We started by driving down to a place called Cry Baby Bridge. The legend goes like this: in 1928 a woman and her infant child were in a cross the bridge on a horse drawn carriage during a storm. A crash of thunder spooked the horses, sending the carriage over on its side and depositing the baby in to the river below. The young mother searched for her crying baby but could never find it and died devastated. So, at this bridge you are supposed to hear the baby crying and see the ghost of the searching mother. Well, I heard no crying and witness no ghostly mother asking if we've seen her infant. Instead I saw four creeped out women daring one another to go up with hill, further in to the darkness. At one point Shelton and I made it just past the bend, out of sight from our companions. Shelton's pretty much a badass...except when it comes to ghost haunts. As we were bravely climbing the small hill, she got spooked and just took of running. Not wanting to be left alone in the dark on an abandoned road, I immediately took off after her screaming "don't leave me alone!" I ran so hard to catch up with her that I had a tragic wardrobe malfunction and was forced to readjust everything back together like the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz. Tuller and Nessa were waiting near a gate and ready to run if we were to clear the bend with a motherly ghost on tote. However, nothing chased us and we piled back in the car to travel to our next creepy destination.
Losers.
Our next stop was an old country cemetery where it is rumored that a boy was tragically hit while riding his bicycle and now haunts the cemetery where the accident happened, and where he was buried. The road alone was chilling as it was off of an old highway and covered with trees dipping down like a scene from a horror film. At first we passed the unassuming gated entrance. Finally we turned back, parked and just....sat there. The nearly synonymous vote between the four of us was to not get out. Well, I'm curious as a cat so I hopped out and made my way to the gate. Brave little Shelton joined me as we stood there looking at the foggy path that lead to the actual cemetery and decided...hell no. We'll be satisfied with a looksee. When we got back to the car, Nessa pulled out some Bicardi wine coolers and we all shared a major laugh. Are we really sitting in car drinking wine coolers in front of a cemetery on a Saturday night? Yes. Yes we are in fact doing that. Winning.
It was getting late and we decided it was time to give up ghost hunting for the night, but not before we decided to try to scare the oncoming car by hiding our heads and popping up just as they passed. Much to our dismay, the passing car didn't even slow down. Hell, I'd figure they'd at least want to know why 4 grown women are trying to play a cemetery prank on the locals. But they either didn't see us or didn't care.
The drive home was nothing but self deprecating jokes about how lame we were acting and a little game we created called Things Alan Rickman Has Never Said. Example: "I need to go to Wal-Mart".
We laughed so hard at ourselves and had a really good time regardless of the fact that someone may accuse us of being completely ridiculous and forever single because this is how we chose to spend a Saturday night. Who gives a shit! It was fun!
My friends are ridiculous. I love them.
Peace,
C
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