What do you believe? It is yours to decide.
Led on with fingerprints on car windows, shadows lurking at the gates, and temperature drops, Southern Indiana’s public have been exposed to the idea of life-after death-lurking there. What draws people to Bridgewater Cemetery?
Bridgewater Cemetery, on the outskirts of Scottsburg, Indiana, is home for the dead. The cemetery is exposed on a hill, led up by a narrow gravel road. Basically, it has spooky written all over it-and that is what attracts so many thrill seekers.
Who starves for a thrill as scrumptious and real as a good scare? I decided to take a risk and explore the cemetery and its legends for myself and documentation purposes.
In past articles I had read, the young author and friends never ventured outside their car. That was my mission: To see every nook and cranny of the graveyard and the woods behind it. It was no small task, but I pinned my courage to my sleeve and hoped for the best.
It was around one in the morning on October 24th, my birthday, and my stomach began to twist and dance as Jacob Morgan, Logan, Andrew, and I rode down the road. Brittney Scifres, Josh Thompson, Swiss, and Zack Rhodanson (New Albany High School) followed us from behind with another car. After perilous attempts to find Bridgewater Road, we finally found it. We took a turn onto the gravel road. My heart began to beat like a hammer, almost unbearable, but enjoyable.
As the hill crept closer, I turned my head to the left for what seemed like a second, and then did a double take. I couldn’t believe my eyes! The last house on this corpsed road was on the LEFT and the street number was 3666. A sign of danger or wronged actions forward? Yes.
We ignored this sign and continued forward up the hill. When we arrived, there were about six cars already parked in the driveway. My hopes plummeted. I wanted to have the graveyard to myself and my party. We parked and then, of course, there came a few people with an attempt to scare us off with scary tales and weird happening from yesteryear. I was growing impatient.
We entered the gate and chills ran down my spine. There was a full moon out, and it lit the entire cemetery. It was nice, though the graves marked it with a grim feeling. I began taking an abundance of pictures with my film camera, just in case the battery stories were true. My group led the way as I stumbled over stones, my attention fully drawn to my camera.
The group made their way to the back of the cemetery. The temperature had dropped. I didn’t really notice it until I glanced over at Josh and caught him caressing his arms and shivering. Then it hit me, did I really want to go in the woods, on the forbidden trails?
I decided to follow the group in to the woods. And no, that was not peer pressure, it was common sense, because who would stay in a cemetery that is HAUNTED alone? I was led by what seemed like 10 other people. I was last in line, and it gave me a bad feeling. Being last in line in the movies is just plain wrong. The last person in line always gets dragged away or slaughtered first. I continued walking as I stumbled over more roots and stones with horror movie clips racing through my mind.
After minutes in the woods, the group came to a bend and a halt. There were some girls in the front that had gotten scared, so the group in front cut through my group and walked back to the cemetery. We began to venture back also, for fear of what we’d experience on the trail. We had heard many legends and frankly, didn’t want to partake in them.
As we arrived back to the scene of the grave site, I felt more comfortable. I was glad to be out of that forest of terror. We walked back to the gate and stopped for a quick chat. The lead fellow of the other group told us tales of the black soldiers buried outside of the cemetery. After many mindless corrections, I finished all the stories he had started.
We began to gaze at the so called, “Hanging Tree”. Legend has it that they would hang African Americans on that tree, and there was a messed up face reported to appear at times in random with the shadows of the night. We pondered the names of graves and paced back and fourth, from one grave to another. The graves of the blacks gave me a feeling of pity.
We decided to enter the graveyard once again and stand in a circle in the middle of it. We did so, and began to perform EVPs. EVP stands for electronic voice phenomena and is the action of recording question and answer sessions from human to spirit in attempt to get feedback from beyond the grave.
The first time we performed an EVP, the group was a little immature. They were spouting out perverted questions, trying to be the funny one in the group (mostly the other group, not mine). One question was asked that I can remember, and will probably remember forever. One lad asked, “Are you a virgin?” to the spirits. As soon as his mouth had shut, I felt a slight breath on my neck. It felt as though someone was breathing on me. I closed my eyes and clenched my teeth, begging it to stop. After everyone was done, I picked up my phone and deleted the recording.
The other group decided to leave. That is what I had been wishing for all evening. They pulled out of the drive and began back on the road. We were finally alone. There were only eight of us left. It was cold, quiet, and mysterious. We decided to attempt another EVP. So I put my phone on the ground and hit record. There was no breeze, no one else around, and it was silent. No one was talking or moving at all. Then, one by one, we asked it civilized questions like, “How old are you? How did you die?”
We heard nothing, but continued to be still. Jacob, starving from lack of entertainment and longing for something catastrophic to happen, began to taunt the spirits. This was not a good idea from the beginning. I knew that this was a bad idea, down in my gut.
After stopping the recording, Josh suddenly threw himself towards me and was in complete fright. I asked him what was wrong. He claimed to have seen someone run across the back of the cemetery. That is impossible, I told him, because there was no one else there. And you cannot enter the graveyard from behind. It is one way in, one way out. He was certain of it though. So Jacob pointed his flashlight towards the direction Josh saw the shadow and nothing was there. Jacob turned off the flashlight and we all grew silent.
Josh then again got frightened, within seconds he was unable to talk and was shaking, pointing towards the spotting of the last shadow. Suddenly, we all saw something run from one side of the graveyard to the other. We heard the wind pick up, and we all got spooked. So we all started sprinting towards the gate. Josh ran past me, and I am usually pretty fast, so he must have been convinced that whatever he saw was real, because he was flying past me with fear right behind him.
We got to the gate and split up. All of us except Jacob and Zack went to the car to listen to the recording. Jacob and Zack decide to go back into the cemetery while we sat in the car. Josh and I were in the back seat. I got out my phone and started to play the recording. We were all still and silent. What we found was shocking.
There was no breeze while we were recording. There was no one talking, no one moving, and everyone was silent. No one else was around. But in the recording, you could hear slight laughter, whispering, and footsteps. After a while, you could hear what sounded like someone trying to pick up my phone. It was very shocking to hear because as we were recording, all of my attention was to my phone and it was never moving or anything.
Josh got out of the car and flagged Jacob and Zack over, but didn’t have to because they came running out of the cemetery and got in their car. We told them that we had a successful EVP and we got in their car and drove off. Goodbye, Bridgewater Cemetery and the dead who are bumping in the night there. Goodbye last house on the left, now right, with the devil’s street address.
You have heard my story. You have probably heard many stories, but what you believe is yours to decide.
Written By: Becca Atwood