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.
Photo credit: flickr/Lorna Taylor
Updated 2/9/2020 – 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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