This event took place in July of 2013:
I am a member of the Boy Scouts of America, a Star Scout at the time (for those interested, I have since gotten my Eagle Scout). At the time, I was 15 years old and did good in school. Due to my grades, my parents allowed me to go on our units upcoming scouting trip to hike the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia, and then tour Gettysburg, PA on the way back home to New York. My dad, being an Eagle Scout and a troop leader, was tagging along. We (about 12 of us) were all very aware of the history of the Blue Ridge Mountains involving the American Civil War. My dad mostly wanted to tag along because he grew up in Roanoke and has always been sensitive to the paranormal, and was seeing if he could experience anything during the trip. Boy, did he...
We had been in the mountains for 10 days, hiked over 45 miles, sleeping in hammocks in the woods. Occasionally in the night, we would hear leaves being stepped on, a twig/branch breaking, but that was to be expected, considering it was the outdoors. The part that inspires me to tell this story happened on our way home, in Gettysburg.
We decided to hike 5 miles through Gettysburg to get a 50 Miler Patch. We looked at everything during the day, but a lot of us agreed that we'd like to go on a ghost tour at night. So that night we did. And it honestly went as you'd expect. Walking around at night, learning about the history, but nothing out of the usual. When the tour was over, some of us wanted to do our own "ghost tour". We went into a shop and bought a pendulum. My dad has used a ouija board and a pendulum in the past, and knew how to properly open and close a session, so he was going to help us.
It was roughly 11pm when we took the pendulum to Devil's Den, an area with large boulders that has a steep drop off to some smaller boulders down below. You may want to google what it looks like to get a better idea. We parked the cars about 30yds away from the bottom. A few of the other parents stayed at the cars and talked, while the rest of us made our way to the smaller boulders, where we would sit down and start using the pendulum. Once my father opened the session, we started asking generic questions, like "Did you die during the Battle of Gettysburg?", "Did you fight for the Union or the Confederates?" and such things. About 15 minutes in, someone asked "Are you an ancestor of someone that is here right now?". It said 'Yes'. We went around the circle saying, "My last name is ____, are you my ancestor?". When it was my turn to ask, it said 'Yes'. It gave me chills, because my great great great grandfather, Hermann, did fight in the American Civil War. My father then asked "Are you Hermann _______?". It said 'Yes'. Suddenly my father yelled, "Bulls**t! Hermann never fought in Gettysburg and didn't die in the war!". Then, I heard a *thud* from behind me. Looked, and I didn't see anything. My dad said, "We don't want you here anymore, please leave." I hear another *thud* and then about 10 seconds later, I feel something hit my backpack, as if something fell onto it. I turn around, and there was a rock, about the size of a softball or a grapefruit, that fell down from the top of the rocks. My friend then shouted in pain as a rock in similar size, hit his arm.
Considering there's a staircase that let's you climb to the top, I thought that there was someone up top that was throwing down rocks, not knowing we were down there. I shouted to the parents at the cars, asking if they could see someone up top. They said that they saw the silhouette of a guy on the top of the rocks. Me and my friend run up the stairs to confront this guy and tell him to stop. We got up there and the crickets, the frogs, everything went quiet. It was really unnerving. We didn't see anything. We shouted back down, "There's nobody up here!", to which the parents below replied, "What do you mean? He's right in front of you! Just standing there!". That's when chills went up my spine and I froze. I noticed how cold it was compared to down there. Easily 8-10 degree difference. I just turned to my friend and we shared the mutual look of 'we should go'. His flashlight, in which there was brand new batteries, died. That made us both go pale.
Completely chilled to the bones, we sprinted back down to the bottom and told everyone that we should leave, and that whoever is here, doesn't want us here. My father closed the session and packed everything up. We got in the car, did a quick prayer, asking God to prevent anything or anyone from becoming attached and following us back home, and left. Every time I tell this story, I get chills and my voice shakes, as this event had such an impact on me. But eventually I want to go back to Gettysburg and try to catch something on camera...
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