I used to go to the 9 mile bridge cemetery to hang out and walk around because I was morbid like that. I always respected the deceased and never walked on their tombstones. Another thing was to always shut the cemetery gates upon departure. One night, my friend Jason and I have never remembered leaving. Or shutting the gates. We ended up in a wreck approximately 1 mile south of Mexico Missouri. We were really freaked out. It was like we were warped into this wreck from the cemetery.
The next morning Jason's sisier comes running to us at his house to show us the front page of the Fulton Sun. 9 mile bridge Cemetery all the tombstones even the huge ones had been knocked over to one side. All were in the direction we got knocked into. I can't believe it to this day that I have to say I will never forget something I cannot remember. But my six stitch scar on my chin is to remind me it was real. Jason got over 100 stitches. I know in my heart that God or someone did not want us in that cemetery. I would like to go back but never alone. And possibly with a camcorder this time. Nichole