With less than a month until The Haunting of Locker 31 is officially on the market, I have invested a great deal of time in setting up various author profile pages. I have a Facebook Page, a Goodreads page, Amazon Author page, a Reedsy Discovery page, and this blog.
I needed a head shot to go on these pages. Luckily for me, my husband of endless hobbies is an amateur photographer and agreed to take my picture.
At the edge of our community, there is an old graveyard. The rumors of this graveyard being haunted have been around forever. In 1971 they had to move this graveyard to build the reservoir. And if you know anything about what caused unrest in poor ghost souls, one of the many claims is the moving of a body.
Honestly, this is probably a better spot to be stuck in if you are going to be stuck anywhere forever. To the east, you see nothing but lake and the south and west is beautiful mountain range and trees from the river. This made it a great place to get a few pictures.
I grew up hearing all sorts of ghost stories about the old cemetery. It was the brave thing to do to sneak into the graveyard at night. Which, of course, was against the rules.
We set right to business, taking a bunch of pictures from different spots. Kris made sure to avoid having headstones with visible names in the picture. I fixed a few decorations that had fallen over in the wind and we did our best to pay our respect.
Some of the sites are from the 1800s. There was one that I can’t get my mind off of.
Unknown woman.
She died in the 1800s.
One story you hear about the ghosts of this graveyard is a woman in all white walking around and crying. Is that her? Is she crying because no one knows who she is? I wonder what happened to her. How old was she? Why did no one know who she was? From what I know of this town that no longer exists, they all knew each other. So for a woman to just appear and somehow die… that just seems so odd to me. Or did they just find her somewhere?
The day was clear and sunny, a slight breeze blowing in from the East. I stood still, waiting and listening to see if I heard the woman in white while Kris played with the camera. She didn’t speak to me while we were there.
I told Kris that there could be a story from that gravesite. And I’ve been mulling it over in my head ever since. It’s even made it into my book. Unknown woman. Grave site.
I asked Kris if we could go back one night and look for the ghost. He said no. Mostly because the sign says the place is closed at dark. But also, he doesn’t believe in ghosts.
Yet.
Deidre Bjorson 