Chapter 6
Halloween was two days away, and the Lemont Area Historical Society's Fright Night program was about to begin in the Old Stone Church. People gathered to tell, and listen to, scary stories about local ghosts. Candlelit, the atmosphere was gloomy and mysterious. Volunteers, dressed in frightful costumes, greeted and seated the audience. A creepy-looking manikin, a butler in a tuxedo with red, black-rimmed eyes, stood at the door glaring at those who dared to enter. Historical society staff had named him Bill Mum.
A casket, made of rough boards, sat on a pedestal beyond the altar railing. It was sized to fit a child, and it added a sobering, poignant note.
Cora was the last speaker. Her talk was about Saint James at Sag Bridge, a popular location for ghost tales. It was known that Indian villages had once existed on the site, so legends included phantom Indians, but also disappearing carriages, monks and brides, glowing infant caskets, and other eerie sights were reported, many tales allegedly told by reliable witnesses.
Cora was dressed in black and wore no jewelry or makeup. Her pale face and demeanor suggested a macabre appearance as she glided to the lectern, standing stiffly erect behind it, hands resting on its reading surface. She stood silently, somberly eyeing the audience for a full minute before beginning to speak, slowly and dramatically, in a hushed voice that forced the audience to strain to hear her.
"My story is a true and remarkable tale.
"In the sixties, during my college days, one of my friends was a priest who was fascinated by the supernatural, and he sometimes visited cemeteries at night. He told us stories about his experiences in graveyards, stories that frightened and amazed us. So when he invited us to go with him to the old cemetery at Saint James at Sag Bridge, we were delighted. He knew the pastor there, and arranged for the gates to be left open for us. But at the last minute, he had to visit a sick parishioner. Not wanting to disappoint us, he told us to go anyway. There were five in our little ghost-hunting group.
"Tall gates guard the entrance to Saint James, but they were open, as we were told they would be. We parked in the deserted lot. Fierce dogs protected the place at night, we were told, but the dogs wouldn't be out if the gates were open...would they? We were very cautious anyway.
"With our headlights off it was seriously dark, forest all around, and what about those vicious dogs...who knew what other creatures could be out there, unseen? We looked around anxiously and contemplated the next step-to venture out into the cemetery. Our every sense was heightened, every movement, every sound, even odors, everything seemed ominous. We imagined creatures lurking in the woods, and listened apprehensively, startled at little noises from the forest, each creak or snap or rustle suggested sinister intent.
"Heh, heh, heh-," Cora barked out a malevolent laugh, and the audience jumped and then laughed in embarrassment.
"Do you know what it's like there? Have you been there? The old church is on top of a hill, ringed by an old cemetery, and surrounded by dense forest, impenetrable with underbrush. There are abundant places for things to hide at night! Heh, heh, heh."
Cora paused. When she spoke again her voice was bright, lively, and amused.
"Initially the girls in our little group were fearless-once we were sure the dogs weren't out, that is-because we didn't really believe we would see anything. So we three girls led our party up the hill, with the two boys lagging behind, and we entered the cemetery.
"The boys, though, were clearly having second thoughts, groaning and whimpering and acting as if they didn't want to be there. We laughed at them. How silly they were, what wusses! Girls are more logical, not to mention brave."
Cora's words became slow and distinct.
"You know that fear breeds fear-and that was what happened. The boys made such a fuss going, 'Ooooh,' and 'What's that?' and 'Aaahhhhh!' and jumping at imagined things, and by the time we passed around and behind the old church...."
Cora's voice lost its playfulness, and became low and portentous.
"Now-the cemetery was even spookier...our car, our means of escape, was out of sight, and we thought maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all...and so we turned back, and as we crept nervously through the cemetery, the boys leading now, we went faster and faster, and then we were all..."
Cora's speech got fast and excited:
"...running down the hill, with me at the rear. And..."
Cora paused dramatically, then, in a slow, distinct low voice, went on.
"...as we approached the parking area-beyond our car-in the forest right behind it...
"There!" She exclaimed loudly, throwing up an arm, and pointing to the back of the church.
The audience reflexively jerked around to look, then laughed at themselves and turned their attention back to Cora. She resumed, this time in a stage whisper.
"There...," she pointed again, "...just there, at the edge of the forest, among the trees-an apparition! Do you see it?"
Cora paused, looking from one set of eyes to another, giving the audience time to envision a ghostly presence in the forest. They squirmed in their seats, looking around the dim sanctuary, avoiding Cora's stare. Then she continued to describe it for them in a calm hushed voice.
"It was white, but transparent, like mist, but glowing inside, softly lit among the trees on that dark and gloomy night, and hovering above the ground. I could see objects indistinctly right through it. It was shaped like a person, but I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. It seemed suspended two feet above the ground, and it didn't move, but I thought it was watching me. I stared at it, stunned and unable to move.
"My friends had reached the car by then, and were impatient to leave, to get out of there. I pointed at the shape, speechless, but it was already fading. By the time the others looked where I pointed...look!-there, see what I see...! It was gone, disappearing in front of my eyes."
" 'Why did you stop? What were you pointing at?' my friends asked.
" 'Something was there, in the forest, right there,' I said, and pointed to the spot again. 'Now it's gone, but...I think I saw a ghost!' "
Cora paused again and then continued in a normal speaking voice, perplexed:
"What did I see in the forest at Saint James that night so long ago? What could it have been? I can't guess. Was it mist or fog, drifting in the trees? It could be, I suppose, but then why did it glow? I saw it clearly for...I don't know...thirty seconds? Maybe longer. Longer than a fleeting glimpse, that's for sure. I had a good look. Was it watching me? I sensed it was.
"But this I know-"
Another pause:
"It hovered...it glowed...it never moved...and it just faded away...."
---
"You should have been an actress!" Maureen said afterwards. "What a great way to end our program!" She bustled off to help serve refreshments.
"Good job, Cora!" Diane, the president of the LAHS board, approached Cora and shook her hand. "Can you tell the same story again next year?"
Cora was evasive. "Maybe once is enough. I'm not sure I want everyone thinking I believe in ghosts!" she said, joking but half in earnest.
"Was it really a true story then?" Diane asked.
Cora's reply was evasive. "Basically. But of course time has a way of exaggerating the facts. I'd rather have people wonder."
"Well, true or not, the audience enjoyed your story. Thank you for telling it."