I just spent my Saturday night ghost hunting at an old plantation home (equipped with two old barns, slave quarters, and two graveyards–one for the family and the other for slaves–though the slave one can only be found during the daytime).
Now when you think about this place, don’t think “historically revived plantation home with a nice, mowed lawn and flowers”. Oh no. According to the peeps who own it, every time they try to tear it down someone gets injured or dies, so the plantation home (built in the early 1700’s) remains exactly as it was. The walls and floorboards are falling apart, stones are broken, glass windows shattered. Wallpaper in all different colors and patterns is peeling from the rotting wood, the grass is nearly six feet in some places, reaching a minimum of five feet everywhere else. The “basement” is an open hole that sits just under the stairs that lead into the house so if you misstep or lose your balance, you’re going to fall into the dark abyss. On the second story floor you have to watch your step or risk falling straight through the ceiling down to the shattered first floor below (which is a long way because it has high ceilings). The barn is falling in on itself, with rusting chains and wooden planks hanging from the abandoned rafters. The graveyard was filled with soft dirt and leaning tombstones that date all the way back to the Revolutionary War. One of the men was a coronal…for the Confederates…oh. But that didn’t make it any less cool.
Oh, and did I mention the giant crates of dynamite? There were those too. Leftovers from when they were trying to knock the buildings down, I think. Otherwise I have no idea. We were just told not to smoke by them. No dip Sherlock!
I should tell you that I don’t particularly believe in ghosts, or at least I’m an optimistic skeptic. Unless you can prove to me beyond a shadow of a doubt that they exist, then I’m going to continue to think that the “orbs” are exactly what they are–bits of dust. Which isn’t hard to find in a field of grass six feet tall! But that doesn’t mean I have anything against believers, not at all. Whatever floats your boat, you know?
But even my disbelief of ghostly encounters didn’t make it any less awesome!!! I love spooky stuff, and anything that will inspire my writing is great by me. I got to experience a piece of history that not a lot of people get to see. And with the scary atmosphere added, I’m going to have a perfect backdrop for a horror story!
So, in the end, I didn’t see any ghosts (but we got a ton of good pictures). As for the zombies–I’m not sure–but who knows. When you have a haunted plantation and creepy weeds–aliens, ghosts, vampires, zombies, werewolves–who knows what’s going to happen. Oh–but there was a pack of freakishly creepy coyotes that were uncomfortably close to where we were. That was scary. There was a cow too. A ghost cow. Not really.
Moo rhymes with Boo!