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Haunted Halloween with Sarah Ockler and a giveaway!

Pigman and the Bridge of Death

According to local lore, an old butcher once lived in the woods off Holland Road in Western New York, near the railroad tracks. He liked his privacy, and to frighten would-be tormentors, he cut off the heads of pigs and put them around his property on stakes — that's how he earned his nickname. Well, one night, a few boys decided to ignore the warning and give old Pigman a scare. Instead, the butcher caught them, decapitated them, and put their heads on stakes, jammed into the ground near the old covered bridge.

And Pigman was never seen again… at least, not while he was alive.

Don don don don… don!

Fast forward 60 years. I was 19 years old, and I just got my license. My first car was a 1985 Celica GT 5-speed with 130,000 miles on it, a rusted bumper, and a hole in the gas tank that prevented you from filing it more than 1/4 up. Not bad for $500, right? It took me a while to master the art of stick shift, but I didn't let a little bucking and stalling stop me from escaping my parents' house any chance I got. And rusty or not, that car could MOVE.

One summer night, my friends and I decided to investigate the notorious legend of Pigman for ourselves. We didn't have any high-tech ghost-hunting gear or infa-red goggles, but we did have that 1985 Celica GT, a full (well, as full as it could be with that hole) tank of gas, and the kind of courage you usually find in a group of bored suburban teens with lots of free time and some major Superman complexes.

The rules of Pigman Road, as it was then called, went something like this: You drive down Pigman Road, stop your car under the covered bridge, and turn off the engine. Then, in the pitch black night, you're supposed to call out the name"Pigman" three times, and try to start your car. If your car doesn't start, you die. It's that simple. Party time, right?!

(What can I say? We didn't have the Internet back then. We had to make our own fun.)

We all piled into a couple of cars and headed out toward the tracks. My best friend, her boyfriend, her brother, and I were in the Celica with me behind the wheel. Everyone else was ahead of us in the other cars. We all drove onto the middle of the dark bridge. Killed the engines and removed the keys. Sat in silence for a few minutes to amp up the dramatic tension. And then, the chanting began.

"Pigman," we called in one voice."Pigman. PIGMAN!"

The other two cars started up and took off. From behind the wheel of that old Celica, my whole body shook as I jammed the key back into the ignition. Pushed in the clutch. Turned the key, praying it would start, praying we'd survive this ridiculous rite. The car started, and the four of us let out a collective nervous giggle as we started to roll. And then, poof. The car bucked and stalled. I tried to start it again, but it wouldn't turn over.

"Go! Get the hell out of here!" My friend screamed in my ear. My hands were slippery and shaky. My legs didn't work. I couldn't get the car to start — I just couldn't do it. Four young people in the prime of our lives were all going to die at the hands of some age-old legendary psycho butcher ghost, and it was all my fault. Seconds-that-felt-like-hours later, my friend's boyfriend crawled over to the front seat and shoved me out of the way. He pushed in the clutch, started up the engine, and squealed out of there as fast as we could possibly go in the ol' rustbucket, which, as it turns out, was over 110 miles per hour (kids, do NOT try this at home). None of us could speak. We kept waiting for a train to hit us, the car to skid and careen down the embankment, or a half-man half-pig monster to appear in the back seat with a big meat cleaver, sharpened for the kill.

Minutes passed, the tires rolling down the old dark road, finally slowing to a safer speed. Certain we were out of immediate danger, we pulled over and met up with the rest of our friends at the other, non-Pigman end the railroad tracks. We tried to laugh with them at our own expense, but it's hard to laugh when you're not even sure your heart's still beating. Eventually, encouraged by the friendly taunts and the safety-in-numbers thing, we relaxed. It looked like we might just survive the night after all. Pigman? What a silly little game for silly little kids! Eat me, Pigman! Ha. Ha. Ha.

Ha!

That's when we saw the flashlights bouncing out of the woods. Faster. There were footsteps. Shouts.

"Don't move," a deep voice ordered. A tall man approached the tracks, bright white flashlight blinding us to his appearance."IDs. All of you. Get 'em out."

Another man joined him, bathing us in light. It was one of the few times in our short, trouble-making careers that we were thrilled to be harassed by cops. We tried to explain what the hell we were doing out on the railroad tracks on Pigman Road in the middle of the night, alternately screaming and laughing. We tried to tell them about the legendary butcher and the stalled car and how we almost died, just moments before. It didn't look like they were buying it. But we weren't drinking or anything, and fortunately they hadn't clocked us speeding out of there, so the cops just returned our IDs and shooed us away. I figured they were used to that sort of things — chasing away stupid kids who come to test the Pigman legend for themselves.

Later, I learned that Pigman Road was not only the supposed property of the murderous butcher, but the actual site of a heinous train wreck in the 1860s in which 50 people were burned alive in a flaming train car. Apparently, police monitor the area constantly, many claiming that supernatural activity is rampant under the old bridge. Some think it's the ghosts of the people who died in the train accident. Others — perhaps the officers that tracked us down — believe that the legend of Pigman is real.

Pigman or train passenger ghosts, we survived the night. And the one after that and the one after that. We went back to college, back to work. On to marriages and kids and jobs and real life. And soon the legend of Pigman faded into our collective memories of the best of times, the worst of times, the creepiest of times.

As for the old Celica GT? Well, Pigman's curse or not, that car finally did die a painful death a year later when my friend tried to race it up the side of a mountain to impress a girl.

And now I drive an automatic, just in case.: -)

Fixing Delilah by Sarah Ockler Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers (December 1st, 2010) Reading Level: Young Adult Hardcover: 320 pages Things in Delilah Hannaford's life have a tendency to fall apart.

She used to be a good student, but she can't seem to keep it together anymore. Her"boyfriend" isn't much of a boyfriend. And her mother refuses to discuss the fight that divided their family eight years ago. Falling apart, it seems, is a Hannaford tradition.

Over a summer of new friendships, unexpected romance, and moments that test the complex bonds between mothers and daughters, Delilah must face her family's painful past. Can even her most shattered relationships be pieced together again?

Twenty Boy Summer by Sarah Ockler Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers (June 1st, 2009) Reading Level: Young Adult Hardcover: 290 pages "Don't worry, Anna. I'll tell her, okay? Just let me think about the best way to do it."
"Okay."
"Promise me? Promise you won't say anything?"
"Don't worry." I laughed."It's our secret, right?"

According to her best friend Frankie, twenty days in Zanzibar Bay is the perfect opportunity to have a summer fling, and if they meet one boy every day, there's a pretty good chance Anna will find her first summer romance. Anna lightheartedly agrees to the game, but there's something she hasn't told Frankie---she's already had that kind of romance, and it was with Frankie's older brother, Matt, just before his tragic death one year ago.

Beautifully written and emotionally honest, this is a debut novel that explores what it truly means to love someone and what it means to grieve, and ultimately, how to make the most of every single moment this world has to offer.

Prize:

  • 1 winner will receive a signed copy of Fixing Delilah OR Twenty Boy Summer. Winner picks!

Rules:
  • You must be at least 13 to enter.
  • Name and email must be provided and counts as 1 entry.
  • Extra entries are possible and links must be provided.
  • Contest is US ONLY and ends November 13th.
  • Once contacted the winner will have 48 hours to respond with their mailing address.
  • The form must be filled out to enter.

- Thanks so much Sarah for the book donation and story! Find Sarah Ockler Sarah Ockler / Twitter / Blog / Goodreads

Pre-Order Fixing Delilah Amazon / Barnes & Noble / The Book Depository

Purchase Twenty Boy Summer Amazon / Barnes & Noble / The Book Depository

* Check out Lisa's Haunted Halloween post.

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Haunted Halloween with Sarah Ockler and a giveaway! + TIME