In my old home town, there are hundreds of legends and ghost stories. A haunted bar downtown, a witch in the park next to a school, a phantom jogger down one road, creatures, specters, you name it, this town had it all. I will admit that I’ve had my fair share of unexplained events living there when I was younger, but nothing can really top my visit to Scaryville.
Scaryville, of course, isn’t the actual name. It has always been called that since I could remember and no one really calls it by it’s real name. Even as children, it had it’s own nursery rhyme: