GHOSTS of LOCUST FORK

GHOSTS of LOCUST FORK

Gusts of wind whipped through the trees shaking the nearly barren branches roughly sending a sudden shower of large rain drops downward. The cool fall air briskly made its way across the southern state of Alabama. Orange, gold, red, and brown leaves lay scattered all over the forest floor. A passing torrential storm had beaten the leaves from the branches they once clung too. Early October set the forest ablaze with the fiery glow of many autumn spectacles. Squirrels scurried under foot as we continued walking the path toward the river. Oh, how the water was always so soothing with air so crisp and sweet no matter the time of year.

Dressed in warm flannels, heavy hiking boots, and gloves, we were ready for the adventures of the day before we camped along the Black Warrior River despite the sudden soaking we had endured moments ago. Sounds of rushing rapids soon graced our ears as we approached closer to the glorious spot. How the river held a special place in my heart and soul filling it with peace and comfort for as long as I could remember.

Arriving just a quarter past noon, we were given minimal time with what little sunlight we had pushing through the clouds to properly set camp. Hastily, we set to work. We found the flattest ground possible along the water’s edge to set up camp. What seemed like within moments, we had the hammocks hung, the tents resting strongly against the breeze cast off the river, and the fire pit constructed with a small fire burning steadily providing warmth for our cold bones.

Josh and I changed our dripping clothes as quickly as possible in order to prevent a chill from setting in. Once we had hung them to dry by the fire, we shifted focus to the beautiful sight before us. The river was flowing as smoothly as running glass. The trees danced happily among the reflective riverhead. Dark clouds continued to roll across the mirror surface as if they were checking themselves for blemishes constantly. Birds called out in protest to the rain and cold in the distance. Critters and creatures could be heard running about among the leaves and the trees all around. The soothing sound of the babbling river washed over the body and soul. Together, we cast our fishing rods skillfully across the glassed surface breaking it momentarily as the lures made contact and sank.

Time passed quickly once we began to try to catch dinner. Neither of us had any luck. Darkness loomed in the distance making its way toward us in a fast pace. The fire still blazed behind us casting our dancing shadows across the river. As the night approached, the animals ceased moving. Suddenly no sounds were heard. Deafening silence cut through the once rhythmic atmosphere.

Looking around, I noticed an odd white mist rising from the edge of the river in the far distance. I thought nothing of it as this was common for any water whenever it rained or the sudden shift in temperature. I turned my attention to the firepit to ensure we had enough wood burning to cook the food we had brought in preparation of unsuccessful hunting skills. It did not take long for me to be engulfed with the task at hand.

Nightfall found us faster than anticipated. Blackness enveloped the makeshift campground with an eeriness I had never felt before. The hairs on my arm stood on end despite being next to the fire. Shivers ran down my back as if someone had dropped an ice cube down my shirt. Slowly, I looked around straining my eyes to focus on the darkness beyond the glowing flames. Nothing stood out along the edge of the trees. As I looked away from the burning logs, my eyes began to adjust to the nightfall.

Scanning the river behind me, I noticed the white mist had turned into a fog that was now hovering heavily over the entire river almost merging with the surface. I stood in amazement at how thick the fog was. It looked like someone had spread whipped cream along the water from the sky above. In all the years I had visited the Black Warrior River, this phenomenon had never occurred. I was astonished.

An unsettling feeling slammed into my entire being in a flash passing straight through me leaving an icy-cold sensation in my bones. The fire that had been steadily burning behind me abruptly went completely out. No luminous embers were to be seen. There was no lingering warmth to be felt in the air. I was frozen in place by shock and fear at what had just occurred. Trembling, I carefully turned back toward where the fire once was. Josh stood in a stupor before me as if he were petrified. Neither of us knew what had just happened, but both were equally terrified.

Many folklore and ghost stories we listened to growing up, were centered around the abandoned coal mine that lay on the edge of Locust Fork detailing how many miners had died during a collapse in one of the extensive tunnels that lay beneath the bluff. Stories claimed those who had died tragically still roamed the waters edge. No one ever had any proof of such sightings or interactions, but everyone firmly believed the ghosts randomly roamed the river farther south.

“What was that?!” Josh exclaimed in a whisper to afraid to speak any louder. “I don’t know,” I replied still standing motionlessly. As if on cue, the fire roared back to life with a ferocity to reach the hanging branches above. Our eyes grew wide. The feeling of ice slammed into my back once more. Josh didn’t move. His eyes as large as saucers glared at me as if he were seeing a ghost. I had no doubt that whatever was touching me was indeed a spirit left behind from the tragedy.

“Josh, what is it?” I whispered in desperation needing to know before my imagination overtook me. “It’s…it’s…oh God they are real,” he choked in a crackling voice. I knew immediately he was correct. Without warning, the icy feeling vanished allowing my body to revert to normal. I just stared at Josh to afraid to move. After a few tense moments, I gathered the courage to walk to the other side of the simmering fire hoping to get away from the ghosts that lurked beneath the surface of the river.

Glancing from Josh to the river’s edge with the thick fog still hovering, I was left unsure of what we needed to do. It was too dark and cold to leave the area now. If we stayed, we were sure to be at the mercy of any ghost that overtook our camping area. All fear creeped back into my being crippling me from moving or thinking clearly. The only solution at this point was to both hide in our sleeping bags tucked in the same tent to ensure each other were safe throughout the night.

“We need to get in the tent Josh. It’s the safest place for us both right now. It is too dark to try and make our way out of here, especially with the mountain lions hidden so well in the cover of night. At least if we are in the tent, we are together, so we know the other is alright,” I suggested glancing at him. “Yeah. We need to do that now before whatever that thing was comes back,” he stated.

Swiftly we moved. I bolted to my tent grabbing my sleeping back as fast as lightening, to bunk with Josh in his tent for the night. It was unspoken among us that no sleep was to be had. Adrenaline still pumped through my veins from the rush of warmth back to my body when the ghost had vanished.

It did not take long to settle into our bags with our backs to one another. We each faced an opening to the tent in order to protect the other if possible or needed. My heart slammed in my chest with each beat it seemed. I could feel Josh shake and shuddered constantly against my back. Frightened was not a word big enough to describe how we felt.

Hours drug by with no excitement. The fire outside barely danced any more. Neither of us brave enough to venture out to feed the dying flames. Josh dozed off after a bit. I felt his shoulders steadily rise and fall against mine as he began to lightly snore. There was no movement or sounds to be heard outside of the tent.

My eyes finally began to grow heavy. I glanced at the time on my watch hoping it was close to daylight. To my surprise, it was nearing 3 o’clock in the morning. A sigh of relief escaped my lips as I leaned back into Josh and closed my eyes. “Three more hours until the sunlight breaks the clouds, and the fog dissipates,” I thought to myself as I allowed my body to ease.

What seemed like only a few short moments had passed and I was jolted awake. My body shaking and jerking with cold shivers that ran all over me. Slowly, I blinked my eyes to focus. I could see my breath forming clouds each time I exhaled. “Something was wrong. It should not be this could right now,” I thought urging my body and mind to wake fully. I could still feel Josh pressed against my back.

Without warning, a screeched rang out like nails scrapping down a chalk board piercing my ears painfully. My adrenaline began to course through me. Josh jerked his head up so fast it slammed into the back of mine. Instant pain for the both of us causing us to grab the back of our heads. The screech rang out again this time louder and closer to us. Our breath caught in our throats causing our lungs to burn with needing oxygen to feed the adrenaline that laced our nervous system. My heartbeat loudly in my ears as if it were slamming into the sides of my head.

Not realizing it, we both gasped for air and stood simultaneously. I glanced at my watch. It was three thirty in the morning. The witching hour was upon us. The gates to heaven and hell were open. Now was the time all ghosts, demons, spirits, and the likes were roaming freely among the Earth. What were we going to do?

Forthwith, the tent shook violently as if the vibrations of the screech had sound waves capable of moving objects. My knees quaked with fear as sweat beads formed upon my face despite the rigid temperature we were subjected to. Instantly, our shelter ripped up and away exposing us to all the horrible things in the night. We clenched our eyes shut in fear of what we may see.

Freezing winds whipped our face forcibly stinging the cheeks as if we were being slapped repeatedly. I forced my eyes to open to see what was surrounding us causing such turmoil. The fog had engulfed us. Grayish white clouds raced around, back, and forth, as if they were sprinting against one another. As the mist like puffs of fog paused, outlines of melted faces, faces in pain, and looks of confusion were able to be clearly defined. These were without a doubt the ghosts of the dead coal miners from the 1980s. Some smaller figures looked like little children who had died due to the acid leaks from the toxic mining materials that polluted the waters long ago.

Mixed emotions filled my being. I was conflicted with fear, sadness for the innocent lives lost, and anger for those who terrorized us as if they knew the truth. “Leave us alone!” I shouted as loud as I could into the foggy night air.

The rushing fog suddenly ceased. Every face could be seen clearly at this point. A face of tenderness and pain floated directly to me. I was in awe at the innocence it carried despite the translucent form it was in. Time seemed to stand still once more. What looked like eyes so soft looked deep into mine as if trying to speak directly to my soul.

My heart was racing. My body to frightened to tremble with the enormous fear that cascaded inside of me. I was frozen with horror. The fog opened its odd-looking mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. Without warning, the fog shifted to a thin mist before exploding into droplets of dew that fell at my feet.

BEEP! BEEP! Blared the alarm on my watch. I looked down at the time before snapping my gaze to the sky. It was 6 o’clock in the morning. Bright sun rays shot over the horizon as if they were the cavalry coming to save us. Bright purples, pink, and yellows illuminated the sky in streaks of glory as the sun rose over the peaks of the mountains slicing through the trees and targeting the fog.

As the sun rose higher in the morning sky, the golden rays slashed through the haunted fog destroying all the eerie ghosts that had formed from it. Josh and I began to feel our bodies relax against one another. Neither of us wanting to speak unsure of what to say. I wanted to believe I was dreaming but knowing deep down I had not.

Once the warm of the gleaming sun had successfully defeated the cold within our bones and the fog that had haunted us, we promptly and silently packed up camp. We raced down the trail away from the river toward our vehicle the moment the last spike for the tent was loaded into the carrier. I wanted to get as far from the river as I could. When we reached the road, we threw everything carelessly into the back of the truck and rushed into town. Our nerves remained on edge for days.

No one believed us about what had happened when we got into town. Many looked at us with concern. Others thought we had been hallucinating with illicit items. However, we both knew what had truly happened that night in early October on the Black Warrior River. To this day, we have not gone back to that same spot. Nor have we camped over night by the river. The folklore and ghost stories we once thought were just make believe, now resonated within our souls as if a piece of them were taken that dark foggy night.