Many
sources say that visitors to this cemetery have reported seeing an eerie,
unexplained light over the graves and have heard disembodied voices from
unknown sources. Over the years, some witnesses have even reported
hearing their names called out by unseen spirits.
The anonymous reader informed me that many of her family
members are buried in this large, country cemetery southwest of Camden. She
went on to say that she too has heard disembodied voices “many times” during
visits to this cemetery with her grandmother.
“Now, when I go there, I sometimes think that I hear her
voice in the wind,” the reader said.
I have only visited this cemetery once, about five years
ago, on a cold, blustery day in February. I’d heard unusual stories about this
cemetery for years, and I wanted to see it for myself.
Many
readers will know that this cemetery is located at the dead end of Coy Cemetery
Road, a narrow strip of pavement that runs off of County Road 13. Given its
somewhat remote location, this cemetery is not the type of place that you’ll
encounter on the way to somewhere else. You have to have a reason to be there.
Even
though five years have passed, I vividly remember getting out of my truck that
day and getting the overwhelming sense that I shouldn’t have come alone. I
walked up to the main gate and stood there for what seemed like a long time,
listening and watching. The place was eerily quiet except for the sound of the
wind blowing through the treetops.
The
metal gate screeched closed behind me as I entered the cemetery and began to
look around. At first glance, it was obvious that this cemetery had been in use
for a long, long time. There was a strong mix of old-fashioned and modern grave
markers, and I noted that the cemetery is far from full.
In
all, I’d say that there are well over 200 graves in this large cemetery, and
the oldest one that I could find belongs to Winfield R. Primm, a 51-year-old
Virginia native who died on June 26, 1835. I think it’s possible that there are
many other older graves in this cemetery because I saw more than a few unmarked
and illegible graves.
Eventually,
I began to walk back towards my truck, and all was quiet and still as I made
sure the gate was shut tight behind me. It was then, in that moment, that I
stopped dead in my tracks when I heard what sounded like a man’s voice. Had
someone called my name? I looked around, unsure, expecting to see someone on
the adjacent property, but no one was there.
Initially, I chalked up what I’d heard to an overactive imagination while alone in a spooky place, but as I drove home, I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d actually heard the disembodied voice that so many other cemetery visitors have reported over the years. In the end, there’s no way to know for sure, but one thing’s for certain: The next time I visit the Coy Cemetery, I will not go alone.
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