I visited Edgar Allen Poe's grave with my mom. The following is slightly creepy, but very real.

On a trip to Baltimore, MD I visited the grave/memorial of Edgar Allen Poe with my mother (who is very Christian). A lot of the time, I forget all of the details as it was a few years ago, but I had my memory jogged recently and want to get all the facts down before I bury it again.

Anyway, I had read before that the particular graveyard was VERY haunted, especially near, around, and underneath the main building. I have always been very interested in the macabre, so was super excited to go and painted the trip to my mother as a historical thing. So cue us walking around, noon time on a partly cloudy summer day.

My mother, being a mother and all, stopped me every 30 seconds or so to take pictures. It was all very basic stuff until I took a picture while sitting/leaning on this thing called the "floating slab." It's this weird table-looking gravestone that the plaque said seemingly defied gravity in the way it sat. Mom snapped the picture (or rather, 20) and we looked through the gallery to see what came out. Out of all of the pictures, a singular one came out pitch black for no reason. The only hint of light it had was like a faint outline of where my body would have been. Weird enough, I thought, but we continued our trek.

The rest was fairly uneventful, until the second we walked out of the graveyard. My mother hadn't walked 10 feet past the front gate before she began complaining about her legs stinging. We both looked down to find long scratches on both her legs, from her knees to her ankles. They were like someone had dug and dragged long fingernails down her skin. Needless to say, she was visibly shaken. I then proceeded to inform her about the other stories people have come out with about the devious paranormal activity in the same areas.

We shook it off as well as we could and continued with our plans to see a drive-in movie. Guardians of the Galaxy, I do believe. About halfway through, my older brother who had stayed home texted my mother if he could fix the painting that hung in our dining room. Confused, my mother asked what he was talking about and he responded by sending her a picture of the large painting hanging drastically at an angle. Oblivious to what had transpired earlier in the day he followed the picture up with, "Is there a reason that it's like this?" The next morning my mother took the painting and tossed it into a dumpster. She had had enough of it to be honest, because it always caused my baby brother anxiety. I however, had always felt drawn to the fairy-like woman in the forest, and the cherubs surrounding her. It was a beautiful painting.

I've had this some to mind more recently because for the last month or so I've constantly been seeing things in the corner of my eye and then turning to see nothing there. Remind me sometime to post on how I used to try and kill myself while sleep-walking because "they told me to" or how I have no memory of talking vividly about a past life as a kid.