I live in a somewhat haunted section of the United States. I am originally from Hendersonville, North Carolina, one of the first states in the U.S., so it arguably has a lot of history. Some of you are probably familiar with some ghost stories such as “Brown Mountain Lights” and “The Devil’s Stamping Ground” and “The Pink Lady,” who resides in the famous Grove Park Inn. Well, my experience involves a story in Asheville. For more info, google helens bridge+asheville to get the full background of the story, as I am too lazy to type it all.
Legend has it that if you go to Helen’s Bridge and chant something like “Helen, where are you?” you will be able to see a spectre with rope burns around her neck. If you’re mean and say something like Helen is a bitch, then your car won’t start for about half an hour, because she’s pissed off at you.
Here’s my story: A few of my friends and I started to get really into the ghost thing about a year and a half ago. We started researching the International Ghost Hunters Society, but realizing it was quite expensive to join, we went the amateur route. We read as much as we could about our local stories and happened on Helen’s Bridge. The story made us intrigued and excited, so we went up to the bridge.
The bridge itself is about 50 or so feet above the road on top of a large hill right outside of downtown Asheville. It is an older bridge using concrete and large stones. Upon reaching the bridge, its popularity was proven to be quite large. There was one of those metal guard bar things blocking access to the bridge. Being a teenager, I gave no regard as to why it was there. We parked our vehicle about 100 yards away in a little backstreet. It was about 1:30 am, so we figured it would be alright.
When we got to the bridge, it got deathly quiet. The bridge itself really is only about twenty-something feet long, not very big by today’s standards. There were five of us that night: Myself, Larry, Andy, Mark, and Cody. Andy and I ventured onto the bridge and recited what we thought to be correct. Nothing happened, so we decided to actually cross the bridge. As we did, an old truck passed by the top of the road going in the direction of where we had parked. The strange thing about this was the truck had to go under the bridge to get where we were, and as quiet as it was, you’d think you’d be able to hear a vehicle. After looking at each other in some disbelief, Andy and I continue to cross the bridge.
When we got to the other side, there was a massive wall of chain link fence. Apparently someone didnt want anybody to get in there. Ever the adventurists, we walked along the edge of the fence until we found an opening. Going through it, we happened upon a road that ultimately led to nowhere except a funny-looking house. It only had one window, a garage door on the bottom, and one door at the top. After looking around, we figured it was most likely a banishing house. Feeling that nothing else would be discovered for the night, we turned back and started to leave.
As we were crossing the bridge, I had this feeling, so Andy and I turned and looked back at the way we had just come. There was nothing there so as I was about to start walking back I noticed it was exceptionally clear and the stars were really out. Then the incident occured. There were some lights in between the tree branches, four altogether. Then the lights split into pairs and started to jump to different heights in the trees sporadically. This was a cause for some freaking out. I started to back up when one set of lights came immediately down to my level and then just disappeared.
I turned around rather freaked out when I heard a very distinct sound of wind, except there was no wind around. I turned to see Andy, a 6’6″, 300 pound man, get hit in the chest and knocked about six feet back onto his stomach. I stood still in disbelief. There was no way what just happened really happened. I checked on Andy, and he had a very light pulse. About 15 minutes later he woke up with no recollection of what just happened. As he got to his feet, I hauled butt back to the car with Mark and Cody.
I noticed that Andy and Larry were walking a lot slower than I was. So I tried to walk as calmly as possible back to them. When I got there, I asked why they were going so slow. Andy replied, “Go slow, they are following us.” I looked back and actually saw the same four lights crossing the bridge and coming slowly towards us. When we reached the vehicle the lights were about 50 yards away from us. The vehicle was an almost brand new Focus station wagon, so even for a Ford, it wasn’t old enough to be breaking down yet. That being said, the car didnt start for about 10 minutes.
When it did start, we went back down the road, unfortunately towards the lights. Right as we were about to pass through them, they disappeared and the car felt like it was on full ac blast. We checked and the ac wasnt on and all the windows were up. We went to a waffle house to discuss what happened. The only problem was that Andy literally could not speak. He looked at his chest and there were two handprints clearly on his shirt where he had been hit. After that happened, I quit my pursuit of ghosts, but Andy and Larry pressed on and had an experience in a local cemetery. That is my story and it has helped me have a better understanding to not piss of the spectre.
I hope it in some way can help you too. If you are ever in Asheville, North Carolina, ask around and you’ll get some more stories about Helen’s Bridge. Feel free to go look during the day, but go at night and you might not only get a visit from “something not of this world” but if the police catch you, then you get caught trespassing. So be careful in your hunts and always try to learn something.
From: “Steven Mowery” email@example.com
Subject: Helen’s Bridge
Date: Wednesday, November 09, 2005 12:01 PM