by Sharon | Aug 30, 2018
Many of you may find cemeteries to be creepy . . . but they don’t have to be.
Some people have some very interesting ideas about ghost hunting and being right in the middle of the action, but would you set up camp next to a cemetery?
I have a respect for cemeteries and don’t get all creeped out by them, but when Larry was about 10 or 11 his parents rented a cabin for the weekend. It was small, next to a lake and had room for the boys set up a tent near the cabin. That evening they cooked their dinner over an open fire and told ghost stories.
Larry’s parents told the boys they could sleep in the cabin, but they wanted to stay in the tent. The ghost stories didn’t scare them and they were looking forward to star gazing before going to sleep.
Strange Sounds In The Middle of The Night
About 2 AM Larry was awakened by the sounds of someone crying. It wasn’t his brother, it seemed to be outside of the tent.
He decided to ignore it, because he didn’t know what to do. Then he wondered if it was someone who got lost, maybe he could help. He woke up his brother so he wouldn’t have to confront the crying stranger alone.
“Pete, there’s someone crying outside our tent,” Larry whispered while shaking his brother.
Pete listened. “I don’t hear anything, go back to sleep.”
Larry couldn’t do that. He listened, but the crying person must have moved on. He did finally go back to sleep.
The next morning after breakfast the family decided to do some exploring of the area. They found an old abandoned cemetery a few yards away.
This was exciting for the boys and the parents were equipped with cameras and tape recorders, along with other ghost hunting equipment.
Their mother was talking about some of the old graves that dated back to the 1700’s. “This is a really old cemetery, I wonder why it was abandoned.”
Their father answered that it looked full. They may have run out of space and instead of enlarging the old cemetery they may have set up another one closer to town.
It all seemed logical and matter of fact to Larry. He didn’t mention the crying he heard in the early morning hours.
Chased Out of The Old Cemetery
Pete nudged Larry and pointed at a dark figure at the very top of a huge rock monument.
Both boys stood riveted to the spot, until the image took flight and was headed towards them. They ran with all their might to get out of the path of the flying apparition. Their mother saw the apparition and ran out of the cemetery leading the way, followed by their father.
Larry remembers the sound of running footsteps behind them, but he always remembered the thing was flying. It didn’t make sense until he turned around and saw his parents behind him.
They ran all the way back to their camp and went inside the cabin. Larry stayed on the porch for a minute and looked back towards the cemetery and the path they took. He saw a faint image of a man standing quite a distance away.
Pete had a pair of binoculars and looked toward the image.
“He looks like he just came out of the grave,” Pete said handing the binoculars to Larry.
When he looked, the image was gone.
The family did pack up and go home. They weren’t scared, but thought there little adventure in the graveyard wasn’t such a good idea. It is a hallowed place and since they were chased away, they didn’t want visitors. They did wonder if they had been disrespectful in any way. Maybe it was taking pictures or tramping around.
What Do You Think About Ghost Hunting In a Cemetery?
There are some who believe ghost hunting in a cemetery isn’t a good idea. There are always abandoned buildings and plenty of places that are known to be haunted.
I don’t find cemeteries to be a problem since I regularly put flower on graves, but this is my job, I do talk out loud, making comments about the flowers and at times I set flowers on various graves just to give the area a bit of color. It’s my little gift to spirits that may be hanging around.
by Sharon | Aug 19, 2018
I’ve always been fascinated by cemeteries.
I was one of those strange children who enjoyed the outings to the family plot when we’d visit my grandmother. I didn’t know who was there and why we’d go. I just knew it was important to my grandmother.
The great thing for me was standing quietly in a respectful pose, but that wasn’t all. I would see spirits gathering. Most often they were far away, but I knew they were there and I believe they knew I could sense and see them.
My Uncle John was always with his camera, but not when we went to the cemetery. I thought it odd, because the pictures he could take there would be so much more interesting to me than the ones he took of people and places I didn’t know and didn’t really care about.
On one visit I remember it being cold and damp.
At the entrance to the cemetery was a stand that sold bouquets of flowers. My uncle and father got out to make the selection.
I distinctly heard, “Humph! I would prefer flowers from my own garden at home.”
I didn’t know who said it. I reasoned it couldn’t have been my grandmother or her sister. If that was what they believed, they wouldn’t have Uncle John buy flowers.
I was puzzled, but I kept quiet. In those days children were to be seen and not heard and I knew my place.
We drove the path to the family plot and got out of the car. My grandmother took the lead and we followed. I was more interested in all the pretty bouquets of flowers and the other people walking around. Real people and spirits.
“Such a waste of money!” I heard. “I don’t know what they were thinking.”
Then a male voice said calmly, “Marie, they come. Be grateful.”
I felt a chill and sneezed. My mother didn’t want me catching cold and told me to sit in the car.
In the car, I met my great-grandmother and great-grandfather.
“Tell them,” she began, “tell them not to buy flowers, but get them from the garden.”
“I remember the day we planted that garden,” Great-grandfather said. “There was such a discussion on what to plant and how to keep it producing flowers all year.”
They continued talking and I listened, but said nothing.
“Are you hearing us?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said nodding.
Of course, that was when my mother decided to get into the car.
“Who are you talking to?”
I immediately told her what I had learned about the flowers and the garden and how Great-grandmother wanted flowers from her garden instead of the over-priced ones sold by the cemetery.
The end of my conversation with my mother didn’t go unnoticed by my grandmother who wanted to hear the whole conversation. Evidently, she got chilled and came to the car.
I really didn’t feel comfortable talking about the spirits . . . and their talking with me to my grandmother or other members of the family. My mother didn’t encourage me to do so normally, but since we were “caught” my mother’s nod indicated it was all right.
That evening when the gates to the cemetery were closed, we went back.
My grandmother did play it “cool” by telling the rest of the family how she remembered collecting flowers from the garden to take to the cemetery. Then others chimed in also recalling those times.
Sitting in the warm house discussing how we would give Great-Grandmother the flowers she wanted seemed like a good idea, but standing outside the cemetery gates in the cold damp foggy night air, I wasn’t so sure.
I was still surprised by how went along with the plot to have my brother and I sneak into the cemetery.
We parked a distance away and walked to the gate. My brother and I slipped through the bars. Gary held the flashlight and was the navigator and I followed carrying the flowers.
There was a thick fog covering the cemetery. It was creepy. I didn’t know where we were or if we would find the right spot.
“It’s over there,” I said pointing. It seemed the fog lifted for us to follow a path to our destination.
“Do you see them?” Gary asked.
“No, but I think they’re helping us.”
Now that I think of that conversation, I think he was referring to the headstones, not the spirits of our great-grandparents.
We did find the right spot with the help of friendly spirits.
Back at my grandmothers house, it seemed about the same time we placed the flowers on the headstones, her house was filled with the fragrance of flowers. I would have liked to have experienced that.
This early introduction to sneaking into a cemetery after dark may have planted a seed.
To this day I go to the cemetery after dark and place flowers on graves. Some cemetery gates are open and others have gates that close at dusk. I sometimes join a group of florists who place flowers on graves for holidays.
This seems to be my calling to remember those who have passed long ago.
I have met some interesting spirits throughout the years . . . I’ve also been spooked more times than I care to admit. But, in the end, I am so very grateful that I’ve been able to do this . . . and it began so very many years ago.
Thanks for stopping by!
Sharon
by Sharon | Jun 27, 2018
There are many urban legends and downright scary stories about driving down a country road — running out of gas, seeing No Trespassing signs, seeing a ghost . . .
This real ghost story is a bit different — and maybe familiar. Yes, there is a ghost involved and a cemetery — an interesting combination.
Normally, I’ve heard, ghosts don’t hang out at cemeteries. They’re busy haunting houses and hospitals, nursing homes, etc. They may be looking for closure . . . and some don’t realize they’re dead. That’s the strange thing . . . when you’re not sure you saw a ghost or not.
Yes, this is my story — one of many real ghostly encounters.
This “ghostly encounter” took place years ago — I would say 35 to 40 years ago. I was driving down this country road, lost in thought . . . and lost.
I obviously made a wrong turn somewhere along the way. There were miles and miles of farm land. Fields of I don’t know what. I did see abandoned trucks and tractors in a field here and there. An old barn falling apart. Yes, there were “no trespassing” signs scattered here and there . . . and an old cemetery. There were a few cards parked outside. There was a funeral going on. I thought I’d stop and ask for directions after the ceremony.
For some reason I parked my car, got out and began walking among the headstones.
One caught my eye, it was overgrown with weeds. I started clearing the weeds away. The date on the headstone was 1849, 100 years before I was born. The death date was my birthday . . .
I felt a chill . . . more like a tingle . . . it wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t comforting either. The name on the headstone was nothing familiar to me or similar to my name at all — we didn’t share the same initials — just the death day (my birthday) and the year (100 years before I was born).
As I was clearing away the weeds, I was basically talking to myself and wondering who this woman was and what her life was like . . . I also wondered if there was a connection — besides her death day was my birthday with a 100 year gap.
Obviously, I was a bit fixated on it — as I am now recalling my paranormal experience.
I heard a voice behind me. “Hello. Thank you for clearing away my grave.”
I thought I heard her wrong or maybe it was “her grave” in regards to being a relative.
I immediately stood up and apologized for intruding . . . but no one was there. But off in the distance, I did see a woman walking away. I ran to catch up with her.
I was so caught up in what had happened that I didn’t ask for directions, but I wanted to know about the woman who’s grave I just cleared.
The woman seemed very relaxed and spoke of “Margaret”, the woman who died in 1849 as though it was yesterday.
“It was a beautiful day and a lovely ceremony. Paul, Margaret’s husband was devastated. Their four young children — the youngest at home . . . Margaret died in childbirth. It was a girl . . . ”
My head was whirling with questions — was this woman Margaret or the daughter — but that would make her over 100 years old — it wasn’t possible . . . maybe the granddaughter of Margaret???
Would she refer to herself in the third person if this woman beside me was Margaret??
I didn’t care if this woman thought I was a bit coo-coo . . . so I just asked, “Are you Margaret? The woman who died in childbirth?”
She did laugh, but not in a cruel way, “Of course I am!”
Oh my gosh!!! She was a ghost!!! She had to be . . . or she was goofing with me.
“So . . . ” I began, but stopped. I couldn’t take in the fact that I was seeing and having a conversation with a ghost . . . So I did what I do when I’m nervous . . . I started babbling about how I was looking for my grandmother’s house which had been bought and moved out in the country. “I must have made a wrong turn and I ended up here. I found this overgrown grave and started clearing away the weeds . . . and now . . .”‘
“I brought you here.”
“What? Why?”
“You passed your grandmother’s house a few miles back. You wouldn’t recognize it, the beautiful porch is gone and I didn’t think it would be right for you to see it. Keep your memories of how it once was and the good times you shared there with your grandmother.”
And then she was gone!! Gone, gone . . . I didn’t see her walk away, she just vanished.
I did see a ghost . . . she did do me a favor by not allowing me to see how my grandmother’s house had changed with the move . . . I suppose I did her a favor by clearing her grave of weeds . . .
But . . . I believe I received so very much more than she received from me . . . Or, perhaps, it was mutual to a degree of a ghost being able to have a conversation with a living person . . . a conversation, just like one would have with another living person . . .
Thanks for stopping by!
Sharon
