Our guide gave us a standard welcome with his name—Jeremy—and some general information about him. A tourist who came here ten years ago and decided never to leave. “Charleston is one of the most haunted cities in America. Pirates, plague, and soldiers have rattled our streets since before our great country’s founding.”
“See?” I said and jabbed my elbow into Dane’s rib cage.
We began walking with our guide describing certain old buildings as we walked past them. The group gave the appropriate oohs and ahhs.
“Ahead, we’re going to pass by the Old Exchange and Provost Dungeon.” We walked another block and stopped in front of a huge, tan-colored building with white trim. It was pretty impressive. “The exchange is now a National Historic Landmark. It served as a British prison during the Revolutionary War. The underground dungeon housed war POWs, criminals, and even pirates. Some say Blackbeard and Stede Bonnet were both residents. Stories of prison suffering started right after and have continued until today. Listen closely and see if you notice any of their screams.”
“Really, princess?” Dale whispered as the rest of us leaned closer to hear the screams.
I smacked the back of my hand against his muscular chest. “Have a little fun in your life, D-dog.”
We both crinkled our noses at the name. I’d been trying to come up with something to call him since he’d first called me princess but hadn’t found just the right—most annoying—nickname.
After a few minutes, we carried on with the tour, turning down another street.
“Why this tour?” Dane asked as our group stopped to look at another building where someone had died and probably left behind a ghost. “This is the tour Will gave.”
We pretended to listen to the speech from Jeremy about our new location.
“This exact one?” Dane whispered.
The mother of the family behind us scowled. She needed to chill. Half the neighborhood could hear Jeremy. “Yes. Not only did he lead it, but he researched the spots and wrote the entire script.”
He had an entire write-up about his contributions on the company website, where you purchased tickets for this tour. It hadn’t mentioned his recent death.
“On our next stop, you’ll see on the left the Unitarian Graveyard.” We stopped, and my mouth fell open at the sight.
“Wow,” I said as Dane and I looked on at the casual rows of headstones. “This is actually spooky.”
The graveyard gave off an eerie glow. It felt like you were looking into another world. A quiet, heavy one from an ancient time. Spanish moss hung from the trees, embracing the graveyard as if they were curtains meant to keep our sights out.
“You mean freaky,” Dane whispered.
Jeremy walked in front of our group and then to the side to get out of our way. “The church associated with this graveyard dates back to 1772, making it the oldest Unitarian church in the South. Older than our country.”
Many of the old worn headstones leaned with age. They were half-swallowed by shadows and moss as if time was slowly reclaiming them. Moonlight filtered through the openings between the black iron fences, their presence an eerie promise to keep the spirits safe in their domain away from the living.
“Many people find this graveyard to be the most terrifying in the city. And many more claim the ghost of Annabel Lee lives here. Some historians claim she’s the subject of Edgar Allan Poe’s poem of the same namesake. He was stationed here in 1827.”
I leaned forward to listen better when the rest of our group did, too. “This is good stuff.”
“Edgar fell for a local woman. He was an eighteen-year-old soldier. She was only fourteen years old and betrothed to someone else. The families worked to keep them separated, but the couple took to clandestine meetings in this very cemetery.”
The story continued with mentions of vengeful fathers, heart-stricken lovers, and eventually death. My gaze ran over the various headstones trying to find Anna’s with no such luck.
“Do you notice how the air was thicker here?” Jeremy asked, and many of those around us nodded. “Some say they hear footsteps and strange echoes. Locals say spirits still wander the paths with Anna.”
Jeremy gave us time to look around the graveyard from our safe location on the other side of the borders, but I had more important things to discuss. His friend.
“Hey, is the whole story about Poe true?” I asked as we approached him at the far end of the group.
Jeremy smiled and nodded. “Every bit. Confirmed by a local historian.”
“But like,” I paused for effect, “a trustworthy historian?”
“Absolutely, and someone I considered a best friend.” Jeremy moved to the side to give a better spot to one couple on the tour.
I raised my eyebrows, pretending to be shocked by this knowledge. “Wow, that’s so cool. We’re here doing research about the city. Do you think we could meet with them?”
