Mystical incidents in cemeteries. Scary stories about the cemetery and the dead

Who doesn't love scary stories about a cemetery? Today we will talk about six creepy and real cemeteries full of mysterious phenomena, ghosts and mysticism. So, buckle up and...

1. Scary stories about Silver Cliff Cemetery

The origin of the name of Silver Cliff Cemetery, located in Colorado, goes back to the nearby mining town of the same name. In turn, the city took its name from the Silver Cliff silver mine. Despite the rich deposits of ore, the companies involved in the development of the deposit declared themselves bankrupt three times due to poor management and financial fraud! The cemetery is famous to this day for its wandering blue lights. National Geographic published an article about these lights in 1969. Witnesses told various horror stories about this cemetery, such as that the lights were small, round in shape, and tended to temporarily change color from blue to another. These lights danced around the gravestones. Some argue that it could be the reflection of light from the city, but the first sightings date back to a time before Silver Cliff was electrified.

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2. Mystical stories about the Stip Cemetery

Steep Cemetery is a small, abandoned cemetery located in the Morgan-Monroe State Forest in Indiana. There are only a few dozen burials here, some of them two hundred years old. Officially, this is a family cemetery, but horror stories about the cemetery say that in fact the graveyard was founded by members of the Crebbites cult. The rituals of this group included the raising of snakes and sexual orgies. Some eyewitnesses claim that you can still hear the words of spells and prayers of cultists at night.
However, I have been unable to find any references to Crebbites apart from Steep Cemetery, which would suggest classifying the story as an urban legend.
Another legend tells of a loving mother who visited the grave of her dead child, even after her own death. According to another story, an old woman can be heard crying in the cemetery, who cursed the cemetery after a group of students killed her dog and threw the animal's body among the graves.

3. Scary stories about Camp Chase Cemetery

Camp Chase Confederate Cemetery, located in Columbus, Ohio, was the final resting place for 2,260 Confederate soldiers. Why Ohio? It was here that the northerners located a camp for prisoners of war of southerners, where 9,400 soldiers were kept during the Civil War. In 1863, a black smallpox epidemic spread through the camp, the victims of which are buried in the Camp Chase Cemetery. By the way, there are the remains of not only captured southerners, but also northerners who worked on the staff of the camp. After the end of the war, the camp was liquidated, and the cemetery remained as the only trace of the existence of this place of detention for prisoners of war. At the same time, wooden crosses began to be replaced with tombstones only in 1895.

Louisiana Rensburg Briggs

Louisiana Rensburg Briggs was a Confederate sympathizer from New Madrid, Missouri. Her father sent her to Ohio so she could escape the horrors of war. After the war ended, she married a northern veteran, but never forgot her past views. The woman constantly visited the Camp Chase cemetery, where she brought flowers to various graves of captured southerners, even when the graves were completely overgrown with weeds. Briggs always wore a veil on her evening visits to the churchyard to conceal her identity. This is how she earned her nickname, “The Veiled Lady of Camp Chase Cemetery.” Subsequently, Louisiana took the lead in taking measures to restore and preserve the cemetery. After her death in 1950, there were reports of the ghost of a weeping woman appearing in the churchyard, leaving mysterious flowers on the graves. The Briggs Mission lead became known as the "Grey Lady". Her paranormal activity is partly linked to the grave of a 22-year-old Tennessee soldier named Benjamin Allen. You can also note the presence of reports of the appearance of ghosts of Southern soldiers in the Camp Chase cemetery.

4. Scary stories from Highgate Cemetery

Highgate Cemetery in London, UK, is home to many famous people's burial places, but once it was full, the ongoing costs of maintaining the graveyard were finally stopped. As a result, vegetation covered the entire territory of the cemetery and turned it into a classic, creepy place. It was even the location for a number of horror films from Hammer Films Productions in the late 50s. In the 1970s, increased interest in the occult led to rumors of the first ghosts and even vampires in Highgate Cemetery. The ensuing vandalism and grave robbing only further fueled these legends and ultimately sparked a contest between the "magician" Saint Manchester and David Farrant. Each of them swore that he would be the one to drive the vampire out of the cemetery. A number of unpleasant incidents occurred at the churchyard between 1970 and 1973, during which crowds of people gathered in the cemetery under the cover of darkness, after which dug up, desecrated remains were found there in various positions. Police applied for an arrest warrant, and Farrant was convicted in 1974 of grave desecration and vandalism. Manchester and Farrant continue their occult rivalry to this day. The latest evidence of the fear of vampires is reflected in the 1972 film Dracula, which provoked large-scale crime at Highgate Cemetery.

5. Chase Family Mausoleum and its history

The Chase family burial vault was built in 1724 in the parish of Barbados Christ Church and was first used for its intended purpose in 1807. The remains were buried, and the mausoleum itself was sealed with marble and cement. In 1812, the tomb was opened for the fourth funeral, but it was discovered that the three coffins previously left there had been moved from their places! And the child’s coffin was completely placed vertically. They were all swapped and opened. Two more times, in 1816 and 1819, the tomb was reopened for subsequent funerals. And again it was noticed that the coffins were all turned the other way or stood behind each other. Moreover, even after the first discovery of this strange phenomenon, the governor of the island ordered the doors of the crypt to be sealed, having previously poured sand inside, which was supposed to be evidence of the invasion of the tomb, but failed to cope with this role. Then the family decided to transfer the ashes of people dear to them to another place. Since then, the tomb has stood untouched. Despite reports from that time indicating that there were no signs of flooding in the crypt, the simplest explanation for the phenomenon can be considered the release of groundwater to the surface. This is what could move the coffins without destroying the layer of sand. Since coral was also used as the material of the tomb, the possibility of water appearing can be considered one of the versions explaining the terrible stories about the cemetery and what happened.

6. The Horrors and Vampires of Chestnut Hill Cemetery

Chestnut Hill Baptist Cemetery, located in Exeter, Rhode Island, is known for the appearance of a vampire named Mercy Brown on its grounds. She outlived her sister and mother, victims of tuberculosis, and often visited their graves. In January 1892, 19-year-old Mercy herself fell ill with tuberculosis and was soon reunited with her family on the cemetery grounds. George, Mercy's father, began to complain that she came to him every night, complaining of hunger. His son Edwin also fell ill with tuberculosis, but since he also spoke of Mercy's nightly visits, the family and villagers believed that the cause of his illness lay in the restless deceased. George Brown, with the participation of others, dug the graves of his wife and two daughters on March 17, 1892. Of these, only Mercy, who died in January, was not subject to the effects of decomposition. This was enough evidence for George to believe in her rebirth as a vampire. The villagers cut out Mercy's heart, burned it, mixed the resulting ashes with water and gave it to the sick Edwin as medicine. Despite this, he died a few months later. The story of Mercy Brown inspired a number of writers to create several novels, including Bram Stoker's Dracula.

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This story was told by Sofia Kazhdan. I present it here in the form in which it was told.

That evening I saw off the mother of my friend, who had lived in our small town for more than fifty years. I came home late in the evening and could not sleep.

Evgenia became a widow five years ago and lived literally a ten-minute walk from my house. Her daughter, Yulia, my childhood friend, begged her mother to move to live with her in another city.
- Mom, I want you to be close. I don’t want to wake up every morning with just one thought that you are there alone, a hundred kilometers from me and my grandchildren.

As luck would have it, my eyes were literally drooping, but there was no sleep. Several times a night I turned on the TV and picked up a book.
Then I decided to overcome myself. She turned off the TV, put down the book and, turning off the light, began to count.
“One... two... three... ten... eighty... one hundred thirty... two hundred and fifty...”

And then... Then the action unfolded according to the script of a science fiction film. Lying in bed, almost asleep, I heard a soft knock on the window in my sleep. Lazily getting up, she went to the window and, opening the curtain, was horrified.

On the road near my house there was a funeral home bus with a black stripe down the middle. From it, my acquaintances who had left this world and moved to the “OTHER” looked at me through the windows.

I felt my hands and toes getting colder, sweat forming on my forehead and nose, my legs becoming wobbly, and my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. Goosebumps began to run throughout my body.

Near my window stood the father of my childhood friend Yulka and the husband of Evgenia, who had to leave our town early in the morning, Uncle Lenya.
- Sonya, why are you looking at me so scared? - he asked and, smiling at me, continued, “I won’t do anything bad to you.” Get dressed and go outside... We need to talk...
I continued to stand and looked at the street through the window glass in horror.

People began to get off the bus. I personally saw many of them in the coffin. They were wearing the same things that their acquaintances and friends saw them in when they saw them off on their last journey.

Tamara, a former colleague of my sister, who died of cancer, leaving behind a two-year-old son, approached Uncle Lena.
- Why don’t you come out to us? - asked Tamara, - Don’t be afraid of us... We won’t do anything bad to you... You need to be afraid of the living, not the dead...
- What are you doing here? - I asked in fear, thinking that DEATH had come for me, - I don’t want to die! Don't want! It's bad there, it's scary and it's dark...
“Look at me,” Uncle Lenya said and smiled again, “Look at me carefully... Do I look bad?”

And in fact... Uncle Lenya was very often sick for the last ten years of his life and was very overweight. In addition to asthma, he had a bunch of other side diseases. Now standing in front of me was a fit, lively man with clear eyes.

“I live in a wonderful place,” he said, “in a pine forest... This place is ideal for my health.”
- What are you doing here? - I asked slurring my tongue, - You are all dead.
“We came to visit you, earthlings,” one of my good friends, who died in a car accident, intervened in the conversation.

I don’t remember what happened next... and how many minutes or seconds I stood with my mouth open. Then... Then I asked them:
- What's there? On the other side of life? Is it scary there? Badly?
“No,” said Uncle Lenya, “THE DAMMIT is not as scary as you paint him... There’s a different life there... Other concepts about life...”

- Do you want to go back... to us... to Earth?
- We want peace... We want the Earthlings not to touch us, not to offend us and to remember that we are always with you, we are watching your life...
- Are you following? - I asked in fear.
- So, I came to see how my wife would leave our house... It’s hard for her to do this... It’s hard... So I came to help her, to support her...

“Uncle Lenya,” I asked after a short silence, “Do you want to come to us?” In our lives?
- My mission on Earth is over... I did everything I could... Now I’m home.
- At home? - I asked in bewilderment, - How is it at home? I’m at home... And you’re not at home... You’re in a coffin...
“Ha-ha-ha,” the dead laughed merrily.

“Sonya,” said Tamara, “You are the guest... The earthly guest... And the coffin... So we are leaving your world...”
“Just don’t try to tell me that it’s good there... That there is an afterlife there, and everyone lives happily ever after, like in a fairy tale.”
- Why does everyone live happily ever after, like in a fairy tale?! No... Life there is not heavenly... There you also need to work and live... There is eternity... And here there is a stop...

I no longer remember what I asked, what they told me, I only remember that I asked several questions that to this day make me think about a lot.
— How often do you visit us, and how often do you want to see us?
“Almost none of us are drawn to Earth... But there are exceptions... Grandparents who have little grandchildren behind them want to see the kids... They come to them at night when they are fast asleep,” said Uncle Lenya.
“I want to see my son... Hold him close... I left him so small, so helpless... I left him when he needed me so much... I don’t visit him very often... I don’t have time for this,” with annoyance in his voice said Tamara.

“We have our own lives, and don’t bother us over trifles... Don’t come to the grave whenever you want... Don’t disturb us... Don’t torment us and don’t torment our souls... There is a church for that... Go there... Pray for the repose of our souls,” Uncle Lenya said.
- Why?
- You are invading another world... A world incomprehensible to you... The time will come, and you yourself will understand everything...

- Who feels bad there, in this OTHER world?
- Who feels bad? To the one who sentenced himself and took his own LIFE?... This is scary... This is very scary... WE, our world, do not accept these people, and in yours they are already dead... They try to move in with the dead, but this is impossible... God gave man life , and only God can take it away from us.
- Uncle Lenya, don’t scare me. Are you saying that a murderer... A person who took the life of another lives better in your world than one who decided his own destiny?
- Probably yes... These people are slaves... They accept newcomers... They work with them... They undergo adaptation with them... They teach them to live according to our laws...

The alarm clock rang in the room...

I stood in the middle of the room in my clothes and was shaking all over with fear... To this day I still cannot understand what it was: A DREAM OR...

And if OR...

Stuttering, I began to talk about the night aliens.
After the story was told, there was silence in the accounting department. An elderly woman interrupted her.
“What a miracle,” she said, “Previously, those people who took their lives were buried outside the gates of the cemetery and they were not buried in the church...

A year later, my friend comes to me and says:
- I had such a life situation... I didn’t see a way out... My mother died, my husband left for another... I didn’t want to live at all... I decided to cut my wrists... I filled the bathtub with water, took a knife and... At that moment I remembered your story about the night guests... I felt scared... Scared that in that incomprehensible world I would suffer even more. Two days later I met Sashka... Now we are expecting a son... There are simply no hopeless situations... If you can’t fight, then you just need to wait out this unfortunate period.

I WANT TO BELIEVE THAT WE ARE NOT DYING FOR ALL...
THAT THE SOUL WILL LIVE AFTER OUR DEATH... BUT THAT WORLD is unknown to us... And no one gave us the right to invade it. If it exists, THAT WORLD, then people there live according to their own laws...

All stories about the cemetery are told through the mouths of real people. If you are under 18, run away from this page. Because you will be terrified and afraid. Just 3 stories from life.

My grandmother, who is 82 years old, does not let me go to the churchyard alone.

Look, what a brave man you have found. A cemetery is a refuge for souls, some of which have not found rest. “They should go back to our world,” the old woman said terribly.

I'm Maxim, and my story about the cemetery associated with an uncovered mirror.

When my grandfather broke, or rather wrapped himself in a strong rope, I found him blue and scary.

I called my father, I remember shouting to the entire guardhouse.

“Oh, Lord, it was not in vain that he was frightening,” my father said sickeningly, ordering me (a 17-year-old tomboy) to curtain all the mirrors.

Fortunately, there were a lot of rags in the village house.

I left one mirror open.

They buried my grandfather in a cemetery, on the outskirts of the churchyard, without Orthodox or religious ceremonies.

The people were loud that they were now excommunicated from the Lord God.

I was terrified to go there, where there was still a strong noose.

Walking around the house with memories, I accidentally looked into the mirror, which I deliberately did not cover.

What is this, righteous God!

In it I saw the distorted grimace of my grandfather lying in the village cemetery.

Something dark and strong, probably a fallen spirit, forced me to visit him.

I didn't say anything to my father.

He came, sat down, and began to sob.

And in the cemetery, the wind on the grave is restless, as if someone is desperately rampaging from underground.

The grave cross shook and cold rain poured over me.

Not feeling my feet under me, I ran away from the cemetery.

It was then that my grandmother told me everything.

You can't go to church - it's a mortal sin. Why didn't you hide the mirror? Obviously not created by the mind! Now wait for him in your dreams, grandfather will come and you will wake up. His soul, already imprisoned in hell, cannot say goodbye to this world. You hid it in the mirrors. Pray, poor thing, otherwise it will be bad for you and your father,” said the grandmother, baptizing me at last.

I read “Our Father”, chattering my teeth at night.

Grandfather left hard, he could not resist the noose.

Only I still have dreams in which she gradually tightens around my own neck.

Another story about the cemetery worse than the previous one.

Basically, everyone there rests in peace.

But there are also those who wander forever in lamentation.

I often leave some water or cookies on my grandmother’s grave.

I remember her, look around, and then look - there is no treat.

Apparently I'm disturbing someone...

For the twelfth year now I have been visiting an old woman who died of hunger during the war.

My the story about the cemetery is some kind of devilry.

One day he came to visit his father, and on the grave, instead of “dead” flowers, ritual candles were stuck.

Black, red, yellow, seemingly recently extinguished.

Lying nearby is a devil, or rather a wax figurine of him.

I dug them up, howling with indignation, and there, in the depths, my hand was wounded by an ancient dagger.

What are these, bloody masses?

He scooped up the desecrating trash and threw it in the trash.

He ran up to the cemetery worker and told him everything.

And he just shakes his head, saying, sorry, brother, I’ll notice, I’ll kill you.

On Easter I went to my father again.

The same picture was presented to my eyes.

Only instead of a dagger I dug up chicken remains.

I lived in a big city, but after the birth of my son, our family was forced to return to live in the village where I was from. The son had a severe allergy to city smog and further living in the city threatened him with death. All our relatives who lived in the village were very happy about our return and often gathered together to while away the long winter evenings. They chatted about different things, but after the “destroying” of several graves in the cemetery (drunk youth were having fun), the conversation more and more often began with incidents related to the cemetery . INCIDENT ONE

Someone got into the habit of stealing fences near the graves in the cemetery - my uncle began the story. Almost every night the fence from someone's grave disappeared. Apparently he was a strong man, he removed some of the fences along with the concrete pouring and took them away to God knows where. They decided that he was stealing and selling somewhere in other villages, but they could not catch him, even the police were on duty and did not notice anything. As soon as we set up an ambush, the fences are intact, just like there is no ambush, the next fence disappears. How could this vandal know when the ambush would happen? And, most importantly, there were no traces of the car anywhere, it was clearly carried away on his shoulders, but no one knows where. The service dog didn’t pick up the trail, just sniffed, then snorted and turned away. Rumors spread throughout the village that it was the unclean who was acting up and no one went on duty at the cemetery at night, they were afraid of the unclean. Our priest walked around the cemetery with a censer, read prayers, it still didn’t help. But then one day, those who lived closer to the cemetery heard a strong and terrible scream from the cemetery at night. So strong that even in the hut one could hear some kind of inhuman scream. Naturally, they were afraid to go there at night, but a whole horde went when the sun was high and saw that a man was kneeling near the grave of a recently buried local blacksmith. His head sticks out between the bars of the fence. and the bars around the neck are compressed. The blacksmith forged this fence for himself while he was still alive and said that they would put it on his grave. A beautiful fence forged with love, not a single welded seam. The blacksmith probably got angry and punished the thief, but it wasn’t the thief himself who stuck his head into the fence and even squeezed the bars around his neck. Since that time, theft from the cemetery has stopped. INCIDENT TWO

You’re right, Semyon (that’s my uncle’s name),” the next interlocutor continued the conversation. The dead can punish their offenders. My friend from a neighboring village was visiting me and talking about the death of a girl after graduation. There they had a school graduation and three graduating girls decided, rather than buy bouquets of beautiful flowers, to collect bouquets at the cemetery. Early in the morning we ran to the cemetery and picked up bouquets from one of the graves from yesterday's funeral. They came to school with these bouquets. The girls gave bouquets to the teachers, and Yana (that was the name of one of the girls) left one bouquet at home - she put the most beautiful one in a vase on the table, and gave the second one to the teacher. So two girls and three teachers who received a bouquet from the cemetery fell ill the next day and went to the hospital, and in the evening Yana moved the bouquet from the cemetery closer to her crib and went to bed. This morning I didn’t leave my bedroom. Mom came in, and her daughter was dead. She found herself strangled. All the relatives had an alibi for that night, no traces - the killer was not found. Doctors concluded that she died from a severe allergy to flowers. INCIDENT THIRD

Do you remember the incident the year before last, Aunt Klava spoke up. This is what we had. That case with Kirill, a local drunkard and rowdy. He also called himself a demon or a vampire, and people called him that and shunned him, none of the men wanted to be friends with him. He was healthy and when he drinks, he gets into a fight, and even bites - he screams, I’ll drink the blood from you. No one could rein him in or teach him a lesson. Guys, it used to be that about five people would get together and try to teach him a lesson. They’ll attack him, beat him, but he doesn’t seem to feel any pain, he’ll give the men black eyes under his eyes, and he’ll even break someone’s arm or leg. But the scythe hit a stone - the drunkard couldn’t handle the local moonshine, he got so drunk that he died, as people say - he was burned by vodka. Well, the whole village gathered as many as they could (the drunkard himself lived) and organized a funeral, people after all. They took the coffin to the cemetery, lowered it into the grave and the diggers began to bury it, everyone stood quietly, there was no one to cry, and suddenly a noise was heard from the grave, the diggers froze in their tracks. The coffin with the earth thrown over it began to go into the ground, down there. He dropped about three meters and stopped. They covered the grave with the remaining earth, and they also had to bring it, almost one and a half cars fit into the grave while they made a mound and put up a cross with an inscription. In the village they said for a long time that he might actually be a vampire and that he was striving to go to the kingdom of shadows with his own people, but no one knows what is really there. From time immemorial there have been no quarries or mines in this area. These are the terrible real stories I heard about the cemetery from my relatives. #horror stories

This is a real story written from the words of a real person. However, my interlocutor asked to keep his name and some details secret. He is a medical worker, he went through two wars: the Patriotic and the Korean. We are sitting in a small, cozy living room, and he tells exciting, interesting stories, and he had many of them over the seventy-eight years of his life.

His sparkle in his eyes and oratory take us far, far back. However, now, telling this story, there was a stamp of sadness on his face, and a wave of pain splashed in his eyes.

“This happened just before the war. I had just received my diploma as a surgeon, and I was sent to work in the south - in the Kazakh steppes. He worked in a small regional center as a surgeon in the emergency room, but sometimes replaced a pathologist.

That hot summer day is deeply etched in my memory; there were many patients and I didn’t have a minute to rest. They sent an orderly to me with a request to stop the appointment and urgently begin an autopsy of the body of a man brought by his relatives on a cart; he was struck and killed by lightning. My colleagues examined him and pronounced him dead. The relatives were in a hurry; the journey home was long and far. One hundred kilometers in these places was not considered a great distance. Just at that moment I opened the boil and could not leave the patient. He replied that I could come over in a few minutes, asking my sister to apply a bandage. As soon as I headed towards the exit, I heard a quiet, female voice - “don’t go.” I turned around and looked around, there was no one in the office, the nurse was in the dressing room. Here they brought in a patient with an open hip fracture, and I began to provide emergency care. The orderly came for me again, but I was busy. When I finished providing assistance, again a woman’s voice very clearly said, “don’t go.” Then there was a patient with acute bleeding, and I was delayed.

An orderly came into the office and said that the head doctor was angry. I replied that I would be there soon. Having finished with the patient, and already approaching the door, I heard a woman’s voice again - “don’t go.” And I decided - I was stopped three times, I won’t go, and that’s it! I stayed in the office and resumed my appointment. The chief came - angry, beside himself: “Why don’t you follow my order?” To which I calmly say: “I have a lot of patients, but the therapist is sitting and not doing anything (I also got angry and was rude), let him go, he also went through this like me. The head doctor, furious, left after him.

Twenty minutes later the autopsy began. And a terrible thing happened: a colleague sawed open the chest and began to dissect the lungs, when suddenly the dead man jumped up and, spraying blood, began screaming and rushed at the doctor. A frightened colleague flew out of the anatomy room, covered in blood and with crazy eyes, ran into my office and shouted: “Faster, faster! He is alive!" I examined the patient and answered skeptically: “Who? Dead person? “Yes, he is alive, take the tool and save him.” I didn’t believe it, but I took the suitcase with the tools, talked to my sister and went after him. Having caught up with him, I saw that my colleague had turned completely gray.

A half-dead man was lying on the floor of the anatomy room. He was bleeding, it was too late to do anything, life was leaving him. A few minutes later he died for real. A colleague received a long sentence for premeditated murder. During the war he was released and died during the liberation of Warsaw. And to this day I don’t know who called me and stopped me and saved me from big trouble. Maybe a guardian angel, or maybe a premonition and intuition?..” He finished the story without touching the cooled tea. And I sat and thought about how thin the line between life and death is, how many mysterious and incomprehensible things are around.