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.
Submitted From: