

In the summer of 1986, as the oppressive heat of summer gave way to unexplainable events, a boy and his sister found themselves staying on an unfamiliar farm in Berrien Springs, Michigan. What began as innocent day of exploring the fields soon turned eerie when they stumbled upon broken tombstones.
The Story
“My family used to migrate to Michigan in the 1980s. We would always go to Niles, where we worked and stayed at Redwald’s Farm. However, in 1986, when I was 10 years old, we couldn’t secure a spot at Redwald’s, so we stayed at another farm in Berrien Springs. I don’t recall the name of that farm, but it was a trailer park surrounded by cornfields, strawberry fields, and forests.
My younger sister and I often stayed behind while my parents, siblings, and uncles worked the fields. Along with other kids our age, we would explore the cornfields, building forts and having picnics. One day, while clearing a spot for our fort, we stumbled upon broken tombstones. It was strange, as the soil was prepped for planting, yet the tombstones remained, unmistakable despite their damage. Scared, we decided to run back to the trailer park.
A few nights later, it was dreadfully hot, and the fan in front of our bed wasn’t helping. I turned up the fan speed, but it suddenly got eerie cold. The fan was missing the blade cover, typical of our household to have taken it down. When I reached to adjust it, my hand got caught in the blades. I pulled back quickly and heard laughter coming from the closet—children’s laughter, reminiscent of the Munchkins from The Wizard of Oz. Terrified, I turned toward the closet. The door was slightly ajar, and I covered my head, trembling in fear, too scared to wake my siblings.
Days later, my older sister experienced something similar. One night, she got up to take my little sister to the bathroom. Sleepy and unsteady, my little sister fell against the bathtub, and my older sister heard the same laughter. Panicked, she grabbed my little sister and rushed back to the bedroom.
We never talked about these experiences until we moved from that farm, fearing our parents would dismiss our fears as mere imagination. To this day, I can’t hear the Munchkins laugh in The Wizard of Oz without recalling that eerie night.” – Ere