Last August, I took a trip over to Gettysburg, Pensylvannia for the third time solely because I’m absolutely in love with the environment up there. It’s a quiet, peaceful area and, despite its bloody history, it always seems to ground me and bring me a sense of calmness I can’t usually get at home. Each time I travel there, my morbid sense of curiosity has me pressing the world for answers, and while I’m taking in the real history of the landscape, I’m also determined to find something odd, unusual, or unexplainable in some way. However, each time I’ve gone in with this mindset, I’ve ultimately went home with nothing. It wasn’t until one summer ago that that mindset changed, which in turn gave me something to remember that I don’t think I could ever forget.
It was a very dreary, muggy, and wet day. Even heading up there in the silver van with my grandfather and uncle wasn’t the clearest I’d ever seen it. It was a two hour drive, nearly two and a half, to the historic town from our spot in South Jersey, and after listening to my grandfather’s same old spiel about the battles that took place up in the vast fields we were going to see I had decided to put in my earbuds and listen to some music for the rest of the way, staring out the window at the passing trees the whole time, as moody teenagers usually do.
I’d gotten a new camera earlier in the year for my winter birthday, so I was excited to bring it on over to Gettysburg to get some nice shots of the fields, flowers, and statues. I actually did manage to go home with some awesome close-up pictures that I still cherish today. Some of them were so solemn and dreary looking that it was almost eerie. There was nothing wrong with this camera, aside from the fact that there was a little black spot on the lens that would leave a dot on every picture I took, but it only became visible when I took a picture of the sky or one of my family members.
When we finally got to Gettysburg, I remember stepping out of the car into the parking lot of the small building that provided Gettysburg merchandise, ghost tour sign-ups, and bus tours. We entered the building to browse, as well as to take a bathroom break after the long drive, and when we’d finished we left the building and boarded the bus that would take us on a tour of the surrounding area, including many of the popular locations onsite. One of the areas that was part of our tour lineup for the day was Little Roundtop, the area atop the cliff that overlooked a vast battleground that had served as the site for a massacre of Confederate soldiers as they attempted to storm the Union that waited overhead.
I’d been to Little Roundtop a couple times before, and it never seemed to change. It was a moderate drive through the woods and past the memorials that lined the dirt road up the mountain, and at the top was a shorter path that led to the cliffside. Upon climbing up to the very top, the view was absolutely breathtaking. It gave an overlook of the battlefield and the land beyond, as well as one of the other notable sections of the place called Devil’s Den, infamous for the body of a rebel sharpshooter discovered between its rocks. Both Little Roundtop and Devil’s Den were remarkably addressed as two of the most active, or, rather, haunted, areas of both the town and battlefield combined, but no matter how many times I’d been to either, I could never manage to snag something very memorable, aside from a photograph or a soft, warm summer sunset. It was no surprise that I planned for the same result on a rainy, gray bus tour.
Hopping out of the bus as it parked on the mountain for its passengers to go view what they’d just heard about through their tour headsets, I took my camera and followed my grandfather and uncle up to the cliff. I’d heard ghost stories about cameras suddenly refusing to work after having been fine a couple minutes ago and then being fine again after coming down from the mountain, but none of that had ever happened to me up there, so I wasn’t worried. The only thing that actually unnerved me about Little Roundtop was the height and the sudden, steep drop down the sides. I usually kept my distance from the edge, being more afraid of heights than of finding something strange, although that was a close second. Even though I feared a frightening outcome, I longed for it — even lusted for it. As a maturing teenager with a runaway mind, I desired something to satisfy and appease my want for validation of the weird theories I had racing through my head. I just needed some kind of sign to prove it. As it turned out, this sad, cloudy day that was the reason my shorts were all wet would be just that, and it was something that truly shook me to my core.
I went on my way, making my way up to the top much faster than the other two in my party, since I had much younger legs and energy to accompany them. I was eager to feel the cool summer breeze against my face to distract me from the humid Gettysburg air yet again, and I got what I’d bargained for. I breathed it in and let it welcome me home. In that moment, I was King of the World, or Queen of the World if you want to be picky, until my anxieties returned and told me I should probably watch the ledge so I don’t end up as part of the town’s body count. I took off to the stone structure that sat beside the memorial for a fallen soldier, and I climbed the steps and gazed out at the world below me like a young, eager child taking a plane for the first time. After the friendly reminders to be careful by my family from underneath me, I decided I was done and descended the rock steps. Once more on the ground, I snapped a couple more pictures and chose to throw in the towel. It was time to return to the tour bus, so my family members and I did just that.
We started moving down toward the dirt path to find our way back to the bus, when my grandfather and my uncle stopped along the side of the path to converse. I was patient, but I was also having fun taking photos, so I snapped a final one of the path right before we went back down to get on the bus. It wasn’t until we were seated and situated that I checked the photos I had taken, and when I saw the last one my heart lurched in my chest.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Moreover, I had absolutely no idea what I was seeing. I’d been into the paranormal beforehand, obviously, so I knew about orbs and spirit energy, but I’d never seen anything like that. The picture was a normal picture of a path, except it was thrown off by two bright balls of light. The first ball of light, the one in the front, looked to be caught while in motion. On the other hand, the second one was further back and it seemed to have a sort of fog or mist around it. Everyone in the picture was completely oblivious as to what was around them. I was astounded. I considered every explanation, though my mind had immediately jumped to something paranormal. There was no sun, which meant there was no glare. There were no artificial lights, there were no cars visible through the thick trees that led down to the dirt road, and nobody was waving around a phone or a flashlight. I had no idea what to do. I was in total awe. This was the validation I’d needed. Even better, this gave me physical proof that there was something more happening than we could see. Whether or not other people would believe it, I didn’t care. I had what I needed and I was set. The first thing I wanted to do was tell everyone. So, being an overly excited teenage girl, that was the first thing I did.
I showed my grandfather, and he’d never seen anything like it. He was one who believed in ghost stories, but he was harder to prove things to. To this day, he’s just as impressed and taken aback as I am over the whole incident. I sent the picture to my friends and to my other family members, specifically my mother and my sister who had had a couple paranormal experiences of their own. None of them could find enough words to express their amazement and shock, nor could any of them find a different explanation for it. I went home that day feeling the most content I’d ever felt leaving Gettysburg. I immediately saved the photo to every device I could manage, for the purpose of both having a backup and trying to zoom in and get the closest look possible.
Even now, one year later, it’s one of my prized possessions that I love to share with others, whether they believe that it’s real or not. Without a shadow of a doubt, it’s something that will stay with me until I die. It’s enough proof for me that in a world so big and unfamiliar, there’s so much more than what meets the eye.
It was a very dreary, muggy, and wet day. Even heading up there in the silver van with my grandfather and uncle wasn’t the clearest I’d ever seen it. It was a two hour drive, nearly two and a half, to the historic town from our spot in South Jersey, and after listening to my grandfather’s same old spiel about the battles that took place up in the vast fields we were going to see I had decided to put in my earbuds and listen to some music for the rest of the way, staring out the window at the passing trees the whole time, as moody teenagers usually do.
I’d gotten a new camera earlier in the year for my winter birthday, so I was excited to bring it on over to Gettysburg to get some nice shots of the fields, flowers, and statues. I actually did manage to go home with some awesome close-up pictures that I still cherish today. Some of them were so solemn and dreary looking that it was almost eerie. There was nothing wrong with this camera, aside from the fact that there was a little black spot on the lens that would leave a dot on every picture I took, but it only became visible when I took a picture of the sky or one of my family members.
When we finally got to Gettysburg, I remember stepping out of the car into the parking lot of the small building that provided Gettysburg merchandise, ghost tour sign-ups, and bus tours. We entered the building to browse, as well as to take a bathroom break after the long drive, and when we’d finished we left the building and boarded the bus that would take us on a tour of the surrounding area, including many of the popular locations onsite. One of the areas that was part of our tour lineup for the day was Little Roundtop, the area atop the cliff that overlooked a vast battleground that had served as the site for a massacre of Confederate soldiers as they attempted to storm the Union that waited overhead.
I’d been to Little Roundtop a couple times before, and it never seemed to change. It was a moderate drive through the woods and past the memorials that lined the dirt road up the mountain, and at the top was a shorter path that led to the cliffside. Upon climbing up to the very top, the view was absolutely breathtaking. It gave an overlook of the battlefield and the land beyond, as well as one of the other notable sections of the place called Devil’s Den, infamous for the body of a rebel sharpshooter discovered between its rocks. Both Little Roundtop and Devil’s Den were remarkably addressed as two of the most active, or, rather, haunted, areas of both the town and battlefield combined, but no matter how many times I’d been to either, I could never manage to snag something very memorable, aside from a photograph or a soft, warm summer sunset. It was no surprise that I planned for the same result on a rainy, gray bus tour.
Hopping out of the bus as it parked on the mountain for its passengers to go view what they’d just heard about through their tour headsets, I took my camera and followed my grandfather and uncle up to the cliff. I’d heard ghost stories about cameras suddenly refusing to work after having been fine a couple minutes ago and then being fine again after coming down from the mountain, but none of that had ever happened to me up there, so I wasn’t worried. The only thing that actually unnerved me about Little Roundtop was the height and the sudden, steep drop down the sides. I usually kept my distance from the edge, being more afraid of heights than of finding something strange, although that was a close second. Even though I feared a frightening outcome, I longed for it — even lusted for it. As a maturing teenager with a runaway mind, I desired something to satisfy and appease my want for validation of the weird theories I had racing through my head. I just needed some kind of sign to prove it. As it turned out, this sad, cloudy day that was the reason my shorts were all wet would be just that, and it was something that truly shook me to my core.
I went on my way, making my way up to the top much faster than the other two in my party, since I had much younger legs and energy to accompany them. I was eager to feel the cool summer breeze against my face to distract me from the humid Gettysburg air yet again, and I got what I’d bargained for. I breathed it in and let it welcome me home. In that moment, I was King of the World, or Queen of the World if you want to be picky, until my anxieties returned and told me I should probably watch the ledge so I don’t end up as part of the town’s body count. I took off to the stone structure that sat beside the memorial for a fallen soldier, and I climbed the steps and gazed out at the world below me like a young, eager child taking a plane for the first time. After the friendly reminders to be careful by my family from underneath me, I decided I was done and descended the rock steps. Once more on the ground, I snapped a couple more pictures and chose to throw in the towel. It was time to return to the tour bus, so my family members and I did just that.
We started moving down toward the dirt path to find our way back to the bus, when my grandfather and my uncle stopped along the side of the path to converse. I was patient, but I was also having fun taking photos, so I snapped a final one of the path right before we went back down to get on the bus. It wasn’t until we were seated and situated that I checked the photos I had taken, and when I saw the last one my heart lurched in my chest.
I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Moreover, I had absolutely no idea what I was seeing. I’d been into the paranormal beforehand, obviously, so I knew about orbs and spirit energy, but I’d never seen anything like that. The picture was a normal picture of a path, except it was thrown off by two bright balls of light. The first ball of light, the one in the front, looked to be caught while in motion. On the other hand, the second one was further back and it seemed to have a sort of fog or mist around it. Everyone in the picture was completely oblivious as to what was around them. I was astounded. I considered every explanation, though my mind had immediately jumped to something paranormal. There was no sun, which meant there was no glare. There were no artificial lights, there were no cars visible through the thick trees that led down to the dirt road, and nobody was waving around a phone or a flashlight. I had no idea what to do. I was in total awe. This was the validation I’d needed. Even better, this gave me physical proof that there was something more happening than we could see. Whether or not other people would believe it, I didn’t care. I had what I needed and I was set. The first thing I wanted to do was tell everyone. So, being an overly excited teenage girl, that was the first thing I did.
I showed my grandfather, and he’d never seen anything like it. He was one who believed in ghost stories, but he was harder to prove things to. To this day, he’s just as impressed and taken aback as I am over the whole incident. I sent the picture to my friends and to my other family members, specifically my mother and my sister who had had a couple paranormal experiences of their own. None of them could find enough words to express their amazement and shock, nor could any of them find a different explanation for it. I went home that day feeling the most content I’d ever felt leaving Gettysburg. I immediately saved the photo to every device I could manage, for the purpose of both having a backup and trying to zoom in and get the closest look possible.
Even now, one year later, it’s one of my prized possessions that I love to share with others, whether they believe that it’s real or not. Without a shadow of a doubt, it’s something that will stay with me until I die. It’s enough proof for me that in a world so big and unfamiliar, there’s so much more than what meets the eye.
