Bake
1
Near the pond, there is a little bridge that really has no purpose but to help the traveler walk above a little itty bitty wimpy creek. People say this old man comes out at exactly 1:14 am. This man isn’t made of flesh, though. He’s a freaking ghost. He apparently was on his way home in the early nineteen-hundreds, and decided to cut through the forest because he wanted to see his prostitute wife as soon as possible because he was drunk as a dog and the snake in his pants was ready to burrow in a hole. So this fool was crossing the bridge in the dead of night and this thing came out of the bushes and bashed his skull in. People say if you look and dig in the rocks on the side of the creek, you can find pieces of his skull. Anyways, no one knows what thing killed him.
One theory is that one of his wife’s costumers wanted the old man to rot in the ground because he wanted the wife. Heaven knows why because apparently this wife was ugly. Like George W. Bush ugly.
One theory is the guy just fell and cracked that big empty skull of his. I don’t want to believe that, though. It’s so boring, and stories need pizzazz and jazz to spice it up.
Me and my pack of buds decided yesterday that we will camp out there for a night, and go to that stupid bridge at exactly 1:14 am to see if we can experience paranormal stuff.
One theory is that one of his wife’s costumers wanted the old man to rot in the ground because he wanted the wife. Heaven knows why because apparently this wife was ugly. Like George W. Bush ugly.
One theory is the guy just fell and cracked that big empty skull of his. I don’t want to believe that, though. It’s so boring, and stories need pizzazz and jazz to spice it up.
Me and my pack of buds decided yesterday that we will camp out there for a night, and go to that stupid bridge at exactly 1:14 am to see if we can experience paranormal stuff.