There is a national landmark about half an hour from my home called The Road to Nowhere. A little history so you know why I think this stuff happened to me. The road was started in 1945 out in Bryson City, NC. The road would've gone directly through a burial mound, so the Cherokee Chief along with the residents of the reservation had construction stopped. The road stops about a quarter-mile past the tunnel. I've got a little bit of Cherokee ancestry as well.
One day in mid June, around three or four in the afternoon, two friends (Pam and Mary) and I went up there to see what all of the fuss was about. We ended up going back a couple of times, but this story is about what happened to me the first time. We started the walk to the tunnel from the parking area; it's about a sixth-tenths of a mile. About halfway to the tunnel, my chest started to tighten up and it was difficult to breathe. I am an asthmatic, but my chest has never tightened before, only my bronchial tubes. The closer we got to the tunnel, the more uneasy I felt. We got about three yards into the tunnel when there was no light visible inside the tunnel, no animal sounds, nothing but the scuffing of our flip-flops and our nervous chattering and breathing. We started taking pictures of the graffiti on the walls and caught orbs in our pictures, as well as some really freaky things on the walls. We kept walking down the path and I looked straight ahead at the opposite end of the tunnel. I saw two robed figures beckoning to me. I asked my friends if they had seen them, and they both said no. I prayed to God for protection, and asked my ancestors to protect us. It felt like it took an eternity to walk through the tunnel, it only took us about ten minutes to get to the other side. It only took us that long because we were stopping to take pictures of the graffiti on the walls.
When we stepped out of the tunnel, it was like we had stepped into another world on the opposite end of the tunnel. There was more light, the air was fresher, the animals were more active. It was so different on the unfinished side of the tunnel. It was like it hadn't even been raining at all that day. We walked up to the end of the pavement and found an old campfire pit. In the campfire pit, we found a cell phone. It was smashed to pieces and had been incinerated. After we got done seeing the sights, we turned around and went back towards the tunnel, the only thing between us and the car.
We went back into the tunnel and as before, we were plunged into darkness almost immediately. We tried to take pictures of our surroundings this time, but our cameras and phones started to malfunction. Our flashlight, which had worked rather well at the other end of the tunnel sputtered out and died. I closed my eyes and clung to my friend as we walked forward because I could feel things around me, unhappy things. At one point I heard a man whispering, "Heather, open your eyes," and whispering just "Heather." I didn't open my eyes until we had made it to the end of the tunnel and I could see light through my eyelids. Again, my friends didn't hear anything at all.
We were standing about a third of a mile from the tunnel looking at the pictures on our electrical equipment, which by the way was working perfectly again, when I saw some people up in the woods, it looked like they were dressed in buckskins. I yelled up, "Hello!" at them and the child waved at me and I heard a giggle as the people walked off. I was quite chilled, as my friends didn't see the people, and they didn't hear the giggle. We went back to the car, and my friends seemed angry with me for seeing things with my own two eyes when they had to see them through a camera, or for hearing things when they couldn't.
We go back every now and then, in the daytime and at night, but they still don't see anything. I haven't seen the robed figures since then, and I hope that I don't see them again. Those were the scariest part of the trip for me...well, that and something seemed to know my name. Maybe my ancestors protected me after all. I know God was there with me as well.