Today’s Ghostly Tale: “I was in England on a town and country tour in 1985. I was out shopping with three friends one free afternoon in Stratford upon Avon. We were on our way back to our hotel when we decided to stop at the cemetary where Shakespeare was buried to look at his tombstone. The sky was getting dark and we realized some rain was kicking up; we all had umbrellas with us, so we didn’t mind. At the graveyard, we were looking and reading the inscriptions on some of the tombstones. The other three kids I was with went up to the church and were looking to see if there was an open door for us to go in. “It’s locked” I heard them say, as the rain started to come down a little heavier and the sky got blacker. They went around the side of the church, I followed after them. I was reading more tombstones, still trying to find “Willie’s” when I looked up and saw them go around side three of the church. “Wait up!” I exclaimed, but they didn’t hear me for all the rain. … “I know, they are going to hide in some doorway and jump out at me so they can scare me. I’ll show them. I’ll just take my sweet time exploring and make them wait on me.” Right then, right in front of me was tombstone unlike any of the others there. It was a beige-brown color while the others were white/grey. It had fancy scroll work along the top and sides. It had some green moss growing on it, which only added to it’s creepiness. “I’ve got to get a photo of this.” At this time, I only heard the tap, tap, tap, of the raindrops on my umbrella. I tried to balance my packages and focus my camera under the umbrella and not drop my purse into a puddle. I charged up the flash and I snapped one off. I was proud of the photo I captured. I then leaned over to read the inscription on the stone. It was at this moment I felt somthing large and cold, like a giant hand made out of ice, push me back as if to say “STAY AWAY!” I immediately felt the need to run after my three friends and did so. Well after I got back to Chicago I had the film developed. When I looked at the picture, I went and had it blown up to an 8 x 10. There in front of the tombstone was a figure swooshing up from the grave with an arm raised above his/her head. You can make out an ornamental necklace of some type on its chest. The grass in front of the tombstone is crystal clear and so is everything else in the photo. The tombstone that I loved so much cannot be read at all except for the word “Thomas” because this figure is blocking it. By the way, we never found William Shakespeare’s grave.”

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