The Bell Witch: The Full Account (29 page)
a sharp curve in the road.
He pulled into a small opening in the weeds and
sat until the storm blew over. As the fog began
clearing from his windows, the author noticed several
very old gravestones under the large trees just
beyond the weeds. This was apparently one of
several forgotten cemeteries in the northwestern end
of Robertson County. Glancing out his window at
the gravestones, he recognized the names of people
who lived in an era now long forgotten. Many of the
names were those who had figured prominently into
the early growth of Robertson County and, in several
cases, the legend of the “Bell Witch.” One name in
particular stood out – Batts.
After getting his raincoat from his trunk and
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assembling his photography and video equipment,
the author made his way through the weeds and
undergrowth to get a closer look at the graves. Two
rabbits suddenly jumped out of the nearby weeds.
This seemed very natural at the time and only served
to spawn visions of rabbit stew and a fried rabbit
dinner in the author’s mind.
The rabbits began darting in and out of the weeds
around several of the graves, and then hopped
playfully in wide circles around the author as if
trying to surround him. A third rabbit had joined the
others by this time and the author began filming just
for fun. The three rabbits continued their playful
antics for some time before hopping into the deep
undergrowth and not returning. The author spent
the next two hours filming the Batts cemetery,
transcribing names and dates to compile what might
be referred to as a “video genealogical report.” After
returning home late that evening, the author
reviewed the images he captured of the Batts
cemetery on both cameras. While the entire
cemetery and gravestones appeared as was expected,
the rabbits were nowhere to be seen in the picture.
Baby Cries Heard from a Gravestone
Another incident, which took place on this same
day, happened at the present-day location of Red
River Baptist Church in Adams, Tennessee. While
walking the massive graveyard behind the church,
the author saw a small rabbit standing between two
gravestones several yards in front of him. The rabbit
quickly darted behind a large gravestone in hopes of
hiding.
A little background information is necessary at
this point. The author spent most of his childhood
and formative years in the country, and as such,
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217
developed a strong passion for the taste of fried
rabbit. After having hunted rabbits for most of his
life, he knows that if you “startle” a rabbit, it will go
into cardiac arrest and die on the spot.
After thinking about the situation for a short time,
and without taking his eyes off the gravestone that
the rabbit ran behind, the author decided to sneak
up to the gravestone in hopes of startling the rabbit
hiding on the other side. Fortunately, for the rabbit,
the author made too much noise and it hopped
several yards before hiding behind a different
gravestone.
The author walked over to the second gravestone
in a normal fashion, no longer wanting to startle the
rabbit. When he got there and looked, the rabbit was
nowhere to be found. This particular gravestone was
very tall and had no inscription on its sides; but
instead, had an inscription on the top. The author,
who is well over six feet tall, stretched upward to
read the inscription. It turned out to be the grave of
an infant who had died many years before.
Thinking the rabbit might have crawled under the
exposed bottom corner of the gravestone, the author
slapped one of its sides in hopes of flushing out the
rabbit. The author began walking away when he
realized that the rabbit was not going to come out.
After taking about four steps, he heard the very
distinct sound of a baby crying. It was impossible to
tell from where this sound was coming; it seemed to
be coming from “everywhere.” After looking towards
several houses, learning that no windows were open,
and no babies were outside, he looked back at the
gravestone. The crying immediately stopped.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Letters Describing Encounters
T HE FOLLOWING WRITTEN ACCOUNTS are
but a few of the many received by the author,
which he feels are indicative of Kate’s
characteristics for the most part. The author
personally observed the encounters described in the
last of the following accounts and has every reason to
believe the first two as well.
Orbs, Moaning and Mist at the Cave
“I first came up with the idea of going to the Bell
Witch Cave back in June of 1999, when my
mother was down visiting and brought a
newspaper article about the cave. At that point in
time, I had made up my mind to go, and we were
low on money so I was glad to have an affordable
outing I could do with my teenage son, Rick. He is
into folklore, Spirits, etc., plus was always in a
cave whenever possible with his Aunt Toni when
we lived in middle Tennessee.
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219
We arrived in Lebanon, TN the last week of June.
We had family to visit first, but going to the cave
was high on both our lists of things to do. During
this time, I found my Mom’s copy of the Red Book
(too bad the cover has fallen off) and decided to go
ahead and read it again (I had read it several
times in my life). It would make me too nervous
to read it at night, though.
Every day for about 5 days, that we had planned
to go to Adams, it would rain; so we would have to
change our plans, knowing we could not go into
the cave if the water was too high.
Our chance finally arrived on July 3rd, but our
plans were almost changed at the last minute.
My 3-year-old son, Gordon, and I were playing
and he scratched the inside of my eye. It
immediately started watering, and I couldn’t keep
it open without terrible pain. I was determined to
get to the cave, as it was almost an obsession by
this point. My son, Rick, stated, ‘Maybe
something doesn’t want you at the cave.’
When the continuous watering had stopped, I
decided to try to drive to Adams. The pain was
VERY uncomfortable, though. Rick needed to
stop off at Rivergate Mall while on the way, and
while he was inside the continuous watering
started again. When he came back out, he
suggested that I go to the doctor instead of driving
on to the cave. I wasn’t about to lose my last
chance to go to the cave so on we went.
As we exited off the interstate and began the 10-
mile journey to Adams, we became more and more
anxious. Of course not knowing where we were
going at first got us slightly lost. We eventually
found the Post Office, received directions, and
finished out the short drive to the cave.
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As we drove down the gravel driveway, the anxiety
between us grew. We weren’t nervous or scared,
but very excited. With my eye still hurting badly,
we went up to the house where Lisa took our
admission fee and started us down the path
leading to the cave.
I had a 35mm camera, and Rick had a Camcorder
with night vision. Our first stop was in the front
room of the cave, where an Indian grave is
located. As Lisa was giving the tour speech, Rick
was recording. He did not see it as he was
recording, but during this time an orb very
quickly entered the frame on the right in the
middle and exited the bottom on the right side.
We next went to the back room where we sat on a
rock, talked a little and listened a lot. At the same
time, my son and I heard a slapping sound. We
know we both heard it because we looked at each
other with an excited look. We heard the slapping
once again. Rick also said he heard a moaning
sound, but I did not hear this. I have no reason
to think he would make this up. At that time
though, my eye all of a sudden stopped hurting. I
could still feel where it had been scratched, but
the pain had totally disappeared.
As we were leaving the cave, I decided to pick up a
rock out of the cave to take with me, and I still
have that rock sitting in my kitchen. Lisa then
showed us the photos they had in their albums,
and those kind of gave me the creeps, but we
never were scared. We never had bad luck since
picking up the rock. My mother did not want it in
her house though, so it sat out in my rental car.
About 1 1/2 weeks after our return home, I did
dream, twice, of the Bell Witch Cave. There was
not anything bad in the dream, however I did not
feel comfortable, but I was never scared. I have
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221
never dreamt of it since. Upon watching the video
of our trip, we discovered the orb and it did give
me the chills at first, but now it just excites me. I
had a picture from the 35mm of a mist along the
driveway leaving the Bell farm, and a picture that
has something that resembles a face with eyes
and nose. Rick and I have decided this would be
a yearly trip for us, and we have even kicked
around the idea of relocating to that area in a
couple of years once he graduates high school. w
Lisa Edgeworth
Boca Raton, Florida
September 1999
A Bad Day in Adams, A Terrible Night in Los
Angeles – Kate Follows a Family
On August 21, 1999, my wife and our oldest
granddaughter visited the Bellwood cemetery in
Adams. We had no intentions of going to the cave
until we noticed some really strange things about
some of the gravestones of the descendents of
John Bell.
On the east side of the cemetery there are several
graves of Bells. In each case, the males died at
about 20 years old but their wives lived long lives;
kill the males and you kill the namesake. There is
one male buried there that lived to be 30. He had
been studying to be a lawyer at some highly rated
law school and, after returning home from law
school, died shortly thereafter.
On the west side there was one grave that really
blew us away, and was probably what made us to
decide to go on over to the cave for a visit.
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However, at this time I in all honesty was still
quite doubtful of such things, although I have had
several odd things happen to me. The grave is
resting place of a male child who was born around
the turn of the century on Aug. 21. He died two
years later, on Jul. 21. As I mentioned earlier, the
day’s date that we were there was Aug. 21.
Well let me tell you, and believe me please, I
under no circumstances would dare tell things
concerning Spiritual matters if I didn't at least
believe what I am saying. I have at least some
respect for my soul, although I don't walk in the
presence of the Holy Spirit. At one time, I did live
that life every waking moment but somehow have
let myself stray from the narrow path. x
The moment that we entered the cave, I was
overcome with a sense of being watched, or at
least aware of some unseen presence, although I
never thought of myself as a person with that gift.
In the room where the Indian grave is, I felt as if
something was looking at me from the small
tunnel that is just behind it. The lady that was
escorting us had not even mentioned anything
about it, and I actually thought I was letting my
imagination run wild. Then she started to tell us
that things had been seen and photographed in
that tunnel, and shortly thereafter, two guys with
video cams were picking up a sphere of light that
was separating into two spheres and then joining
back together into one. They were so carried
away that they did not continue back into the
cave with the rest of us.
Then, as we stood in the larger part of that same
room, I was overcome by the feeling of rushing
wind that sent a chilling feeling through me as I
was staring at the tunnel that leads back into the
cave. But, there was no air stirring in the cave!
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Still, I was telling myself that I was just being too
imaginative. As we went back though that
opening and deeper into the cave, a guy behind,
who also had brought his video cam suddenly,
said, ‘my camera just went dead,’ just a few steps
past the spot I had been staring at earlier. Then,
as he stepped a few feet farther, it suddenly came