#1. The Silent Laughter of Calhoun Square

Written by Daniel Santiago

Savannah, Georgia. The city of moss-draped oaks, cobblestone streets, and restless spirits. I had spent years chasing ghosts across the country, but something about Savannah always called me back. It wasn’t just the history; it was the way the city held its breath at night, the way the past felt inches from the present.

I arrived at Calhoun Square after a dozen local whispers had pointed me in its direction. Unlike Savannah’s more well-known haunts, there was something different about this place—something quieter, but more unsettling. It wasn’t just that bodies had been buried beneath it, as some historians suggested. It was what people had heard.

I set up my recorder and met my first interviewee, Mrs. Ellen March, a woman in her late sixties who had lived across from the square for most of her life. Her hands trembled slightly as she stirred her tea.

“I hear them laughing at night,” she said softly, eyes fixed on the window. “Not grown folks. Children.”

I nodded, encouraging her to continue.

“It’s never loud. Just... a giggle here, a whisper there. But there’s no one outside. I’ve looked. And it’s not just me. Neighbors have heard it too.”

Her husband, Walter March, cleared his throat. “She won’t tell you about the shadow.”

Ellen’s hand tightened around her cup. She stared at her husband, unblinking. “Don’t.”

Walter met my gaze. “It’s not just laughter,” he said. “There’s something else in that square.”

I leaned in. “What have you seen?”

“A shadow that moves,” Walter said. “It don’t belong to nobody. Just… glides through the trees like it’s watching.”

I had heard this before—stories of shadows with no source. Savannah was full of them. But something about the way Walter spoke made the hairs on my arms rise.

That night, I parked near the square and brought out my audio recording equipment. You’d be surprised what you can hear with a decent microphone.  I set up on a bench and started to take in the sights and sounds. 

I got there around midnight, then 1am came,  then 2. Nothing out of the ordinary besides a couple squirrels who should be asleep.

Just as I was about to call it a night, I heard it. 

A sound crackled through my recorder, and into my earpiece - A giggle.

I jolted slightly at the sudden activity,  turning sharply to scan the dimly lit square. The Spanish moss swayed in the breeze like sheeted ghosts, but no one was there.

I concentrated on the sounds coming to my recorder mic, wanting to know if my mind was just playing tricks on me for being tired, but I heard nothing. I played back the recording to see if I was just being paranoid. It was faint, but I couldn’t unhear the sound of a child giggling somewhere near the square.

I gripped my flashlight and got up, stepping onto the grass and under one of the ancient oaks. The laughter had since been silent, but I couldn’t help the feeling—something watching. Waiting.

I decided to sit back down and collect myself - this is the kind of stuff I came here for after all.

And in that moment, an image of Ellen from the interview earlier that day suddenly appeared in my mind. It was the moment when her husband had finally spoke up, and I happened to see Ellen suddenly and sharply stare towards him. She had a concerned look - fearful, even - as if he was about to tell me something I wish I would never know.

“Don’t.”

There it was again - the child’s giggle had finally returned. Except this time it was not a faint crackle. It was directly next to my ear. I even felt a warm breath touch the hair on the right side of my face. For a few seconds, I didn’t make any noise. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t even breathe. A single tear forced its way from my eye as my body was overtaken by fear, and before I had time to regain any mental composure, I was already in full sprint towards my car.

As I flipped on my headlights, and they strangely flickered on and off for a moment, as if the battery was starting to go out on me.

In that split second of flickering light, I saw something in front of me.

There were no facial features. Vague outlines of clothing that seemed old and ragged.

There was just the shape of a child’s shadow, standing upright in the street, about 10 feet in front of the car. It was turning towards me, and disappeared as the headlights stopped flickering.

Another tear was pushed from my tear duct as the fear doubled on itself.

I hit the gas, spinning the tires accidentally on the historic cobblestone, and hyperventilating most of the way to my hotel room. I stayed up with the lights on until the sun came out before I felt safe enough to sleep.

Now that I think about it, I never went back for my recording equipment, and I’m not sure I ever will.

A few words from our founders

Hi, I’m Chloe, and I’m so excited to share my passion for Savannah, Georgia, with you. This city isn’t just a destination—it’s where my love for history, culture, and storytelling truly comes alive.

I grew up in the scenic hills of North Georgia and graduated from a Georgia high school in 2014. While I completed my education with a high school diploma, much of my learning journey was far from traditional. I was homeschooled by two extraordinary parents: a pair of college educators, including an anthropologist. My classroom wasn’t just a kitchen table or a corner office in our house. My classroom was The Archives, The Carter Center, the Tellus Science Museum, Kennesaw Mountain, the Etowah Indian Mounds, and nearly every room in the social science building at Kennesaw State University. History and culture weren’t just subjects—they were experiences that shaped how I see the world.

At home, I was surrounded by more books than any other house in the neighborhood, and those pages took me everywhere. From anthropology to ancient civilizations, my love for stories about people, places, and events was nurtured every single day. It was an upbringing steeped in curiosity and wonder, and it laid the foundation for the passion I now bring to my work.

Coming Back to Savannah
After spending eight years in Portland, Oregon, I realized it was time to return to my roots. Coming back to Savannah felt like coming home in every way. This city, with its rich history and undeniable charm, was calling me back, and I knew it was where I was meant to be.

Starting this business is the culmination of my journey. It’s the result of years of dreaming, working hard, and holding onto the memories and inspirations that Savannah has given me. It’s also a way to put all that “useless” historical knowledge I’ve collected to good use—by sharing it with others who care about Savannah’s stories as much as I do!

As I got older, Savannah continued to be a touchstone. My middle and high school years were filled with trips to the city with my parents and two younger sisters. We explored the streets we’d grown to love, shared stories, and dreamed about what it would be like to lead our own tours of Savannah one day. Those dreams stuck with me, even as I ventured far from home.

Even in high school, Savannah was a place of friendship and connection. I took trips with some of my closest friends, creating memories that still bring a smile to my face today. Savannah wasn’t just a place I visited—it was a place that felt like home.

Why Savannah and Why Now
Savannah is more than just a beautiful city; it’s a place shaped by visionaries, builders, and trailblazers. People like Juliette Gordon Low and so many other historical powerhouses have shown me what it means to lead with courage, resilience, and heart.

Through my tours, I hope to bring Savannah’s history to life in a way that’s engaging, inspiring, and meaningful. I want you to see the city through my eyes, to feel the connection I’ve felt for so long, and to leave with stories and memories you’ll cherish.

For me, Savannah isn’t just a city—it’s part of my story, and I can’t wait to share it with you.