| rdfs:comment | - This city was never expected to grow so large. Originally, it was thought that it would be a small town with big opportunities for aspiring farmers, as the Midwestern soil is rich and hearty, but the people who settled this land never knew that this place would soon house factories, bars, and on top of all of that, crime. The first burials of those who settled this area are said to have taken place in the 1830s. “That’s it, I’m getting Sandra to come over here and see what’s going on!” “The spirit that haunts this home died long ago.”
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| abstract | - This city was never expected to grow so large. Originally, it was thought that it would be a small town with big opportunities for aspiring farmers, as the Midwestern soil is rich and hearty, but the people who settled this land never knew that this place would soon house factories, bars, and on top of all of that, crime. The first burials of those who settled this area are said to have taken place in the 1830s. As this town was originally belonging to the Native Americans, much of it was built atop of burial grounds. In fact, even some of these burials weren’t Native American. In that day, if a relative died and there was no nearby cemetery, after some funeral rites practiced by your nearest holy man, you’d simply bury them in the dirt deep enough so the animals wouldn’t disturb their corpse and be on your merry way. That was just the way of things back then. But once more, nobody expected this city to grow large. In a land full of unmarked graves, you could only imagine what would happen. A majority of this city is built over the final resting place of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of bodies. Those who believe in spirits tend to broadly expect and believe one thing. Do NOT disturb the dead. And these dead have been quite disturbed. The Harrisons were just a normal American family that was looking for a pleasant home in the Midwest. When they found a lovely little place next to a popular diner, they decided to move in just about right away, unaware that something was amiss. They moved in quickly, and it didn’t take long to realize that something just wasn’t normal. Knocking and rapping at the doors, windows and inside the walls could be heard without any explanation. The son swore that he even heard footfalls back and forth in the hallway, only to call for his parents. Nothing turned up, so they assumed that it was simply their son having a nightmare. This went on for a while until Mrs. Harrison grew sick of it. “That’s it, I’m getting Sandra to come over here and see what’s going on!” “Sandra? You mean that kooky psychic friend of yours?” Her husband asked, raising an eyebrow. He never believed in any of “that psychic crap”. That was that, though. Mrs. Harrison could be a stubborn woman and her husband wasn’t about to stand in her way. Sandra came over and after a long discussion, it was decided that a séance would be in order. Perhaps if they could communicate with what she said was a ghost, they could put it to rest. The entire family agreed, although Mr. Harrison did so reluctantly, and Sandra lit a candle and began to speak to the disturbed spirit. The family was gathered around the table and the familiar knocking sounds began to be heard all around the house. Their young son was crying in fear and his older sister was trying her best to comfort him, despite her own terror. Her eyes were bulging as she looked to her parents for reassurance. Dishes were rattling and cupboard doors were slamming and opening repeatedly, again, with no normal reasoning. Sandra, meanwhile, despite the chaos at hand, had a pen and paper in front of her and was whispering and erratically, yet mildly, flinching and convulsing. Soon, she reached out with one hand and scrawled something onto the paper. She opened her eyes as the sounds had come to a grinding halt. “The spirit that haunts this home died long ago.” Mr. Harrison just seemed angry. “That’s it? That’s all? Is there anything we can do?” He spat. He still didn’t believe this psychic nonsense. Displeased with his tone, Sandra simply showed him the notebook. In sloppy and ugly handwriting that looked nearly illiterate, much unlike Sandra’s writing, two words were written. Mr. Harrison wanted to think it was a joke. It read, “UNDER PORCH”. He, the strongest member of the family, began to dig beneath the porch, and to his chagrin, Sandra seemed to be correct. He found bones scattered about three or four feet below the topmost layer of soil. The authorities were spoken to and a proper burial was arranged. The Harrisons were never plagued or disturbed by the spirit again and their children could peacefully sleep at night.
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