Wes Mantooth

I've spent most of my life living in small towns and in each one there has always been some "bogeyman" story that seems to be unique to that community. We've all heard them, that weird, creepy, scary story that circulates around your neighborhood, town or circle of friends and seems to be passed on year after year, resurfacing with each new generation. Haunted house? Creepy serial killer/maniac living in the woods? Cannibalistic satan worshippers at the end of a lonely road? Cursed objects? That bridge where the beautiful bride committed suicide on her wedding night? Post away because I'd love to hear them.

For example I live in a small town just south of Nashville and there is a wonderful little tale associated with an old decaying dam out in the woods. According to the legend shortly after the dam was built (which could be anytime between the civil war and WWII depending on who tells it) a girl and her boyfriend were standing on on the dam (sometimes fishing, skipping stones) when she suddenly lost her footing, fell and drowned. Well of course that means she now haunts the dam and according to legend if you go there at night you'll see her appear at the stroke of midnight. However not only will you see her appear but upon seeing her spirit she curses you and you'll supposedly die within 7 days. This of course causes dozens of drunk teenagers to wonder down an overgrown path riddled with poisonous snakes to hang out on a pitch black, dangerous, decaying damn...alas to be a dumb teenager again.

Typical small town urban legend I suppose but truth be told I love these stories and I'm curious if anybody here happens to know any local stories you might be willing to share? Incidentally I'm very interested in haunted or cursed roads like Cossart Rd in Pennsylvania or Shades of Death Rd in New Jersey (look them up if your interested in this stuff they're fascinating...for some reason), so please if you know of any local road legends feel free to post them as well.

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Daniel_

As I kid I was always sure that the story of a murder near my school as overstated and consequently an urban legend.

As an adult I found it had all been true, and someone had indeed been murdered.

Turns out cynicism is not always right!

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Overhead, the Albatross hangs motionless upon the air,
And deep beneath the rolling waves,
In labyrinths of Coral Caves,
The Echo of a distant time
Comes willowing across the sand;
And everthing is Green and Submarine
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SSJTWIZTA

in my old home town in polk county florida there was a local "werewolf" tail that circulated amongst those that lived in the wooded area of Haines City. it was said to be out in the woods at a place called Lake Marion. i lived out there.

most people dont believe in it. the thing is, i heard the tale a few years AFTER i seen the fucking thing. i never told anyone about it. my grandmother and little sister also were also witnesses.

the thing is, i seen this thing when i was 13ish, so i wasnt into drugs yet. my sister couldnt sleep for days. it was WAY too tall to be a bear (never seen one of those out there, anyway)

*shrug* it was probably just a skunk-ape.

(i put a lol face, but the sad part is that im not sure that it wasnt)

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First they came for the Jews and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for the communists and I did not speak out because I was not a communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist
Then they came for me And there was no one left to speak out for me.
-Pastor Martin Niemoller

The_Dunedan

From places I've lived:

East Hall, Appalachian State University, Boone NC: Most haunted college dorm in the US, allegedly home to at least six ghosts, two of whom (both suicides) are rumored to appear from time to time on the anniversary of their deaths.

4th Floor, Practice room 413, Music Building, Appalachian State University: Ghost of an overworked and jilted Soprano is rumored to walk the hall late at night singing her own dirge after hanging herself inside Rm. 413. Also widely reputed to appear reflected in the room door's window-glass, as if standing behind the observer and to their left.

Newton, NC: The town's movie-theatre was partly destroyed by fire sometime back in the 1930s, and at least one person was trapped and burned alive by the fire. The ghost of this person, a 13yr-old Black girl who was trapped trying to escape the Balcony (now 2nd screening room) by a narrow passageway and stairwell which at the time was the only entrance/exit. To this day, that stairwell gives me the creeps. Something trapped in there HATES my White ass!

According to several friends who've taken Uncle Sam's kind offer of a 13wk beachfront vacation, Marine Corps DIs (and numerous disreputable others) at Parris Island -still- like to scare overworked, underfed, and exhausted Crapheads with breif and profane tales of the deadly Wampus Cat; endangered and indiginous only to the South Carolina Coast and barrier islands, this ferocious predator has been known to carry off whole Gunny Sergeants to feed its' young, and is alleged to have a fondness for recruits who show weakness and evolutionary unfitness by falling out on marches or getting lost during navigation exercises.*

The Josefov (Jewish Quarter) of Old Prague is said to still be haunted by the Golem Of Prague. According to legend, the Golem was created in the late 16th Century by Prague's most famous and learned rabbi, Rebbe Judah Loew ben Bezalel. Originally created in order to defend the Josefov from anti-semitic riots, the Golem is reputed to have come to life at least once more, killing at least one Nazi officer during the German occupation of Czechoslovakia. In any case, the body of Rebbe Loew (who had to deactivate the Golem after it started killing every Gentile it came across) -and- the Golem itself are commonly reputed to be stored in the attic of the New Old Synogogue in the Josefov. A competing story holds that the Golem and Rebbe are, again together, both buried in the Zizkov district of the city. In any case, the crux of the legend is that if/when the Jews of Prague are threatened with extinction (as during Loew's day, though oddly not during the Holocaust; many Czech Jews ended up at the "show" camp at Terzin, which was intended to be shown to the Red Cross and international aid workers. If you -had- to end up in a Camp, you wanted it to be Terezin), the Golem may/will be reactivated and set loose again. Of course, without the Rebbe to deactivate the creature, legend holds that -this- time the Golem will be unstoppable and will simply kill every non-Jew, every unobservant Jew, and every insufficiently righteous Jew it finds (in that order).


*Edited To Add: I am not myself a US Marine. I am the family and friend of many such, and have heard of the Wampus Cat from two; once as "Wampus" and once as "Wackus" Cat.

Wes Mantooth

Good stuff all, thanks for posting it

Daniel_ Interesting, most urban legends start from a true story and get blown up and distorted over the years to something more entertaining. In your case the overblown passed around legend turns out to be completely true. Kind of an interesting spin on the whole thing.

SSJTWIZTA Love it, not only do you get to experience the legend before you'd ever heard of it but you may have had a sighting in the process. Just out of curiosity does the whole skunk ape legend get passed around that area of Florida? If so it its kind of two local legends wrapped up in one.

The_Dunedan Interesting legend about Parris Island, I'd never heard that before. Great local legend with a hint of warning for young recruits who don't fall in line.



I just remembered a good one from my youth in Northern Maine. On the outskirts of town sat a rather odd looking piece of land, it was surrounded by a large fence lined with barbed wire, the gate was locked with a heavy chain and pad lock, and inside sat an old farmhouse surrounded all these modern, white outbuildings with flat roofs. One of the stranger aspects of the place was it looked like nobody lived there yet the lawn was always mowed and the buildings up kept. Needless to say this was constant fodder for local legends and creepy stories.

When I was very young in the 80's the story focused around satanist taking up residence in the compound, overlooked by local authorities, they supposedly only came out at night, abducted people and brought them back to the compound for ritual sacrifices. The other half of the legend told that if you drove by there at night they would chase you down, run you off the road and carry you back...again for ritual sacrifice. As I got older and satanism fell out of style the story soon focused around eclectic groups like the Klan, Nazi's, inbred rednecks and cannibals, all of which abducted people and brought them back to the compound to do whatever horrific things people imagined such groups might do.

Another lesser known story focused on the Air Force/Govt (it was located very close to the old Loring AFB) using the compound to conduct experiments on everything from mind control to recovered alien bodies. I always thought that was the cooler story but it never seemed to circulate as well as the other.

I drove by the place when I went home for a visit last fall and the buildings aren't there anymore, replaced by a farm of some sort. I never did find out what or who actually owned the place...I'm sure its very mundane and boring but it was a fun story nonetheless.

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Willravel

The only one in San Jose I'm aware of is "the Sidewalk". In the foothills near where highway 680 leaves town, there's an old retaining wall that can be walked on like a sidewalk. It winds through the hills and there's even a large bridge.

The story goes some time in the last 50 years a retaining wall was needed to prevent avalanches and to provide back-access to a hospital that had been built in the area. The building of the wall was plagued with strange accidents; sections that had been recently finished were found demolished, trucks were sabotaged, and the area dug out for the construction were mysteriously filled back in and made to look as if they'd never been dug. Despite these hindrances, the retaining wall, nicknamed "the Sidewalk", was completed.

Soon after, hospital staff routinely used the Sidewalk to take nature walks. The walkway went on for miles, weaving through the beautiful hills and even over a large crevasse. Things went smoothly at first, but reports started coming in of animal remains being left on the Sidewalk. The remains weren't just normal dead animals, but a combination of animal entrails and bones organized into patterns. Soon after a nurse fell off the wall into the crevasse. when the authorities found her body, it had a similar display of animal entrails on it. After several more accidents, the Sidewalk was deemed too dangerous and was off limits to hospital personnel.

Unfortunately, the accidents didn't end. A janitor disappeared while on duty, never found again. When a doctor went missing from inside the hospital, a manhunt was organized and hundreds of people poured into the hills. The search party found old huts and evidence of many years of bonfires. They never found any tracks near these areas, though, which they assumed meant they were abandoned so long ago the weather had simply removed the evidence. The doctor was eventually found, what was left of him, at the bottom of the crevasse where the first victim was found. His body had been meticulously taken apart and rearranged into the same pattern as the earlier animal remains. There was no evidence that he'd been put there, though, as the ground was undisturbed.

After the incident was published in the paper, an anthropologist contacted the police to inspect images of the body. After carefully reviewing the evidence, he cited stories from over 150 years ago of gold prospectors disappearing. He found an old newspaper image of a man's body that had been dismembered and laid out in a specifically organized configuration. He noted that the configuration was an ancient Native American symbol which indicated a supernatural warning.

The hospital was shut down and abandoned soon after, and records of the Sidewalk were destroyed. Any roads leading to the Sidewalk or the hospital were blocked off and over time deteriorated and became overgrown, basically disappearing.

I've heard this story a dozen times and each time it was different, but this seems to generally get the gist of what I think was the original story. After hearing it, some friends and I went looking for the Sidewalk to see if the legend was based on an actual place. We found it on the night of April 20th, 2002. I'll never forget what happened.

Wes Mantooth

How odd that a wall/sidewalk would just be winding about the hills like that, is there an actual abandoned hospital up there to corroborate that the reason it was built was true? Or did I misread and the wall itself is just part of the story?

Anyway good legend though brutal, frightening, bizarre and real enough that you could get taken in by it. So what happened on the night of April 20, 2002?

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ObieX

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We Must Dissent.

LordEden

I can attest to being weirded out by this one. Had a friend who worked STAR (The dorm night staff) and I walked with her a few times in East (when she made her hourly rounds), when you walk along the lower levels into a certain hallway, you get that "something ain't right" vibe. Weirded me out (I was also a bit high, but then it is Boone). She was a trooper tho, did that job for a year and said she got used to the feeling. She did say at times she caught a glimpse of a person and never could find the student she saw. Doors slamming shut at random times, beating on windows, and footsteps that could be heard echoing through the hallways.

That dorm was OLD, the oldest building on campus and the only original dorm left in the college that still housed students.

I never knew about these (I live in Hickory and have been to that theater before), thanks for sharing these dude.

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Vice-President of the CinnamonGirl Fan Club - The Meat of the Zombiesquirrel and CinnamonGirl Sandwich

Grasshopper Green

There are a lot of haunted places in Salt Lake City, but as far as an actual urban legend goes, I'd have to go with Emo's grave. Supposedly this Emo guy (how he got the nickname, I don't know) was a devil worshipper and was killed by some locals. My husband took me to the place he did his rituals - a dead-end road in the hills above the state capitol building. At 18, the place was creepy. I was also very naive.

His actual gravesite is the place of current rituals; if you chant "Emo, emo, emo" three times while circling the grave you can see his face in his gravestone. He is buried in a cemetery that stands behind my dad's house, and I've passed by his gravesite numerous times. There is a place where an urn used to be (which is no longer there) and this area always contains burnt material now. What is being burned there, I really don't know.

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"They say that patriotism is the last refuge to which a scoundrel clings; steal a little and they throw you in jail, steal a lot and they make you king"

Formerly Medusa

Willravel

The following is mostly true to my recollection. I only embellished to have fun, not to change basic facts:

It had been a year to the day since I'd stopped smoking marijuana. I'd stopped mainly because it didn't really seem like a good investment at the time, not to mention that there was an ever present paranoia whenever I had any kind of product in my home (even in my most secret of spots). While some of my friends did still smoke occasionally, they never really "observed" 4/20, the toke-iest of holidays. So whole everyone else we knew were getting blazed, we were sort of bumming around trying to figure out something to do. During the course of shit shooting, we got on the subject of the Sidewalk. A friend of mine, Jon, was telling the scariest version of the legend he could, embellishing the crap out of the version he'd heard from me, which had also been embellished. I think he went so far as to include Darth Vader. He had just about finished up when another friend of mine, Gooch, had the idea: "Let's go find the fucking Sidewalk".

On it's face, the idea was absurd. There had to be ten thousand incarnations of the story, and we had no real idea where it came from. Still, when you're 18 everything has the potential to become an adventure. I proposed we compare all the versions of the story we were familiar with and find commonalities which we could conclude were more likely to come from the original tale. Jon had a batter idea. He called his cousin, who apparently knew a guy who knew a guy that heard about where it might be. After a rousing game of phone tag, we had directions. We piled a good 10 people into two cars (college style!) and made our way to the coordinates.

It had been almost exactly as I understood the legend: we were directed off the highway and up into the foothills, making the odd turn here and there, all the time moving away from civilization. We finally turned onto a street marked "no outlet" and went to the end. The road stopped at a large fence which very specifically said "Please, unsupervised teenagers, trespass here." At least that's how I remember it. We all got out, Mike grabbed a tire iron because he was convinced it was the only thing that could save him from the Sidewalk, and we made our way down the dirt road behind the fence.

The road continued down for about a half a mile when it met with some train tracks, which we'd been instructed to follow to a tunnel. Sure enough, that's exactly what it did. The old train tracks lead us into the side of a mountain, and above the train tracks there was a bit of grey that we could just make out in the failing light. We hiked up the side of the tunnel and found what I can only describe as a sidewalk, right there in the middle of the hills, with nothing but train tracks and trees for as far as the eye could see. I have to admit at this point I was flabbergasted. I'd expected to wander around for a while joking around and then, after finding nothing, to simply head back home with some funny stories and a forgettable evening. And yet, under my feet, was a concrete sidewalk that wound through the hills, per the legend. After making sure at least one of us had cell phone reception, we started our trek up the Sidewalk. And, you know, to adventure.

After about a half a mile, we saw a light coming from up the Sidewalk a bit. Jon and I ran ahead to check it out and make sure it was safe. We discovered there was a hole in the sidewalk, that it was at least partially hollow, and we weren't the only people aware of the Sidewalk's existence. Three kids were hotboxing the Sidewalk. They had a blanket that they used to block the large opening above the chamber, the opening in the Sidewalk, and they smoked what had to be a good 3 bowls before letting out the thickest smoke I've ever seen in my entire life. The smoke made beef gravy look thin. We tried to start a conversation about where the Sidewalk was headed, but unfortunately all we did was scare the living shit out of the kids, who (by my understanding of their gibberish) were apparently smoking out in the Sidewalk on a dare to prove their metal. We apologized and continued on.

The crevasse was a lot bigger than I'd pictured it. I can' tell you precisely how far I would have fallen off it because of the fact the sun had gone down at this point, but it was easily a mortal fall, the kind of fall where you get ample opportunity to consider the fact you're falling while you're falling before you hit the ground. Interestingly, there were large metal fences marked similarly to the trespassing sign before that were intended to block our adventure. We scaled the fences easily (all except for one overweight friend who shall remain nameless, Craig). I have to admit: looking over the side of the drop was a bit terrifying. I could make out the tops of very tall evergreens below us. Gooch noted that it would be a great spot to bungee jump, I suspect in an attempt to appear tough despite the fact we were all getting a little freaked out. Now that i think about it, I think Job actually has a digital photo from atop the Sidewalk walkway.

It was at this point, in the evening, that things began to take a bad turn. After clearing the crevasse, we had continued on, passing through some overgrown brush and even what appeared to be an old avalanche. things had been nearly silent for a good fifteen minutes when the silence was shattered by a dog barking very nearby. Instead of walking one in front of the other, a bit spaced out as we had been doing, we got closer into a group at this point just in case there were any dangerous animals. It was our collective assumption that a dog wouldn't want to attack a group of 10 people, that the dog would be intimidate by our numbers. This assumption proved to be incorrect on this occasion. Most of the Sidewalk up to this point had been a steep hill heading up on the left of the Sidewalk and a five to ten foot drop on the right, which I suspected was because the Sidewalk was intended as some kind of retaining wall, though there wasn't anything beneath for the wall to be protecting. A mangy black lab appeared on the hill to the left of us, on the higher ground, growling menacingly. This was before Caesar Milan, so we weren't really sure how to deal with what was apparently a wild dog. It was approaching us, probably trying to intimidate us to move away from his perceived territory, when Mike retrieved his rusty tire iron (we've subsequently nicknamed Mike "Rusty" because of this incident) and ran after the dog with it. We were all surprised he could move so quickly with brass balls weighing him down, but for the time being the apparent danger had passed.

It was starting to get late, and despite what we'd seen, there still hadn't been any evidence of the meat of the legend. We were considering turning back when one of the girls with us, I think her name was Nicole, saw something in the woods. Sure enough, there was a shack sitting out there in the middle of nowhere, immediately off the Sidewalk. I've never been hunting before, but I've had the sensation of being watched described to me and I felt a similar sensation at this point. We very carefully approached the shack. As it came into better view, it was revealed to be about the dimensions of a tool shed, with two walls supported by beams in the ground and a slanted roof, presumably so rain wouldn't situate and could slide off. There wasn't a door per se, just a bundle of sticks in front of an opening on the side of the shack facing us. It was at this moment when Jon decided to speak and scare the shit out of everyone. "Look," he pointed out, "no tracks." We all looked at the area around the shack and there were indeed no tracks, despite the fact that the shack itself seemed to be maintained to a degree where it could be livable. Normally, even if there aren't any specific tracks around an area that's frequented by people in the wilderness, there's at least a discernible path, an area where growth has stopped because of foot traffic. Here, though, there was no such path, not even to the Sidewalk. We decided we'd taken a close enough look at the shack and moved on.

Between the crevasse and the shack, the legend was actually starting to pan out. It certainly wasn't verified, of course, and we could be victims of an elaborate practical joke, but we at least had confirmation that this wasn't just a story some person made up completely. As we continued up the Sidewalk, we would occasionally hear rustling around us, and even see a bit of movement. Flashlights never managed to reveal the source, and the not knowing proved to be much worse than knowing could have been. Gooch, in response to tensions rising, started making references to the Blair Witch Project, even going so far as to imitate the mucus scene. He had us all nervously laughing when a light appeared ahead. I was a faint light, but enough to stand out on the moonless night. The light was reflecting off a window of an old abandoned building at the end of the Sidewalk.


I'll conclude the story in part 2 later.

Wes Mantooth

ObieX Love the Gates of Hell story, the labyrinth of tunnels leading deeper into the earth getting stranger and creepier the deeper you go. How can anybody not love a story like that? Just out of curiosity how come so many bizarre stories seem to come out of New Jersey?


Grasshopper Green That story is just plain creepy! I think you should head on up to the grave site and give it a try, how awesome would it be to see his face appear? Seriously though I always to try these kinds things out when I hear about them.


Willravel Hey nothing wrong with embellishing to make the story better, after all isn't that the whole point of a good urban legend? I haven't read the story yet because I'm running a little late today and I want to read it when I have time to enjoy it, but I enjoyed the first part so I'm looking forward to it.

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ObieX

Lots of history in NJ for stories to come out of and also its a pretty diverse melting pot so everyone in the world contributes their strangeness. Plus everyone here is either high or drunk on something.

There's quite a few more videos from Weird New Jersey on youtube if ya wanna check out more crazy stuff.

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We Must Dissent.

Wes Mantooth

I tried responding to this last night...wrote the whole thing out, hit backspace and lost it GRRRR so I said F THIS and went to bed but I wanted to respond before I had to head out for the evening.

ObieX I looked back at my question and I probably didn't word it in the best way possible. I hope it didn't come across as "Damn NJ why so messed up?" I used to read weird NJ and was always so fascinated by how many cool stories and legends seem to come from there. Anyway I liked your answer I hadn't taken into account the melting pot aspect of it, so many people with so many different backgrounds would contribute to a high number of bizarre legends. OH and NO urban legend ever comes to its full conclusion until heaps of drugs have been taken to give it that little extra bizarre twist


Willravel Hot damn! I love it! Not only is it a great story with a nice cliff hanger ending (really please post part 2 sometime I'd love to read it) but its back bone centers around finding out about a creepy urban legend that you probably thought was complete bunk. How much of a mindfuck was it to actually be walking along that thing as everything you'd heard about it starts becoming true? For fun I always like to try and search out these legends just to see how much truth is behind them and I always wind up disappointed in the end, I would love to be able to go in search of one and have it unravel in the same way yours did.

Oh and working Darth Vader into any urban legend...is simply astounding in its brilliance!

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SSJTWIZTA

no, the whole skunk-ape thing isnt really talked about in central florida. i believe it's more of a south florida/everglades sort of thing.

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First they came for the Jews and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for the communists and I did not speak out because I was not a communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist
Then they came for me And there was no one left to speak out for me.
-Pastor Martin Niemoller

Willravel

Between the building and us was a large area of the Sidewalk that had been covered by a previous avalanche, making it very difficult to pass. I came up with the brilliant idea of passing only a few at a time, never one at a time but few enough so that we didn't put a lot of weight on what could have been very loose ground. First across was Jon and Rusty, then Gooch and some kid I didn't know. I was responsible for helping people on the side we'd come from and Jon was helping people on the other side, but the size of the area covered was large enough and covered with enough brush and debris that we couldn't even see each other from each side. I was helping the next pair over when one of them slipped and started falling off the side. The drop was easily fifteen feet, so letting the person fall, while not fatal, could have lead to serious injury. The other person crossing and I grabbed the girl that was grasping at roots and tried to pull her up. In our attempt, however, we managed to make the pass even worse. This was bad: we now had two groups separated by an impassable obstacle. Instead of shouting to Jon on the other side, I called him on his cell phone. He said he'd wait on the other side of the collapse and I would try to find a pass above the area by hiking upwards on the hill. If I didn't call him in 15 minutes, he was to jump down the somewhat shorter distance on his side—perhaps ten feet—and then walk along the wall with the group as we headed back.

After I was content that neither group was going to move, I headed up the hill alone to see if I could find a safe path. As I was walking away from the group, a realization came to me: I was scared. It had been easier for me to subdue (mask?) my fear when I was with the group because there's a certain power in taking a leadership role over a group of people, as I had done. Now, however, I was by myself, separated from the groups by an increasing distance. Within minutes, the flashlight from the group I'd left was out of sight and I could no longer hear their whispering. I still had my bearings, if I had to turn back, but it was just me and the trees now. The area of land displaced by the avalanche was much larger than I had anticipated. I had gone a good half-mile up the hill before I could cross above loose soil. I remember specifically hearing a twig snap behind me as I made my way back down to the other side, but I don't remember seeing anything. The feeling of being watched was still acutely in my mind.

The Sidewalk on the opposite side of the debris was coming into focus ahead, but I couldn't see anyone. The closer I got, the more anxious I was getting. Shit! I checked my watch... it had been a good 25 minutes. I pulled out my cell phone and called Jon, but he didn't answer. Fucking shit! I called back to the other side, where I'd come from. No answer. I took a deep breath to calm myself and considered my options. I could either continue up the Sidewalk to the building where Jon and the others may have gone or I could try and make my way back in case they followed the plan (something Jon wasn't good at) and were heading back along the wall. I figured it would be a smarter bet to run up the Sidewalk toward the building and see if I could spot them, and then get back to the other side of the debris if I couldn't find them. I took a deep breath, gathered any bit of fortitude I had left, and took off.

It was a hospital. It was an abandoned hospital, probably designed and built in the 60s, and it was right at the end of the Sidewalk. My stomach was in my throat and my blood was running cold. I looked around where the Sidewalk met up with a rear parking lot, but there didn't seem to be any evidence that Jon, Mike or Gooch had been there. Relieved that I didn't have to go check the building, I turned to run back to the collapsed area of the Sidewalk. I started running when I heard something loud hit the ground behind me. I spun around too quickly and fell, almost tumbling clear off the Sidewalk. I didn't see anything, but the sound wasn't a figment of my imagination. It sounded like a metal plate hitting asphalt or maybe a manhole cover being thrown on concrete.

I pride myself on being a pragmatic, no-nonsense kinda person. I'm not superstitious, I don't believe in ghosts or anything supernatural; I'm a bit of a skeptic. For whatever reason, this startling moment managed to shock my investigative side back into action. Spirits aren't real, ghosts aren't real, and monsters aren't real. The only really dangerous things in these hills are perhaps a mountain lion (or that dog). Cougars don't particularly like to confront or especially attack humans because we don't resemble their normal prey at all. They tend to avoid that which they don't understand. And even if one did confront me, the whole looking big and making lots of noise thing seemed a reasonable response. I cleaned myself up and calmly walked back toward the hospital.

I followed where I thought the noise had come from, around the right side of the rectangular building, probably heading toward the main parking lot and entrances. The lots were overgrown and the building was in disrepair. There was an old hurricane fence around the outside of what I assumed was the main property, but parts of that had been knocked over and even were missing. When I turned the next corner I had a better view of the hospital. I won't post the name here, but it wasn't a place that I was familiar with. The lot was just paved asphalt without any planters or anything. The main entrance had been boarded up and had some graffiti on them. Only about half the windows had boards on them, though, and many of those uncovered were broken.

There was a familiar shape in front of one of the broken windows. It was a tire iron. I ran over and checked it out. It was similar to the one Mike had, but I couldn't be sure it was the same. Still, what are the odds of there being a similar tire iron out there? I looked as carefully as I could through the broken window from the outside, but it was too dark to see anything. Not having a flashlight, I opened my flip phone and very carefully climbed through the broken window closest to where I'd found the tire iron.

The building smelled of dust and rubber. Having been born in 1983, I'm really only used to hospitals smelling of iodine and rubbing alcohol, so this was a very alien scent. The window was alongside a hallway that lead to what seemed to be little doctors' offices. The stupid phone would only stay bright for maybe 10 seconds before dimming and then another before going dark completely, so I was having to close and open the phone a good 5 times a minute just to use its light. This meant there were moments in complete darkness. The rooms each seemed to be emptied out completely, no chairs or tables, just the wallpaper and holes in the walls where fixtures had been. As I was checking every room, I was debating with myself the possible benefits and consequences for calling out my missing friends' names. In what was looking back probably not a very pragmatic decision, I decided to keep quiet. The layout of the first floor was very straightforward and I was able to do a sweep in about fifteen minutes without finding a thing. Would they really have gone to the second floor of a derelict building? I figured I would just go to the top of the stairs—carefully—and see if there was anything to see.

Fortunately, the staircase was in good shape compared to much of the rest of the abandoned hospital. The thing was thick concrete and really wouldn't be a danger to walk on for decades, even partially exposed to the elements. When I got to the top of the stairs, I could see that the second floor didn't follow the same floor plan as the first. With a combination of fear, frustration, and curiosity, I decided to make a sweep of the second floor. smell seemed to only get more potent the higher I had gotten and it was starting to get a bit distracting, so I pulled up my t-shirt over my nose. In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have used so much Axe body spray that particular day. As I ventured deeper into the second floor, the sounds of creaking and snapping started to become more prevalent. The floor didn't seem to be giving way or anything like that, but it wasn't used to being walked on. Wait... is that a footprint? I pointed my flashlight/cell phone down at the ground as I squatted, trying to get maximum light and clarity. There was a shape in the dust, but I couldn't make out for sure if it was a tennis shoe or a boot. It was just the general shape of a foot. There was another, and another. I followed the footprints carefully around a few corners until they went into a locked storage room door. I took a deep breath and knocked. Nothing. I knocked a bit louder. Still nothing. I checked out the footprints again just to be sure. Yes, the person clearly went into this room. I banged on the door now, "Jon?! Mike?! Gooch?!" The building echoed with my voice, but there was no reply. I took a few steps back, lined up, and kicked the door just to the side of the handle. The door crashed open with a bang so loud it startled me. It was pitch black so I lifted my phone into place to see if I could see anyone... anything. The room was too big for the tiny light to be reflected back at me, though. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. I went through the door, holding my phone in one hand and the tire iron in the other.

The first thing I got a good look at was a shelving system, then another. There was dust and cobwebs everywhere, making the little light I had even less effective. The room was so quiet, that the sound of the dust under my feet as I walked was nearly deafening. The room was a labyrinth of shelves and boxes, making checking it a great deal more involved than any previous rooms. I'd checked about half the room when an odd scent crossed my nose, managing to overpower even my body spray. It was sour, sickening. I pulled down my throat to locate the source, and the scent filled my nostrils. It sparked a scent-memory, one from my childhood when my dad had first started showing me how to barbecue meats. He had intended my first lesson to be lamb shish kabobs, German style, but when we retrieved the meat from it's plastic container it had rotted quite terribly. That was it! The smell was meat, rotting meat. The consequences of this revelation washed over me, filling me with dread and confusion. There was a rotting meat smell behind a locked door in an abandoned hospital, the hospital from the old urban legends about the Sidewalk. The stubbornness of my skepticism and the terror of unknown danger clashed in my mind. Fuck this shit, I thought, I'm going to get to the bottom of this and if I get killed by a spirit or whatever at least I'll have verifiable evidence that I was in danger instead of running from shadows. Or something to that effect. I let some anger gather in my gut to build fortitude and I went on checking the room, getting closer to the scent. I got to the back corner, farthest from the door, when I saw an odd shape on the ground, something alien to this right-angled environment of shelves and boxes.

A rat; perhaps the king of rats from the Nutcracker. The remains of a rat the side of my forearm were decaying away on the ground. I looked more closely and breathed a sigh of relief: there was no discernible shape or unnatural placement of the remains, it was just a dead rat. For the first time that night, I felt relief. I was being stupid this whole damned time. Jon and the others clearly went back with my group and were probably waiting for me. I let out a chuckle at how silly I'd been: Will, with the willies. I turned around just in time to see the door, which I'd kicked in and partially destroy, slam closed. I jumped out of my skin and then dove behind a box for cover. I pulled my phone out and pointed it at the door, and the rest of the room. I was alone. I ran to the door and opened it, checking both ways down the hallway. Nothing. I sprinted down the hallway, down the stairs and out the window. As I was running from the hospital, down the Sidewalk, it occurred to me that there was probably a rational explanation for the door closing, perhaps the wind coming in through a big rat hole, but I could think of nothing for the footprints. The footprints clearly lead to the locked door and into the storage room. And the footprints couldn't have been that old.

In no time I was back at the collapsed area of the Sidewalk and started sprinting up the hill to retrace my path. I cleared the path in no time at all and made my way back down to where I assumed my friends were waiting for me. No one was there. God damn it. I continued sprinting, shooting downhill along the Sidewalk. A wind met my back as I rounded a turn and I lost my footing, sliding on my side. I looked up just in time to see a dark shape making its way after me. The sound of clicking fingernails was soon audible and growing louder. It was that damned dog! I got back to my feet and looked around for the tire iron I'd found, but it had slipped off the side and into the brush fifteen feet below. Looking back, it probably would have been the smarter move to try and intimidate the dog, but at that moment, fight or flight being triggered deep inside my instinctive brain, I choose flight. And did I ever fly. I redoubled my effort, speeding down the Sidewalk as fast as my legs possibly could. The dog was still gaining on me, albeit slowly, so I had to switch tactics. The drop off the Sidewalk, now to my left, was inconsistent. At some times it was a good twenty feet, at others closer to six. I resolved to take a considerable risk and jump just as the dog was just behind me. I saw an area coming up where it couldn't have been more than seven feet and I lunged off the side, tumbling and spinning until I came to an abrupt stop banging my thigh into the trunk of a tree. The dog, surprisingly, followed. While I didn't expect the dog would jump after me, I had anticipated the unlikely possibility. I got to my feet and ran back at the Sidewalk, jumping at the side and getting my forearm on the ledge for leverage I pulled myself up. I remember taunting the dog in an unsportsmanlike display, and then I continued on.

A throbbing pain in my right thigh was making it difficult to run, so I slowed back to a walk again. I pulled out my cellphone and tried everyone again.

"Oh, hey Will. We're back at the cars. You okay?" Jon was almost nonchalant. Fuckers.

"Yeah, other than a dog attack I'm gravy..." a common phrase of mine back then that I've thankfully grown out of... "but what the hell happened to you guys?"

"We went back over the dirt and walked back to the cars."

"...don't you think you forgot something?" I pretended to be mad, but I was mostly just relieved. The thought of being totally alone out there wasn't something I wanted to face.

"We figured you ditched us and went back to the car."

"Nah, I went to the hospital." There was a pause.

"Wait, what? You found it?" Jon's voice had changed. It sounded as if he was about to change his mind and try this stupid adventure all over again.

"Nah, I'm kidding. I'll be back there in like five minutes, I'm almost at the tracks now." I hung up, deciding it wasn't worth it.

I was approaching the train tracks when I came upon the hole in the Sidewalk where we'd run into the stoners before. I looked over the edge, intending to say hey, but they were gone. The blanket was still there, the bong was still there, and a ziplock full of product was sitting in the corner. The electric lantern was even still on. I carefully checked in both directions of the Sidewalk for any sign of movement, then I jumped in. It appeared that all of their stuff was there, even a pair of shoes. I grabbed the lantern and went topside again, looking for them. There was no sign of them. I turned the lantern off and put it back. I couldn't let my paranoia run away with me, there's no reason to think they're in any kind of trouble... aside from that dog. I thought back to when we'd first parked at the dead end, trying to picture in my mind every detail. Our cars weren't the only there, I realized.

I opened my phone and voice-called Jon. "Call Jon. No, call Jon. No, CALL JON." then I just dialed his number.

"Jon, are you still at the cars?"

"Yeah, we're waiting on you. Hurry up, man."

"Are there any other cars there? The ones that were there when we first got here?"

"What? Um, I don't know which of these was here. There's an old Saab, a Toyota pickup and that beater." It was the same, no cars had left. Fuck. Did I really want to turn this into a search and rescue, especially with that dog still out there? Wait!

"Does Mike still have his tire iron?" I asked.

"Mike...Mike... do you still got your weapon?" I heard an affirmative and some joking in the background. "Yeah, dude, he's a savage with that thing."

"Good. Do we have anything else in the cars that might do the same job?"

"Job? Like chasing ghost dog the way of the samurai? I guess."

"Grab that shit and meet me at where the tracks meet the Sidewalk." I hung up before he could protest.

I was starting to feel a lot better, like I was wrangling control of the universe back from the specter of fear. It was time to go on the offensive and soon I would have numbers... an army on my side.

"We're going to find those fucking stoners."

SSJTWIZTA

damn you will. i need more!

oh, do these photos spark any memories?

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First they came for the Jews and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for the communists and I did not speak out because I was not a communist.
Then they came for the trade unionists and I did not speak out because I was not a trade unionist
Then they came for me And there was no one left to speak out for me.
-Pastor Martin Niemoller

Willravel

Whoa, there's another Sidewalk?!

The second image is almost spot on. If there was a slightly larger drop on the right and it was at night, it'd be a perfect representation. Thanks for the visual aids because there's no way in hell I'm going back to the San Jose Sidewalk to take pictures.

Edit: Wait, that might actually be it.

Edit2: Yep, that's it. You have to cross the field and continue to the second part of the Sidewalk, though.

Wes Mantooth

SSJTWIZTA Wow you managed to dig up some pics! I was going to go looking because I couldn't quite picture how it might have looked. Pretty spiff.

Willravel Well hot damn thanks for posting more *reads* LOVE IT! But may I also add Damn you Will, I need more too! Good stuff I really enjoyed reading it. Now personally I'd have taken the weed, you know just to steady the old nerves before going back after the stoners.

Alright...damn I've been busy this week, I wanted to post a few stories myself but never seem to have the time. I think I can squeeze one in tonight though.

Another from my youth it revolves around a high school wrestling coach who murdered his family. According to the story, sometime in the late 70's the coach just snapped, grabbed a shot gun and shot his wife and 2 kids while they slept (never understood how a shot gun wouldn't wake up the whole house but anyway), lit the house on fire and hung himself from a door way with his belt. As far as I kow that part is 100% true but it seems to have sparked a lot of bizarre legends.

The most prominent I've heard was the house was built over some kind of portal to hell (no really I'm not kidding) and caused the coach, who had always been the nicest guy you'd meet (or so the story always seems to tell us), to murder his family as some kind of offering to Satan. The old foundation is still there and sits at the end of an old dirt road out in the woods, I've been there myself and at night it is pretty creepy, but so are most burned out foundations you find in the woods. Anyway the story goes that if you go up there on a full moon and fire a shot into the sky to mimic the murders, the gates of hell will open up, the coach will appear and drag you down to Hades. Needless to say this story has caused MANY serious injuries to drunken teenagers over the years, it go so bad around the late 80's that the police had blocked off the road and threatened to arrest anyone who went there. I still remember reading the stories in the local paper.

Other variations I've heard are an Indian burial ground that follows pretty much the same legend as above just tweaked a bit. But the most bizarre (yup it gets worse) was the lesser told story that the coach had faked his own death, built a series of elaborate tunnels (or rooms depending on who tells it) beneath the old house and put together his own little society of nocturnal cannibals that came out at night to feed on anybody stupid enough to go out there and try out the above legend (yup the cannibals invented their own little piece of disinformation to lure in unsuspecting victims). Supposedly there was a trap door they hid beneath and when the person was holding the gun up to shoot they'd spring up, overpower him and drag him below for some kind of full moon flesh eating ritual. For years I always wanted to go up there with a shovel...but I never did...I wished I had though, because honestly such a bizarre story HAS to have a grain of truth behind it...

...or the people in my town did WAY to many drugs.

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Poppinjay

I worked in a former nursing dorm and of course there were rumours of suicide ghosts. One night a bunch of us were working really late and a couple of us went to the back of the building, where we hardly ever go when working late. We heard a loud racket, and talked about the suicide rumour. Never thought much of it though, figured it was some kind of A/C noise.

A few weeks later, I worked the late night shift, the only person in a three story building that was all locked up. I went to leave at 1am, and had to use the elevator as the stairwell was locked up. I went to push the button but stopped just short because something felt weird, I just pointed at it for a second and ding, the doors opened.

Nobody who had sent it up would have been able to get out of the building before I saw them, they would have to go out the south entrance down a long hall. I get to the bottom and there's nobody. I walk very quickly out to the parking lot and mine is the only car there.

This is 100% true, no embellishment whatsoever.

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I think the Apocalypse is happening all around us. We go on eating desserts and watching TV. I know I do. I wish we were more capable of sustained passion and sustained resistance. We should be screaming and what we do is gossip. -Lydia Millet

Jove

Excellent stories.

And I would like to know why people decide to investigate abandoned houses and hospitals in the middle of the night. Wouldn't it be better to wait until day light, so you actually can see? Also, always bring rope, a med kit, walk talkies, and night vision goggles.

Wes Mantooth

Poppinjay DANG, that would have given me chills. Suicide ghosts huh? Just out of curiosity, along with the suicide ghosts were there a lot of stories passed around workers about the suicides themselves? Usually, I find with stores like this not only do you get a good ghost tale but you get lots of creepy stories about the causes as well...curious to see if the trend holds up. Good one, thanks for posting.

Jove Hahah I always wondered that too but I think it comes down to just wanting to creep yourself out. Its nowhere near as fun listening to a good legend and then walking around in broad daylight to see if its true. Sometimes the danger and "what if' is often times the best part. But I know what you mean, it probably would make a lot more sense if you really wanted to get the bottom of something.

Okay so this next story isn't really local...and in fact it may be 100% true. Sooooo I don't know why I'm posting it. No, I kid. I've heard its true from some sources and from others I've heard its based on fact but highly embellished and ultimately just an urban legend. I actually wanted to make a thread about this awhile back and never got around to it, might as well put it here.

It takes place in the small town of Vernon, FL also nicknamed "Nub City", but why such an odd name you might ask? Because apparently in the 1950's-60's Vernon, FL was known for having an inordinate amount of people filing insurance claims over lost limbs. According to what I've read about this town. whose population hovers around 700, it accounted for nearly 2/3 of all lost limb claims nationally! This of course sparked rumors that the locals were purposely dismembering themselves for insurance money...bizarre. The stories I've heard or read tells of people intentionally blowing off hands and feet with guns, chopping off limbs with axes and more or less doing anything that could deprive you of a vital appendage for insurance money.

The story does get a little stranger. in 1981 film maker Errol Morris filmed a documentary called "Vernon, FL" which essentially is just a string of footage with eccentric locals talking about...well whatever happens to come to their minds. However according to Morris his original intention was to make a film about the legend of Nub City...or at least until a large number of locals threatened to kill him if he went through with it. I don't know, the film does look like it was slapped together at the last minute and it does make you wonder.

So I'm not sure if this is 100% legit or just an embellishment of a bizarre story that led to creepy urban legends about towns people intentionally dismembering themselves...either way its very strange.

Here's a link to an article about the town of Vernon which covers the story pretty extensively.

Life: Dismembered again

EDIT: Well what do you know the Eroll Morris film is on youtube! Check it, its pretty interesting.

Part 1: (I guess it looks like they just have the first 15 min or so in two parts so...yeah)

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blush

A few hours from here is the Hornet Spook Light, which is a mysterious light that appears along an old road. People have been reporting it for centuries, and scientists have yet to figure it out. It is like a ball of gas, that changes in size and color, and will hover or bounce down the road. People park along the sides of the road and wait quietly, hoping it will appear.

Wes Mantooth

Cool story Blush, it sounds a little like the Marfa lights phenomenon in Texas...although those are more random and kind of float around in the desert as I recall. Anyway I'd never heard of this kind of thing happening anywhere else, always nice to learn something new.

Have you ever seen it yourself?

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MSD

So this is where you started, right?
http://maps.google.com/maps?q=37.580...02064&t=h&z=20

It looks like the bit of the sidewalk across the field is a retaining wall for Niles Canyon Road, but I can't trace it into the woods and I can't find any trace of anything resembling an abandoned hospital anywhere in the area.

silent_jay

I see a couple of smoke stacks on the map, and some rubble in a couple of different sections, but nothing that looks big enough to have been a hospital.

Willravel

It's been a few years, they may have torn it down.

I mentioned the story to my grandmother and she mentioned they used to have a TB center way up in the hills above Sunnyvale that sounded a lot like the place I was in. She used to be an x-ray tech and nurse.

MSD

That's what I was afraid of I was hoping to at least get an aerial picture of this place.

Wes Mantooth

I always hate that too, you hear about this awesome place that you want to go visit or at least get a look at...and its been torn down.

Anybody have anymore good stories? I have a few myself but I've been so busy I can't seem to sit down and get around to posting some...and tonight I'm half asleep...so yeah, maybe tomorrow.

Anyway I'd love to read some more local tales and legends if anybody feels like posting one up.

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MSD

There is a local site along Poverty Hollow Road in Easton, CT in which a large open space area is said to be home to a satanic cemetery and ritual location. I have gone with friends several times to try to find this and explored most of the site to no avail. I'm convinced that it's nothing but an urban legend. The last time I was there, we were about half a mile into the woods when we heard two quick blips of a police siren. We headed back to our cars, expecting to be cited for being in an open space area when it was closed, but simply found notices under our windshield wipers telling us to "Help keep out public water supply watershed areas clean. Please do not trespass." Anticlimactic, but hiking through the woods late at night is fun.