“The only story I remember hearing much about was the Lady in White. Supposedly, a woman walked along the shoulder of the road near a small river dressed all in white, apparently a wedding dress. Lots of people would see it, especially at night, when driving along this lonely stretch of road. She seem to float just above the ground and as the cars drew near she would become transparent. I guess over the years it scared several drivers so bad they wrecked.”
“Seriously? Was it really a ghost or just the fog from the river or something?” I asked, shivering a little. We sat on an old faded bench on the shores of the Potomac. I could almost see the water vapor rising as we talked.
She shrugged, “I don’t really know but according to what I remember the story went that once a young woman was on her way to her wedding. She and her betrothed were going to be married in the judge’s chambers in town quietly one night without their family knowing. I guess there was bad blood between the families. So anyway, a married couple who were their friends, agreed to drive the woman to meet her future husband in town. But along the way, the car blew a tire. The driver fought to stay on the road bank and not go off the steep shoulder. The car bounced and jerked through the ruts as he battled with the car. When he finally brought the vehicle under control they realized the woman had been thrown out of the car while it bounced around on the hard dirt shoulder. This was in the days when cars were open carriages and a good jostle could throw you out.” She paused, making sure I understood.
“So he and his wife jumped out of the car, they were both unhurt, and raced back to look for her. They spotted her white gown, glowing in the moonlight. She’d been thrown out over the bank of the river and was laying below them. When they reached her, they discovered she’d broken her neck and had died instantly. So here she is, decked out in her wedding finery, and she’s dead. Supposedly they buried her in the dress.”
“Oh, wow, how tragic! No wonder she haunted the spot,” I could almost see the young bride, dead in her wedding finery at the side of a small, winding road. I looked out over the water, the clouds nearly touching it’s surface as dusk fell and fingers of adrenaline raced over my skin.
“Yes. There’s nothing sadder or more hauntingly romantic than a ghost bride. Those that have seen her say it’s as if she’s hoping for a ride, still hoping to make it to her wedding.”
I nodded, her words made sense.
Sighing she added, “I honestly don’t know if the story is true, but it makes a good ghost story.”