Compiled by Ray O'Bannon

RavensBlight Cemetery was officially named in 1734, but the property is known to have been used as a burial ground since at least the early 1600s. Various pieces of Viking jewelry and armor have been uncovered there, as well as older artifacts of uncertain origin. Native American legends say the area serves as a supernatural vortex or doorway, allowing beings from other dimensions to enter our world.

The cemetery has often suffered damage from flooding and tornadoes, resulting in the loss of headstones and markers. Do to the age of the cemetery, there were many times when graves could no longer be identified. In these instances, the plots were simply resold and new coffins were placed among whatever might remain from previous burials.

When the cemetery became too full for any further occupants, the townsfolk decided to begin adding fresh graves directly over previous ones. This continued until public outcry ended the practice in 1857.

The tombs in the back of the cemetery all have stairs leading down to underground crypts. According to local legends, hidden chambers and secret passages also exist beneath the cemetery. Some even say vampires reside down there someplace.

As one might expect, RavensBlight Cemetery is reputed to be haunted. Strange noises are often heard after dark, and odd lights are sometimes witnessed. Ghostly figures and unearthly creatures have been sighted, and there are stories of skeletons that rise from the ground and dance in the moonlight.

I was recently granted an interview with the Caretaker of RavensBlight Cemetery, Sheldon Harch. The following is a transcription of his comments.

Sorry bout not meetin up with ya before sundown. Ain't no rest fer the wicked. Hope ya took my advice and brung along a thermos of whiskey. Wouldn't want ya getting a chill. And I wouldn't mind a sip. All this caretakin's mighty thirsty work.

I don't guess this job's all that bad, but ya gotta get used to it. Took me a mighty long time to do that. The worst part? Oh, I dunno… I suppose cleanin up the crypts. See, the ground here's all fulla bones and remains. Folks is packed in mighty tight. And them crypts, they didn't dig 'em deep enough. So when it gets wet and rainy, sometimes them coffins what's up above the crypts, well they just fall right down through the ceiling and make an awful mess down there. And I don't much like bein down in them crypts, anyhow. The dark ain't right.

Gets spooky at night sometimes, too. All them ghosts and spirits they say haunt the place, that's all true. Most of 'em don't mean no harm, the ground's just too full so they don't got nowhere to rest. But there's a few what's just plain angry. And then there's Regina, but I don't wanna talk none about her.

Truth is, it ain't the people buried here I worry about. It's them things what come through sometimes. I dunno what they want but sometimes there's a whole lot of 'em. I keep an eye on 'em, best I can. But I'm getting old and I dunno what's gonna happen once I ain't here no more to keep a watch over things.

Well, It's getting late. You might wanna head on back into town. I'll take another sip of that whiskey if ya don't mind too much. I gotta walk home and that's might thirsty work. Ain't no rest fer the wicked.

(At this point I handed Sheldon my thermos. I glanced down to return my recorder to my coat pocket. When I glanced back up, Sheldon Harch was gone. My empty thermos was sitting beside a headstone, the name on the stone having long since been erased by time.)