Livermore

One seemingly regular night about 5 years ago, two of my best friends and I went to this place called Livermore in PA. There is a walking trail that goes through sections of woods interrupted by intermittent bridges that pass over a dam and reservoir that were built to help prevent flooding. Its a really incredible sight when the leaves are changing colors or even in the winter on a clear night with snow. We had been there probably 30 times previously to appreciate the views, walk, fish, and/or see if we would observe anything supernatural. Many people claim the area is haunted due to the old town being submerged underwater to create the reservoir. We had been there so many times before, though, without anything happening that I just considered Livermore ghost stories rumors.

This night, we parked, got out of the car and walked for a couple of minutes to the first bridge. We just sat there on the gravel, talking for about an hour. I remember like it was yesterday how clear the sky was. I also remember a dog barking in the distance. The only house remotely nearby is a cattle farm a few miles back on the dirt road to this place (and only way in or out), and I assume to this day that this was their dog we were hearing (despite rumors about evil dogs that guard a nearby graveyard). The three of us were still talking when I got what felt like a cramp in my left foot. I kind of grimaced and stretched my leg out. Maybe five minutes went by until they asked me, “Hey, you okay?” Literally as the word “cramp” came out of my mouth, it felt like a hand squeezed the sides of my foot so hard that I ripped my shoe off and quickly stood up and backed away. They, of course, looked at me like I was nuts, and the cramp (or whatever it was) instantly resolved, so I just apologized and sat back down.

This is the part where I get chills and honestly almost tear up anytime I think about this night. The conversation had naturally stopped. We were kind of just listening to the dog barking in the distance and looking at the stars for a while when the dog yelped. We all perked up and looked at each other just to acknowledge that we all heard it. Everything just got eerily quiet and, I swear, darker even though the moon was still out. All of the bullfrogs stopped croaking. Most of the crickets close by stopped chirping. Then we started hearing a really, really distant scream every couple minutes, except the scream would get slightly louder each time. We would look around, then back at each other, look around again, then back at each other. All of this was happening without saying a word. We were just looking at each other with an expression of, “What the hell?” Since there is only one way in or out, I finally broke the silence to whisper that maybe we should go in case other people had showed up and were in trouble with the cops or something. That was the only thing that was said for the next 20 minutes or so.

We started back to the car. As we got closer to where the bridge meets the woods, the screams kept getting closer. We would simultaneously speed up our walking each time (again I have to emphasize that we were not even whispering to each other or looking at one another). As we got to this part where there was a small slope back up to the parking area, there was a woman’s bone-chilling, blood-curdling, death-cry that was as loud as a train whistle that came from the bushes beside us. We all simultaneously sprinted at what felt like Olympic pace, and I hurdled a three foot tall gate in stride while running uphill. My friend started his car and floored it while I was trying to hurry into the back of his two-door which helped me get back there. Our other friend kind of just dived into the passenger seat behind me.

We still didn’t say another word until we were almost home, and then all confirmed with each other that that had just really happened. There were no other vehicles, headlights, tracks, sounds of other people walking or anything when we first arrived or when we left to rationalize what happened. If I had been by myself, I would think today that it was just a nightmare or that I was schizotypal. I refuse to go back.

By Dough Pazehoski

Source: Quora