Hello, my name is John*, im 19 years old and live in Hampton VA. In the past year and a half, through numerous trips I have gotten to know almost every inch of Crawford Rd in Yorktown VA. I know most of the stories involved with the old road. I am not a huge believer in ghosts. I do believe however that something just isn't right about this road.
Let me first begin with the layout of the road. It spans from Goosley Rd in Yorktown, where the road is spelled Crawford, to Newport News where it is Crafford. It is roughly 5 miles long. On the Yorktown side a bridge crosses over the road. On top of the bridge is a road that leads through a battlefield and the woods. This road is open during the day time for tourists. It is closed off at night and the only way to get up there at night is to climb the bridge.
I have been down this road at night more times than I can remember. On multiple occasions I have seen, and heard things that have scared me. Nowadays however, I take them with a grain of salt. We mainly go out there now, to scare our friends. But I digress. The purpose of this letter is to relate some of my experiences.
On my first trip to the road, as with the majority of our trips, I was riding in the back of my friend's truck. We stopped under the bridge and turned off the engine and lights and waited. We were coming from the Yorktown side, so looking behind us, the road kind of goes uphill, and curves to the right. We all dismount from the vehicle and walk around under the bridge for a bit, reading the grafitti and what not. We look back and straight back (not uphill) and to the left (from the woods) are a pair of lights coming toward us. Thinking at first they are headlights, we quickly jump back in the truck (almost losing someone trying to jump in the bed) and hightail it. We watch the lights come under the bridge. They were way too close to the side and caused no reflection to be a car. Myself, and two others in the bed of the truck are the only ones to notice this. The lights quickly catch up, and we realize that they are DEFINATELY not headlights, as there was no car behind them. They stay on our tail for about 1/4 of a mile and disappear. Not slow down, or turn around, they disappeared. Shortly after they were gone, we turned around and headed back. On the way a weird orange light passed through the cab of the truck, through the closed back window, and between my friend and I. It drifted off into the woods. Nobody said anything for a minute, because we all thought we were seeing things. When my friend asked if I had just saw something, I asked "You mean that little orange ball thing?" He simply nodded and we both laughed. We get back to the bridge and found no traces of the lights. Knowing there was no place to turn around before the spot we had turned around at, we were all shaken. But we had accomplished our goal. We had gone out there, hoping to see something spooky, and we had done just that.
On another trip, the same group of us went back out. This time we were ready. Armed with nothing but our "courage" we headed back to the dark bridge. Now, when I say courage, I mean that teenage "I ain't afraid of nothing" courage. You know....the fake kind teenagers use to try and impress girls. Anyways, when we got to the bridge myself and the same two friends that rode in the back with me the previous time, climbed up on the bridge. We were up their for about 5 minutes and were about to climb back down when one of my friends pointed out a white "thing" down to the road. We watched it for about 5 more minutes. We realized it was moving as it got closer to us. It started to move in and out of the tree line. When it got within about 100 ft of us, we all lost our nerve and bolted down off the bridge. We jumped back in the truck and left.
Now, like I said before, most of our trips nowadays are to scare our friends. One of the guys who rode in the back of the truck with me, and another, who is the driver go out, with new people every few weeks or so, to scare them. We no longer fear the bridge or any "spirits" that may dwell there. But on one, very memorable occasion, we parked under the bridge. I was, as usual in the back of the truck. We sat there about 10 minutes. For some reason I got a chill. Now, this was just last month, in July. It was about 80 degrees outside. Suddenly we heard a loud thump on the roof of the truck. I glanced up and saw nothing but I could still hear a rubbing sound on the roof. We left quickly, not knowing what was going on. When we arrived back at my sister's apartment, we check the roof and found two large dents and long rub marks on the roof. It was as if someone fell fromt he bridge, hit the roof of our truck and dangled there. Needless to say, we dont park in the same spot under the bridge anymore.
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