Kelly Hill
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The following story is 100% truth, none of it has been exaggerated, that being said lets get started. First off, I live in a small rural community in the backwoods of West Virginia, you know, the place you hear banjo’s when you enter it? This was back when I was in 10th grade at a small school which only consisted of 600 some students. So of course my friends and I were adrenaline junkies, out looking for a good scare in the deep eerie fog of the Appalachian mountains.

There was six of us, including one of my friends girlfriend. It was close to 3:30 am, what we always liked to call “The Witching Hour,” just to add that extra uhmph to the thrill. I remember vividly it was a very wet and foggy night, and we decided to travel p a very rough and steep road which head to a large unmarked graveyard. About 1/5th of a mile from the graveyard is an abandoned, single-roomed school, I can only imagine had to be over 100 – 150 years old. We all knew there was a risk of traveling down such an dangerous road at sch a late time, but overall we decided it would be worth it.

The ride to the old school was rough and sketchy, to say the least. But we eventually made it and was already second thinking our decision when we happened upon the school. The thin wooden walls were dry and grey from the lack of upkeep, rectangular in shape, with 3 busted-out windows in each of the longer sides. Over each window was some rusty wire which was seemed to be cut for some reason. We stumbled in the dark to the small porch, which had no stairs. After finding a rock just tall enough to hoist ourselves onto the porch we headed to the door.

The door had no door handle, and almost seemed to be barged from the other side. After a few minutes of struggling with the door it finally freed and opened up. We walked into this small room, around 20ftx30ft estimated. A couple of my friends and I have pulled or iPods and cellphones out for a source of light by now and began to read names written on the wall. There was a bunch of “Will <3 Jane” and “Steve 200-whatever” but we were all drawn to a short poem which seemed to be scratched on, I can’t remember the poem but at the bottom I remember reading ” – Jesse Fi–ley 1971 -”

Suddenly a Cardinal flew in through one of the windows and landed in the middle of all of us. So after recovering from a minor heart attack the girl in our group tried to nudge it off with her boot, but the bird just wouldn’t move. We even picked it up and set it out on the porch, but the damn thing just flew back in on us. We all just gave up on the bird and moved on, as we were hanging out just talking we heard someone walk around outside. Well, we all thought one of us must of sneaked out while we were focused on other stuff, but quickly realized we were all accounted for. That very next second we heard a howl about 75 to 90 feet, then another even farther away on the opposite side, then 3 howls from the front, almost right next to my truck it seemed! We began to look out the windows looking for the faint glow of eyes, but seen none, heard no footsteps of even anymore howls.

After about 45 minutes of being trapped inside of the old school, we finally dropped our twigs and stones and slowly walked out of the school. As I was waiting to climb off the porch a small pebble was thrown at the side or my head, about half an inch above my ear. I looked to my side to my friend, who was waiting for his turn to climb down and asked if he just threw something at me. Now, 99.9% of the time I would of taken no as a lie in that situation, but the way he said it and unattachment from the question I just asked told me for a fact that he had no idea what just happened.

After I told the gang what just happened to me we went to peek around the edge of the school to see if anyone was there, and as we came into view of the side road which head on down to the graveyard, we saw what looks like a small cloud of fog, about the size of a man take off down the road. Now mind you, it is already foggy and wet, so to be able to visibly see a think grey cloud of fog in an already foggy area is VERY unlikely. Out of curiosity a couple of my friends and I went off after the object we just saw, while the others stayed in the truck.

As we walked down the moonlit foggy road we came upon the graveyard and realized none of the graves had names, they couldn’t even be considered tombstones, they were small slabs of stone, about a foot high and half a foot thick, all marked with a number. The first earliest grave we found was #8 and went all the way to #43, some stones missing, some broken. Out of nowhere a small, very very small light lit up about ten feet down the hill from us. The light would chance from white, to blue to yellow and back to white. Closer we got to it, the dimmer it got, and by the time we got to its location it was completely gone. But what we discovered at its location will always remain with me… under the fallen wet leaves was a marked grave… the marked grave of “Jesse Finnley 1971 – 2008″ The name we were all drawn too for some reason at the school. That’s all I could tell you, I wish I knew the whole story, but I believe I never will.

One Response so far.

  1. velma golden says:

    Good story,needs a little work tho,like spelling,and sentance structure. Please keep up the stories.

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