Ghost Stories

When I was little, after church on Sunday I would go to Hollywood cemetery in my hometown. There was a grave of a small girl, and on the gravesite there was an iron dog, about the size of a medium-sized dog. I remember questioning my father about how the dog got there. This is the story he told me:

There was once a little girl who lived in the early 20th century in Richmond. She would walk past a store every day on her way to her father’s store on Broad St. In the front of the store there was a large iron dog. Every day she would pet the iron dog and took a liking to it. She even named it!

One day after petting her favorite iron dog, she crossed the street, but her shoe got caught in one of the railing tracks of the trolleys that ran through Richmond in the early 20th century. A trolley car came rambling towards the little girl. She struggled fiercely, but to her distress it only made her foot even more stuck. The trolley car ran her over. She died in a matter of minutes on the scene. The distressed shop owner who had the iron dog in the front of the shop took her inside of his shop.

The father of the girl started to become worried when she didn't arrive at his shop, but he came to realize that she was probably still petting her beloved iron dog. He started to walk to the shop. When he arrived at the shop, he saw his daughter, cold and lifeless. The shop owner gave the iron dog to the family for the little girl's grave.

But, here is what is really creepy—people sometimes put little trinkets on the girl's grave, so I put a trinket on the girl's grave. I then walked to a relative’s grave. About ten minutes later, I came back and the trinket wasn't there, I knew no one had been there before, and there was no explanation as to where it went. My best guess is that the little girl has a new toy!