10 Most Haunted Places in America
Whether you believe it or not, there are towns in America that are full of eerie stories that were passed down for generations. We have compiled together with the US spookiest places from its haunted fortresses up to the grisly stories of deaths and sufferings.
We all knew of the girl who drowned; she sank like a stone, they said; she was showing off that night, they said; the guys all said; the water is deeper than it appears; and we're not the worst swimmers, but it's dark; we don't swim at night; no, we don't swim at night with guys; we all knew of the girl who drowned; she sank like a stone, they said; she was showing off that night, they
Belly of the beast
My hubby has been swallowed by the beast on Saturday night. He was there one minute and gone the next—just a shout, partly suffocated, as the thing consumed him. I didn't witness the swallowing. I came just in time to observe the wolf-like creature licking its jowls. It's nothing like you've ever seen before: Like papaya seeds, the eyes are tiny and black. Its limbs are covered in his Pid hair. Claws have the appearance of little sickles. Tongue: leathery and lengthy.
Maggie's son marries a week before Christmas in a barren patch of land beneath the hemlocks where nothing ever grows. Maggie drapes white lights from the limbs. She wraps a delicate woolen blanket around her son's pregnant bride. The morning of the wedding, she gets up early and spends hours clearing a path through the fresh snow so that the guests, including the bride's aunt and friends from the ranch where the young couple works, can come up to her cabin for warm bread and jam and champagne. Glitter is flung at some point. When the snow melts in patches a few weeks later, Maggie notices it blending into the ground and curses.
Enid & Floyd & the Moon
Floyd, Enid's husband, dyes her scant hair while she leans over the sink. The clear plastic gloves that came with the Clairol "Flame Red" coloring kit are covering his veined, unsteady hands. The gloves are too tiny and come to a halt just below his wrists. It's awkward, but then again, everything is awkward or hard for him. He tries to slice the top off the squeeze bottle with an old pair of children's scissors. His hands are as if they were mute paws.
I had to screw Ara's man because she killed my puppy. I did it anyhow, even though his mouth was still sore after the tooth extraction and he tasted awful. I had no choice.
She said it like she meant it
In Kabul, there is a cemetery on a mountainside that is running out of room. Years ago, I read an article about it in the New York Times. For a fee, a group of boys perform grave care, and a six-year-old girl joins them on the hill. She brags about taking in mourners like the boys—too young to understand how much we mourners want to be taken in. She boasts about what her father will bring her from Iran when he arrives. She wishes for a Samsung Galaxy phone. I still think about her prayers and the importance of prayer, which I was taught about as a child.
I oil the door's hinges at night because they've been squeaking all year, and when I open it in the morning, they're silent. The rest is identical. Nobody is awoken by me. I'm followed into the bathroom by my cat. He jumps upon my half-fleece, half-skin lap after I've sat down. Each paw lands at a slightly different time, as cold as a child's nose. He circles for a few beats before pressing his paws into the tops of my thighs, a motion that both awakens and relaxes me. His paws are toasty in seconds. They take me in quickly. We have a set schedule.