Tales From the Outer Limits

Was The Mysterious Woman Meant to Harm or To Save Me?

I met a woman who led me, never spoke, and later disappeared into the cemetery and was gone

Disclaimer — Gee is not a man prone to histrionics, according to him, there is a higher being, but as far as he is concerned, dead=dead, and there are no ghosts, no spirits, and no afterlife. The story below is his story as told to me. He told me his story when we first met, and it has never changed. I wanted to record it directly from him for you.

I write this story from his point of view, these are his words, as obviously I am not a man😏 .

The Anticipation

I met a mysterious woman one dark night in Highland Park in the East New York section of Brooklyn, the year was 1991.

I was a young man of about 23 years at the time.

It was a Saturday night, and I was on the prowl.

On this particular night, I had no firm plans.

Earlier that day, I had been flirting with the hairdresser who worked at my friend’s shop.

Back then I always kept a hospital blanket in the trunk. I used it to sit in the park during the day to study and for sordid nights such as the one about to go down tonight.

After the shop closed, I pick up some beer, cheap was what I could afford at the time. Old English 800 and we headed for the park.

I chose this park because it housed several large old trees and was dark and secluded.

If only these trees could speak, oh the things they would say.

Several cemeteries surrounded the park.

More than 14 cemeteries at last count!

I loved its mystical quality.

Due to my frequent visits, I was aware that many ceremonial activities were done in that park, as I had seen the leftover evidence of blood and dead animals.

And I was young and naive and wanted to witness a ceremony for myself.

Mysterious

The park was secluded and dark at night.

There were whispers of a dark history that kept the residents scared of the Brujeria and the Santeria practitioners who reportedly claimed this park at night for their nefarious practices.

I never believed in such things and was always intrigued by the park because of the spiritual works practiced there, as well as the huge ancient trees that I have sure housed many secrets.

Therefore, I returned to the park, again and again hoping to witness something…

It was common to see a chicken, and a number of altars marred with red color and the earthy mineral scent of blood along with photographs of the unlucky soul that requested a boon or had erred.

The altars were also decorated with a variety of colored candles.

I had even once found a goat’s head.

The spiritual practices never had the power to scare me, and I frequented the space with my own nefarious activities in mind.

Hanky panky

On this particularly hot and humid August night, the moon was full and high in the sky when I arrived with Lynette (name changed) in tow. Along with me were the cheap beers and something wicked on my mind.

We walked about 1/8 of a mile into the park and stopped at one of the darker spots.

Out came the blanket and the drinking commenced. Things quickly progressed to fondling. Pretty quickly, Lynette’s lower garments were already at mid-thigh, and I was actively moving them further south.

At this point, I began pondering whether the alcohol was having some effect on Lynette as she seemed really down for the rendezvous.

I knew Lynette had always had a thing for me, and I was confident this was what she always wanted. She had all but told me in words.

Approximately two minutes into the foreplay, Lynette noticed a fire in the distance. She also noticed the dark outline of figures, though no detail could be observed.

She asked, “What the hell are those people doing here?”

I then asked her to come with me closer to the fire. She said, “Hell no!” I want to go home.

I tried convincing her to stay, but she quickly told me she was not that drunk, and that she wanted to go home.

I was a little disappointed, but a more pressing emotion began surfacing…excitement. This was what I always hoped to witness. A Santeria in progress.

I quickly shuffled Lynette off to my gold IROC Z28 with the T-top still open and hightailed it to her house. As soon as she was out of the car, my tires screeched loudly on the hot Brooklyn gravel as I made my way back to Highland Park.

It was as if I was being summoned there.

The Mysterious Lady in White

I again entered as before and used the cloak of the huge old trees to stealthily creep my way over to the fiery action.

Now I could see outlines. Everyone wore a hooded cloak, and they were all crouched around the fire.

None of their faces were discernible!

Whatever they were doing, was being done very quietly.

I must have been watching for about 2 minutes, I am not sure, but I do not know if I stepped on a stick or caught someone’s attention because the one who appeared to be the leader, glanced toward my direction.

I quickly pulled even further into the dark of the huge tree.

My heart began pounding and for the first time, fear began displacing my curiosity.

After another minute, I could hear voices talking, it was hushed tones. I speak Spanish so I recognized the language, but I could not make out exactly what was being said.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something.

And there she was.

She seemed to appear out of thin air, gliding towards me.

She was young, she was beautiful, and she was dressed in white.

What I recall most about her was her dress — a pure white lacy number. I felt an instant attraction.

I reached out, grabbed her hand, and pulled her with me behind the trees.

Her hands were cold!

In hushed tones, I warned her that those people over there looked kind of dangerous.

But I was also thinking, “tonight is my lucky night”!

Lynette had already left for home but now this night was suddenly looking a whole lot better.

The fear retreated and my excitement became palpable once again.

I knew the aforementioned gold IROC Z28 with the still open T-top would knock her pants off. Literally.

There was no way that this wouldn’t be my lady for tonight.

Like a white knight dressed in black skin, I quickly whisked the mysterious Latin beauty out of Highland Park towards the exit and my IROC Z28.

This night was getting better and better.

The mysterious young beauty never spoke one word but seemed willing to go along with the program.

I remember walking back to the car, holding onto her hand that I had never let go of since I first took it.

Again, it dawned that it was a hot August night, but her hand felt so cold.

But good sense never entered my thoughts as my senses had headed south. All I was concerned about was that I was having some fun tonight.

We arrived at the car, me still holding her cold hand and my excitement continued to mount. I was so excited I did something I never did back then, I opened her car door for her.

I got into the driver’s seat and instructed her to put her seatbelt on. She complied, never saying one word.

I noticed she moved her hand away from the seat belt and when I looked, it appeared she had been clipped by said seatbelt.

Playing my role as EMT (emergency medical technician), I assessed for damage and noticed a clip mark, but it did not turn the usual red, bled or changed any color at all. This I found odd, but soon dismissed.

I again noticed how cold her hands were, again I dismissed it and we pressed on.

I was more interested to discover how warm she was down south.

All cerebral activity seemed concentrated in the nether regions.

I was a young man of 23 and had only one thing in mind … women!

Highland Park

Highland Park is located on one the highest hills in Brooklyn.

Originally created in 1891 by the City of New York, its current size is 141.28 acres.

One of Highland Parks claim to fame was its magnificent view!

At its topmost peak, you are blessed with a lovely panoramic view of Brooklyn, while its seclusion creates the perfect ambiance for young lovers.

It lies adjacent to one of the oldest and biggest cemeteries in Brooklyn, Cypress Hills.

The park itself was scary on the inside.

Lovers' lane however was outside the park. It was so popular that in the 70s that when David Berkowitz, aka The Son of Sam, was on his killing spree, he found several of his victims in the perimeter of the famed Highland Park.

Many were afraid to go into the park after nightfall. But in my youth, this added to the mystique of its magnetic pull.

A man and his car

After I rescued the damsel in distress, still holding her hand, I led her down the hill in my IROC Z28.

I continue my monologue the whole way — yet I receive not one word in reply.

I asked her, “What is your name?” — no answer.

“Where do you live?” — nothing.

“Where do you want to go?” — nada

“Do you want to go home with me?” — still nothing.

No answer. During the course of the whole interaction, she never utters one word.

We reach the bottom of the hill and are now at Jamaica avenue. Preening with excitement, I made a quick left in the direction away from the park.

Upon stopping at the first traffic light, still without one word, she exits the car, walks around the front, and continues into the cemetery.

She calmly walks into Cypress Hill Cemetery and is lost among the vast array of gravestones glistening in the glare of the streetlights.

I sit there in stunned amazement watching her go. What the hell is going on I wondered?

I’m zero for two tonight.

At this time, some semblance of good sense returned, and I decided I was not about to chase after her.

Many differing emotions chased each other in my mind, then I became angry, angry at myself… had I been deliberately led away from the “fire”.

I continued sitting there for a few minutes, consuming two 22-ounce bottles of the Old English 800 beer purchased for Lynette and me. More of my brain cells began working and more questions popped into my mind.

Was this meeting purposeful? Did someone send her here?

While I sat there, I never saw the lady in white emerge from amidst the gravestones.

I made a U-turn and headed back up the hill — back to Highland Park, back to the fire. Note this is my third trip there tonight.

When I reached the park again, I noticed the full moon was no longer visible. I returned to where the fire and the people were but found no evidence, they had even been there at all that night.

That was when I began to understand that it was no chance meeting, I had deliberately been introduced to the young mysterious beauty…

There was nothing at all, no evidence that anyone had been there recently.

Angry, disappointed, and horny, I went home.

A few minutes after I got home my phone rang.

It was Lynette.

She apologized for being afraid and having to leave the park and asked if I still wanted company.

I was not mad with Lynette; I was mad at myself and at the Santeria practitioners for having me deliberately led away.

With the night’s events still fresh in my mind — I told her “Nah” I am going to sleep. In the midst of thinking about all that had transpired tonight, I fell into a dreamless sleep.

Bewildered!

When I awoke the next morning, my head was a mess as I tried vainly to understand all the events of the previous night.

To this day, I have never understood what happened to me that night. Who was that lady, a spirit decoy to distract me away from the rituals?

Where did the young woman come from? Was she a ghost or a zombie sent to distract me away from their sacred ritual?

Or was she an angel sent to save my life?

I remember her hand being so cold and she never ever spoke one word.

I have come to terms with the fact that I will never understand what went down that night of the full moon in August.

And sadly, my curiosity was never sated…

I returned to Highland Park at the August full moon each year from 1991 until I left New York with the author in 2010, but I never saw the fire, the mysterious beauty, or the Santeria practitioners ever again.

Later I realized that the “lady in the white dress” had fulfilled her purpose — she had led me away…

In retrospect I am glad I did not witness anymore and that I did not go after the woman into the cemetery — who knows what path my life could have taken…

The above story is a true recollection of a young man’s journey.

Thank you for reading

If you found this story interesting, here are a few more of my otherworldly ones.

Pene Hodge is a mom, a nurse, and a writer. She writes because she must. She loves people and is committed to sharing and gleaning knowledge for the betterment of all.