This week on hometown ghost stories, Sharpsburg is a small town in the central panhandle of Maryland.

It would otherwise be known as a quiet, innocuous town had it not been for one of the deadliest days in American history.

In 1862, the Confederate Army marched into Sharpsburg and engaged Union forces in the bloodiest single day of the entire Civil War.

Now, the town is haunted by the events of that fateful day, and it's said that the ghosts of some of the soldiers who lost their lives there still linger behind.

Hometown Ghost Stories contains serious and often distressing events and is not intended for all audiences.

Viewer discretion is advised.

1862.

She sat there at the foot of the undisturbed bed.

The empty room was exactly as he left it, but the atmosphere was different. The furniture

seemed foreign now that the person who had lived there was gone. A chair at a desk suddenly

looked so empty as if it had never been sat in. The bed where she used to tuck in her little

boy now seemed so unfamiliar as if it had never been slept in. The bed where she used to tuck in her little boy now seemed so unfamiliar as if it had

never been slept in. The deep lines in her face illustrated her despair, which was punctuated

by a frown that looked as if it were carved from wood. In her hand was a crinkled piece of paper,

clutched so tightly that the knuckles turned white and trembled.

The words on the paper cut through her like a razor.

I feel how weak and fruitless must be any words of mine which should attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming.

The letter had arrived less than an hour ago, and she knew what it said before she opened it.

A mother's intuition, although a mother she was no more, robbed of the one thing that made her who she was,

the only thing in her life that she considered to be of intrinsic value, gone,

"'ripped away, her only son,

"'a free-spirited young man at the age of 22,

...