Stopping by the boneyard on a balmy evening

My past life in market research taught me to believe in statistics, so I believe that if you spend enough time in a haunted place, you’re bound to see a ghost.

I guess that means I need to spend a lot more time in a particular, haunted location near my office. Because so far I’ve struck out in seeing a ghost there.

I’m referring to an old haunted cemetery not too far from my office.

Let me give you the skinny. My town has an amazing ghost tour that hits up this cemetery after dark. Every Friday and Saturday night, would-be ghost seekers tromp through these old graves, taking selfies and trying to give themselves the heebie-jeebies.

The ghost tour has a notable image on their website (scroll down to the “Founders Cemetery” heading to see it)—someone on the tour took a photo in the cemetery and caught a man on camera—a man who was not on the tour.

It’s definitely creepy, of course. But, what’s to say the man captured on camera wasn’t actually on the tour, and no one remembered him?

A few months ago I mentioned this ghost tour to a friend, who said she also took an interesting photograph in the same cemetery when she went on the same tour. After scrolling through a year’s worth of photos, she found the image.

And in her photograph stood the same man.

She sent me a copy so I could post it.

Of course, I’m intensely jealous. I’ve never caught a ghost on camera! But I believe you can do anything if you put your mind to it. So, I began to visit this cemetery on a daily basis, snapping photos of the two locations where I knew this fellow had shown up before.

Nothing, nada, no luck.

A few days ago, a friend was in town and I mentioned this predicament to her. She suggested that the problem was: I wasn’t going to the cemetery at night. So we hatched a plan.

I put the kids to bed quickly, telling them I would be going out. “Where are you going?” they asked. “Mommy has to do something for work,” I responded. It sounded better than “Mommy wants to feel like a teenager again so she’s going to go sneak into an old cemetery after dark.” Mommy is 40 years old and should know better.

My friend and I lasted about 20 minutes in that cemetery. We arrived around 10pm and, of course, brought no flashlights other than our phones. The chills were real in that place. At one point I motioned to her to follow me as I wandered deeper into the cemetery; she remained rooted to the spot, unable to follow. She’s a lot more sensitive than I am. But I definitely started getting the feeling like I was being watched. I took more photos, a little more audio, and was about to snap one more picture when she exclaimed.

“The energy is changing. I feel something on the back of my neck.”

“Should we go?” I asked as I ran down the graveyard stairs and bolted to my car.

She jumped into the passenger seat and we peeled away to safety, laughing like little schoolchildren.

We pulled into a nearby lot and started to go through our photos, hoping to find something.

And…nothing. I struck out again. Dammit!

Plus, the photos kinda suck, as assessed by another family member who is a professional photographer.

So, I suppose I’ll have to go back to the cemetery on yet another night. Anybody want to join me? In the meantime, you can listen to some true ghost stories on our podcast!