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: