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Lana Krushinsky

© ? - Lana Krushinsky

Anybody familiar with Chicagoland knows about Bachelor's Grove. Hands down, it's the most haunted cemetery in Illinois. And if you've got any smarts at all, you'll stay clean away from the place. Unless, of course, you're like my boyfriend and I who simply wanted to count the headstones one night. And then you're in for the ride of your life. I don't know what got into my head that July evening back in ?89. My boyfriend (now ex-boyfriend) insisted we drive over to Bachelor's Grove and enjoy the nearby lagoon. The moment he mentioned the cemetery, my whole body stiffened into a giant goose pimple. To be honest about it, Gary was much more interested in watching the submarine races than nosing around gravestones. Not that I minded, but the thought of fooling around with a bunch of phantoms leering at us from their graves sent shivers down my spine. But true to Gary's persuasive talents, I slipped into his Charger and we fw off down the road towards our spooky destination. Bad decision. We parked the car and remained inside for a few minutes while Gary rolled his window down and listened to the oppressive quiet hanging over the place. I'd noticed that Gary was uncharacteristically moody and subdued all the way to the cemetery. Which was some cause for concern. I got anxious after a few minutes. "Gary," I said with a demure smile. "Are we going swimming or not?" Gary didn't respond. He simply stared out the window with a deepening glower on his face. "Come on, honey. Are we going to have some fun or what?" Gary cocked his ear and tilted his head in the cemetery's direction. "Did you hear that?" he asked with a frown. I was on to his game. He just wanted to scare me witless and make a big laugh out of it. OK, if that's what he wanted, I could play along. I rummaged around my purse and found what I was looking for. Then I got nice and close. I was about to plant a big one on Gary's lips when his eyes opened wider than pie plates and he froze into a statue. I thought this move was novel but cute, so I giggled and made like the whole thing was funny. But his heart-seizure look kind of scarred me, and I turned to glance out the window toward the cemetery. At first I didn't believe what I was seeing. About thirty yards down the gravel trail boiled a cloud of mist, kind of like steam wafting in the moonlight, only more concentrated. But steam couldn't billow and coalesce into a central mass like this. The fog swirled and intensified and turned a greenish hue in the pale light. For a moment, I thought I saw something writhing in its center. All at once six black shadows emerged from the fog and advanced towards our car. It doesn't take a lot of time for the brain to snapshot certain images, and this was no exception. These personages looked more like shadows - jet black shadows. They weren't human. And I don't care how crazy this sounds, but their eyes glowed. Not green or red or yellow. They just glowed with evil, like some hellish fire raged within them and reflected through their eyes. The leader of the group pointed straight at me dripping with hate. And I screamed my head off. Where I got the courage to pull Gary's catatonic body clean out of the driver's seat and plunk my little fanny down in its place, I'll never know. But I slammed pedal to the metal and didn't let up. The Charger exploded down the road all the way up the turnpike. By the time we made my apartment, Gary came out of his stupor. True to protecting his fragile macho ego, Gary denied the episode at Bachelor's Grove ever took place. And for all my trouble, I've gotten ribbed over saying it did for nine years now. But I know better. The funny thing is, Gary and his pals refuse to visit the haunted cemetery. Day or night.

ARCHIVE NOTATION: Swirling vapor with humanoid type beings. Not at this exact location. Likely witnessed from the vantage point of the old car pull-off near the pond off of 143rd Street.