I’ve got nothing against albinos.
Also, I don’t do rollercoasters. I don’t bungee jump, I’ve never wanted to sky dive, and I’m not even really into horror movies. I’m from the Bronx. I’m pretty sure about what I can and can’t handle. But this Saturday, I got the best scare I’ve had in a while, and really, more like ever.
This is my story.
There's a fairly well known spot in Westchester that is supposedly haunted. It’s right here in Harrison actually. It’s called Buckhout Road, although on the GPS, it's listed as Buckout. It's a connecting road off of Old Lake Street that starts out as a two-laner, but eventually the yellow lane divider disappears and the road itself squeezes down into one barely-passable strip of asphalt.
On one side of the road there's a cemetery--haunted, naturally--and there's some stories about the houses along the way. One held captured and/or freed slaves, one was the spot of a grisly murder, and one used to be/is an albino colony, a fact that seemed terrifying for some reason, although rationally thinking people would find nothing wrong with. There's also a story about witches being burned at the stake at one point in history when it was still acceptable to do such a thing, and the story goes that if you look at the street, there are always X's in the spot they were burned, no matter how many times people wash them off or pave over them.
As I said before, I've never been one for shit like this. But Danielle was home from work and my brother Mike was up for the weekend and it was Saturday night and we were bored, so we decided to give Buckhout Road a shot to see if there was truly something special about it, or if it was just the usual case of all sizzle and no steak.
First off, let me say this--the road is lit. The streetlights were mostly on, pretty well spaced apart, but darkness was not a factor, which seemed to put a dent in the albino theory because by this point, we had granted them near-vampire status and there was no way they would let the lights stay on. The brief stretch of woods part was somewhat creepy, but again, nothing too over the top.
The architectural style of the houses that lined Buckhout Road is what made it somewhat strange. Some were old, small, and even boarded up. Others were brand new mansions, very modern buildings, that were all either lit up like a lighthouse, or closed up, and shrouded in darkness.
The narrowness of the road, and the fact that it became that way out of nowhere, was creepy as well, since the road was not only curvy, but hilly too, so I was forced to drive slower than I would have liked.
And the strange design of the road played a big part in our little moment.
Again, I was skeptical. It wasn’t dark. It didn’t feel haunted or possessed or run down either. We’d been driving for about five minutes and nothing had happened—no witches or slave ghosts—not one single albino. No one was talking. But as soon as the road narrowed, I said out loud, “This is not good.”
Little did I know I was right.
We came around one turn and coasted down a hill. Nobody said anything at first, but we all saw it—a wooden bear. It had to be about six or seven feet tall. It was a sculpture of a bear standing on its hind legs and it was standing on the front lawn of a massively wide ranch-style home. The lights were all on in the house, and because of the nature of the road, I kept checking back in front of me, but I couldn’t help but look at the bear. Maybe it’s because it was the first “thing” we had seen so far, maybe it was somewhat odd, maybe I was just searching. Then Danielle finally spoke:
That bear is creeping me out.
What happened next took place in about five seconds, although it will seem longer here.
Mike said, “Yeah, me too,” from the backseat.
I began to respond with, “Yeah, I know—” and wanted to say how it had scared me slightly before I realized what it was. But by this point, we had come to the top of another hill and it curved to the right at the same time and the road itself seemed as if it would barely hold my Nissan Murano. The unbeatable laws of physics grabbed the car and pulled it faster down the hill and I turned into it and that’s when we saw them, standing along the side of the road, backs pressed up against the rock wall.
People.
A bunch of them. Just standing there. Staring.
And they were about a foot from the car.
My scream was a “Woah” that extended into something involuntary and deep. Danielle’s was more of the normal feminine shriek variety, and I’ll be honest, I don’t remember for sure what Mike did, although I think he screamed, “Oh shit!” numerous times.
I slammed on the gas. The road curved left and down another hill and I took it hard and after one more turn, we were back on a normal two lane road, Silver Lake in the distance.
I coasted, my head on the steering wheel. We were laughing. We were screaming with laughter. We were all having heart attacks and shitting our pants and there were bright spots in front of our eyes and God’s name was invoked several times in a variety of ways and in a couple of different languages.
It was the scariest goddamn moment of my life.
Looking back, we’ve come to the conclusion that it was people—regular people—wearing North Face fleeces and baseball caps and jeans. Not dead witches or murdered wives or pigment-sucking albinos. Why they were standing on Buckhout Road, pressed against a stone wall just--staring--at nothing--I’ll never know. Either there was something semi-creepy going on or it was just a bunch of kids who knew that standing there scares the shit out of people who happen to be driving by at 11:45 on a Saturday night.
We made plenty of jokes about what happened as we made our way home, most involving albinos using the pickup line: I want to suck the pigment out of you. But we all admitted after a while that we had been genuinely scared—terrified actually—and it reminded me of why I generally stay away from situations like this to begin with.
So is Buckhout Road haunted?
Also, I don’t do rollercoasters. I don’t bungee jump, I’ve never wanted to sky dive, and I’m not even really into horror movies. I’m from the Bronx. I’m pretty sure about what I can and can’t handle. But this Saturday, I got the best scare I’ve had in a while, and really, more like ever.
This is my story.
There's a fairly well known spot in Westchester that is supposedly haunted. It’s right here in Harrison actually. It’s called Buckhout Road, although on the GPS, it's listed as Buckout. It's a connecting road off of Old Lake Street that starts out as a two-laner, but eventually the yellow lane divider disappears and the road itself squeezes down into one barely-passable strip of asphalt.
On one side of the road there's a cemetery--haunted, naturally--and there's some stories about the houses along the way. One held captured and/or freed slaves, one was the spot of a grisly murder, and one used to be/is an albino colony, a fact that seemed terrifying for some reason, although rationally thinking people would find nothing wrong with. There's also a story about witches being burned at the stake at one point in history when it was still acceptable to do such a thing, and the story goes that if you look at the street, there are always X's in the spot they were burned, no matter how many times people wash them off or pave over them.
As I said before, I've never been one for shit like this. But Danielle was home from work and my brother Mike was up for the weekend and it was Saturday night and we were bored, so we decided to give Buckhout Road a shot to see if there was truly something special about it, or if it was just the usual case of all sizzle and no steak.
First off, let me say this--the road is lit. The streetlights were mostly on, pretty well spaced apart, but darkness was not a factor, which seemed to put a dent in the albino theory because by this point, we had granted them near-vampire status and there was no way they would let the lights stay on. The brief stretch of woods part was somewhat creepy, but again, nothing too over the top.
The architectural style of the houses that lined Buckhout Road is what made it somewhat strange. Some were old, small, and even boarded up. Others were brand new mansions, very modern buildings, that were all either lit up like a lighthouse, or closed up, and shrouded in darkness.
The narrowness of the road, and the fact that it became that way out of nowhere, was creepy as well, since the road was not only curvy, but hilly too, so I was forced to drive slower than I would have liked.
And the strange design of the road played a big part in our little moment.
Again, I was skeptical. It wasn’t dark. It didn’t feel haunted or possessed or run down either. We’d been driving for about five minutes and nothing had happened—no witches or slave ghosts—not one single albino. No one was talking. But as soon as the road narrowed, I said out loud, “This is not good.”
Little did I know I was right.
We came around one turn and coasted down a hill. Nobody said anything at first, but we all saw it—a wooden bear. It had to be about six or seven feet tall. It was a sculpture of a bear standing on its hind legs and it was standing on the front lawn of a massively wide ranch-style home. The lights were all on in the house, and because of the nature of the road, I kept checking back in front of me, but I couldn’t help but look at the bear. Maybe it’s because it was the first “thing” we had seen so far, maybe it was somewhat odd, maybe I was just searching. Then Danielle finally spoke:
That bear is creeping me out.
What happened next took place in about five seconds, although it will seem longer here.
Mike said, “Yeah, me too,” from the backseat.
I began to respond with, “Yeah, I know—” and wanted to say how it had scared me slightly before I realized what it was. But by this point, we had come to the top of another hill and it curved to the right at the same time and the road itself seemed as if it would barely hold my Nissan Murano. The unbeatable laws of physics grabbed the car and pulled it faster down the hill and I turned into it and that’s when we saw them, standing along the side of the road, backs pressed up against the rock wall.
People.
A bunch of them. Just standing there. Staring.
And they were about a foot from the car.
My scream was a “Woah” that extended into something involuntary and deep. Danielle’s was more of the normal feminine shriek variety, and I’ll be honest, I don’t remember for sure what Mike did, although I think he screamed, “Oh shit!” numerous times.
I slammed on the gas. The road curved left and down another hill and I took it hard and after one more turn, we were back on a normal two lane road, Silver Lake in the distance.
I coasted, my head on the steering wheel. We were laughing. We were screaming with laughter. We were all having heart attacks and shitting our pants and there were bright spots in front of our eyes and God’s name was invoked several times in a variety of ways and in a couple of different languages.
It was the scariest goddamn moment of my life.
Looking back, we’ve come to the conclusion that it was people—regular people—wearing North Face fleeces and baseball caps and jeans. Not dead witches or murdered wives or pigment-sucking albinos. Why they were standing on Buckhout Road, pressed against a stone wall just--staring--at nothing--I’ll never know. Either there was something semi-creepy going on or it was just a bunch of kids who knew that standing there scares the shit out of people who happen to be driving by at 11:45 on a Saturday night.
We made plenty of jokes about what happened as we made our way home, most involving albinos using the pickup line: I want to suck the pigment out of you. But we all admitted after a while that we had been genuinely scared—terrified actually—and it reminded me of why I generally stay away from situations like this to begin with.
So is Buckhout Road haunted?
I couldn’t tell you. All I know is that I won’t be going back any time soon.
And again, I just want to put it out there: I’ve got nothing against albinos, I swear.
Especially any that happen to live in a group setting on Buckhout Road.
this was scary to read. very House of Wax starring Paris Hilton and Chad Michael Murray.
ReplyDeleteI try to avoid buckout road myself...
ReplyDeleteso one time, sr year of college, sasha, aj, tony flynn, shane and I went down there searching for all of these things...it was probably 2 or 3am on a Thursday or some shit and it was like a week after the remake of Amityville Horror came out...
ReplyDeleteanyways, so we read all the same things and headed down there and stopped in an area which we believed to be the slave burial ground and flynn got out of the car to investigate and the rest of us were too terrified to go. we had insisted that flynn take a bible with him (he happened to have one in the car already) and it was only after he got into the field that we realized he didn't have it. Sasha took some pictures that may or may not have had some "orbs with faces" in them, or it could have been particles of dust, who are we to say.
when we realized flynn didn't have the bible (because obviously that would save him from any impending doom) we all started yelling for him to come back to the car and decided that if he got possessed, we'd just have to leave him there. but then we realized aj was riding shotgun and if we needed to make a fast getaway, either shane, sash or i would have to jump over the seat and get to drive because aj couldn't.
and needless to say, nothing really happened outside of our own paranoia, but it was fun none the less.
i am 48 years old and lived on lake street,, my best friends lived there,,, the haunted white mansion thats in the process of being torn down,, stories of grave robbers we saw many plots dug up coffins opened,,even have the heritage trail that passes thru buckhout ...was used by the indians the pilgrams , intense real...witches, ghosts...mando i have stories.. i love up in orange cty now. buckhout, lake street park lane,,, all held maybe 10 houses on them,,park lane that backs up to buckhout used to house an abadoned farm slaughterhouse of pigs,, the main house was deep with in the woods,,, beautiful,,, now garbage mc masions reside there... history all lost, all torn down for shit garbage.
ReplyDeleteIt was a cool October day, we heard so many stories about this place. My friend talked me into staying over for the weekend. After arguing with me for weeks I finally agreed to go, he would sleep in the woods and I will pull the car over and stay in the car. He wasn't afraid of anything, nothing could scare him. He was always the type that would laugh at scary movies; he was always the type to scare people and always getting a kick out of it. It's been almost three years now since he slept in those woods and he has never been the same. He's been in and out of the mental hospital maybe fifteen or sixteen times. I asked him one time and one time only in a joking way, "Hey, wasn't it a bunch of bull shit all of these Buckout Road stories?" He replied, "Yeah!" To this day we don't know what got into him he doesn't laugh or smile, never smoke drank or did any drug; now he's on five different medications. His family still doesn't talk to me. SORRY!!
ReplyDeleteIf you walk up the old cemetery and go by the rocks, you feel something really bad. Don't go there. You'll hear growls and rocks hitting against rocks. Me and a friend sat on those very rocks and she felt someone grab her shoulder. Later on we researched what that was all about... apparently Mary Buckout wanders around touching people. Creepy stuff. After they tore down the old barn, some friends were able to get pictures of vivid light ghosts.
ReplyDeleteI want to thank you for this great story! The place where you saw the creepy bear? That is where my home use to be, right where Hall Ave becomes Buckhout. Our house was much more wonderful than the house with the bear that is there now. Yes the people, mostly the spectators driving (with the experience you had) to see the haunted street were the REALLY scarey part! My mother used to worry that we'd get run over.
ReplyDeleteAnyhow, thanks. I know this post is older, found it this Dec night in 2010. The true history of the stories is to this day a mystery. It is very sad that we can not find out the truth as many of the old houses are gone.
The creepy bear is tacky that's all. I miss our great old house.
ReplyDeleteIn the early 1970's two people were actually killed in their home on Buckhout right across from the old pig farm. The fire was called "accidental" but it wasn't. I was sitting in the car of the person who burned this house, and I saw the whole thing. I also saw the "white deer" it was a stag with a big rack of antlers... nothing spooky unless you are afraid of albino deer. There were also foundation like structures which Dave Baldwin told me were hiding places for run-a-way slaves. Makes sense since the Quaker meetinghouse is just a walk down Lake street from there.
ReplyDeleteWe used to find cannonballs, flint-lock pieces, and even uniform buttons up there. It was a historic piece of land. Roger Parks (Parks lane) knew this which is why he never sold it.
BUT you ask any of the boys who once stole cars and dumped them in Park's woods if those woods are haunted and they (to a man I'd bet) will tell you "hell yeah."
It's a shame the developers got their greedy little mits on this fabulous piece of history, it would have made a wonderful park.
Skruff
Hi all. I grew up in Yonkers and in the early 90s I was hearing the stories about the "Albino midgets" on "Bug-Out"
DeleteA lot of people from Yonkers either went or wanted to check it out. I always wondered how these urban legends reached Yonkers. None of us knew anyone in White Plains. I guess older people heard it from people they went to Stepinace High School. I think the stories about the Albinos started in the 1970s. My parents drove over other parts of Westchester and never went to Buckout Road or heard any stories. I never met an older person from Yonkers who was going up there. So it was a later generation I think. But enough people were interested in it. Just a side note, as a kid when I first heard the stories I thought it was in Hartsdale. I was ignorant of White Plains outside of the Galleria, probably like a lot of people from Yonkers back then. I'm sure to locals it was always a scary place though. I think it stems from the Buckout who was hung for a murder in 19th century, and it just escalated from there.
Just went to Buckout Rd for Halloween night. Absolutely nothing spooky happened but the same bear also made us feel a bit unsettled there was also a bunch of confederate and American flags around that house. The only thing spooky on this road is the possibility of getting killed by a racist person.
ReplyDelete