“The ghost train.”

Well, get this. One day, a half-mile down the road, behind thick trees where the old, rusty, abandoned rails sat, there moaned an engine’s shuffle with a whistle’s high-pitched squeal loud enough to wake the dead.

A train? Here? That’s impossible? I thought.

And yet, a train rolling behind those trees shook the ground like a small earthquake.

Now, years ago, when locomotives were still the boss, a freight train rear-ended a passenger train one night on these very rails. The collision caused a kerosene lamp to ignite in the rear-end sleeping car, causing a fire that killed seven people. The engineer driving the freight train never had a chance.

Years later, a newer, more advanced line with updated signals and less travel time took over about a mile from Ridgecrest Road.

So, you can understand why the hiss of brakes at the road crossing meant the train stopped ahead, which couldn’t be. I even saw a black cloud of smoke lift into the air above the treetops. Yet, when I reached the crossing, I was met with only empty tracks in both directions and silence. Boy, did I get a chill.

But here’s where it gets really scary. As I turned to leave, I swear to you, by God, I heard a voice cry out that sped up the heartbeat in my chest tenfold.

“Train ahead! Train ahead! We’re gonna hit! We’re gonna hit!”

The little clap of thunder that followed on that perfectly sunny day sent a shiver right to my bones that I’ll never forget as long as I live.

I turned around and ran home that day as quickly as my legs could carry me, but not without a ghostly tale no one in town would ever believe.

Now, if you’re ever down this way, you’re more than welcome to join me for a walk. But if by chance you hear something behind those trees that shouldn’t be, well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.