Real life ghost stories with Corvina: The Ghost Train of Frenier

Most people have heard the chilling legend of Julia Brown, a name that echoes through the shadows of the Manchac Swamp. In a quaint German community known as Frenier, she was said to be a Voodoo Priestess, a woman with an extraordinary gift—the gift of sight. As the tale goes, when Mrs. Julia Brown passed away, she took the entire town with her, but the truth is far more sinister.

The Gift of Sight

Mrs. Julia was not a harbinger of doom; rather, she was a seer who foresaw the devastation that the relentless logging was wreaking on her beloved swamp. From her porch, she would sing haunting melodies about her impending death and the destruction that would follow, as if she were warning the townsfolk of their fate. On the day of her burial in 1915, a monstrous hurricane descended upon Frenier, obliterating everything in its path.

The Train of Fate

As the storm raged, an old freight train was desperately trying to rescue anyone it could from the clutches of the impending disaster. The conductor made valiant efforts to save the townspeople, but when he returned for a second round, it was too late. Caught in the hurricane's fury, he and his passengers vanished, leaving no trace behind.

A Haunting Encounter

This is where my story begins. As a child, I often roamed the eerie expanse of Manchac Swamp, a place I still call home. Now, all that remains of Frenier is a solitary road leading to an old boat launch, with only a restaurant and a few camp-like homes to mark its existence. The name "Frenier Landing" is the only reminder of what once was. One fateful fall, about ten years ago, I found myself driving alone from Ponchatoula to Laplace on "the low road" that weaves through the swamp. As I approached the old Manchac port, I encountered something I could never have anticipated—a black steam train, a ghostly apparition from the past. Its sound was unlike anything I had ever heard, a deafening hiss that sent chills racing down my spine. The train kept pace with my car, and I felt a primal fear begin to creep in. I managed to pass the port, and the train vanished from sight. Rationality told me it had stopped, but the unease lingered. A few days later, I traveled the same route, this time with my daughter. As dusk settled, we saw that same train again, smoke billowing from its stack, its eerie roar echoing through the trees. But this time, it disappeared before reaching the port, swallowed by the swamp as if it had never existed.

The Return of the Phantom

On another evening, my husband drove us through the same haunted stretch of Manchac Swamp. Suddenly, the train reappeared, matching our speed. My daughter and I urged him to look, our voices tinged with both excitement and fear. Yet, just as before, it vanished—this time well before we reached the port. Despite countless journeys through that road, I have never seen that train again. The events of those three days remain etched in my mind, an unsettling reminder of the old freight train that had once been swept away into the depths of Manchac Swamp, desperately trying to save the people of Frenier. What remains is a haunting mystery, a connection to a past that refuses to fade away.