Lost in the Woods

There is an old myth that those who's bodies remain unburied are doomed to wander the limbo between the world of matter and the world of the spirit. I can tell you, from experience, that those of us who lie in unmarked graves suffer the same fate. I am one of fifty boys lost in the woods of matter, unable to ascend into the next world because my body lays in an unmarked grave.

My story began innocently, I had just turned thirteen and I was angry with my parents because they would not let me go out with my friends and stay up after midnight. So I ran away from home, in order to get as far from my parents as possible, I stole a car. For this infraction, I was sent to the House of Horrors reform school. That was not the name of the school, but that is what it was to us; to the eighty-one students who died after being dragged to the square white cinder block building we called The White House.

There are thirty-one white crosses in the reform school cemetery that mark the graves of those fortunate enough to be remembered. I am one of the forgotten. I am one of the missing. My body dumped in an unmarked grave. My soul consigned to wander aimlessly, never to find rest or honor; never to join my parents or sibling in the after life.

I haunt the grounds where my bruised body lays. The reform school is closed, but my body remains undiscovered. Everyday I try to contact the living who walk through or past the cemetery. Evey night, I howl my terror to the wind, hoping someone will hear my cries and search for my grave. All I want is a white cross to mark my final resting place so that my soul can ascend into the next world. I do not want to spend eternity roaming between matter and spirit, unable to find the rest my soul so desperately desires.