Dallas may lack the bones and brooding of a classic ghost story — no cliffside mansions, rolling fog, or lonely swamps — but we’ve still managed to attract a few hauntings between the freeways. If you’re in the mood for a local ghost story, here are a few of Dallas’ most classic spooky tales:

The Lady of the Lake, White Rock Lake
Dallas’ take on the vanishing traveler legend is perhaps its best-known ghost story. A young woman in evening wear — sometimes said to have come from “The Store,” better known as Neiman Marcus — is spotted walking near the lake after dark. A couple in a passing car stop to offer her a ride. She gives an address — Oak Cliff in some accounts, Lakewood in others — then vanishes when the good Samaritans arrive, leaving only a puddle of water.

When the motorists knock on the door to explain, an older man or woman — sometimes a couple — reveal that the description of the girl matches their daughter, who drowned in a boating accident. “It happens every year on this night,” they say. “The girl was our daughter, who died in a car accident on her way to a dance.” It’s one reason — along with stunning fall sunsets over the water — that I always feel drawn to the lake this time of year.

Karl Hoblitzelle, Majestic Theatre (1925 Elm St.)
Step into the Majestic Theatre and you’re transported to its glamorous heyday, when the venue hosted stars like Mae West, Jimmy Stewart, and Duke Ellington before converting to a concert and comedy venue in the 1980s. Built in the early 1920s, the Renaissance Revival-style movie palace was the grand dame of Dallas’ now-vanished Theater Row, rich with baroque detailing and romantic flourishes, including an auditorium ceiling of clouds and twinkling stars.

The Majestic was the crown jewel in a chain of theaters owned by vaudeville impresario and philanthropist Karl Hoblitzelle, whose spirit, some say, still keeps watch over his masterpiece. Employees and visitors have reported scenery shifting on its own, an office door unlocking and swinging open, phone lines lighting up without cause, and a sudden chill in the air. Perhaps some incidents can be explained by old wiring and vivid imaginations, but I like to think Karl is still in his happy place, enjoying the never-ending applause.

The Miller Ghosts, City Park (1515 S. Harwood St.)
It doesn’t get more classically haunted than the Civil War-era Millermore Mansion at City Park, where tales of cold spots, an uneasy sense of being watched, and a mysterious woman in a long brown dress have circulated for decades. Some say the Greek revival-styled mansion with the troubled past is haunted by the spirit of a former caretaker; others believe the woman is one of the three wives of cotton planter and slave owner William Brown Miller, the home’s original owner.

Replete with period furnishings, marble-top tables and original fireplaces, Millermore is one of several 19th-century preserved buildings across the 22-acre City Park.

The Jilted Bride, The Adolphus Hotel (1321 Commerce St.)
The disappointed bride of the Adolphus, said to haunt the hotel since the 1930s, is a must-include on any list of Dallas ghosts. Stories recount incidents of disembodied crying and footsteps, elevator doors that open on their own, faint strains of unseen music, and a figure in a white gown drifting about.

Opened in 1912 as Dallas’ first European-style luxury hotel, the Adolphus quickly became the city’s grandest destination — and for a time, its tallest building — hosting presidents, tycoons, and entertainers. The vintage opulence is wonderful: ornate exterior gargoyles, artwork, hardwood floors, the famed French Room, and sweeping views of downtown.

The Spirits of Hermann, The Sons of Hermann Hall (3414 Elm St.)
Home to the Dallas chapter of the German fraternal organization of the same name since 1911, the Sons of Hermann Hall is the city’s oldest bar. The historic venue is an excellent destination for swing dancing, beer drinking, and live music — and, according to Deep Ellum lore, for ghosts. In addition to the usual cold spots and spooky feelings, people have claimed to witness objects move or disappear, doors slam, phantom footsteps echo, and children’s laughter drift through empty rooms.

One legend tells of a woman whose spirit lingers after she fell from a staircase. Another claims that long-departed members of the Sons of Hermann still show up for meetings. My favorite story involves a couple in Victorian dress who walked past a group of people and climbed the stairs toward what was assumed to be a themed wedding rehearsal. When they failed to reappear, someone went to check — only to find the door upstairs locked and no one inside.

Haunted Burgers, Snuffer’s Restaurant & Bar (3310 Greenville Ave.)
The original Snuffer’s building is gone, but the ghosts of the beloved burger joint are believed to carry on. In both its original and current buildings, staff and guests have noticed strange disturbances: echoing voices, flickering lights, objects moving on their own, and children’s laughter late at night. Some believe the eerie activity traces back to a murder that allegedly took place decades ago, when the property was still a neighborhood pool hall; others claim the site was built atop a children’s cemetery.

Whatever the back story, Snuffer’s has embraced its friendly haunted ambiance — which may be why I wasn’t too spooked one New Year’s Eve in college when I felt someone tap me on the shoulder while walking to the powder room, even though I turned to find no one there. Maybe the ghost just wanted to know if I planned to finish my cheese fries.

Rhonda Aghamalian is a North Texas freelance writer and lover of local history and spooky stories.