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Is the free story of one of the only stories that ever scared the poop out of me. Ambrose, you wicked man, we studied this in school and it still creeps me out.

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A man stood upon a railroad bridge in northern Alabama, looking down into the swift water twenty feet below. The man’s hands were behind his back, the wrists bound with a cord. A rope closely encircled his neck. It was attached to a stout cross-timber above his head and the slack fell to the level of his knees. Some loose boards laid upon the sleepers supporting the metals of the railway supplied a footing for him and his executioners–two private soldiers of the Federal army, directed by a sergeant who in civil life may have been a deputy sheriff. At a short remove upon the same temporary platform was an officer in the uniform of his rank, armed. He was a captain. A sentinel at each end of the bridge stood with his rifle in the position known as “support,” that is to say, vertical in front of the left shoulder, the hammer resting on the forearm thrown straight across the chest–a formal and unnatural position, enforcing an erect carriage of the body. It did not appear to be the duty of these two men to know what was occurring at the center of the bridge; they merely blockaded the two ends of the foot planking that traversed it.

And, for more Halloween fun, read Aunt B’s fake ghost stories. The Dodge City one made me cringe. Spend your Halloween night well and creeped out.

Oh, and always read Cuppa. Because you must.

Oh, and Tim Curry. Always Tim Curry. Listen to his voice. (Wonderful.)