The year was 1930.
This new decade brought with it very little promise of a brighter future.
A great depression and prohibition were the forces that dominated our lives.
There were plenty of sorrows,
but nothing to drown them in.
My name is Adelaide Jones.
Our family farm had suffered such loss over the previous year we risked losing it entirely.
So against my father's wishes and those of my ailing mother I took a job across town
as a maidservant for the wealthy Bonneville family.
The hours are long, but the pay is sufficient to keep my father from having to sell our
best dairy cows, and to keep my mother from succumbing from the anxiety of it all.
Having no real means of conveyance I must rely on my own two feet to get me to and from
my place of employ.
The countryside breeze often carries with it the smell of popcorn -- though the sweet
aroma belies the dire situation many farmers face, being forced to burn their own crop
rather than coal in their stoves.
The journey home takes well over an hour.
It would be half as long if not for Greenwood Cemetery, planted square between our farm
and the Bonneville estate.
I've contemplated more than once saving my aching feet and cutting through the cemetery,
but good sense always prevails and I invariably go around.
Work often keeps me late well past dusk into the dark hours of night, when the ghosts and
spirits of Greenwood Cemetery become restless.
I've heard them, deep from within the cemetery -- rumblings, shrieks, and ungodly laughter.
This cemetery is haunted, as sure as i live and breathe.
Sometimes, when my courage allows, I'll stop a moment and peer into the cemetery to try
and catch a glimpse of the spirits making such a ruckus.
Perhaps someday I'll glimpse the spirits of Greenwood Cemetery...
but not today.
It was a moment of carelessness that cost me everything.
Looking for a pick-me-up, young lady?
Are you ghosts?
Ghosts?
Missy, there are no ghosts in Greenwood Cemetery, I assure you.
But, as you can see, there are plenty of spirits.
Would you like to meet some of them?
This one goes by the name of Tom Collins.
I...
I don't drink.
Be that as it may you sure look like you could use it.
Too strong.
Perhaps another spirit friend of mine will be more to your liking.
Meet Mary Pickford.
On the house.
All right everybody, let's get this room swinging so hard we wake the dead!