by Chris the Ghostbuster
Image courtesy of GAC Design Inc
Chris investigates the Connecticut legend, “The Hook” in Seymour. And yes, it was a dark and stormy night…
by Chris the Ghostbuster
On a dark and stormy night, a young couple parks their car outside an isolated cemetery surrounded by a thick forest. Alone and in love, they go about doing whatever it is that teenagers do parked in the shadows of night. Their quiet evening is interrupted by a strange noise outside. She is scared, convinced someone is out there. As he exits the car to check for her, he promises everything is fine and that they are alone. Minutes pass and she begins to panic. As she tries to wipe the fogged-up windows, a something heavy thuds against the roof and causes her to scream. Jumping out of the vehicle, her screams grow louder as she sees her boyfriend lying on top of the car, lifeless and gutted like a fish. A large, bloody hook hangs from his side…
It’s a tale we’ve all heard at least one variation of. In those many versions, did you ever hear of one that took place right here in Connecticut? That’s right folks, surrounded by the woods of Seymour sits an evil cemetery straight out of the 1700s that the Warrens have deemed oozing with demonic activity. Sounds like trouble – let’s grab the gear and go.
Image courtesy of GAC Design Inc
Great Hill Cemetery is located on the corner of Cemetery Road and Holbrook Road in a quiet, wooded area of Seymour (as if there was any other area). Like any haunted site in New England, this cemetery has its share of scary stories and legends. Enter the Hook. There are several stories that explain how Great Hill got nicknamed Hookman’s Cemetery. One tells of a crazed caretaker who grew fond of killing trespassers with a hook. Then there is the classic story I mentioned earlier about the boyfriend who gets murdered while his girlfriend is inside the car. Yet another variation tells of the “Hook” as an actual name, not a murder weapon. In this story, a man by the name of Hookman was wrongfully put to death and his angry ghost haunts the area, seeking retribution. Take your pick – all make for a suitable campfire companion. It’s time to head out to Seymour and separate the fact from the fiction.
On a dark and stormy night, a Ghostbuster and his two assistants park their car outside an isolated cemetery surrounded by a thick forest. Hello, Hookman’s Cemetery. For this trip, my friends Adam and Cheryl decided to tag along and see what ghostbusting was all about. We definitely picked the wrong night for the excursion. With the constant rain, the camera was out, as was the audio. Any photos would capture raindrops, which can closely resemble ghost orbs. The rain was too loud for the audio to be of any use – the Hookman would have to speak directly into the microphone if he wanted to be heard. Luckily, the ga-ga meter (electromagnetic field detector) had no such restrictions.
Walking around the cemetery in the rain is no picnic, but when duty calls, you have to suck it up. The cemetery sits atop a steep hill and slopes down into the surrounding forest. We headed to the top and began to check out the stones. The graveyard was blanketed in silence; the steady rainfall acted as a perfect filter. Suddenly, we heard something strange pierce the night. It was a dull, yet insistent sound that came from somewhere in the forest behind us. I cocked my head to the side, but I couldn’t quite identify it. I took off my hood, straining to hear the sound more clearly. We looked at each other in disbelief, all equally confused by what we heard. Unsatisfied, I ran down the hill towards the forest to see if I could hear it better. At first, I thought it sounded like music coming from a distance. That wasn’t it. As I approached the tree line, I heard it again. I can’t really describe it except that it sounded almost mechanical. I know, that description sucks. Give me a break, it was the best thing I could come up with.
Just when I thought I was starting to get a handle on the mysterious sound, I heard my name called from up the hill behind me. I turned around to see Cheryl’s silhouette frantically waving me over. I ran up the hill, figuring it was just amateur jitters. Nope, that wasn’t it at all. The ga-ga meter was going wild, spiking all the way up in the red zone. Wide-eyed, we stared as the meter fluctuated between red and orange, refusing to drop back to its usual green light. You might recall that when the light is green, the trap is clean. If this cemetery was one big trap, it was most certainly unclean. We were not alone – something was right on top of us. Yep, we were in trouble. Fortunately, there was no hook in sight, although at that point I wouldn’t have been surprised to see one coming towards us.
Soaked and spooked, we decided to head back to the car. I was pissed that I wasn’t able to take any pictures. All in all, it was still a pretty eventful excursion. Oh wait, I almost forgot the best part! As we climbed back into Ecto-1, an SUV came up the hill and passed us. It suddenly stopped, and began to reverse back towards my car, stopping right alongside us. As I rolled down the window, the SUV’s tires squealed and it flew up the road and out of sight. Weird. Ignoring it, we crept up the hill and focused on the woods to our right, hoping to find a house or something that would explain that weird noise from the cemetery. Nothing – just acres of forest. Wait a minute, was that the same SUV that just passed us? Looking in my rearview, I saw them turn around and speed back up the hill behind us. “Guys, I think we’ve got a tail.” Commence the car chase. Turn after turn, the SUV closely followed. Sick of the drama, I turned into a residential neighborhood, pulled over and rolled down my window. The SUV rolled up next to us, and then sped away before we could get a good look at its passengers. Once they were out of sight, I turned around and tried to figure out where the hell we were. Luckily, Adam came to the rescue. Lost in the boondocks on a rainy night? Yep, there’s an app for that.
Thus ends the car chase cap to our evening of ghostbusting. Unfortunately, I didn’t figure out what the weird sound was, nor was I able to record it. At least we were able to escape an SUV on a wild joyride. All’s well that ends well, right? Hell, at least we didn’t end up getting arrested for fighting a bunch of high-school kids.
Be safe, and happy hunting.
Chris the Ghostbuster can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org .