Most places I’ve visited have a road like this, the dark country road where people go at night to get the crap scared out of them, drink beer and smoke dope.
Sleepy Hollow outside of Louisville has held that name for ages, a poignant name for any place to be steeped in legend. In the modern era, one looks out for a mysterious hearse which bears down hard on you from behind.
But it’s not just the modern era that brings these stories. It’s said that where the new bridge stands now, an older one existed in the nineteenth century. Then as now, unwanted pregnancies occurred, but there were no abortion clinics then. Which meant often you ended up with another mouth to feed, and a ruined reputation among your neighbors, during a time when feeding yourself could be hard enough. So it is believed that many of these babes were tossed from the bridge into the wildly rushing creek below.
Whether it’s true or not, the popularity of my previous article on Sleepy Road shows that legends stick around a long time. And will, as long as there cars, dark nights, vices and the desire to feel the hairs stand up on the back of your neck from fear.
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