Not far from my dad's haunted farmhouse is an isolated place that all the locals refer to as "The Baby Graves". If you look into it at all, though you'll find out that it is infact the former cemetery for the town. They stopped using it back inthe 1910s, and the only tombstone that remains there (do to vadalism, of course) is that of a baby. Hence, "The Baby Graves".

Anyways, me and some friends decided to go check it out one night, but we couldn't find the entrance. So I got out of the car and walked down the side of the road while the others followed in a car. I was looking at the trees, trying to find the entrance. I looked down for I one second and... no lies here guys... I heard a baby cry. I looked up, in shock, and there was the entrance. And what an entrance. Talk about some horror movie stuff. There it was, a weatherd, broken down wooden gate, the trees curved above it like some creepy gothic arch.

Reluctantly, but still curious and a little excited, we agreed to go in. Thank goodness for flashlights! To tell the truth there was nothing special to look at inside, just the remains of some broken tombstones. But the trees here seemed just a bit more twisted, a bit darker, a bit more sinister. It felt like you were inside of a building, the oddly shaped trees forming the vaulted ceilings.

Finally, we all gathered around the only remaining tombstone.

"Our Little Darling
Volkmar Belack
May 1910 - September 1912"

I convinced the others to turn of their flashlights, and for us to just stand in the silence and darkness. There we stood, with absoluetly nothing happening for about 5 minutes. Suddenly there was a drop in temperature. It felt like walking into a meat cooler, and this was on a warm summer evening. I didn't want to ruin the moment, so I didn't say anything. One of the other fellows spoke up...

"Did it just get colder? Like, really cold?"

And that was enough for us. We hightailed it back to the car, broke the limit back to town, and spent the rest of the night in my house with every light turned on.