A couple of days ago, Mt. T and I ventured out to the Maryland countryside to go for a quick hike. More specifically, we set out on the Appalachian Trail (AT for those in the know), or part of it anyway. My nerves went on high alert when as we began our hike gunshots bounced off the mountainside. Mr. T assured me that the hunters were on the other side of the mountain. I wasn’t convinced. But we hiked a small portion of the trail without getting a buckshot to the backside, so I guess Mr. T was right (we put it in his win column, of course).
Seeing as we were near some Civil War battlefields, we decided over beers and dinner that we’d drive to Antietam National Battlefield just so I could say I was there. If you know anything about what happens when the sun goes down, there’s not much to see in the dark. So I didn’t get to visit the Bloody Lane or the big ol’ field where nearly 25,000 Civil War soldiers met their demise. But we did find the National Battlefield sign and as Mr. T snapped a picture of me sitting in front of it, I noticed something unusual about 25 feet to my right.
Earlier, we had joked about seeing ghosts. After all, it’s a battlefield where lots of people died in one day. For those who want to believe in there hereafter it’s a reasonable conversation.
To our right was a dark figure in a trench coat striding across the field. There were three more a distance away. The “shots” was in earshot, so when I shouted to “Mr. T, Mr. T look over there” the figure didn’t respond. We both assumed that he had to be some country thug looking to steal the car because he made straight for it, so we trotted behind him, following closely until he turned right and up the road. All along we were exchanging comments, but the “ghost” didn’t acknowledge us. And when he turned up the road, he disappeared. Gone. Poof. So did his friends.
Mr. T insists they were living people. I’m on the fence. But as convinced as he was they weren’t ghosts, Mr. T still spent the evening researching Antietam ghosts in case someone else had reported a similar event. Turns out we were not far from Bloody Lane. Could they have been Civil War soldiers walking home from battle? Were they living souls trying to scare us? Or did we just have too much beer at dinner?
Whatever the truth, it was an experience that wraps up 2013 in a nice bag of spooky fun.
Happy New Years, folks! 2014 is gonna be grand and not just because my debut novel is coming out. Just sayin’.
Off to eat a cupcake and play with my niece.
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