The sun was slowly slipping behind the hills as my car came to a stop in front of the century old Lakeport church. The gravel crunched nosily under my feet as I stepped out of the car and admired the ancient church.

The wind seemed to pick up, finding a cool breeze to blow through my hair on one of the hottest days of the summer. I had been to this place as a child, laying flowers on forgotten graves with my mother, but this trip was different.

Hiding in the shadow of the church lay many graves over grown with grass and moss. Tall pine trees lined the far edge of the graveyard throwing still more shadows around the cemetery. The tall grasses waved lazily over the small mounds which made up the landscape of the churchyard. Many secrets lay buried beneath those waving grasses.,

Lakeport church contained the closest thing to a mass grave in South because of the outbreak of a number of contagious diseases during the late 1800’s. Bodies were scattered all over the cemetery with records of only around thirty. If I were ever going to get a ghost picture, this would be the place, this would be the time.

My friend Nick stumbled out of the backseat already gripping his camera. His mischievous grin helped to suppress the fear that was building inside me as the darkness closed in. The sun had melted completely below the hills, and there was nothing above and nothing below but blackness and shadows.

I tightly gripped my tape recorder as I stepped up to the iron gate and gave it a soft push. As if it had been waiting for a visitor, the gate slid open without protest.

Nick entered the churchyard; first snapping pictures of the church itself, then running around to the back to begin taking pictures of the marked graves.

My heart began to beat faster as I stepped between two large stone crosses. I turned the recorder on and placed it at the base of one of the crosses where it would be shielded from the wind. My skin began to creep, and every cell of my being was sending along the message of fear. I moved away from the crosses and started walking over the mounds, pushing back the thoughts that I could be standing on a body.

My attention was soon pulled towards an ancient looking stone engraved in Czech. My fingers traced over the words carved into the rough chalk rock. I pulled out the words ‘asterisk kri`z’ star crossed in Czech. I couldn’t help but think back to the Shakespearian plays with star crossed lovers dying due to a coupling of their own stupidity and teenage hormones; maybe the owner of this grave died of a broken heart, a dramatic double suicide that would make Romeo and Juliet jealous. My mind was whirling with possibilities for one of my future stories.

The air seemed to be clouded around me with the thick scent of lilacs even though they had stopped blooming months ago. My heartbeat doubled, if that were possible, and I couldn’t move from the spot in front of this grave.

Nick was yelling something about getting the church open, but he sounded so far away. A coldness wrapped around me like a breath of December in the middle of July. I was terrified, just as all humans become terrified when coming in contact with the unknown.

My fingers began to tingle and iciness wrapped around my hand as if something were trying to comfort me with the simple mortal gesture of holding my hand.

I called out to Nick who quickly emerged from the church holding his camera ready. I told him quietly to take my hand. He seemed a bit confused at first and asked why. I said simply "because something else already has,"

His jaw nearly hit the ground, and he fumbled to get a few pictures taken before finally coming to my aid. The warmth of his hand soaked through the bitter coldness, melting it at once.

After relocking the church and retrieving my recorder, we made our swift departure from Lakeport Church. After replaying the tape and running it through a cleaning program on my computer, I came across a number of voices all in Czech. Only a few words made sense to me, and I’m still trying to decipher the rest of the tape, which sounds like choppy music. "Fotografie h`rbitov ne usmívat se," I was able to pick this bit out of the tape, and it translates roughly to ‘photograph cemetery smile’. This process of ghost recording is called EVP electronic voice phenomena.

The pictures were far more rewarding. In three pictures, including the one taken of my hand holding adventure, we found ectoplasm, which looks like a ghostly smoke. A few possible globules were also picked up in some pictures, especially in the balcony of the church. Globules are small balls of light thought to be ghosts.

Lakeport Church is a beautiful place that I have a deep respect for. I may or may not return, but if I do, I’ll be sure to bring a flashlight next time.