Cemeteries. They tend to be the setting for plenty of
urban legends and campfire ghost stories. Storytellers love them; they score
high on the ‘creep factor’ due to all the--you know--dead bodies six feet under,
which provides plenty of ammunition for a good ole fashioned ghost or zombie
story.
In the daylight, cemeteries seem pretty harmless. But
once the sun dips below the horizon, they take on a whole different vibe. You
probably wouldn’t think twice about walking past a cemetery in the daytime, but
I bet you’d find a different route if your walk was at night and would take you past a graveyard.
Speaking from personal experience, I can remember a Halloween night when I was about fourteen or fifteen. It was probably the last year I went door to door looking for handouts. The trick-or-treating ended at my friend’s house at the far end of the community we lived in and I was looking at a long walk home.
Alone. In the dark. On Halloween. Fairly late at night.
Wouldn’t you know it—to get home, I would have to pass two local cemeteries. Alone. In the dark. On Halloween. There was no alternate route. But hey, I am a paranormal enthusiast! A self-made ghost hunter! What’s a few zombies and wayward spirits crawling out of their graves in the dark, ready to attack and whisk me away to the lairs from whence they came?
Okay --in those days I did not look forward to seeing
ghosts like I do today. I hadn’t exactly explored the spirit world at that
point, even though some were already residing in our house. To say I was
concerned about my trek from one end of the community to the other is a bit of
an understatement.
I should interject here and tell you that most of the
community is pretty much just a forest with one road running through it and the
odd house here and there.
Unless you have lived in the country far away from
light pollution, street lights and constant traffic, you cannot understand how
very dark it is at night in this area. There were times during the walk when I
just had to hope I was still walking on the road and not heading for a steep
ditch. There were also times during the walk that I hoped no nocturnal
creatures were going to appear in my vicinity. And then there was the fact that
I knew I would eventually be passing the two cemeteries.
So like most of the decisions that I have had to make
before that night and after, I realized there was no other option and did the
only thing I could: I headed for home. Alone. In the dark. On Halloween.
This is how focused I was on the dark walk: I never
once touched my Halloween candy the entire way. And there were some full-sized
bars in there, so…
Anyway, I can only surmise I walked faster than normal, due to admittedly being frightened by the circumstances. Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on how you look at it, it wasn’t a terribly long time until the local churches were in sight, their tall white steeples prominent against the dark of night. It was quite foreboding to say the least.
Behind
the churches, which are practically next to each other, lie the cemeteries,
with many, many, many old and new graves and headstones. Did I cross to the
other side of the road to put as much distance as possible between me and
whatever was going to rise up out of those graveyards and come after me? You
bet your ass I did. Would those fifteen extra feet have helped, should this
nightmare come to fruition? I doubt it very much.
I walked as fast as it is humanly possible to do while
holding a large pillowcase full of candy. As I mentioned, I could barely see
anything-- but my hearing became extra sharp, listening for nearby caskets
creaking open down behind the churches and quite possibly the moans of the
dead. I heard a few branches snap somewhere. My mind went through the
possibilities: deer, raccoon, skunk (no please God do NOT let it be a skunk.
I’d almost rather it was a resurrected body.), or zombie. I don’t know that the
zombie would be snapping branches in the bushes, though. I picked up the pace a
bit more wondering why on God’s green earth we lived so far away from my
friend’s house. Why why why??
I kept cruising down the road, not daring to look
behind me. I could no longer hear branches snapping. It was just me, the
rustling bag of candy, and my heart rate increasing. I finally made it home.
Alone. In the dark. On Halloween. Fairly late at night.
The moral of this story is, obviously I would do
anything for chocolate. This still holds true today.
When people think about ghosts, for the most part they
tend to picture them showing up after dark; cue haunted houses at night, poorly
lit attics, after-hours morgues and graveyards as previously mentioned. The
mind just naturally goes there, although this theory makes little sense. It’s
not like ghosts sleep all day and only wake up at night so they can haunt the
heck out of you. That’s not how it works.
The idea of “ghosts in the dark” might lend itself
from stories of fictional vampires though, who allegedly do sleep in the day and roam the earth at night, but as previously
mentioned in another post (here), real ghosts and spirits can and will show up at any place at any time. There are no set
hours or off-limits locations for them. There could be one standing beside you
right now.
To think ghosts and spirits can only appear after dark
is a fallacy and most of the true
ghost sightings I know of (including my own) happened in the light of day.
However, things always seem scarier once the lights
are out (clearly demonstrated in the Halloween story), driven by the natural
fear of the unknown and what might be lurking in the shadows or the pitch black
dark.
This brings us to a few of the truly haunted
cemeteries of Nova Scotia:
Lunenburg, NS
There is a 300 year old cemetery in Lunenburg, Nova
Scotia which sits atop (the quite aptly named) Gallows Hill.
Lunenburg holds a special place in my heart and I have
visited many times, as it is not very far from where I live or from my other
‘haunted’ house. My ancestors first put down roots there many generations ago.
The town is known for its exceptional seaside beauty, friendly people and is a
world UNESCO Heritage Site, one of only 1,150 in the world for having unique
cultural and historical significance. It is world famous for many of its
distinct qualities and you can’t swing a dead cat in Lunenburg without hitting
a tourist.(that’s a local saying.)
But the town is not without its fair share of
hauntings and tales of the paranormal.
Wouldn’t you know it—the Gallows Hill cemetery is
haunted by one Miss Sofia McLaughlin, a fourteen year old who literally died
from stress and a broken heart.
It was 1879. Sofia worked for a dressmaker in
Lunenburg, who accused the young girl of stealing money from her. Sofia was
beside herself—she lived by the bible and would never entertain the thought of
breaking a commandment. The townspeople soon turned on Sofia, believing she was
indeed a thief and soon, the locals refused to do business with her father, and
the family’s reputation in the small town was ruined.
Sophia had a sister who had previously died and was
also buried in the Gallows Hill cemetery. Daily, Sophia would read her bible at
her sister’s grave and sob over the accusations against her. Her own mother
didn’t even believe her when she swore she did not take money from her
employer.
The stress became unbearable for Sophia and she died.
Her grave in the Gallows Hill cemetery is adorned with a broken iron heart
decoration.
People have reported the sound of laughter and sighs and disembodied female voices when visiting Sophia’s grave on more than one occasion.
Sidenote: The dressmaker’s son later admitted to
stealing the money.
Halifax and Pictou, NS:
Locally infamous for voices and laughter verified by
many different people, these two cemeteries have been haunted for years. We
previously talked about them here:
When you first started reading this, the skeptic in
you likely thought, ”It’s pretty cliché to talk about a ghost in a cemetery”,
followed by, “A ghost can allegedly go anywhere in the universe; why would it
haunt it’s own grave or a cemetery?”
I, too ask these questions. Having never been dead
before (in this lifetime), I don’t really have the answers. I can only tell you
what I iterated in the beginning: ghosts and spirits can and will show up at any place at any time. And they do.
I don’t think it really matters “why”. It only matters
that it happens.
This story is the true account of what happened to a
local man and has not been embellished. Some of my family members-- going back
several generations-- have related this, so we know it to be true.
It was May 1870. In rural Nova Scotia near the little
community I grew up in, the local doctor, Dr. Edward Pope, lived in the next
community. He was kept fairly busy as he was the only doctor around for miles
and he would service the surrounding communities. He was well respected by all
that knew him.
He only had one downfall: he never met a bottle of
alcohol he didn’t like.
Many times, he would drink to the point of blacking
out for many hours at a stretch (and reportedly sometimes even for days). His
wife would often find him in such a state, unable to wake him from his total
inebriation, and he would be left to come to naturally once the effects of the
alcohol had worn off. One wonders if maybe he also took some type of pills, as
he was a doctor and had access to
whatever was available back then.
So on May 6, 1870, his wife once again found him
passed out. She tried to rouse him to no avail. Hours went by. Then a couple of
days. He was still not able to be brought around. They couldn’t fetch a doctor;
he WAS the doctor. Due to the length of time he was unconscious, it was
determined that he must be dead.
The funeral was arranged. Many people from the
neighboring communities gathered at the local church to attend, including some
of my ancestors.
His casket was set up in the local church and prior to
the service, mourners lined up to view the doctor’s body and pay their
respects. Everything was going along nicely as per funeral standards when a
couple of the attendees noticed sweat on the brow of the doctor. They whispered
to each other about this as dead bodies do not produce sweat (even if you are
having a particularly hot May) and even when you consider how they might have
prepared a body for burial back then; it would have been a much simpler process
without the extent of the preparations that are done today. Even so, there
could not have been sweat on the brow of a dead man unless…. he wasn’t actually
dead.
This was not brought to the attention of the minister
performing the burial rites and the funeral proceeded, while some of
those in the church pews whispered amongst themselves about whether the doctor
was actually dead or not.
Interment followed in the local Old Burial Ground cemetery pictured here.
(I visited the grave yesterday and snapped this pic.)
If the casket was exhumed, would there be evidence on
the inside of the lid that Dr. Pope eventually woke up after his drunken stupor
wore off?
It was quite a common practice going back many
centuries to attach a rope into a tomb or coffin with a bell above ground,
should the interred find himself alive and well and six feet under. Methods for
determining that a death had occurred were not as accurate at that time.
Unfortunately, this invention had not reached the south shore of Nova Scotia in a timely manner for Dr. Pope.
Haunted Nova Scotia Schools (Lunenburg and Halifax mentions)
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