It was May 5th of last year when I was at my grandparents home in upstate New York. They live in a small town that use to be a farm area so there's several open fields. One being about half a mile away from the house, and when I was younger my brother always told me never to go into that field because it was haunted. I had no reason to believe him, even when my grandpa said he was right. Never the less, I never went anywhere near the field, only because I didn't have a reason to.
Anyways, I went out with a girl who lives in the town on the night of the fifth, and we stayed out late. I ended up walking home in the dark, but with the street lights I figured it didn't matter. Then, with my luck, a downpour started, but my grandparents house was in sight, from across the field that is. I didn't have a second thought about any curses or stories about it, I kicked off my sandals and began to run across the field barefoot (it was easier to run barefoot than with those sandals on). It was wet and muddy, but I was only concerned with getting to the house.
I was about half way across the field, when I felt something wrap around my ankles, which tugged and then pulled me to the muddy ground. At first I thought I had tripped, but there were no plants or anything to trip on, and I was wearing shorts so I could not have tripped on my clothing. Not really caring, I got back up and continued running. But only a few yards later, I was pulled back into the mud. This time, before getting up, I flipped onto my back and saw a figure standing over head of me.
Thinking it was a neighbor, I reached forward hoping I'd get assistance with standing up. But my hand went right through the figure. It wasn't a figment of my imagination, I know I saw something there. Screaming, at least I think I was, I got up and ran faster than I had before. I was tripped three more times before finally making it to the house.
After getting a shower, I approached my grandpa, wanting to know the truth, and not myths that my brother would tell me. He said that on May 5th, Cinco De Mayo, decades ago some teenagers were hanging out in the field when one of their friends when insane and stabbed them to death, all of them. People who pass by, or live, in the town hear the story and choose to stay off the field, because they believe the spirts are there all throughout the month of May, at night of course. And I was running through it the anniversary of their death.
The next day, in broad daylight with my cousin, we carefully walked through the field, trying to find anything that could explain what happened the night before. There were body marks from where I fell, and footprints that resembled my bare feet that were now dried into dirt. But that was it.
We searched the entire field, those were the only evidence of someone being there. As for the figure I saw, no evidence, nothing. She thought I was crazy, and was clumsy enough to just trip. But that wouldn't explain the red marks around my ankles that appeared that day. The ones in the form of hand marks.
Either the Cinco De May field curse is true, or...well, that's the only conclusion I can get to.