- Joined
- Aug 25, 2012
A few years back a small cemetery was doing a cemetery walk. My g-g-grandmother was one of the people being "honored" and a young lady who was from the local high school dressed up as my g-g-grandmother and told her story. I almost did not go, but my daughter wanted me to go with her.
Over the last decade the local historical society had be raising funds to redo the interior of a family mausoleum . This had been locked for over 50 years and no one had entered over those years and thus it needed work. They did a great job and all the stained glass windows and wood interior looked simply wonderful. To celebrate the completion of the restoration the local historical society put drinks and food on tables inside the old mausoleum.
Well I am not one to skip free cookies and ice tea so in I went. All the folding chairs were taken so I sit on the small ledge in front of a couple brass name plates. Out of respect I did not set in front of the resting place of the poor dead Civil War soldier, but instead sit in front of his wife. So far no problems, but wait.
As soon as I sit down on the ledge in front of the dead Civil War soldier's wife, the soldier's brass name plate came lose and partly opening, hit me on the shoulder. I did not look into the partly opened crypt to see his bones but could not be totally sure if the dead soldiers was inviting me in to his crypt or if perhaps he had a problem with me sitting by his wife.
Although I finished my skeleton shaped cookie and sipped my ice tea, I was a bit shaken by his bras name plate bumping my shoulder. I also thought I felt a cold light breeze on the back of my neck coming from the partially open crypt. Plus the escaping air had a kind of musty boney smell. So I was not unhappy when we moved on to my g-g-grandmothers grave. Well her grave stone at least because she was buried on the old family farm and a future owner plowed up her skull. But no worries, he donated it to the local high school. When my dad went to the school it was still on display. The school had got rid of it before the young lady who played my g-g-grandmother started school.
So although I can not verify it was in fact a ghost, and I never even took a peak at his bones in the crypt, I could sort of call this a Civil War ghost story and a true story at that.
I visit the cemetery several times per year and always seem to "accidentally" park my car several parking places away from the old family mausoleum. See I am not afraid of some old Civil War soldier's ghost , but then again why take chances with a jealous ghost?
Over the last decade the local historical society had be raising funds to redo the interior of a family mausoleum . This had been locked for over 50 years and no one had entered over those years and thus it needed work. They did a great job and all the stained glass windows and wood interior looked simply wonderful. To celebrate the completion of the restoration the local historical society put drinks and food on tables inside the old mausoleum.
Well I am not one to skip free cookies and ice tea so in I went. All the folding chairs were taken so I sit on the small ledge in front of a couple brass name plates. Out of respect I did not set in front of the resting place of the poor dead Civil War soldier, but instead sit in front of his wife. So far no problems, but wait.
As soon as I sit down on the ledge in front of the dead Civil War soldier's wife, the soldier's brass name plate came lose and partly opening, hit me on the shoulder. I did not look into the partly opened crypt to see his bones but could not be totally sure if the dead soldiers was inviting me in to his crypt or if perhaps he had a problem with me sitting by his wife.
Although I finished my skeleton shaped cookie and sipped my ice tea, I was a bit shaken by his bras name plate bumping my shoulder. I also thought I felt a cold light breeze on the back of my neck coming from the partially open crypt. Plus the escaping air had a kind of musty boney smell. So I was not unhappy when we moved on to my g-g-grandmothers grave. Well her grave stone at least because she was buried on the old family farm and a future owner plowed up her skull. But no worries, he donated it to the local high school. When my dad went to the school it was still on display. The school had got rid of it before the young lady who played my g-g-grandmother started school.
So although I can not verify it was in fact a ghost, and I never even took a peak at his bones in the crypt, I could sort of call this a Civil War ghost story and a true story at that.
I visit the cemetery several times per year and always seem to "accidentally" park my car several parking places away from the old family mausoleum. See I am not afraid of some old Civil War soldier's ghost , but then again why take chances with a jealous ghost?