LJ Idol - Week 18 - Inspiration
When you are 18, you're invincible. When you are 18, you have to try to tempt fate to walk the edge of the cliff and find the danger that isn't there. When I was 18, my fascination in cemeteries was brought to life again.
As a child, I always watched out the window each time we passed the cemetery, and looked to see where my grandmother was buried. I was named after her, and I've always wanted to meet her. So I would dream about walking in the cemetery and meeting her under the tree near her grave. We would visit on Mother's Day sometimes, leaving flowers on her grave. As a teen, a decade since my father stopped taking the family, I would drive out there on my own to sit and be at peace.
With my senior year drawing to a close, my class of 12 tried to spend a lot more time together. We were about to be sent out in every direction the US has to offer, and after up to thirteen years together for half of us, to only four years together for our late-comers, we were a small family. A bon fire on the beach, senior trips, getting together at one house or another, senior skip day, we just wanted to enjoy the last of our time together the best way we could. I don't know who suggested it first, but someone came up with the idea of visiting Mouth.
Located 45 minutes northwest of where I was raised, Mouth Cemetery is thought to be the oldest cemetery in Michigan. There were graves there even before it was bought in 1850 and officially turned into a cemetery. The ruins of a mad scientist's lab are next door, and there is an electric chair that appears and disappears from the porch. If the chair appears while you visit, and you sit upon it, it is rumored that you are cursed to die one year from that day and time. There is a Native American burial mound in one part of the small cemetery, and grave stones going back to 1851. There's even the grave of an Indian woman who lived to be 110! Only one family still lives with burial rites to the cemetery. Mouth is also haunted.
Teenagers being how they are, we decided to go out to Mouth to experience the haunting for ourselves. In four or five vehicles, we caravaned up to White Lake, taking numerous back roads and gravel or dirt roads to get there. Looking at the map now, I can see that whoever was in the lead was taking the long way. When we arrived, we creeped past a church that had a meeting going, even though it was nearing midnight. Rumor has it that the old Mouth School was renovated into a church that is taken over by a Satanic cult on the nights of the full moon. Of course, we had chosen a full moon to come tempting fate in the graveyard.
We got as close as we could in our cars, and then filed through the woods on an overgrown path through a ramshackle iron gate with horse heads. Tripping over half buried gravestones, with just a few flashlights among a dozen people to light our way, we explored, scared ourselves silly with orbs of light, the sounds of crickets and owls, half heard whispers from ghostly beings, and searching for a chair that did not appear for us. Though we had a strength of numbers, when we saw activity at the church and people driving away and driving towards us, we ran as fast as we could back to the cars and drove to our homes as quickly as we could.
I don't believe anyone truly saw or heard anything that wasn't caused by another in our group, and no one has claimed to have been haunted by the girl in the white nightgown, who also didn't appear to us, but after that experience I still do enjoy visiting cemeteries at night. Since then, I've also visited a cemetery across the cornfield from my university, coveted the beautiful cemetery I live next to, but haven't visited yet, and thoroughly enjoy trips to numerous cemeteries around Ireland as part of my history and culture classes when I studied abroad. I don't think I would have enjoyed them all quite so much, though, if I hadn't had that deliciously spooky experience with friends at Mouth.
Dedicated to the lovely cemetaria whose name reminds me of some beautiful things from my past.
As a child, I always watched out the window each time we passed the cemetery, and looked to see where my grandmother was buried. I was named after her, and I've always wanted to meet her. So I would dream about walking in the cemetery and meeting her under the tree near her grave. We would visit on Mother's Day sometimes, leaving flowers on her grave. As a teen, a decade since my father stopped taking the family, I would drive out there on my own to sit and be at peace.
With my senior year drawing to a close, my class of 12 tried to spend a lot more time together. We were about to be sent out in every direction the US has to offer, and after up to thirteen years together for half of us, to only four years together for our late-comers, we were a small family. A bon fire on the beach, senior trips, getting together at one house or another, senior skip day, we just wanted to enjoy the last of our time together the best way we could. I don't know who suggested it first, but someone came up with the idea of visiting Mouth.
Located 45 minutes northwest of where I was raised, Mouth Cemetery is thought to be the oldest cemetery in Michigan. There were graves there even before it was bought in 1850 and officially turned into a cemetery. The ruins of a mad scientist's lab are next door, and there is an electric chair that appears and disappears from the porch. If the chair appears while you visit, and you sit upon it, it is rumored that you are cursed to die one year from that day and time. There is a Native American burial mound in one part of the small cemetery, and grave stones going back to 1851. There's even the grave of an Indian woman who lived to be 110! Only one family still lives with burial rites to the cemetery. Mouth is also haunted.
Teenagers being how they are, we decided to go out to Mouth to experience the haunting for ourselves. In four or five vehicles, we caravaned up to White Lake, taking numerous back roads and gravel or dirt roads to get there. Looking at the map now, I can see that whoever was in the lead was taking the long way. When we arrived, we creeped past a church that had a meeting going, even though it was nearing midnight. Rumor has it that the old Mouth School was renovated into a church that is taken over by a Satanic cult on the nights of the full moon. Of course, we had chosen a full moon to come tempting fate in the graveyard.
We got as close as we could in our cars, and then filed through the woods on an overgrown path through a ramshackle iron gate with horse heads. Tripping over half buried gravestones, with just a few flashlights among a dozen people to light our way, we explored, scared ourselves silly with orbs of light, the sounds of crickets and owls, half heard whispers from ghostly beings, and searching for a chair that did not appear for us. Though we had a strength of numbers, when we saw activity at the church and people driving away and driving towards us, we ran as fast as we could back to the cars and drove to our homes as quickly as we could.
I don't believe anyone truly saw or heard anything that wasn't caused by another in our group, and no one has claimed to have been haunted by the girl in the white nightgown, who also didn't appear to us, but after that experience I still do enjoy visiting cemeteries at night. Since then, I've also visited a cemetery across the cornfield from my university, coveted the beautiful cemetery I live next to, but haven't visited yet, and thoroughly enjoy trips to numerous cemeteries around Ireland as part of my history and culture classes when I studied abroad. I don't think I would have enjoyed them all quite so much, though, if I hadn't had that deliciously spooky experience with friends at Mouth.
Dedicated to the lovely cemetaria whose name reminds me of some beautiful things from my past.