My name is Stacy and I was sixteen at the time that my friends and I had the Halloween Party in the cemetery of the Hills in West Virginia.
I’m not certain but I recall the cemetery’s name was Webb. We rode the ridges on four-wheelers and jeeps and found the most secluded scary one. There was about ten of us but by the end of the night, there were only three. We arrived and unloaded our coolers, boom boxes, pizza, and lanterns. Dallas started the music and we all started dancing and drinking (No, I didn’t drink one cup).
I was dancing with John when Kelli screamed, we all looked toward the screams and some black looking figure was rising from the grave. We all scattered around in a hurry as the black figure arose. John grabbed my hand and jerked me toward his jeep. Stephanie was on my heels but I heard hit the ground and I spun around and saw the black figure through the cemetery. Us three were the only ones that made it out of that cemetery. The cops showed up and found nothing out there but coolers. We never saw those kids again. The 7 kids were never found.
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