When I was about 13, a friend and I spotted an old graveyard on a hilltop behind a newly build subdivision.
The subdivision was in east Independence called Salem East. We were of course curious about it so we set out on a small hike across a corn field, creek and cow pasture bound and determined to explore our new find.
When we finally reached the site, we found that it was a very small cemetery enclosed in a large fence that must have been at least 6 feet tall if not 8. It was padlocked so we had to climb the fence to gain entrance.
My friend started getting freaked out that we were going to get caught (even though we were in the middle of a cow pasture with no houses in sight) so she made me climb first. Almost as soon as I started to climb the fence, the wind started blowing. The higher I climbed, it seemed the stronger the wind got. Then as soon as my feet hit the soil on the other side, it stopped. It was if some unseen force was trying to keep me out.
Nothing happened when my friend climbed over, and nothing unusual happened after that either.
We picked up some of the gravestones that were overturned and arranged some of the toppled ones. Both of us were extremely moved by what had happened that day and we vowed never to return without flowers for the deceased.
To this day neither of us have been back to that cemetery, and I still vow never to return unless I bring flowers.
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