At the far end of the cemetery, a tree stump, said to be the "Witches' Seat," looks, for all the world, like a convenient chair.
Sheets could awaken, break free, and enjoy a bit of a nosh while he was awaiting rescue. The phone was hooked up, though, as any regular phone would be, and calls out could, of course, be made. Sheets' putative condition at this point, calls IN would be rendered completely unnecessary.) Well, in 1910, Mr.
Just off of old Indiana Highway 37, in the Morgan-Monroe National Forest, you find a dirt track that leads back into an abandoned boneyard with the rather unremarkable moniker of "Stepp Cemetery." The graveyard has twenty ancient plots; no one has been buried out here for time out of mind.
No matter, those that rest in earthly peace still have the spectral denizens of the other side to keep them company.
Martin had made his money selling armaments to the government—quite a fortune, as a matter of fact.
Unfortunately for him, he had a bad, almost crippling secret fear: premature burial. one that reached into the cemetery caretaker's office.