creepy: leave her alone!

Do you recognize the term FOSDIC? If so, you must be a fan of Battle of the Planets. It’s a robotic part which 7-Zark-7 references often, and one day as I was driving, I noticed a headstone in the cemetery that said “Willard Fosdick.”

A friend was compiling pictures of “Gatchaman In Real Life” so my antennae went up. It was on October 2nd that I managed to bring the camera in the car with me to get a picture after I returned from daily Mass (for the feast of the guardian angels, but this has nothing to do with angels. I just suspect what happened next happened at all because I was “thinking spiritual”.)

It was just me and two-year-old Kiddo#2 in the car. I went to the cemetery and pulled into the side entrance.

I’m good with directions. The reason I post here about getting lost sometimes is that it happens so rarely. If I’ve been somewhere once, even five years ago, I can get there again. This cemetery was laid out with a circumferential road and an inner circle, with two lines like a plus sign intersecting at the center. It shouldn’t have been too tough to navigate, right?

As soon as I entered the cemetery, I got lost.

My first instinct was to freeze, but I kept driving, found the inner circle, and figured out by logic which direction I needed to go. And eventually, I got there. It made sense that I should: This cemetery isn’t all that big, by the way. If it’s a quarter mile in length and half a mile in depth, that’s a generous assessment. It’s bordered on the one side by one of the largest streets in Angeltown, and I could see it from the center of the cemetery.

I got out of the car, picked up Kiddo#2, and found Willard Fosdick’s grave. After I snapped a picture, I looked to the side, and there was an empty or unmarked grave, and on the other side, Joanna Fosdic, daughter of William and Lydia Fosdick, died age 21.

Cool: two for the price of one. I walked past the unmarked grave and set Kiddo#2 down at my feet to snap the second picture.

As soon as I did, my camera began a distressed beeping. It beeped for five seconds and then shut down.

I’d owned the camera for two years, and it had never done that before. Since then, I don’t believe it’s ever done it again except when I’ve tried to start it with the lens cap on. Clearly a “problem” sound. 

And there I stood, dead camera in hand, and I realized how silent it was. How utterly silent. There I stood, my back to the busiest road in Angeltown, and I couldn’t hear a single car. No birds. No nothing. Just me, standing there with my daughter at my leg, the sun at my back casting sharp shadows on the ground, a gravestone, and a shut-down camera.

Without moving, I slipped my finger back to the dial, turned off the camera, and turned it back on. Then, not moving at all, I quietly raised the camera and re-took the picture. This time, it took.

I lifted Kiddo#2 without a word and went around the other side of the gravestones back toward my vehicle, still wrapped in utter silence, and as I walked, I thought, “There’s no way that car is going to start.”

But it did start, and as soon as I could get it moving, I got lost again inside the cemetery. I had to double-back along the circumferential road in order to find the exit. When I got home, although I’d taken three pictures, only two were on the camera.

I analyzed the pictures for anything that might make them a “ghost photo,” but it turned up nothing.

After that, whenever I passed the cemetery, I would pray. I figured, if Willard and Joanna needed prayers, it couldn’t hurt. Or if that unmarked grave in the middle were  perhaps Lydia, Joanna’s mother, maybe Lydia felt I shouldn’t have been taking a picture of her daughter. Regardless, I prayed for them. 

One more story bears noting. My children love the Music Together albums. There’s one song where the singers imitate a train whistle, and I love the way they harmonize. One day, as we sat at the red light nearest the cemetery, the train whistle part played, and I suddenly had an eerie feeling, a watched feeling. A ghostly feeling.

Behind me, Kiddo#1, who is a very practical geek-type personality, said to me, “That sounds like a ghost whistle.”

Then the light changed, and we moved on. Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and may perpetual light shine upon them.


  1. Pingback: Three creepy stories « Seven angels, four kids, one family

  2. Capt Cardor

    Al Capp, who was the creator of the L’il Abner comic strip also drew a character called Fearless Fosdick. He was a hilarious police officer who was honest to the point of total gullibility.

    Here is the best website for Al Capp.

  3. Denise Homer

    Willard and Joanna Fosdick are my ancestors! Did the picture turn out?

    1. philangelus

      Wow, that’s amazing! I don’t know if I deleted the two pictures, but if I still have them, I will email them to you. (I can see your email address on the comment.)

      Can you solve the mystery of the empty space between the gravestones?

      I prayed for them every time I passed that intersection for a year or longer. 🙂