There we were driving down the road at an excessive 80mph, I sat in the passenger seat and looked out the window at the trees who had lost most of their leaves. It was a cold day with winter around the corner, a strong wind was blowing outside. It had been a long time since I had opportunity to go on a ghost hunt but here it was. My friend has asked me if we could go and I said sure it should be interesting. We had done some research prior to leaving for our destination. He picked a haunted cemetery in Maine. I was intrigued by the idea that a cemetery could even be haunted so I decided to humor him and said that it would be a great idea. Now we were an hour away, he turned on the radio and Queen's Another One Bites the Dust came on.
Some what Ironic I thought, driving around looking to hunt ghost, we were nothing shy of a comical representation of the television show Supernatural. Him with his jeans work boots, flannel and carhart jacket. Myself with a hoodie jeans, and a thick levis work jacket. The site we were going to he had found on a Maine blog . When I read it it sounded promising, I didn't know how right I was. Looking back it was one of the more interesting ventures I had opportunity to take, but he would say otherwise.
"So, what are you looking to find?" I asked. We had just gotten off the exit and entered the town where the cemetery was.
"You know a ghost. I want to get goosebumps, that creepy feeling people say happens when you find one." Not many people go looking for that I thought. I doubt we would find anything like that at the cemetery. Everything he had learned about ghosts came from television and the movies, he had his car full of different repellants, from sea salt to iron bars.
"You know you probably won't need all that stuff glancing to the backseats."
"Well, you never know I just wanted to be prepared." He was all set he was with me, but I didn't want to tell him how many spirits, I had encountered before. I just went along to see the gorgeous old statuary at the cemetery. The plots dated as far back as the early 1800s and my research showed it has almost 10,000 people interred there still active up to 1996.
We finally arrived and carefully drove through the open gates. The gates were not very elaborate but served their purpose to keep people out when closed. Something we would become familiar with sooner than we knew. The first thing to greet us as we drove through were two crypts that made a small hill. Overarched on it were the words "Riverside Cemetery" I was starting to get excited at the prospect of encountering a "ghost".
We drove down the twisting road and up to the top of the hill. My friend stopped the car. "We're here, let's get out."
"Here? Do you know where it is?"
"No, I figured we can find it." I looked out over the hill and saw a beautiful sun starting to set by the statues. We started walking around, and I was immediately taken aback by the number of Freemasons that had been buried here. Often times you may find one or two Freemasons in a cemetery but this one it was almost every other grave marker. This was fascinating, as I had not ever had the opportunity to be in such a fraternal plot site. As we meandered up the hill I looked in the distance to see a newly constructed mausoleum.
"Is that it?" It was cool outside and the wind was nipping at my ears.
"No, it looks to be too new."
"Are you sure I am pretty sure that's it." I only asked because I could sense something in that direction. I am not sure what it was but I knew that was where we needed to go regardless if it were the site we were looking for. "Let's check it out." We started to walk over there and as we go closer another larger mausoleum started to appear behind it. This one was tucked away almost in the surrounding trees. I knew that was it. "That's it isn't it?"
"I don't know it doesn't look like it is tucked in the corner." Our trip was on the heels of a Vandalism spree that had taken place in 2010. It was 3 years later. As we walked closer we noticed more and more stones that had been knocked over or smashed. There was one granite urn in particular that stood out. "How much do you think that weighs?" He pointed over towards the urn.
"I'd say at least a few hundred pounds." The base of the urn had been broken from it and it was precariously rested against a larger stone that was about four feet high and six feet wide.
"More, like five hundred. I doubt we could even move it if we tried." He was more than likely correct, I made note of that and we pushed onward.