Storytime at the Point
Lisa, Kentucky, USA
When you're a college student attending a school in a small town, there's not always a plethora of amusements to be found. So, my friends and myself often go hiking in the surrounding mountains. One particular place we like to go is called Lookout Point. The Point used to be an old strip mine operation, but it has since been reclaimed and makes a good place to go hiking, camping, or just stargazing. The point itself is a huge natural overlook that looks out to the city on the left, and the mountainside on the the right.
One night, my friend Denice and I were there to see the stars and relax. It was a balmy night, and slightly windy. For some reason, I felt myself drawn to look off to the right, towards a certain spot in the trees. I felt the strangest tingling feeling, and I noticed the wind picked up considerably. I then noticed that my vision had begun to fade; I was no longer looking at the mountain, but seeing some kind of vision. I saw a beautiful woman, in flowing white clothing, with long, honey-colored hair. She smiled at me, and began to speak. As she spoke, I saw the story unfold like I was watching a movie. I saw a line of people carrying torches wind their way around one of the paths, moving towards the spot that had earlier grabbed my attention. I watched them form a circle, and two forms stepped forward. The two inside the circle, a woman and a man, lowered their hoods. The woman was the lady in front of me. I saw them link hands, and the circle around them began to chant. I then saw an older man in black robes step from behind the trees, holding a bow. He nocked an arrow, and fired, weeping as he did so. The first arrow struck the man in the chest, and he fell. Swiftly the man fired again, and the woman fell, also. I looked at my storyteller, and her robe was drenched with blood over the heart. Then the circle was broken, and the others came forward to take the bodies. I then saw them being wrapped in their cloaks, and carried away. Finishing the story, the woman smiled at me, and vanished. I turned to look at my friend in astonishment, ready to ask her if she had seen what I had seen. Her face was ashen. Before I could say anything she asked me if I was okay. I frowned, and asked her if she had seen the lady. Denice shook her head, and told me that I had suddenly started speaking, telling her the story I had watched. But she said my voice had changed, becoming softer, higher pitched, and that my words were very precise and clipped, almost British. I had even wept. I touched my face and found the tear tracks. Needless to say, we left soon after that.
I've been back to the Point many times after that, I've never again seen the lady in white.