Hide-and-Seek
By Tobias Wayland; images by Emily Wayland
It’s a cold, wet, grey day as Emily and I head off Peninsula State Park’s main road and onto the bike path. We’re on foot, mostly out of necessity, but there’s also real concern that we might miss the trail for which we’re looking—it's notoriously difficult to find. But you don’t ignore the number of synchronicities that pointed us to this particular place, so here we are, hoods up and spirits high against the biting wind, trekking towards a reputedly haunted cemetery in the middle of the forest.
We had begun the afternoon with a visit to a used book store in Fish Creek, one of Door County, Wisconsin’s many quaint, historic villages. As I poked around listlessly in the shop, I stumbled across something that caught my eye—a book titled Pioneer Cemeteries. It was written back in the ‘70s, and within it is a listing of every historic cemetery in Door County. That seemed right up my alley, so I tucked it under one arm and went to find Emily. She’d managed to locate a small section of books on various weird subjects, and planned on purchasing Haunted Door County as a sort of tour guide for the rest of our trip.
We approached the counter to check out, when the gentleman behind it motioned to the cover of the book I was holding and said, “You know, that cemetery is right around here.”
He pointed outside as he explained to us that it was relatively well hidden, but that he’d been there before and recognized the tombstone pictured. It belonged to Huey Melvin, who, we’d come to discover, had been buried there after he died, and whose spirit was said to still be attached to it today.
According to Haunted Door County, Huey Melvin was born in December of 1898 to Emma Thorp Melvin and John Melvin. A precocious and well-loved child, Huey died tragically of tetanus in the summer of 1905, and was buried near the family plot in Pioneer Cemetery. Since then, at least in the modern day, campers staying near Pioneer Cemetery have reported hearing playful, childlike laughter, and at least one park ranger has attested to seeing the apparition of a young boy near the Eagle Bluff Lighthouse—one of Huey’s favorite locations in life. One witness even reported that she had built such a connection with Huey over the years that he visited her while she was staying in town.
Emily and I ruminate briefly on these stories while we examine the gravesite. It’s set an odd distance away from the Thorp and Claflin plots that comprise the rest of the cemetery, tucked away in a lonely spot overrun with foliage. It seems like an awfully lonely spot to bury a little boy.
Huey’s white, weathered gravestone has a resting lamb carved out of its top; lambs were common decorations for children’s graves, possibly due to their association with purity and innocence. I flip the switch on our spirit box and the radio entombed within it hisses to life.
“Hi, Huey, are you around? Are you here?” I ask.
“Yep,” says a high-pitched voice.
When I ask what his favorite game is, Emily and I both swear we hear “Huey” in response. But that voice is deeper than the one before.
We ask another question with no discernible response, so I try the previous one again.
“It’s okay if you’re feeling shy, we’re shy too. What’s your favorite game?” I ask.
“Hide and seek*,” says the same squeaky voice as earlier.
“Is there something that you want, Huey? Can you tell us what you want?” I continue.
“Stop it,” replies the deeper, second voice. “Pain.”
“Stop,” says the childlike voice.
“What are your general feelings about us being here?” asks Emily.
“Scared,” it replies.
“We’re not trying to frighten you,” I reassure the younger-sounding voice. “What are you afraid of? And what do you want us to stop?”
But we receive no response. Whomever, or whatever, we were speaking to has gone; seemingly frightened away.
If it was Huey, it didn’t sound like he was alone. And the thing with him, whether tortured spirit or eternal tormenter, sounded decidedly unpleasant. I envision Elhaz, a rune commonly invoked for protection, projecting it out onto the graveyard, hoping my focused intention drives away whatever seemed to be scaring young Huey. We’d come unprepared for such an event, and I feel regret knowing that there isn’t much else I can immediately do to help. It’s a good thing Huey’s favorite game is hide and seek; I have a feeling he’ll need it until we can come back.
*While we heard something that sounded like a child, it was our niece Ally who, after reviewing the footage, recognized the sound as potentially being the word “hide-and-seek.”
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