Savannah: Paranormal Walking Tour & Haunted Bar Stop

4.68

(107 reviews)

What’s the experience like?

You know that weird feeling when you step off the curb in Savannah and suddenly the air feels heavier? That’s how it started for me, right outside the Flip Flop Shop on Bull Street. Our guide—Marcus, who swears he’s seen more than just shadows—handed out these gadgets (spirit box, dowsing rods, stuff I only knew from TV). He grinned and said, “Don’t worry, nothing bites.” The group was small—two friends from Atlanta, a couple with a stroller, me clutching my iced cocktail like a shield. The city felt different at night. I kept noticing the way Spanish moss hung low over the streetlights.

We wandered toward the Juliette Gordon Low house first. Marcus told stories about doors slamming and footsteps upstairs when no one was home. At one point he let us try the K-2 meter—it blinked red near an old iron fence and I laughed nervously. Maybe it was just my nerves? Or maybe not. Someone tried to ask a question out loud to whatever might be listening; I swear there was this cold draft that hit my arm just then. We moved on to Colonial Park Cemetery—gates locked but you could still see inside—and he explained how some graves were moved but not all of them. There was this moment where everyone got quiet at once. Even the cicadas seemed to hush up.

The 17hundred90 Inn was next—a real bar stop, which honestly helped with my nerves (and bathroom situation). Inside it smelled like old wood and something sweet, maybe bourbon or just history seeping from the floorboards. Marcus pointed out a corner where “Anna” supposedly appears; one of the Atlanta guys tried to take a selfie there but his phone glitched out twice in a row. We all laughed about it but nobody wanted to linger too long.

Final stop: Owens-Thomas House. We didn’t go inside (it was late), but stood outside while Marcus told us about matches striking themselves and shadows darting past windows. He showed us how to use the spirit box again—I didn’t catch any voices myself but someone else swore they heard “leave.” By then my feet hurt and I kind of wanted to believe none of it was real… but as we ended back near Bradley’s Lock and Key for some sort of “cleansing,” I realized I’d been holding my breath half the time. Still think about that cold breeze by the cemetery sometimes—you know?