Haunted Stories: The Lovelorn Ghost of the Cemetery

Haunted Stories: The Lovelorn Ghost of the Cemetery
Photo credit: flickr/Lorna Taylor

Seeing as my father was in the military, we moved around a lot, especially when I was in my teens. From the ages thirteen to sixteen, our house backed onto an old cemetery – which kind of creeped us out. When Mom and I did the dishes, we’d often look out the window and make up our own haunted stories.

I realize now that we did that to make ourselves feel a little more comfortable with the whole situation.

When I was fifteen, on a hot summer’s day, I was bored and brave enough to go and explore.

I walked out to the backyard and wandered along the fence until I found a dilapidated section.

Being small enough to crawl through, I was soon standing on the other side and looking at the tombstones and graves.

It was like I’d entered another world, but it wasn’t exactly spooky. I felt a deep peace wash over me as I walked along.

The warm breeze lulled me into a dream-like state as I read the various epitaphs and admired the old headstones.

When I came across a group of trees, I went over and had a seat on one of the wooden benches, under the shade.

It hadn’t occurred to me how quiet it was in the cemetery but then I was distracted by a feeling that I wasn’t alone.

I saw a woman in black, floating in front of me

I thought she was visiting a grave, but the fact that her feet weren’t on the ground sent a chill right through me.

My logical brain refused to believe what I was seeing but I just had to know more – so I followed her!

Either my heart wasn’t beating or it was beating so fast that I couldn’t detect the heartbeats.

There was a scent of lavender in the air and I noted that I hadn’t seen any lavender anywhere in the cemetery.

The woman hovered silently and slowly as she moved between the graves – seeming not to notice me behind her.

I was transfixed by the billowing black veil that trailed behind her and her black, Victorian dress buffeting in the wind.

Her honey colored hair was up in a loose bun and several strands wafted under the veil as she continued her stroll.

She was carrying a large posie and as I focused on it – I barely noticed that she had stopped in front of a small grave.

I took a few more steps and then stopped – watching her kneel down and place the posie on the grave.

I gasped as the sound of deep weeping filled the air. It wasn’t like a normal sound. It was coming from all directions!

My haunted stories didn’t hold a candle to hers

What was even stranger about the whole scene was that I felt her grief. I wept as though the pain was mine.

When I think back on it now, it’s amazing that I wasn’t that afraid – even though it was quite creepy.

I was frozen to the spot when she turned to look at me. She seemed so real – but her eyes were so large and dark.

She was only a few feet away but our eyes locked as we both continued to weep.

She pointed to the grave and I heard her strange, high-pitched voice saying, “My beloved!”

I knew exactly what she meant and nodded as I watched her turn and float away. In a flash – she was gone.

I couldn’t see a name on the headstone and it took ages for me to stop weeping. Of all the stories I shared with my Mom, this one I kept to myself.

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