In the early 1950's in the city of Nashua, New Hampshire, there was an incident at the black bridge which was located on a stretch of railroad tracks not far from the Hudson bridge, which is the next town over. My great grandmother, who lived directly across from the tracks, was present when a train derailed and crashed into a nearby building. The bridge was partially torn to pieces and many people died and almost all who lived were scarred for life.
My great grandmother told my father, when he was very young, that some of the passengers crossed the field to her house. Being a kindly women she did not turn them away and helped them. One man, according to great granny, had the skin of his back missing. But she said that he was in such tremendous shock that he did not seem to be aware of it.
Sadly, many children perished in the wreck. Many years later, me and my family lived on the street that runs down a long hill and comes to a stop at the black bridge. Me and my friends named it that because it was as black as pitch.
To this day, the laughter of young children can be heard, as though they are playing under the bridge but nobody is ever seen. Apparitions and the ghosts of suicides haunt the area as well. Go to the bottom of Lock Street and you will find out for yourself.