Ghosts are often spoken in terms of long ago. A simpler time–a far different place than our own. It is this fact that makes them so appealing. The idea is to link, if for a fleeting second, with the past. 

Such a place exists within the halls of Huntingdon College in Montgomery, Alabama. The co-ed liberal arts Methodist private college, founded in 1854, is home to a specter known as the Red Lady.

To understand the story, we have to go to the beginning. The very beginning of the original red lady. Yes–there’s more than one story surrounding this figure. As well as more than one lady in the story.

The Red Lady’s story first appeared at the tail-end of the 19th century. The time when the college was still located in the town of Tuskegee, Alabama. Students would say that they would see a woman dressed in scarlet carrying a scarlet parasol. She walked up and down the halls all night, bathed in a red glow. Then suddenly, as quickly as she had appeared, she was never seen again trekking down the residence hall. No one knew who the figure was or why she was compelled to walk all night dressed in crimson. 

Perhaps we’ll never know.

The following story begins with an arrival. The Red lady is a first-year student at Huntingdon College and is unhappy. Depending on the source, Martha or Margaret did not want to leave her beloved New York. She came to this school simply for the love her father bestowed upon his home state and her mother’s alma mater. There was no choice in the matter if she wanted to continue to be looked after financially. 

Her fellow students stood in silence as they noticed the odd theme. The color red. She brought with her items, all in the shade of crimson.

The bold, the curious, and the just plain rude asked what was behind the obsessive love for the color.

She gave no answer.

Homesickness began to sink in. In fact, Martha was drowning in it. Some students tried to befriend the quiet woman, repelled once it was discovered she came from a wealthy family. They asserted her silence as a disdain for the less fortunate. 

Truthfully she was painfully shy. She became increasingly withdrawn. Sitting alone in the dining hall, barely speaking a word, even to the few girls visiting her dorm. Fascinated by the strange objects littering her room. All the while, she sat in cold, uncomfortable silence. Annoyed, frustrated, or simply bored by the brooding collegiate, the visits became less and less until they stopped altogether. 

Martha was alone. In a place, she had no desire to be in. 

She had a roommate until they grew tired of the strange behavior and would ask to leave. Another student came, but soon she too moved out. This became a pattern. Here today–gone tomorrow. Every student complained of the difficulty of living with such a mean-spirited roommate. 

The president of the dormitory, known to have a way with everyone, moved in. Soon even this kind-hearted woman couldn’t bear the bullying co-ed’s ill-treatment. She had had enough. She packed her things, gathering them as Martha returned. Despite her outright rudeness towards the dormitory president, she was shocked at the woman’s dismissal, even heartbroken. This was the only person she had potentially seen as a friend.

Anger replaced sadness, telling the student coldly, according to legend, So you couldn’t stand me either–like all the rest of your stuck-up friends. I was beginning to think you wanted me to be your friend, but you hated me just like the rest. Well, I’m glad to be rid of you! Take your things and go! But I’ll tell you one thing, my dear; for the rest of your life, you’ll regret leaving this room.

The words slung at the president like poisoned daggers. The outburst seared into her thoughts, but she forgot the prophetic words as time passed. 

She left Martha to be alone with her red objects.

 This last act of abandonment affected Martha gravely. She stopped speaking. Walked into the rooms of her fellow students without saying a word. Just staring, staring into nothingness as the women watched the strange girl.

The president began to feel increasingly upset about how things had transpired between the two. So one evening, she went to make amends. She would extend an olive branch and help the poor girl.

She ascended the dormitory stairs towards her former roommate’s room. Upon arrival, something caught her eye–red. Flashes of red from the room’s transom. Opening the door lay the woman–Martha. She was dressed in a red robe, swaddled in a red bedspread, her wrists slit. 

The words the disgruntled Martha said that day came true–she would regret leaving the depressed student alone.

To this day, students speak of her, the red lady. How she walks the spaces of the former dormitory, now the Department of Education and Psychology. She walks to the fourth floor of Pratt’s Hall, near where she took her life, dressed in her beloved color of red.

Is she restless? Regretful? Sad? Vengeful? Angry? Or maybe indifferent? It’s hard to say; perhaps you can see for yourself? Walk the halls. See the dim red light out from the darkness. Step further, closer, until you see her. What do you see? What do you say? What will become of it?