Six Bridges was several miles down a twisted road through the woods. The path was overgrown which made the trip difficult for the men and horses alike. When the woods finally cleared into Six Bridges, everything seemed to be in order. The men knocked on the front door of the nearest house. No answer. The knocked on the door of the second house. Again, no answer. They knocked on the third, then the fourth and began to call out loudly with no answer at all.

It was still three days till Sunday but they finally decided to check the church in case there had been a town meeting. The unpainted boards of the steps and front porch creaked as they walked toward the front door of the church breaking the deafening silence of the seemingly empty little town. When the doors swung open, they couldn't believe what they saw.

There was the entire town, neatly seated in the pews and the preacher at the pulpit.....all dead. There were no wounds, no signs of conflict, just the decaying bodies sitting with hymn books open.

In my life many made the trip down that winding wooded road the the old community of Six Bridges. All that remained was the tilted shell of the church. I was among the few who actually left the vehicle and, at the coaxing of the others in the car, walked up the rotting steps and across the porch of the church. When I pushed open the door I saw a sight that remains burned into my mind even today. There were the people of Six Bridges dressed in their Sunday best and the preacher standing at the podium. He looked up and right into my eyes with a cold, mournful look. His face was full of sadness and his eyes as black as coal.

No one was ever able to explain the mystery surrounding the deaths at Six Bridges. They finally tore down the church to keep us kids from going down there and the path has grown completely over. If you're ever in Screven County, just ask anyone where Six Bridges was. Anyone can show you, and anyone will tell you...stay out of the woods.