You are traveling through another dimension, where what you see one moment may be gone the next. A world of life and death where the gulf between is sometimes altered.
Hold on to you cape, for you have entered a strange corner of Cleveland.
"Oh, this cemetery is alive," Pat Kellogg tells us. "It's not dead."
Old burials here, and so are frightening movements in the night. Pat, garbed in a witch's outfit, tells the take of her great great grandmother, who in 1891 stood trial for murder. Not guilty, but still, there were persistent public whispers.
"She made the headlines of all four newspapers in Cleveland," Pat says. "'Young Kellogg murdered by his witch wife.'"
Some believe Philapena Kellodd-Dean Nightly hants Woodland Cemetery. The great granddaughter looks for her ancestor where a strange autumn wind whispers through the trees.
Among these graves is an unmarked one, of a murdering woman who killed her family with a pair of scissors. Her ghost is also said to haunt the place.
"She'll pace up and down," Doris Straka says, "and then she vanishes."
Unusual stories at an unusual place. For Doris, her walks through Woodland always mean she will be touched here. Literally.
As we walk the cemetery, she tells me she just got pinched "on the bum." I can say with certainty it wasn't me!
Mysterious stories offered for your consideration. The waning days of October, with its haunted Halloween, are hooded in the unexplainable.
This is Leon Bibb, whispering a word of caution: Venture here, be ever watchful, for who may be watching you?