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Seven Sister's Road (by Sparky)
Seven Sister's Road
I've lived in the same small, dreary Nebraska town my entire life. I'm not a hick, like most people that don't live in Nebraska assume, and we're not backward people either. We have running water, electricity, all that good stuff. Sure, sometimes we add an "R" in "wash", but otherwise, we're exactly like everyone else. But I digress. About a two-hour drive from my hometown, there lies Seven Sister's Road.
Seven Sister's Road is one of the most popular ghost stories to be told around where I live, I remember my grandfather giving me and my sister the drunken version of the story every Saturday night. I would sit on the edge of my seat while he spouted beer fueled nonsense about the road, fascinated by what little my eight-year-old mind could piece together, and I made it my life goal to actually get to go drive down that road one day and see if the legends were true.
The Seven Sister's Road, for those that don't know, is a sketchy un-maintained stretch of road a few miles outside of Nebraska City. Now, Nebraska is no stranger to gruesome tales, we have the Witch's Bridge, the ammunitions depot in my hometown, among others, but this has always stood out. This is by far the most blood-curdling piece of folklore this state has to offer.
It starts with a man, as most of these tales do. He lived on this stretch of road with his seven daughters, and one day, for some unknown reason, he went completely bonkers and killed every last one of them. He lured them out of the house one by one, leading each one to a separate hill, and hung them from the trees. Driving down the road can be dangerous. Cars will stall, headlights will dim, phone batteries will die without warning. Perhaps the most chilling is hearing the screams of the seven sisters. And all of that was merely a ghost story, something I may be believed when I was eight or nine, but quickly passed off as a side effect of my grandpa's alcoholism. I started doing more research, but finding things on the internet about Nebraska is damn near impossible (because really, who cares about the state that gifted us with Kool-Aide?). All I could find were two websites explaining the legend in the exact same way and a newspaper article about a new road plan. No history, no mention on if the murders actually happened, nothing. So, I got ready to head out and keep my promise to my eight-year-old self.
I was going to Seven Sister's Road.
I armed myself with my car keys and my emergency backpack, picked up my best friend, and we were off. An hour and a half, two hours later, maybe (?), saw us on the outskirts of Nebraska City. We stopped in town to fuel up, grabbed some snacks, and headed back out. It was near dusk when we found the road (it's technically called Road L now) and I pulled onto the unpaved mess, my heart thrumming in my chest.
A quarter of a mile down the road and nothing had happened yet. I wanted to laugh it off, but being a lover of the paranormal (and also a bit of a skeptic) I couldn't. Not this time. I needed proof that this road was going to stall my car or kill my phone, and I needed it bad. We passed the first hill, and still nothing but a rapidly beating heart and anxiety. My best friend scrolled through her phone, unfazed and bored as ever.
"Honestly, we should turn back. Nothing's going to happen," She said. I shook my head and kept driving. We passed the second hill, and my car lets out a groan.
"Did you hear that?" I asked, turning to my friend. She rolled her eyes.
"Okay, yes, but literally, your car always makes weird noises. That didn't prove anything," Smart-ass. I didn't say anything for a minute until my headlights flickered.
"Did you ****in' see that?!" I pointed excitedly.
"I did," My friend's face had gone white.
"What's up? You look sick," I reached down to the cup holder and handed her a bottle of water, "Drink this."
"Dude, my phone is dead. I had half a charge," She croaked after taking a sip of the water. I laughed, giddy with delight that we were actually getting results from this trip. After visiting most of the so called paranormal locations in this boring ass state, we were finally getting somewhere.
"This is amazing!" I shouted. We were somewhere past the fourth or fifth hill, the sun finally having gone down.
The pink streaks in the fluffy clouds completely gone, leaving darkness in their wake. It wasn't until we were passing the sixth hill that the screaming started, and my blood ran cold. Now, the legend always recounted that it was the sisters that could be heard screaming, never the father, but the screams I heard were definitely male. I could hear distinctly female screams too, but they were always answered by a deep, masculine voice that turned my blood to ice.
"We need to go," My friend stated plainly, her voice deadpan, her white moon of a face illuminated by my dashboard lights. I nodded. The male voice sounded so much closer than the screaming of the sisters'. They sounded as though they were coming from inside the car itself, and I willed myself not to turn around and check in the backseat, scared of what I might find. I swallowed painfully, my car rocking and rumbling its way down the road until we passed the seventh hill, and everything stopped. The road was still unpaved, but maintained, my headlights weren't flickering, but most importantly, there was dead silence. There wasn't a single scream to be heard.
My friend and I let out a simultaneous sigh of relief. There was no way in hell I was going to go through that road to get back the Nebraska City, nobody could pay me enough to do so.
I don't know what made it worse though, the fact that the screaming male sounded close enough to be in my backseat, or the fact that we could have been stranded and nobody would have known, but I do know one thing: Seven Sister's Road is definitely not some crackpot drunk's fictitious ramblings. If you decide to make the trek out there, please, please be careful. Carry a map instead of a GPS, and always bring at least one more person. You never know what could happen.
Source.
I've lived in the same small, dreary Nebraska town my entire life. I'm not a hick, like most people that don't live in Nebraska assume, and we're not backward people either. We have running water, electricity, all that good stuff. Sure, sometimes we add an "R" in "wash", but otherwise, we're exactly like everyone else. But I digress. About a two-hour drive from my hometown, there lies Seven Sister's Road.
Seven Sister's Road is one of the most popular ghost stories to be told around where I live, I remember my grandfather giving me and my sister the drunken version of the story every Saturday night. I would sit on the edge of my seat while he spouted beer fueled nonsense about the road, fascinated by what little my eight-year-old mind could piece together, and I made it my life goal to actually get to go drive down that road one day and see if the legends were true.
The Seven Sister's Road, for those that don't know, is a sketchy un-maintained stretch of road a few miles outside of Nebraska City. Now, Nebraska is no stranger to gruesome tales, we have the Witch's Bridge, the ammunitions depot in my hometown, among others, but this has always stood out. This is by far the most blood-curdling piece of folklore this state has to offer.
It starts with a man, as most of these tales do. He lived on this stretch of road with his seven daughters, and one day, for some unknown reason, he went completely bonkers and killed every last one of them. He lured them out of the house one by one, leading each one to a separate hill, and hung them from the trees. Driving down the road can be dangerous. Cars will stall, headlights will dim, phone batteries will die without warning. Perhaps the most chilling is hearing the screams of the seven sisters. And all of that was merely a ghost story, something I may be believed when I was eight or nine, but quickly passed off as a side effect of my grandpa's alcoholism. I started doing more research, but finding things on the internet about Nebraska is damn near impossible (because really, who cares about the state that gifted us with Kool-Aide?). All I could find were two websites explaining the legend in the exact same way and a newspaper article about a new road plan. No history, no mention on if the murders actually happened, nothing. So, I got ready to head out and keep my promise to my eight-year-old self.
I was going to Seven Sister's Road.
I armed myself with my car keys and my emergency backpack, picked up my best friend, and we were off. An hour and a half, two hours later, maybe (?), saw us on the outskirts of Nebraska City. We stopped in town to fuel up, grabbed some snacks, and headed back out. It was near dusk when we found the road (it's technically called Road L now) and I pulled onto the unpaved mess, my heart thrumming in my chest.
A quarter of a mile down the road and nothing had happened yet. I wanted to laugh it off, but being a lover of the paranormal (and also a bit of a skeptic) I couldn't. Not this time. I needed proof that this road was going to stall my car or kill my phone, and I needed it bad. We passed the first hill, and still nothing but a rapidly beating heart and anxiety. My best friend scrolled through her phone, unfazed and bored as ever.
"Honestly, we should turn back. Nothing's going to happen," She said. I shook my head and kept driving. We passed the second hill, and my car lets out a groan.
"Did you hear that?" I asked, turning to my friend. She rolled her eyes.
"Okay, yes, but literally, your car always makes weird noises. That didn't prove anything," Smart-ass. I didn't say anything for a minute until my headlights flickered.
"Did you ****in' see that?!" I pointed excitedly.
"I did," My friend's face had gone white.
"What's up? You look sick," I reached down to the cup holder and handed her a bottle of water, "Drink this."
"Dude, my phone is dead. I had half a charge," She croaked after taking a sip of the water. I laughed, giddy with delight that we were actually getting results from this trip. After visiting most of the so called paranormal locations in this boring ass state, we were finally getting somewhere.
"This is amazing!" I shouted. We were somewhere past the fourth or fifth hill, the sun finally having gone down.
The pink streaks in the fluffy clouds completely gone, leaving darkness in their wake. It wasn't until we were passing the sixth hill that the screaming started, and my blood ran cold. Now, the legend always recounted that it was the sisters that could be heard screaming, never the father, but the screams I heard were definitely male. I could hear distinctly female screams too, but they were always answered by a deep, masculine voice that turned my blood to ice.
"We need to go," My friend stated plainly, her voice deadpan, her white moon of a face illuminated by my dashboard lights. I nodded. The male voice sounded so much closer than the screaming of the sisters'. They sounded as though they were coming from inside the car itself, and I willed myself not to turn around and check in the backseat, scared of what I might find. I swallowed painfully, my car rocking and rumbling its way down the road until we passed the seventh hill, and everything stopped. The road was still unpaved, but maintained, my headlights weren't flickering, but most importantly, there was dead silence. There wasn't a single scream to be heard.
My friend and I let out a simultaneous sigh of relief. There was no way in hell I was going to go through that road to get back the Nebraska City, nobody could pay me enough to do so.
I don't know what made it worse though, the fact that the screaming male sounded close enough to be in my backseat, or the fact that we could have been stranded and nobody would have known, but I do know one thing: Seven Sister's Road is definitely not some crackpot drunk's fictitious ramblings. If you decide to make the trek out there, please, please be careful. Carry a map instead of a GPS, and always bring at least one more person. You never know what could happen.
Source.
@semisweet: There's one in Texas where kids that supposedly died in a bus crash at a railroad crossing will push your car uphill or something.
It was debunked though. The ground looked like it was going uphill but it was actually not.
Think it was around San Antonio? Not sure....
It was debunked though. The ground looked like it was going uphill but it was actually not.
Think it was around San Antonio? Not sure....
This is an interesting legend. I like stories like this
Yep, San Antonio....
""Just south of San Antonio, Texas, in an unremarkable neighborhood not far from the San Juan Mission, is an intersection of roadway and railroad track that has become famous in the catalog of American ghost lore. The intersection was the site of a tragic accident in which several school-aged children were killed. But according to locals, their ghosts linger at the spot. And ghost hunters from all over the country come to this section of railroad track to witness firsthand the
paranormal phenomena they've heard takes place there.
THE LEGEND OF THE HAUNTED RAILROAD TRACKS
Back in the 1930s or 1940s, a school bus full of children was making its way down the road and toward the intersection when it stalled on the railroad tracks. A speeding train smashed into the bus, killing ten of the children and the bus driver. Since that dreadful accident many years ago, any car stopped near the railroad tracks will be pushed by unseen hands across the tracks to safety. According to believers, it is the children who push the cars across the tracks to prevent a tragedy and fate like their own.
Even today, cars line up at the haunted intersection to see if the legend is true. The driver stops the cars some 20 to 30 yards from the tracks and puts the car in neutral gear. Some even turn off their engines. And sure enough, even though it appears that the road is on an upward grade, the car begins to roll. It rolls slowly first, then steadily gaining speed -- seemingly of its own accord and against gravity -- up and over the tracks.
This has been tested time and time again, and cars really do roll up and over the tracks -- every time.
But that's not all. The second half of this legend is that if a light powder - like talcum or baby powder - is sprinkled over the car's trunk and rear bumper, tiny fingerprints and hand prints will appear - the prints of the ghost children pushing the car.
Many who have tried it swear that indeed they can see the evidence of small children's hand prints in the powder.""
Spoooooky link
""Just south of San Antonio, Texas, in an unremarkable neighborhood not far from the San Juan Mission, is an intersection of roadway and railroad track that has become famous in the catalog of American ghost lore. The intersection was the site of a tragic accident in which several school-aged children were killed. But according to locals, their ghosts linger at the spot. And ghost hunters from all over the country come to this section of railroad track to witness firsthand the
paranormal phenomena they've heard takes place there.
THE LEGEND OF THE HAUNTED RAILROAD TRACKS
Back in the 1930s or 1940s, a school bus full of children was making its way down the road and toward the intersection when it stalled on the railroad tracks. A speeding train smashed into the bus, killing ten of the children and the bus driver. Since that dreadful accident many years ago, any car stopped near the railroad tracks will be pushed by unseen hands across the tracks to safety. According to believers, it is the children who push the cars across the tracks to prevent a tragedy and fate like their own.
Even today, cars line up at the haunted intersection to see if the legend is true. The driver stops the cars some 20 to 30 yards from the tracks and puts the car in neutral gear. Some even turn off their engines. And sure enough, even though it appears that the road is on an upward grade, the car begins to roll. It rolls slowly first, then steadily gaining speed -- seemingly of its own accord and against gravity -- up and over the tracks.
This has been tested time and time again, and cars really do roll up and over the tracks -- every time.
But that's not all. The second half of this legend is that if a light powder - like talcum or baby powder - is sprinkled over the car's trunk and rear bumper, tiny fingerprints and hand prints will appear - the prints of the ghost children pushing the car.
Many who have tried it swear that indeed they can see the evidence of small children's hand prints in the powder.""
Spoooooky link
This is supposed to be a photo of one of the ghost children....
@MrWalkSoftly: I saw where they debunked that one. Still an interesting legend
@megsy89: Yea it's in the link....optical illusion I think... but that's no fun
@MrWalkSoftly: there's another one I read somewhere about a road over a mountain that people got lost on all the time, turned out that it looked like it went straight but didn't and years of cars were at the bottom of a hill where they'd fallen off
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