The Haunting of Hopewell Creek Bridge

“I only saw her that one time, the body rising up out of the water… she was headless, you know, just like the stories say she is.”

            I sat back on the couch, listening to my father, as the seasoned volunteer fire fighter shuddered at remembering the tale.

            “We were there responding to an accident. It had to be… oh, about seventeen years ago now. A couple kids driving around too damn fast. One minor injury, the other was a little more serious. Run right off the road and wrapped their car around an old tree. You know that curve there before the old bridge is pretty sharp, especially when the road’s wet. Anyway, we were having a hell of a time with our radios and that’s when I saw her.”

            The story of Amelia Hopewell and the tragedy of the old stone bridge that bears her name goes back to the winter of 1829. I should say stories actually, because there are many different versions of the local legend. One version tells of a young girl running away just after an illegitimate birth, losing both her life and the newborn’s. Another tells of her being a witch and upon her cruel beheading on the bridge, she left behind an awful curse on the townsfolk.

The only thing I know for sure was that a young woman named Amelia had been riding in a horse drawn carriage and lost control. The carriage rolled, sending Amelia into the frigid shallow water below where she died. That much had been documented in the local paper at the time and I had even been to her gravesite. She had only been nineteen at the time.

            I grew up hearing about the legends, even driven over the bridge countless times, keeping a close eye out during the nighttime crossovers, trying to catch a glimpse of the small, New England town haunting.

            Though I never saw her myself, there were many in the town of Haven, New Hampshire that, to this day, swear they have seen the ghost rising up out of the shallow water, a horrible waterlogged, headless corpse that would appear on moonless nights, causing vehicles to stall, should one be daring enough to park and call out to the spirit, demanding her to show herself. One of the people with this extraordinary claim was my very own father, though his reason for being there wasn’t merely to taunt a headless dead girl with psychokinetic powers. He was trying to prevent another soul from perishing on the bridge.

            How does one have psychokinetic powers without a head, or a body for that matter?

            This was one of the many questions that led me to the bridge in the first place. I had always been somewhat interested in ghost stories since my childhood but was never keen on believing them. I had older siblings and they proved to me just how gullible I could be, so naturally I grew up skeptical about nearly everything. I found it fascinating that so many people, especially in this day and age, found themselves to be so superstitious, despite science telling us otherwise. Which is why I can’t put my finger on exactly what drew me to get to the bottom of this local legend. But the pull was too strong to ignore.

            It turns out, some haunts are simply too hard to give up.

            “So, what happened after you saw her?” I asked my dad, leaning forward on the couch. He leaned back in the recliner, kicking the footrest out. I had to move fast, as it was only a matter of time before he disappeared into a torrent of snores with the TV droning on in the background.

            “Well…” He said, rubbing his chin and yawning. “I pointed over to her, and Danny Wilkins… he saw her, and so did Frank Locke. Damn near scared the jiminy jumped-up Christ out of all of us. Damn if Frank didn’t try and go over to her, but she disappeared before he could reach her. Then our radios started up again. Had to pry the one girl out of the car. One hell of a mess, but she ended up ok.”

            “One other question?” I ask, looking down at the series of prepared questions I had written down earlier that day.

            “Has anyone else died on that bridge since Amelia’s accident?”

            My father thought for a moment, then shrugged.

            “Not entirely sure. Plenty of accidents there the way that road curves and everything, but nobody’s died there in the thirty years I’ve been in the fire department, at least that I know of.”

            I logged this in my memory, understanding that later I would have to look this stat up when I got the chance. I thanked my dad and got up, as I did so, grabbed the small black case by my feet.

            “What’s that?” He asked smiling and nodding to the case.

            “Oh, uh, I ordered some ghost hunting equipment online. I’m going out to the bridge tonight to see if I can find anything.”

            My dad nodded, still smiling, though his eyes had a hard look as they met mine.

            A knowing look.

            “Be careful out there, and don’t go alone, ok?”

            “I won’t. Terry and Matt are coming with me.”

            At this, his smile turned to a frown.

            “Just be careful.”

            “I will.” I tell him, knowing how he feels about my two friends, more so Terry than Matt. Most of this whole idea was Terry’s to begin with. He was the mastermind behind a lot of the things we did, notably the things that got us in trouble. They seemed innocent enough at first, until Terry decided to start breaking into abandoned buildings or stealing things off people’s lawns. He was always roping Matt and I into his little schemes, and Matt just went along with it. I would find myself in too deep before I realized what we were up to was illegal, but we always ended up getting out of it somehow.

            Not once had we gotten caught, though Terry still had a notoriety around town.

            How he could end up turning this ghost investigation into a crime was beyond me, but knowing Terry, he was up to something.

            I left the house and walked down the street, passing the Nebbins mansion, a decrepit place right across the street from the Old Haven Cemetery, where we had decided to meet up. Someone had placed a jack-o-lantern out by the stoop. That was supposed to be another haunted hot spot, though nobody ever really saw anything there. They just went there to get drunk and fool around.

            I waited for several minutes before Terry’s beat up old car puttered around the corner. He parked alongside the road and I got into the back seat. Matt was already in the passenger seat looking rather ill.

            “The hell is wrong with you?” I asked, prodding him on his shoulder.

            “He’s scared.” Terry chided, pulling back out into the street. Dusk had started to fall, and the night carried with it a chill that only October could bring.

            “I’m not scared.” Matt grumbled, looking out the window.

            “I said you didn’t have to come.” Terry griped, turning onto Poplar Avenue, the road leading out of town and towards the old bridge. I sat back in the seat, ignoring the two of them as they began to bicker. Opening the black case, I turned on my cell phone’s light to check everything inside. It was a simple ghost investigation kit. Some flashlights, a digital recorder, and two EMF meters. Nothing fancy, but good enough for beginners like us. I didn’t even truly understand the EMF meter. All I knew was that if a ghost was nearby, the thing will go off.

            “Hunter?”

            My head snapped up upon hearing my name. I could just see Terry’s eyes in the rear-view mirror, looking at me.

            “What?” I asked.

            “Your dad actually saw this ghost, right?”

            I nodded. “Yeah, he was telling me about it right before I went out to meet you guys.”

            Matt turned in his seat, his wide eyes meeting mine. The thick glasses didn’t help.

            “He saw Amelia?”

            “He thinks he saw her. He said she was a headless corpse, and she rose up out of the water.”

            “Sick.” Terry said, laughing. Matt turned around in his seat and he sunk further down.

            “On a positive note, from what my dad said, nobody has died there in the thirty years since he’s been in the fire department.”

            “All it takes is one.” Matt groaned to himself and returned to looking out the window. The sun was completely gone now, and shadows of night had begun settling over the world. I still didn’t really understand what Matt was so worried about.

            “Have either of you even seen a ghost before?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

            Terry shook his head at this, “I haven’t. It’s why I’m out here tonight. To see if this shit’s real or not.”

            Matt was quiet, still staring out the window. He looked small, almost boyish. It didn’t help that the guy was a twig to begin with. I tapped him on the shoulder, and he jumped, causing Terry to laugh.

            “Wha? What?”

            “Sorry, I was just asking if either of you had actually seen a ghost before. Terry and I haven’t. Have you?” I asked him.

            “I… no, I’ve never seen one before.” He said, and I traded a quick glance with Terry that said everything that needed to be said. This kid has seen something for sure. We didn’t have a chance to press him on it, because a moment later Terry pulled off the side of the road and parked the car.

            “Here it is, gents.” He said, nodding ahead at the road before us. In the glow of the headlights I could just make out the two stone pillars of the single-lane bridge. The headlights reflected off the sign warning that the bridge was just that, a single lane and that only one car could drive over at a time. I remembered my father talking about how the town had been thinking about expanding the bridge, and had started working on it, but for some reason they stopped, and the bridge has remained a single lane ever since. Matt took his time getting out of the car, while Terry and I walked over to the middle of the bridge. The bridge itself wasn’t long at all. While driving over top it, it only took a second to span the thing, even if you were going the suggested speed of 25. Most the time coming back home from work, I hardly noticed going over it at all.

            I opened the case and grabbed the two EMF meters and the digital recorder.

            “Who wants what?” I asked, holding out the items. Terry reached out and grabbed the digital recorder, while Matt hesitantly took one of the EMF meters. I put the other meter in my pocket and closed the case, putting it on the grass alongside the road. I joined the guys in the middle of the roadway, just as headlights began approaching from the other side.

            “Shit.” Terry spat and the three of us moved off the bridge and waited for the car to pass. It was the middle of the week and I didn’t expect to see many cars on the road. “I hope that doesn’t happen the entire time we’re out here,” I said once the car passed and we took our places again. The night was cool and quiet. Haven had never been a loud town to begin with as it was tiny, and nearby Portsmouth, despite being a tourist town, was relatively quiet as well. Either way, the bridge was far from any streetlights or houses, the occasional car streaking by in the night would be the only source of light or sound for at least half a mile.

            “Ok, so, how do we do this thing?” Terry asked, looking around at the nearly pitch-black night before turning on his cell phone light.

            “Keep that off.” I said.

            “How the hell am I supposed to see anything?”

            “Your eyes will adjust. Give it a moment.” I responded, turning on the EMF meter. It made a loud noise before whirring down to a steady hum. I would know if it was picking something up if the whirring sound stopped and a slight squealing sound started. Terry grumbled something about how the people in ghost hunting shows had flashlights and turned his cell phone light off. The moon was half full and there was plenty of moonlight filtering down from the trees. It wasn’t my fault Terry’s night vision was terrible.

            We milled about on the bridge, Terry flicking the digital recorder on and walking around, calling questions out into the darkness, egging the spirit of Amelia on, and calling her all sorts of rude names.

            “Dude, what are you doing?”

            “Trying to get her to show up. This is what they do in those ghost hunting shows.”

            I shook my head and walked away from him towards the far end of the bridge. Matt stood by the car, not even taking part in the investigation. Terry would give him hell for it later, but I understood. Something from his past definitely scared him, and I wasn’t going to press him on it. Usually Matt went along with whatever was going on, so I thought it was odd him staying behind.

            Before I knew what was happening, I realized everything had gone incredibly quiet. The steady whirring sound on my EMF meter was still running, but the thing that caught my attention was that the sound of the birds and the bugs had vanished, leaving behind a solid wall of silence in its absence.

            “What the hell?” I murmured as I turned towards the water. The reflection of the moon was drifting across the surface of the slow-moving current. A slight mist had begun to form. The EMF meter, which had been steadily humming the whole time, created a palpable silence when it abruptly shut off.

            The first thing I did was look up to see if there were any powerlines dangling above my head, but I didn’t see any. Either way, powerlines didn’t cause birds and bugs to stop making their night noises.

Something was here, something I couldn’t see.

            Then the EMF meter gave a loud single squeal that made me jump. I heard a car door slam shut and understood that Matt had gone inside the car. A chill had settled over me and I stood there, completely at a loss of what to do, just staring down at the now silent EMF meter.

            “Did that thing just make a noise?” Terry asked, walking over with the digital recorder.

            I nodded, unable to say anything as the thing gave a loud squeal once more.

            “I think it’s picked up something.” I said, my voice cracking slightly as I began to look around at the water below us. I had never felt anything so still before. So silent. It was like the world had been put on pause. As if time had been forced to stop.

            “Are we making contact with Amelia Hopewell? Once for yes, twice for no.” Terry asked, unable to hide the giddiness in his voice. I couldn’t tell if he was excited or scared. Either way, we got our answer. A single squeal cut through the silent darkness. I looked up at Terry who I could only just make out in the gloom. He stared back at me, almost at as much of a loss as I was.

            It looked as though we had found our ghost. Now, what we were to do about it, that was something we hadn’t really thought about. From what I understand, contacting an actual spirit is incredibly rare. Most of the time, investigations are long, drawn out nights with nothing significant happening. We hadn’t been at the bridge but ten minutes before the meter went off.

            “Did you die here?” Terry asked, and the silence of the night seemed to swell around the question, almost stifling the air before a single squeal cut through the night.

            “Damn.” I murmured and noticed that my hand holding the meter started to feel numb.

            “Did you lose your baby the night you died on this bridge?”

            The meter squealed twice.

            “Well, that puts that rumor to rest.”

            “Right from the horse’s mouth.” Terry added with a nervous laugh. The fog had begun to thicken, and I couldn’t see Matt or the car any longer. It was just Terry, Amelia, and me on the bridge now.

            “Why are you still here?” Terry asked. The meter remained quiet for a moment before squealing several times and cutting back off again.

            “Yes or no questions.” I whispered, reminding Terry, though I couldn’t tell you why I was whispering. Terry made an impatient noise and then turned to the water, the digital recorder in his hand, running.

            “Alright, Amelia. This has been fun, but I think we need a little more out of you.”

            Here we go. I thought as I hesitantly walked over to the edge of the bridge, looking out over the moonlit water below. I could just make out the swirling surface below through the thick blanket of fog.

            “Dude, really?” I whispered, and Terry pushed me aside.

            “If you really want us to believe you are Amelia, I’m going to need some proof. You need to show yourself.”

            Unbelievable. I was already starting to shake because of the weird feeling this whole experience was giving me, and this guy wanted to go further?

Nothing happened for about a minute before Terry went on a tirade.

            “What the problem, Amelia? Scared to show yourself. Why were you running that night? Huh? Why were you riding that horse of yours so fast? What were you running from?”

            The silence and eeriness of the night began to thicken, turning from merely creepy to downright ominous. A part of me was screaming, telling me to run off the bridge and join Matt in the car.

            The sound of an engine cut through the quiet, causing me to jump. Terry’s car had sprung to life and was reversing, pulling away from the bridge. The headlights vanished into the bank of fog. I could just make out the sound of the tires catching the road and disappearing off into the darkness.

            “Oh, come on!” Terry growled but returned his attention back to the water below.

            “Tell me why you were running that night, Amelia!” He nearly screamed into the night. The dude was losing his mind and I was nearly ready to wet myself.

            The water below began to ripple in a spot several feet away from the bridge. A dizzying falling sensation overtook me as I watched the water disperse, and slowly, something pale began to emerge. I felt my breath catch in my throat and my vision tunnel slightly when I noticed the top of a white dress rising steadily from the water. Two arms dangled from the sleeves, two blackened decomposing arms, the fingers twisted and curled as if in some otherworldly rage. The rest of the headless body rose from the water and hovered for a moment before vanishing.

            “Whoa! Look at tha—” Terry didn’t get to finish his statement. What I saw next I will never be able to explain or unsee. I leapt back in horror when I saw the headless corpse of Amelia standing right beside me. I backed into the stone pillar, nearly falling over the side of the bridge. Through the thick fog I could just make out the look of surprise on Terry’s face, and somehow a bright flash of light crossing over him, illuminating his entire body. The corpse grabbed hold of Terry, who was immobile, possibly in shock of what he was seeing before him.

            That’s when the van slammed into him, sending his body careening through the air and crashing with a sickening crack in the shallow water below. The van’s brakes screeched, and it fishtailed, and the night was met with another sound. The sound of metal slamming unforgivingly into wood. I didn’t think, I just ran over to the side of the road, looking down at Terry’s mangled body.

            “No!” Was all I could say, and I said it many times as I watched him trying to move, trying to get up. Then I saw the blackened hands rising from the water and grabbing hold of Terry’s shoulders. Through the fog I could make out the horror in his eyes as the hands pulled him under. I did the only thing I could think to do and ran off the road, ignoring the man in the van who was shouting something I couldn’t understand. I sloshed into the cold, knee-deep water, screaming Terry’s name, swiping at the water over and over, trying to find him. And that’s where my dad finally found me, pulling me out of the slow current, still screaming for my doomed friend.

            Terry’s body was never recovered, and Matt and I don’t speak about that night. I know he knew something we didn’t about that place. Something he couldn’t tell us. Months later, I returned to the bridge, and sat by the side of the creek. By this time, the water was just a thick sheet of ice. My breath fogged as I stood shivering, trying to put my thoughts in order. And that’s when I saw it. The digital recorder Terry had been holding that night. With shaking hands, I picked it up, and was astonished to find the thing still worked. I pressed down the button to play back the last thing recorded and immediately heard something I will never forget. It was Terry, calling out to the ghost of Hopewell Creek Bridge, and between his taunts was the faint sound of what I could only determine was a woman’s voice. At first, I couldn’t hear what she was saying, then I slowly realized that the woman was screaming, screaming in an otherworldly rage.

            She told Terry that her flight that night had been to escape a wrongful persecution of witchcraft. A baby of a wealthy local merchant had been stillborn during her first attempt at midwifery and she had been blamed for it. A posse was sent out and she fled. During her escape she hit some ice on the bridge, sealing her fate that night. She told Terry that his death would give her what she needed to make the town finally pay. To bring them to their knees. She required sacrifices, sacrifices that had been withheld for over a century now. The last thing on the recording I held in my numb and shaking hand was that of her laughing and Terry’s muffled and gurgling screams as he was pulled under the water.

            I turned the recorder off and noticed the air had become thicker. All the birds had gone silent. And a set of ice-cold hands clasped around my throat.