‘Ghost-Hunting’ isn’t for the meek. After 42 years, you’d think I’ve gained enough intelligence to know better than to go ghost hunting. Nope, not me, I’m not that smart. Read up on my scary experience for a good Halloween laugh. ‘Ghost-Hunting’ isn’t for the meek, especially me By Mike Isola/Beyond the Bleachers Wadena, Minn.—In less than a week, the streets will be filled with little ones seeking candy under the trick of childish tricks and the television will be filled with cheesy gore-filled horror flicks. Halloween is my favorite holiday, maybe it’s because I like to be scared silly—although my biggest fear is that of clowns. That’s silly, isn’t it? I think it’s human that we all like a good ghost story, but to actively seek out a ghost is just plain stupid, or downright dangerous depending on your perspective. After 42 years, you’d think I’ve gained enough intelligence to know better than to go ghost hunting. Nope, not me, I’m not that smart. My first time ghost hunting occurred a few years after I got married. I was at my in-laws one weekend and we were playing cards. For one reason or another, the conversation turned on ghosts. My brother-in-law Shawn knew the best ghost stories and I suspect he believes in them since some members of his family have been haunted by the paranormal. One story he brought up was about a six-year-old little ghost named Annie. The story goes somewhat like this. It was in the late 1880’s when Annie supposedly caught a fever and died. The father buried her in the plot on the family farm. The mother, for days afterwards, kept begging the father to dig up Annie because she felt the little girl was still alive and crying out for her family. The father couldn’t take the mother’s pleading anymore and dragged her to the gravesite with intentions of digging Annie up to prove to the mother that she was indeed dead. What they found inside the wooden coffin would eventually haunt the father for years to come. Apparently, Annie was indeed buried alive due to the inside of the coffin being all scratched up inside with splinters under the poor girls fingernails. Annie had also pulled out clumps of her hair in panic, her eyes were wide open and face frozen in fear as she slowly died in the small coffin. For years afterwards, according to the story, the father never forgave himself and took great lengths to preserve Annie’s gravesite. He built a stone fence around the plot complete with an iron gate and tended to the little girls grave daily. He also planted an oak tree nearby so its branches would shelter the grave. As time went on, the family either moved or passed away. This should be the end of this sad story, but according to Shawn, it was only the beginning. It is reported that Annie’s restless spirit still haunts the family farm. Her tombstone is said to be cold to the touch on even the warmest of days and warm to the touch on the coldest of days. The oak tree has grown to a stately old tree, but on the side that leans over Annie’s grave, it is reported to be dead while the other side away from the grave is much alive. Headlights fail when a motorist passes the grave near the old farm and livestock refuse to cross the bridge nearby. One story is that if you cross that bridge three times saying “Annie, Annie, where are you today? Annie, Annie, won’t you please come out to play?” The restless spirit of Annie is said to appear. But beware—Annie does not tolerate people that respect her gravesite. Another story was of a drunken college boy that urinated on her grave only to have a pop machine mysteriously fall on him when he stopped at a gas station afterward. Cars sometimes won’t start or just die suddenly after people stop at the gravesite to look. Now, here’s the kicker. Shawn said that he visited the gravesite himself and believes some of the stories he has heard. That’s when we all started laughing at the table at his tall tale. But Shawn kept insisting that the gravesite was ‘near Sleepy Eye and only a few hours from here. He said that some friends of his has experienced some weird stuff but he hasn’t. My other brother-in-law at the table, Scott, kept agreeing with Shawn and at the end, I was curious enough to check into this story. So off we went to visit Annie’s grave in the middle of the night, just the three of us in Scott’s car. After driving what seemed like forever, Shawn told me that we were coming up to the bridge near Annie’s grave. I dared him to say the phrase to provoke Annie to appear. Scott drove back-and-forth over the bridge three times with Shawn hollering out the window for Annie to come out to play. We waited and waited in the car at the end of the bridge. No Annie. Nothing happened and I started to scuff at Shawn for believing in some made-up stories. After awhile, we started to leave and headed down a gravel road towards the gravesite. Off the distance, I noticed a grayish-white flicker as we were driving. I just assumed it was an outdoor light from nearby farm. As we were coming closer, the light seemed to fade away and for some reason, I started to get this weird feeling of impending doom that kept getting stronger as we were driving. Finally, we stopped in the middle of nowhere. Shawn turned back to me and said we were at the gravesite. I turned my gaze to beam from Shawn’s flashlight pointing at the headstone from the road and got a jolt. Apparently, unknown to both Scott and Shawn, the flashlight was pointed directly at a little girl standing right by the headstone. I will never forget the eyes on the little girl, as it was black as night and her face—Oh Lord, her face, was that of an decayed person. She was also basked in a faint gray-white light. I immediately ducked under the back seat in fetal position and hollered at Scott to ‘step on it’. Befuddled, Shawn asked me “Why Mike?” “Just go!” I hollered back at him. “Turn that (bleep) flashlight off and just GO!” “Why? You see something Mike?” Shawn asked. “Please (bleep) GO NOW!” I blubbered, huddling in the back seat. “What do you see? I don’t see anything!” Shawn replied while scanning the site with the flashlight. Stupidly enough, I sat up and looked over again in time to see the little girl start ‘floating’ towards the car with the look I assume of anger. “OH GOD!” I screamed, “Go, Go, GO! Leave NOW!” Startled, Scott squealed off on the gravel with me huddled in the back seat. For what seemed like eternity, I refused to get out of that position until the weird feeling I experienced earlier started to ebb. When it did, we were nearing Redwood Falls. Suddenly, the rear tire blew out on Scott’s car. I screamed like a little girl right then and there.
Posted on: Sun, 27 Oct 2013 17:59:41 +0000
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