I’ve always been drawn to the cemeteries of New England. Mostly because they’re among some of the oldest in the United States, and also I love the style of headstones that were popular in the late 1700’s, early 1800’s. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to make it to that part of the country to see for myself, but I have great friends who are nice enough to visit creepy places and send me lots of pics.
Sorry for the lack of posts lately, I’ve been busy working on a project that I will hopefully be able to share soon. Since it’s now October (my favorite time of year!!) I thought I would write about one of Utah’s most well-known haunts that also happens to be practically impossible to get into.
I first heard about the Old Mill from my friend Helmey a few years ago. One of his ancestors was the first mill foreman, and he’s always been drawn to the creepy derelict building. It’s also rumored to be one of the most haunted places in Utah. Since I’ve lived north of Salt Lake City since moving to Utah in 2007 I really didn’t know too much about it.
For the paranormal enthusiast, Gettysburg should be close to the top on the list of haunted places to visit. It’s a quaint town, and there are so many haunted locations that have an incredible history. It’s no surprise that people have reported ghostly encounters all through this area because in a matter of 3 days, and numerous battles spread over a relatively small area, over 51,000 people were killed.
The Restless Dead of Gettysburg
Ghost stories abound here, and paranormal activity has been reported for quite some time. I came across an interesting newspaper article from the Harrisburg Telegraph in 1939. Someone reported seeing two men walking on the side of the road that appeared to be injured. The person stopped the car to see if they needed help and noticed that they were carrying rifles and were dressed in stained and bloody old-fashioned military uniforms.
The men told the good samaritan that their friend needed help and was propped up on a nearby tree. He walked with them to the tree and saw the man lying there with an obvious chest wound. He told the men he would drive to the nearest gas station and call for help. When he got to the gas station the attendant said don’t bother going back to help; they won’t be there; they are the restless dead of Gettysburg.
One of the most impressive and my all time favorite cemetery is the Cimetiere du Père Lachaise, in Paris. Located in the 20th arrondissement, it covers 110 acres and holds over 1 million people. The cemetery was established in 1804 by Napoleon, and is known as the first garden cemetery.
Whenever I take a trip, I do some quick research to see if there are any interesting cemeteries nearby. It’s one of my favorite parts of any trip. On a recent trip, I realized we would be close enough to visit Mount Moriah Cemetery.
Mount Moriah Cemetery is located in southwest Philadelphia, covers 380 acres with over 85,000 graves making it the largest cemetery in Pennsylvania. What makes this cemetery so unusual and fascinating to me is that it is considered to be an abandoned cemetery. It’s difficult to see the paths to drive through the cemetery, and most of the cemetery is completely overgrown. Many of the headstones are barely visible through the brush.
A few years ago I visited Normandy and was able to pay a visit to the Cimetière Américain de Colleville-sur-mer ( Normandy American Cemetery). I don’t usually get too emotional at cemeteries, but this one was different.
The cemetery is 172.5 acres with 9,387 burials and the names of 1,557 soldiers who are listed as missing in action. It’s located on a bluff overlooking Omaha Beach with a breathtaking view. Most of those buried here were killed during the D-Day invasion, and it’s interesting to note that the cemetery overlooks the sector where the 1st Division landed on D-Day.
When my boyfriend recently told me he had to go to Los Angeles for a quick business trip, and needed to be close to Skid Row, the first words out of my mouth were: YOU SHOULD STAY AT THE HOTEL CECIL!!! At the time, however, I didn’t realize he thought I was serious, as any time I suggest a place to stay and get that excited about it, it’s usually a tip off that there is probably some paranormal or creepy connection. Next thing I knew he booked himself (and a couple of his co-workers) in a hotel in the midst of skid row that has quite a notorious past. And then, I felt really bad! I tried to convince him to stay somewhere else, but it turns out that it’s right down the street from his client’s offices, and he was up for an adventure.
A couple of years ago I was driving from Ogden to the small town of Spring City, Utah to pick up a puppy. After passing through Spanish Fork Canyon, and taking a right onto US-89, I drove around a curve and saw the strangest sight. On the side of the road was a decaying house, mostly submerged in water, and partially hidden by tall grass. It’s not an easy area to stop in, and I was in a hurry to pick up my pup, so I was not able to stop that day and explore the area. It wasn’t until I recently found myself back in the area that I realized the submerged house was one of the few remaining hints of the town of Thistle, Utah
I’ve had an interest in the paranormal for a very long time, and the event that sparked my interest happened when I was around 7 or 8 years old.
We used to spend summers at my grandmother’s house in Baltimore, Maryland and she had a cat named Frisky that was the meanest cat I have ever seen. I’m pretty sure it was mean to everyone (including my grandmother), but it could’ve just been mean to me because I was an annoying kid who probably chased it around the house.
One summer we went back to visit and found that Frisky had died a few months before we arrived. I remember thinking I was glad he wasn’t around anymore. (Sad, I know)
After we had been there a couple of days, I was getting ready for bed, and I was in the cramped bathroom brushing my teeth. I remember turning away from the sink, and I saw Frisky walking towards me, and because I was mid-step, I almost fell into the bathtub behind me to avoid stepping on him. I caught myself by grabbing the wall, and when I looked back, there was nothing there.
Then it hit me that not only had the door not been opened to let any cat it (and there were no other cats in the house), but Frisky had been dead for awhile and buried in the backyard somewhere. Could I have imagined it? Certainly, but it felt much too real to have been some weird hallucination. And I had never experienced anything like that before. Had I seen the ghost of my grandmother’s mean dead cat?