chasing ghosts


I swore to myself I would never go back, yet there I was, telling Sarah the directions to that infamous church. We led the way with the others following a few minutes behind us.

Holicong Road is always dark, but there was something that made my stomach churn and icy adrenaline shoot through my veins. It was eerie, and the farther we went, the more we wanted to lock the doors. There simply was no turning back. We were being pulled up the winding Buckingham Mountain road by some unknown force.

I’d like to say we didn’t break many rules that night. Sure, actual laws are important, like not trespassing, but Sarah and I broke the worst unspoken rule of survival from horror movies. Don’t turn up the music in the car to break the silence, because you won’t hear the killer sneak up on you.

Within a few minutes we found the church, and we cut the engine and dimmed the lights as we waited. Every few minutes, headlights would slash through the trees and breathing would cease until the cars passed. What was worse? Being completely isolated, or knowing there was someone who knew about a car parked at a church with a much-too-recent history?

The story goes that back on June 12, 1977, a young woman named Shaun was murdered in a vicious manner. She was stabbed in the chest and gutted like a deer, her naked body thrown somewhere on Church Hill. Her murderer was never discovered.

If nobody heard her screams, would anyone bother to hear ours? It was only after everyone arrived that we unlocked the doors and got out to explore. The shuttered windows and fenced graveyard warned us to turn around, to go home while we still had a chance, but we ventured on through the woods. A single light dimly illuminated the area, but the second Trent brought up the possibility of murderer being the girl’s uncle, the light vanished, our flashlights seemed dim … as if their battery was drained by Shaun’s presence.

Could we make it back to our cars? We didn’t want to find out. Our feet were frozen on the gravel. Facing the unknown, there was a petrified look in our eyes. The trees whispered, keeping our secret.

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