About 150 years ago, a colorfully decorated caravan was slowly moving thru what is now known as Terre Haute. The Gypsies were ex-hausted and needed to rest. The water supply they had made them sick, the food they stored was infested. They desperately needed fresh supplies, and they were hoping this town would be merciful, for many did not like Gypsies. The gypsies are used to this kind of prejudice, so they kept moving, staying only long enough to restock and move on. When they do find friendly people, they never overstay their visit. For someday they may well need to visit again.
They had many nice things they could trade for food, and they were very grateful for the water well nearby the town. They lined up their wagons a few feet from the well; the children slowly got out and proceeded to throw up, then laid near the families wagon wheels, moaning and crying. The mothers staggered slowly to the well to rinse and refill their animal skins with water, and returned to their children to comfort them. The men were next to the well, trying to clean off several days’ worth of dirt, washing their hair, scrubbing their arms, torso, and legs with soap and water from a bucket. Then they searched thru their wagons, looking for a fresh set of clothes and gathered what they wanted to trade.
Before they left to investigate the town, they dragged large metal tubs from underneath their wagons, and set them behind curtains for privacy, so their wives and children could bathe while they were gone. After the women rested and gave their sick ones some crackers, they started filling the large tubs, undressed and got in the water with the smaller ones. After the moms finished, the older kids stripped, jumped in, splashed around and scrubbed each other.
When the sun was almost gone, the men returned. The women knew that it went badly, so they ran to their men and hugged them, and asked what happened. The men’s faces told the story, they were bruised, bloody, a few arms were injured, a few legs now limped along. When the men finally spoke, all they could do is curse at the cruelty they encountered. The gypsies tried everything they could to be kind and fair, but their efforts were answered with hatred. The priests there stopped the lynching, and gave some bread to help them, and prom-ised to meet them by the water well and give them more food tomor-row. They split what they had to eat and went to bed.
The next morning, they were woken by an angry mob of towns-people, that demanded the gypsies leave today. The gypsy mothers begged for a few weeks until their children were well. Their cries were falling on deaf ears, and the townspeople started destroying their wagons, breaking and burning the gypsies’ possessions. They fought back, but there were too many, so when the townspeople left, many gypsies were dead or dying. The priests admonished the townspeople and said God will curse them for their cruelty. The next few days the priest and his followers did what they could to repair the damage and help the injured. Most of the gypsies were beyond help due to the ill-ness spreading and the injuries, and the priests comforted them the best they could. The townspeople would not give any medicine to help the Gypsies.
Sadly many were buried in an area outside the towns graveyard; for the townspeople refused these heathens to be buried next to good Christian people. So while in the day the priests said prayers for the dead, in the night the Gypsies cried, screamed, and put curses on the townspeople. The Gypsies vowed never to leave the area, and every-one died with curses on their lips.
The cemetery in now known as Highlawn Cemetery. The gypsies are buried in the back. The cemetery has grown. They changed the name, but the ghosts are the same. If you feel like visiting, remember to go to the back of the cemetery, where strange unmarked mounds are. That’s where they live now, waiting for any non-gypsy who dare visit them. If you do go, be respectful and bring beer for the men, candy for the children, and jewelry for the women. But don’t be surprised if orbs fol-low you, misty figures watch you, and phantom horses chase you.
And if you are lucky you will hear and see them sing and dance, celebrating underneath a full moon. But if you are rude, you may find them not so festive, they will make sure you leave dead or alive with bloody hand prints on your clothes as a not so friendly reminder of your visit.
Books for reference