, wind, sunlight, animals, and such – but no matter the changes they make, the alarms will not stop. Maybe – just maybe – it isn’t someone trying to get INTO the garage that is setting off these false alarms … but rather someone trying to get OUT.

 "Grounds for Haunting at Piedmont Federal Bank" - 302 S. Brooks St.

Tucked along the quiet streets of Downtown Wake Forest stands a building older than most of the town’s pavement—a place where dollars and cents have exchanged hands for well over a century. Piedmont Federal Bank, formerly known as Wake Forest Federal, isn’t just the town’s oldest community bank… it’s also home to something else. Something… restless.

Long after business hours, when only one or two late workers remain, strange things begin to stir. The coffee maker suddenly turns on by itself. Kitchen cabinets, long thought to be still and silent, fling open and slam shut with force. Always the kitchen. Always near the coffee.

If you're walking by in the evening, take a glance at the building. If the light in the kitchen is on—don’t look away too quickly. Some say that’s when he’s most active.

You see, decades ago, a particularly frugal employee worked in that very building. Known for his penny-pinching ways, he brewed the office coffee each morning… but never with fresh grounds. No, he insisted on reusing the same grinds, day after day—believing it a brilliant cost-saving measure. While coworkers groaned over the bitter brews, he stood by his methods with pride.

That man has long since passed, but his spirit may not have moved on—at least, not completely.

Today, the staff prefer a better cup of coffee. Fresh grounds. Fresh pots. Every day. But perhaps not everyone approves.

Some say the old employee’s ghost still haunts the breakroom, slamming cabinets and activating the coffee maker—not out of menace, but in protest. A stubborn soul from beyond, trying to remind everyone that good coffee shouldn’t come at such a steep price.

So, the next time you find yourself near the bank, and you catch the scent of brewing coffee when no one’s around—or hear an unexpected slam from the back room—pause for a moment. You just might be in the company of Wake Forest’s most frugal spirit.

"The Legacy of Aaron Mitchell" - 306 Wait Ave. 

Where Lumpy’s previously stood was once a blacksmith’s shop, a simple, unpainted shack with a rusty tin roof that was run by a very successful and hardworking black man named Aaron Mitchell. Built in 1910, when a blacksmith was still an important role for any town, Mr. Mitchell walked from his home in the east end of Wake Forest 6 days a week, and from 7 AM to 5 PM, he hammered away at red hot iron horseshoes or fixed wagon wheels, furniture, or hand tools. Mr. Mitchell was so talented that he could simply look at the hoof of any horse and know the exact size shoe needed. After fashioning it to size, it would fit perfectly every time. Children in town loved going to watch him work. By the 1950s, Wake Forest had taken a turn towards the modern. All across town, cars buzzed around the paved streets, and people enjoyed all the perks of convenience that the post-war world could offer them – washing machines, irons, televisions, and so forth. Yet right there, in the middle of town, was a scene from the previous century, as Mr. Mitchell did his work diligently every day – up until 1960, when he finally hung up his leather vest for the last time and moved onto retirement at the age of 72.

However, it seems that his legacy lives on in more than just memory. Workers from Lumpy’s attest to catching echoes of the past, sharing that they often hear the unmistakable sound of metal clanking against metal, ringing throughout the shop. Undoubtedly, this is the sound of Aaron Mitchell’s unfaltering hammer continuing his work long after his earthly body no longer could.

“Shadows at the Depot” - 121 Front St.

On the edge of Downtown Wake Forest sits an old brick building—the town’s last passenger depot. It may look harmless, but those who step inside often feel otherwise.

During a paranormal investigation conducted in 2023, the team described the energy as “potent and powerful,” with a thick, uncomfortable presence hanging in the air. The back room was especially chilling.

Dark shadow figures moved across the walls—quick and silent, then gone. But not imagined. Everyone saw them.

Many believe they’re spirits of travelers who never made it to their final stop.

The trains may have left Wake Forest long ago—but something else stayed behind.

"The Ghost Behind the Bar" - 158 S. White St. 

Tonic, Bar and Social Club is known for its good vibes — clinking glasses, craft cocktails, and music that fills the air on lively weekends. But behind the laughter and neon lights, one bartender discovered that something else might be enjoying the party, too.

Once, nestled in the heart of Downtown Wake Forest, there stood a bank—SunTrust, a place of order, numbers, and quiet routine. But for those who worked behind its polished counters and frosted glass, the days were rarely as uneventful as they seemed. Because at this bank… “murders” happened almost every day.

Not the kind that draw sirens or headlines. No, these murders came on wings.

A gathering of crows—called a murder—would arrive without warning, as if summoned from some shadowy page of folklore. Day after day, the black birds would descend and perch along the front windowsill, tapping their beaks lightly—rap, rap, rap—against the glass. Each time, employees would look up from their work only to meet rows of unblinking eyes staring back at them. Calm. Still. Ominously silent.

Not a caw. Not a flutter. Just cold, unwavering stares.

Folktales have long whispered that crows are omens of death. That they carry messages from beyond, or bear witness to things unseen. The employees of SunTrust never heard one utter “Nevermore,” but they joked—nervously—that perhaps they didn’t need to. The birds said enough with their silence.

Even after all these years, some of the former bank staff still speak of those strange visitations. They remember the eerie chill that followed the soft tapping of beaks, and how the air would still, just for a moment, as if the world paused to listen.

And though the bank is no longer open, passersby claim the crows still return—especially on overcast days. They gather quietly at the windows, waiting. Watching.

So if you find yourself walking downtown and you hear a light tapping from the pane behind you… don’t look too quickly. You may just find yourself face to face with a murder of the most unsettling kind.

"The Regular at Freddy’s" - 308 E. Roosevelt Ave. 

At Freddy’s Bottle Shop (now Hideaway Wake Forest), the shelves are lined with craft brews, the lights glow warm and inviting, and the front door bell chimes just like it should—maybe a little too often.

The owner spends a good bit of time in the back room, handling deliveries or sorting stock. But more often than not, the familiar chime of the front door alert echoes through the space, signaling that a customer has arrived. Dutifully, he steps out to greet them—only to find the store empty.

No footsteps. No voices. No trace of anyone at all.

At first, he searched the street, thinking maybe someone changed their mind or walked away too quickly to notice. But time after time, the result was the same. The bell would ring, and the space would remain still.

Eventually, he stopped being surprised.

Now, when the door alert goes off with no one in sight, he just steps into the front room and calls out, “Welcome to Freddy’s!” with a friendly grin. After all, just because his most loyal visitor never shows their face doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a warm hello.

"The Restless Guest of the Wilkinson Building" - 203 Wait Ave. 

Standing tall since 1899, the Wilkinson Building has seen more than its fair share of life—and death. Once a doctor’s office and later a funeral parlor, its very bones are steeped in stories of injury, illness, and sorrow. Today, it houses cheerful spots like the Burger Shop and White Story Cafe, but beneath the clatter of cutlery and hum of conversation, whispers of the past still echo through its walls.

Locals speak of unexplained footsteps pacing the upper floors, soft knocks on locked doors, and disembodied voices floating down empty hallways. The current shopkeepers may not share many ghost stories—but the building hasn’t always been so quiet.

Back in the early 2010s, a boutique named Mimosa called the Wilkinson Building home. One night, long after closing, the owner stayed late to restock. The shop was quiet, the streets outside nearly empty. As she sorted her merchandise in the stillness, a sudden chill brushed past her, and a wave of unease crept up her spine.

Without warning, neatly stacked papers scattered across the floor, tossed by an unseen force. Boxes shifted around the shop as if nudged by invisible hands. She froze, heart racing, but the sensation that surrounded her wasn’t hostile—it was playful, almost childlike. Still, she wasn’t alone.

Though shaken, she returned the next day and the one after that. The strange presence never harmed her, but it lingered, always just out of view. Some say it was a spirit left behind by the building’s darker days—perhaps a patient of Doc Wilkinson who never fully healed, or a soul brought to the funeral parlor but not quite ready to rest.

Whatever it was, it made itself known.

And maybe, just maybe, it still does.

“The Scent of Rose” - 410 S. White St.

At the base of Powerhouse Row, where bricks meet buttercream and ovens hum with life, something sweet lingers in the air—and it’s not just the cupcakes.

Inside Plant Cakes Bake Shop, the staff speak of a spirit named Rose. They gave her the name after the soft, floral perfume that seems to drift through the space at random—delicate, unmistakable, and never from a bottle on the shelf.

Rose doesn’t frighten anyone. She plays little games instead. A ruler goes missing mid-measure. A whisk vanishes, only to reappear hours later on a windowsill or behind a stack of pans. The motion light in the office flickers on… even when the room is empty.

But the bakers don’t mind. They’ve grown fond of her.

Whenever that sweet floral scent wafts through the kitchen, they smile and say, “Hi, Rose.”

And just like that, she’s part of the team—an invisible guest with a love for pastries and a flair for the mysterious.

"The Spirit that Couldn't Stand the Tubes" - 216 E. Jones Ave. 

Matt, the owner of Bella Music – right up the street on your left (POINTING TOWARD BELLA MUSIC) – believes they have inherited their ghost. If you’re there by yourself, you’ll hear noises, as if another person is there with you – but as you get up to see who it could be, you quickly discover there is no one else in sight. Loud bangs, reminiscent of hammering on the floorboards, regularly echo through the building – and Matt admits these sounds can be quite unsettling. He goes on to explain, however, that there is one thing that seems to pacify their spirit – music. As long as tunes fill the air, the ghost is calm and all is okay within Bella Music. If you look around the space, you’ll quickly notice that albums adorn the walls – certainly a common sight in a place where music lessons are taught. However, there’s a twist – placing any album by the band The Tubes is a surefire way to invite ghostly mischief, especially the one featuring their ‘80s hit “She’s A Beauty.” If that particular album is placed on the wall, it ALWAYS gets knocked down. Coincidence? It sounds to me that maybe the spirit of Bella Music isn’t exactly a Tubes fan. Why would I lie? Why. Would. I. Lie?

"The Sweet Tooth at The Cotton Company" - 306 S. White St.

In a cozy little classroom tucked at the back of The Cotton Company’s gallery, one of the resident artists kept a simple jar of Tootsie Pops on her desk — a cheerful offering for guests, students, or the occasional sugar craving.

But one morning, something peculiar caught her eye. A lollipop had been delicately unwrapped, its glossy wrapper placed neatly beside it, and a bite — a small, clean chunk — was missing from the candy. Odd, she thought. The classroom door had been locked tight, just as it always was when she left.

Curious and concerned, she reviewed the building’s security footage. Nothing. No person had stepped foot into the room. No movement. No explanation.

She wondered — could it have been a mouse? A bat? She searched every corner for cracks, holes, or any small passageway that could explain the strange intrusion. But the room was sealed tight, clean, and undisturbed. There was no way in, at least not for any living creature.

Still unsettled, she threw the candy away and brushed off the incident. But the next morning brought the same discovery — another Tootsie Pop, unwrapped with care, and bearing the bite of what could only be described as a child’s small teeth.

It happened again.

And that was enough. Not wanting to tempt fate — or whatever spirit might be snacking while she was away — the artist quietly removed the candy jar from her desk for good.

Was it the ghost of a young visitor from years past? A lingering soul with a sweet tooth? Or perhaps one of the former warehouse workers or longtime customers, now departed, still wandering the halls and aisles they once knew so well?

At The Cotton Company, the past never feels too far away — and some guests, it seems, aren’t quite ready to leave.