Southern Indiana Ghost Story

A nonfiction story about my friends and I ghost hunting at a cemetery in Scottsburg, IN. I wrote this for a contest.

It was a lazy evening when my 2 best friends and I decided that boredom might as well shoot us in the face. The twins, both with laptops between their legs ignored me as I paced with a cigarette in hand. Southern Indiana was the worst place to grow up in the summer time. There was just absolutely nothing to do. Until Twin A, we'll call her Ani, jumped up from her spot on the floor.  

"Let's go ghost hunting!"

"What? Where?" I asked thinking maybe the idea held some validity.

"Yeah," Twin B, this one is Ali, added, "where would we do that?"

"Look," Ani pointed to her computer screen as the two of us eagerly joined her.

The 3 of us didn't even question the actual act of ghost hunting despite it's degrees of possible danger. At this point, we were up for trying anything.

We stared at a website that read "Ghosts of Southern Indiana." Fortunately, we had been to a couple of cemeteries around town to walk around in the dark just for the hell of it. These kinds of things weren't new to us. One place on this webpage looked the most intriguing. Bridgewater Cemetery. We read the description and local accounts of other ghost hunters experiences.

 

 

"Bridgewater Cemetery- People have seen hand prints, cars that wouldn't start, and black objects moving around the cars, followed by an arched shaped thing in the back of the woods, and cold chills. Reports of being chased from the cemetery by a white horse. It is said that if you go there after midnight you will see a glowing tombstone of the man that awakens at night and guards the front gate."

 

 "Let's go there tonight!" I said excitedly to the twins.  

The three of us grabbed jackets and flashlights then headed out to my black Ford Focus. Bridgewater was located in Scottsburg which was a bit of a drive from where we lived, but we were determined to investigate. It was going on 11 PM as we ventured onto the highway.

The night was clear and warm, maybe 70 degrees. Stars covered the night sky above us. We all chatted in the car ecstatic of the possibilty that we might actually see something. The website had claims of numerous encounters with the paranormal, and we wanted to add to the list.

Finally, we arrived in Scottsburg and got out the directions the website had given us. The deeper we drove into this small town, the more eerie it felt. We didn't see gas stations, or stores, or even a McDonalds! All we saw were trees and trailor parks. There were no lights lining the narrow roads, making it hard to see and follow directions at the same time. We came to a section of the town where the houses were far apart and the streets had names like Lovers Ln. and Dead End Rd. It was like driving around in a creepy horror movie, scary music playing in the background, and the main characters unknowingly heading to their doom.

We made a turn somewhere past Double or Nothing Rd. and Werewolf Rd, both being actual street names near this place. Immediately, we all three went dead silent as the road shrank from two- car to one- car width. The trees seem to fall down and around us, caving my car as we drove. They were ugly, green, and gnarley trees. A lot of the house that hid behind them were trailors or mobile homes. Broken down pick-up trucks and rusted playground equipment littered the front yards. I sensed that the natives of Scottsburg were not too worried about cleanliness.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," Ali said suddenly as the road under us went from paved concrete to gravel.

I kept going because Ani did not object. The rocky road veered upwards to a hill of trees. The other side of the hill was hidden, and made me incredibly nervous. I could tell that all three of us felt uneasy about coming here.

I drove on and my headlights revealed the most magnificantly frightening thing I had ever seen. The 20 foot metal gate reading Bridgewater Cemetery grinned evilly at us from above.

"I think I want to go," Ali said wearily.

"C'mon, we're already here. Plus, I have to go all of the way up to turn around." I replied as more of the cemetery revealed itself. Ali went quiet as her sister agreed with me.

We parked in front of a huge, old tree that sat near two large monuments outside of the gates. As soon as I turned the headlights off the darkness surrounded us. The trees around the cemetery hid all light from the houses, and besides the pale moon light the 30 yard area was pitch black. I shivered, handing the twins their flashlights. We stood there looking at the gate, frozen in place. It seemed like our legs were implanted in the ground. None of us wanted to move.

Finally, I started towards the entrance first, the other two following close behind me. We whispered quick observations because we were too afraid of the silence. As soon as I step through the threshold beyond the gates, I felt it. A sense of dread and sadness. I could feel eyes all around us, watching our every move.

There were only maybe 50 or so graves in the tiny cemetery, all of which was lined by more trees. Noises came from the branches even though the wind was not blowing. I suddenly felt chills going up and down my spine like tiny spiders doing dances on my back. I forced myself to ignore it and investigate further. I noticed that all of the tombstones dated back centuries, very historical. I took note to look up more information on the history of this place.

Suddenly, Ali yelled, "There's someone by your car!"

"Where?" Ani replied skeptically knowing that her twin was probably just overacting.

I spun around and peered into the darkness. I couldn't see anyone, but a few more noises from the trees made us all run back to the car. We jumped in, and I turned around in the gravel.

Conversation erupted in the from the passenger seat. "I swear to you that I saw someone or something by the car. Like shadows."

"Ali, you're just freaked out because we read that on the website," I told her.

"Yeah, letting your mind get the best of ya!" Ani joked as we got back on the highway.

Before heading home we stopped at a Waffle House on the way. We all got out of my car and as I shut the door I looked at the side under the window. There, in the gravel dust, were tiny hand prints. My eyes went wide with terror and I screamed for my friends to come to where I was. They pointed at the hands and measured them with their own. The prints were small, too small to be ours. Maybe like a child size. Kids hand prints were all over my black Focus from my door all of the way around to the back and the passenger side door. I washed my car the next day.

I eventually did research on Bridgewater Cemetery after the encounter with the children's hands. What I found was this to also affirm why there were monuments outside of the cemetery:

 

 

 "Back in the 1800's there were a lot of civil war soldiers buried there, but no blacks. Some blacks were hung in the cemetery and buried on the outside of the cemetery. Some of the black people were even children that they say will play tricks on you for trespassing."

 

 

 

 

 

The next time we braved the drive up to Bridgewater the three of us felt the same eerie feelings and felt cold chills as we drove up the gravel road. Unfortunately, our investigation came to a halt as we came face to face with a large, red pick-up truck. I stopped the car and my heart started pounding.

"Oh my God! There's someone up there! There's someone up there!" Ali screamed from the backseat.

"S**t! Go!"

I had no time to think as the truck suddenly turned it's headlights on and began to barrel down the road towards us. I drove backwards to the all of the way to the main road with the truck, chasing us. Finally, it backed off when we got further away. We sat there in complete silence contemplating the situation that just occured. We came to only one conclusion that whoever was in that truck they were up to no good.

The next afternoon we went back in broad daylight to look around and see if the intruders left any evidence. For some reason the cemetery wasn't as creepy in the daytime, and we got to explore the area much better.

Out of nowhere, we came to a halt when walking around in the tall grass there lay a gutted dog, his insides were ripped out. Next to his bloody carcass sat a red gas can, one of the ones you put in the trunk in case you run out of fuel. The sudden realization that we had been the intruders hit us like a brick in the head. We had interrupted what could have possibly been a satanic ritual of some sort. We took a picture and documented our story. Unfortunately, I did even more research to find out that there were reports of satanic cults in Scottsburg. I bad feeling grew in the pit of my stomach at the thought of what actually goes on at Bridgewater. Needless to say, we didn't go back there for a long time.        

Author's Note

ignore everything about this b/c it's a work in progress. i've had some technical difficulties trying to edit this. :-(

Reviews

[Micah Snow]

That was really good.. I liked how you described the truck coming towards you, and the aftermath of it all.

[Kasey Klein]

Hello Renee.

I like the general sweep of the story, though thematically I feel it needs to be tightened up. I know it's a 'true story,' but as Mark Twain said, of course truth is stranger than fiction -- fiction has to make sense.

[Kostas M.]

That's a very interesting story. I like ghost stories and I certainly find interesting all the "rituals" stuff. Especially those concerning black magic.
I really liked the way you created the atmosphere, somehow starting from that webpage and then giving different kinds of information, such as the civil war and stuff. Personally, I would place it on a "light horror fiction" shelf.
To give you the right picture: I just woke up, only slept for sth like 5 hours and I feel tired, but this story kept me to its end.I had a great time reading it.