The Charleston Trip, Part 3: Creepy Ghost Walk

My first night in Charleston, we went on a ghost walk.  Part of it involved a campfire and telling a story about a nice, young lady named Lavinia Fisher and her husband who ran an inn just outside of town.  Lavinia would entice travelers inside, give them a nice (poisoned) drink, show them to their room, then chop up their bodies, hide them under the floorboards and take their possessions.

It was the perfect crime except when a mortician stopped by and recognized the dead body smell emanating from the house.  He excused himself, continued into town, and returned with the sheriff.  When she was hung, Lavinia wore a white wedding dress and proclaimed that she was going to hell to marry the devil.  Like I said, a nice, young lady.

Back to our ghost walk, though.  My main photographic interest at that point was the fire.  It’s not often that I get to take photos of fire.  I can’t exactly ask my wife if I can set one in our living room, after all.  I took many fire shots and the next day, copied my photos to my friend’s laptop.  As I showed him the photos, this one stood out:

Do you see it?

How about now?

That’s a face.  In the fire.  During our ghost stories tales.  Creepy, huh?

Here are the rest of the photos, I took: