EDITOR’S NOTE: Strangeville explores the legends, folklore, and unexplained history of Western North Carolina. From Cherokee mythology and Appalachian ghost stories to Bigfoot sightings and UFO encounters, the Blue Ridge Mountains have long been a hotspot for the strange and mysterious. Join us as we dig into the past and uncover the truth behind the region’s most curious tales.

CULLOWHEE, N.C. — Every campus has that one building. The one everyone swears is haunted, where footsteps echo after dark and doors seem to close themselves. At Western Carolina University in Cullowhee, that building is Moore Hall.

The story has made the rounds for decades, told in late-night whispers and dorm-room dares. It goes something like this: in the 1920s, two young women stayed behind during holiday break. One showered while the other got ready for bed. Then came a long silence followed by a soft scratching sound behind a locked door. When someone finally broke through, they found a pool of blood and the murdered roommate inside. Depending on who is telling it, the killer was a local man who loved her, a jealous suitor turned violent, or an unseen presence that never left the third floor.

The problem is that no record of this murder exists. The student paper, The Western Carolinian, went looking for answers in 2006 and found no police reports, no names, and no mention of a murder at all. Their research showed that almost identical stories appear on other campuses, including Purdue and the University of Kansas, each one featuring the same tragic shower scene and not a single fact to back it up.

That might mean Moore Hall’s ghost story is less about tragedy and more about imagination. Maybe what lingers there is not a spirit, but a story that found a home in Cullowhee and refused to leave.

Still, Moore Hall has the kind of atmosphere that encourages a good haunting. When the lights flicker or a door shuts a little too quickly, it is easy to think something unseen is moving around. Students who have heard the legend swear they have heard scratching in the walls or water running when no one is there. In a quiet building, it does not take much to turn plumbing or critters into ghosts.

And speaking of critters, there is a curious piece of Moore’s history that is documented. In 1927, three orphaned mice died on the third floor. The Cullowhee Yodel, an early campus newspaper, gave them a full obituary and noted the sorrow that “prevailed on the third floor” that day. That long-forgotten story gives the building a softer kind of haunting. If something is scratching in Moore Hall, it might just be the descendants of those unfortunate mice.

There is no proof of murder in Moore Hall, but the legend continues on campus. It may not be a ghost that haunts the building, but the memory of a story that keeps retelling itself. If anyone hears footsteps when studying late, they can take comfort in knowing it might not be a spirit at all. It could just be a draft, a memory, or a mouse with a sense of drama.

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