It was a beautiful summer day when a local scout troop, accompanied with their scout master named Rich, visited the ancient historical “Indian Mound Park” that currently resides in Pompano Beach.
Simone broke her dreamy gaze out of the grimy third story window to glance over at Glen. He lay there so peacefully, the sheets tucked neatly around his soft, rounded chin. His hands were laced together and resting on his chest as if he were in a soft, silent prayer.
This is a true story.
This story takes place in a suburban community, just minutes outside of Detroit, Michigan in a quiet town known as St. Clair Shores. The events that I witnessed take place may or may not have been from a dark, demonic source… Regardless, it is still unexplainable.