This is *MY* story, not some bull**** that happened to my 3rd cousin’s friends aunt. This happened to me, and frankly it still scares the **** out of me. I won’t even enter the town this place is in. A Place Called Bachelor’s Grove Cemetery. It’s in the southern Suburbs of Chicago, and for all intents and purposes it is a ****ed up, defiled graveyard in the middle of the ****ing woods. Beyond being just a graveyard it was a mob dumping ground, and like all weird places, a rumored cultist hotspot.

In 2002 I was 22 and into the supernatural, looking for any kind of thrill I set out to find some of the more haunted spots around Chicago. Regarded as the most haunted cemetery in the U.S. this definitely piqued our interests, so I gather up what little info I can which was vague mapquest directions and word of mouth accounts with a handful of pictures of mist and orbs from some ghost hunters sites. I set out with 2 of my friends and we started scouting around about 20-30 acres of forest preserve.

After a solid hour of scouting around and only finding a broken shovel and what appeared to be some shallow graves, which we laughed off as an impromptu pet graveyard, we come up with nothing. Tired of following trails we cut a straight line through the woods to get back to the car. On our way through the woods we hit a Black top asphalt road… ****ing Jackpot! We start walking toward some chain link fence to the east and hit the most ****ed up graveyard I have ever seen. Headstones were smashed and overturned, it looked like someone had try to dig up a grave… Holes in the fence everywhere. This. Place. is. ****ed. Bad feelings and cold spots. Hair on the back of everyone’s neck is starting up… in August. After a half an hour of milling around the Cemetery we decide to leave.

On our final look over the bachelor’s Grove, I notice that the road continues past, that it keeps going east. After a quick vote we decide to see where the road leads. So we start trekking down the road for a while it goes from decently maintained to cracked to overgrown to chunks of pavement wrapped around trees. Walking was tough, but we pressed on for an hour and a half before we got tired of climbing over trees and not wanting to negotiate another creek after pbuming two already. We turn back and walk 3 minutes and we hit the cemetery. What the ****? We were in the woods on this paved road for damn near two hours and it takes us 3 ****ing minutes to get out? Where were the creeks? WHAT THE ****!! I start ****ing my pants. We sprint to the car and tear out of there. We sit in silence. 30 minute drive home.

That night our driver, ChilePepino had to work at a pizza joint and I decide to take the night off. Sitting in my room listening to music. I can hear my name being calling. **** in my room is rustling. I force myself to go to sleep to get the night over with. In the middle of the night I woke up and couldn’t breathe. Gasping for air… it feels like an elephant in on my chest. When it’s over I sit up and watch movies all night. Sleep is no longer an option.

The next day we all meet up and everyone looks harrowed. No one could have slept at all the night before. It turns out the ChilePepino’s grandmothers urn left off the shelf after 15 years of sitting in the same spot and shattered against and adjacent wall. John’s wall started pouring water until he started screaming at it. I kept quiet about not being able to breathe. It still happens to me, sometimes… I have no history of asthma. But every once in a while I hear voices and without fail I wake up breathless in the middle of the night. So if I could give one piece of advice it would be stay the **** off that road.

Edit: Name’s changed to protect the guilty