The Wicked Woods Cemetery wasn't always wicked, but it was a cemetery for as long as anyone can recall. Back in the late 1800,s it was nothing more than a quiet little public cemetery tucked back in a grove of oak and walnut trees. In those days it bore the much less sinister title of Shady Grove Cemetery.
In those days the real occupants of the graves were poor miners, railroad workers, or those that could not afford a proper burial. Headstones were usually poorly carved, sub-standard rock or flimsy wooden constructions that rarely stood the test of time.
As the mining and railroad industry grew in the area, so did the number of fatalities associated with these jobs. Shady Grove Cemetery was a busy place and often, previous occupants were disturbed when grounds keepers would accidentally dig a new grave over an unmarked and forgotten body.
Soon, the little cemetery found itself filled to its utmost capacity so the little town opened up a new plot of land with huge rolling acres of space. This beautiful tract of land was to be the towns new Glencoe Cemetery.
Not surprising, the little Shady Grove Cemetery was soon forgotten with its pitiful wooden and rock headstones. The forest quickly reclaimed it after years of neglect.
As mining boomed, the need for land did as well. Not just for mines themselves, but offices, storage, worker quarters, and equipment yards. So was the fate of the little forgotten cemetery as it was a prime location, all tucked away from the rest of humanity. It was a perfect spot for huge pieces of mining equipment to be repaired and staged. Noxious chemicals could be stored, mixed, and disposed of back in the woods. The bulldozers came and tore down the mighty oaks and the leafy walnuts that had stood guard over the now unmarked graves for years. They flattened the land, disturbing grave after grave in the name of industrial expansion. Soon the little patch of woods was unrecognizable as a woodland area at all, much less a cemetery, as massive piles of equipment, coal, and storage buildings sprung up all over the grounds.
Business was good for the mine, but not good for the supply yard that had enveloped Shady Grove Cemetery. Accidents were constant at yard. Deaths were common place. Strange noises, and sights were constantly reported and many believed the woods surrounding the yard cursed. Many of the old timers would tell the workers that they were working on top of graves, that they were disturbing the dead on a daily basis, but they would just shrug it off as superstition and go about their way. Still, accidents continued, workers disappeared, unexplained lights, fires, even reports of shadowy people walking about the supply yard at night never detoured the land owners from their daily routines.
As with all things, there comes an end.,..so was the way of the mines. As they played out, the supply yard slowly emptied and soon nothing was left but a cesspool of rusty equipment, noisome chemicals, and skeletal storage buildings.
Life continued in the little town and its population grew by leaps and bounds. It wasn't very long till the town turned its sights on the old supply yard and reclamation efforts were exercised. The rusty equipment was hauled off, the chemicals were all neutralized and cleaned, and the storage buildings all torn down and shipped away for scrap. Soon the area was zoned for human occupancy. All through the 70’s, 80's and 90’s little houses popped up and a community soon sat on top of what was once a quiet little cemetery that time forgot.
Call it fate, or hap stance, or even luck (good or bad) but one little house was set right in the middle of where Shady Grave Cemetery had once stood. The new occupant occasionally digs up a tooth, or a chipped grave stone, even a piece of bone here and there as they landscape and make their house a home. For the most part, it is a quiet little house nestled in the shade of old oaks and walnut trees. A peaceful existence is achieved for almost the entire year....until October comes round.
When the leaves turn orange and the nights grow long, the barrier between the living and the dead thins out, letting foul things slip into our world. It is during those times that those woods become truly wicked as the spirits that can never find rest, come forth to shriek and howl at the living.
You would think the occupant of this little house would find this rather disturbing....but instead he find it most intriguing. You see, the current occupant of that little house set back in that little wicked woods is none other than me. Some say that my love of Halloween makes the spirits more active.., and honestly, that is just fine with me.
So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen.... that is how The Wicked Woods Cemetery came about...and how it will continue for years to come!