Today, still moving away from Green Lawn, however briefly, I’d like to tell you guys a ghost story! Well, it is my department. I wouldn’t want to disappoint my fans. So here’s a little ghost story about Clark Road in Urbana, Champaign County, Ohio.

Once upon a time, there was a guy, and even though his name was not Jack (I don’t think), he built a house – a beautiful house in the country where he intended to live with his wife and children. Stop me if you’ve heard this one before Or just go watch The Haunting.

Anyway, while he was building the house or shortly after finishing it, his wife and children died in a train accident. En route? I don’t know–if they were, that really smacks of The Haunting, so I’m inclined to say forget that thread. Who was he? Did he really exist? At the moment, I don’t know, but I promise the Headstoners will return to this topic to let you know the truth on the subject. Right now, the truth is off-topic. What’s on topic is the house that the guy who wasn’t Jack built.

Hell House

Satan's Piggies

After the death of his wife and children, the builder of the house set his work on fire and hanged himself from the oak tree in his front yard. However, though he died, the house itself mysteriously did not burn down. It exhibited charring, and yet continued to stand for an indeterminate amount of time. That wasn’t the place’s only mystery–website lore maintained that the suicide’s body could be seen, occasionally, at night, hanging from a branch of the tree that hung over the road, though by the time my fellow headstoner and I made it there to see, the tree had no branches hanging over the road. The house itself was not actually abandoned and appeared to be in use . . . as a barn. A few cute little pigs came out to greet us when we drove by, but we didn’t stay long enough to figure out who might belong to them. Who the heck uses a haunted/abandoned house for a barn?! (There was a cow hanging around, too.)

Still, that was in 2005. Today, Hell House no longer exists, having been demolished by its owners who apparently decided to invest in a proper barn. However, our Clark Road explorations revealed something that we may not have have discovered otherwise: a place we rather fondly nicknamed Hell Cemetery in honor of Hell House.

"Hell" Cemetery from the Road

Of course, this charming little place doesn’t deserve the epitaph of Hell. It is actually the Kingscreek Methodist Episcopal Cemetery, and it is a very well-kept place with a number of old and rather curious graves. It is located exactly on the corner of Clark and East Herr Road. If you are driving south on Route 68, Herr is on your left about 5.9 miles south of the Shell station in West Liberty, and the cemetery itself is on the intersection, like a half mile down Herr.

On Friday, I was taking my neice around, and, as I am training her well, she asked if there were any nearby cemeteries we could go check out. Since we only had about an hour, I volunteered this one. It was twenty degrees out, which my camera didn’t enjoy any too much, but as it was the first time I had ever set foot on the turf of this new graveyard, it was a memorable occasion worthy of note.

First of all, the cemetery is located right off that intersection there and is surrounded by cornfields, so if you want to go in, you’ve got to park in the ditch. There’s not a lot of traffic through here, but the roads are narrow and chock full of blind spots. Still, you should be okay. Access is provided through a little gate on the south edge, nearest to Clark Rd.

Although the cold prevented me from really enjoying the stay, I did notice a few impressions, first of all being that is is a highly seventeenth century burial ground, with a lot of the easily eroded sandstone monuments. Still, most of them are actually in quite good shape. I was curious/puzzled by the proximity of these four to each other under this tree, since it’s highly unlikely they’re all buried that close together. The one on the far right, if you can see it, has a masonic symbol.

Generally speaking, a lot of open space, but a decent size. One interesing stone I saw was dedicated to the memory of Philander R., who died at age 14 or age 11–it was hard to tell. Q: What the heck was with people naming their children “Philander”? It’s not really a positive name!

The cemetery is also in remarkably good condition, well-maintained. It isn’t a private lot, so if you’d like to visit, it’s not like some shotgun-toting hick is going to tell you to clear out (unlike what probably would have happened if you had tried to visit Hell House back in the day).

So that was my cemetery adventure from last week. Hopefully someday, I’ll be able to tell you more about the man who built Hell House and maybe bust that ghost story, too. Until next time, stay alive, or at least be dead and interesting!