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Home Archives The Graveyard Woman

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Witness: Jeff Scott
Location: Indianapolis, Indiana
Date of Encounter: April 1997

It was the Saturday evening before Easter 1997 — a warm spring evening. The sun had set about a half hour earlier when I set out driving my two younger brothers just a few blocks over to drop off some video games they had borrowed from a friend. Our suburban neighborhood was nestled among a softly rolling, wooded area, partially surrounding a small, formerly country cemetery dating to the early 20th century. It wasn't a particularly frightening-looking place, though driving past at night always sent a chill up my spine as my headlights reflected off the gravestones as I would round the corner and come up over the hill. Their friend's house was along the backside of the cemetery, separated by a narrow, overgrown tree line.

On this evening as I had just turned out of their friend's driveway and headed toward home, I had to slam on the brakes suddenly to avoid hitting a cat that darted out in front of me heading from a nearby yard toward the tree line and the cemetery beyond. As our eyes instinctively followed the cat to its destination across the road, we saw a strange sight just along the edge of the glow of our headlights. There, just inside the cemetery, we could make out a seemingly solid yet eerily unreal figure. It appeared to be the back of a woman we were looking at, who appeared to be dressed in white from head-to-toe, with a gently flowing shawl wrapped around her shoulders and a white hat over her silver hair. She seemed to be floating just above the ground. In front of her was what appeared to be a small cart, like an old-fashioned baby carriage. From the back, she looked to be gazing on a gravestone in front of her, perhaps mourning the loss of a loved one during this time of Easter celebration and spring. The cat approached her and stood beside her, not quite touching her semi-transparent legs, and looked back at us. While the cat looked to be alive, its graveyard companion did not. It seemed like an eternity that we sat there, but as my eyes met those of my brother next to me in the front seat and my youngest brother in the back called my name in a quivering voice, I knew I wasn't alone in seeing the woman in the cemetery. I also was sure that they were as certain as I was that she wasn't flesh and blood — at least, not anymore. Without a conscious effort, I floored the gas pedal and sped down the street toward home, a cold sweat forming on my forehead and goosebumps covering me from head-to-toe.

When we got home, we were all visibly shaken, and my mom asked if everything was okay. We explained to her what we saw, and I could tell she was skeptical, but like a good mother she tried to soothe our fears and give a logical explanation. But she never questioned why I would not drive down that road after dark from then on, and my brothers were always sure to come home from that friend's house long before the sun set.

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