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Visit To A Haunted Cemetery

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Visit To A Haunted Cemetery

 

Date: Tuesday, 25-Nov-97 04:17 PM

From: Way Of The Ray \ Internet: (wayray@ix.netcom.com)

Subject: Visit To A Haunted Cemetery

 

"One of the more frightening ghost spottings Robinson lists in his second book is the haunting of Rehoboth's Village Cemetery. On at least three separate occasions, Robinson wrote, witnesses saw a vision of an old man in 19th-century clothing, with black and hollow eyes, floating with a bizarre liquid movement among the gravestones. Some were so frightened by the sightings, Robinson said, they've yet to return to the cemetery, despite wanting to visit loved ones buried there.

 

"A woman reported seeing the old man alternately sobbing and laughing maniacally; she assumed he was a distraught mourner at first. When she approached him, he burst out laughing and swore at her. As she ran away, he followed, laughing and yelling 'Catherine, Catherine, you (expletive)!' As the woman (whose name was not Catherine) hurriedly drove away, she noticed the old man leaning over and beating a young woman lying before him on the ground. Moments later, both figures vanished."

 

(Boston Globe - 10/26/97; pp. D20, D21)

 

DIARY OF MY VISIT

 

November 23, I997

 

6:30 a.m.: Leave house to Village Cemetery, Rehoboth. It's raining, it's drizzling. It's typical New England fall weather. What a pisser it is! I'm the wreck of the Hesperus man this morning - ohhh, my breath is reeking.

 

6:32: It's raining, it's pouring. God's wiggling his mighty celestial penis. He just finished taking a whizz, and were receiving the after-effects.

 

6:33: I've got my friendly day-pack with me; I've got my friendly holy water; my sage; map of Rehoboth; I'm a traveling man.

 

6:34: I've taken the wrong road! I'm spending so much time, talking into my recorder, that I took the wrong exit. Real bright Ray! I'd love to pull a U-turn, but it's a state highway, and they tend to frown upon that.

 

6:35: God, you talk about a gloomy day - This takes the cake; and the rain is increasing. Everything just blends in - in some grungy cacophony.

 

6:40: Sunday morning, and the radio's some vast sonic wasteland: (singing): "Teenage Wasteland."

 

6:47: I'm on the right road finally. The various donut shops are doing a fine business. Ahhh Dunkin Donut groupies - The crueler fiends: they are all about.

 

6:50 My yawns are so expansive, you can see my tonsils.

 

6:55 Things are so bad, I'm actually singing those cheesy songs from the 70's: "Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting: Chchchoo; They were fast as lightning: Chchchoo..."

 

7:00 I'm finally rolling into Rehoboth. There's trees, and more trees; and some swamps; and boulders on top of hills; and boulders down on the hillside. It's the Boonies all right.

 

7:05 The Rehoboth town clerk didn't lie to me; I found the cemetery, where she said it would be.

 

7:10 The cemetery is a piece of work. It's a terraced-thing; quite large; boy I thought this would be a small dinky place; a little hovel in the woods!

 

7:11 Holy cow, I'm driving around the cemetery grounds; and boy this is a big place. Plenty of room for twenty or thirty ghosts.

 

7:14 This place is crawling with obelisks; there must be hundreds of them here. Damn, there's a lot of gravestones here, you can spend a couple of hours just walking among the graves.

 

7:15 - I'm parking the car, at the end of a long gravel path. (Door

 

8:25 opened and shut - I'm out of the car; walking around the cemetery) Boy I'm cold, it's drizzling and it's cold; and I've taken my holy water out of my day pack, and put it in my pants' pocket. In case, I contact any unruly spirits. Ahhh, how to describe this place: Well we've got your basic deciduous-conifer forest; boy this place is a lot chillier than where I came from. It's lovely though. Holy Cow! Off to my left are these box like Mausoleums. There's five of them; (tapping on them) they sound hollow. Basic concrete; wonder what they're there for?

 

Boy this place is cold; I know I keep repeating that, but I've got my winter coat on, and I'm freezing. A really chilly atmosphere, and um, I don't see anyone, which is a disappointment, because if there's anyone here, it's a ghost. I've got my camera in my hand; I'm ready for him (the maniacal ghost), if he shows up. I'm heading towards the southeast, which is the new section of the cemetery; and they have room to expand. This place must be built over a swamp, because damn it's cold. No ghost so far; all I can hear are my footsteps. Oh wow! And on a gravestone named McCalukey (sp?), (laughing), a ceramic collie dog; I touched it: hopefully no curses; (laughing), Chained To The Gravestone, (more laughing); now that's funny! It's chained to the gravestone, by a large metal chain.

 

Ahh, ooo, I hope I brought some Kleenex, my nose is running; damn it, I forgot to bring Kleenex. (Kleenex found in car, cemetery exploration resumed). Looking off to the southwest; forested area; you know; I was kind of hoping there be some eyes in the forest staring at me. Red eyes, staring back at me, that always makes for a cool story! But no, not really.

 

Right now, I'm heading northeast towards the building, where they put the people in, when they can't bury them in the winter. I don't know what they call it... (Going closer towards the building). There's a place here, a faucet, where you can fill up some jugs of water; about six of them here; water all mucky- looking.

 

Hey, God, a pumpkin! Ginae will be happy. I see pumpkins here, by a gravestone. (Laughing) And little ceramic bunnies! Some one really did a nasty job on one of the pumpkins. Maybe, a woodchuck maybe; lots of them in New England.

 

(In another section of the cemetery). There's a nice little breeze blowing down on me. Whooo. I keep reaching for my keys, just in case... Nice little birch tree, white... Holy Christ! This place is loaded with crows, and I guess they're a symbol of death; hopefully not mine. But man there cawing. I don't know, what it is, with crows and graveyards? There's a bunch of them

here cawing: "Caw-caw-caw!"; (Walking on) There's another pumpkin all smashed up... Crows watching over the souls of the dead. My blue car, looking forlorn, off in the distance.

 

This is a cemetery of obelisks: one, two, three, four, five, six... there must be twenty or thirty of them. Despite all its inherent gloominess, its chilliness... Its bone, chilly-chilly; I kind of like this place. It's peaceful. It's hard to believe, there be an obscenity-chanting spirit, chasing the tourists.

 

(Heading in a northeast direction). I feel that there is something here; I keep expecting it to be on the other side of me. But I haven't felt anything yet; but there may be somebody here. Damn it, I wish I would brought some gloves...I am the aimless traveler walking about, from north to south; east to west; hoping to run into the angry spirit, or the little boy ghost that wanders around.

 

There's actually a mausoleum here, built into the side of a hill, covered by earth, leaves and decay... vines; hopefully not poison ivy, because I'm touching them at the moment. There's a sign, carved into the mausoleum's stone, that says: Property of the town...I829.. I can't make out the words. The entrance of the mausoleum, is blocked off, by concrete blocks, cemented together. It be a hoot, if something started banging on the inside; but I guess today is not going to be my lucky ghost-haunting day.

 

This seems to be a relatively recent cemetery, because the oldest gravestone, appears to be 1863... Maybe on a sunny, shiny day, when the sun is bathing the earth with energy; maybe that's when the ghost appears... A lot of Captains, seem to be buried in this cemetery; Captain Clark; Captain Rogers... It's hard to make out, what's written on the gravestones. The acid rain we have here, is just eating them away. Limestone, marble, all turned to chalky dust... (Coughing). I know one thing, I'm constantly coughing here, as if possessed by the spirit of someone who had tuberculosis.

 

Here's something interesting, an old well covered by boards, and a pump. This thing must be hundred-something years old... (Laughing). Here's a gravestone that looks like a giant condom. It does; it does. I don't know... It has a Masonic- like symbol on it; pretty neat... The soil is very acidic here; you can tell. A lot of ground-covering moss, lichens, algae...

 

There's one gravestone here, I absolutely love; sort of, a rose-colored marble. You have to see it, to imagine it... Yah, it's a rose-colored marble; quartzite maybe... But this is beautiful stuff, wow!

 

Heading towards the far southwest... There's a path that goes out from the cemetery; so I'm checking it out... I can see my breath, condensation quite apparent... The path ends. It's the dumping grounds for the cemetery. Broken head stones, plastic flowers, trash...

 

In the main section, once again... An Arbore vitae; that's pretty ironic. A tree of life, in the cemetery of the dead... A nice blue spruce... Heading back to my car... Maybe the ghost will hitch a ride with me... Probably not, ghosts are like cops - They're never around when you want them!

Ray

 



 

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