Scary Storys That Will Scare You Crap less

baboon lane

In the United States of America, in the state of Ohio, about forty-five minutes North West of Cincinnati, there is a large, but sparsely populated farming community known as Oregonia. Some of you who have an interest in Motorcycles may have heard of it before, as the community is famous for its hills and holds the annual "Devil's Staircase Hill Climb", where motorcyclists ride their bikes up a very steep hill. It's a lot more fun than it sounds, and it brings in a lot of money and excitement to what is normally a very boring area.

Oregonia is actually a pretty interesting place for being so small and secluded. The guy who invented pop tabs, the thing on top of soda cans that open them, lived there. He was an industrialist by the name of Ralph J. Stolle. There were also a few interesting experiments held at the farm; it was one of the first to try and breed "beefalo", Cattle/Buffalo hybrids that were supposed to be healthier, reproduce faster, stuff like that. This story is about a similar experiment.

If any of you pass through Oregonia, you can confirm this story with the locals, but you'll have to the press them somewhat. The older folks won't talk about it, but people between fifteen and thirty will have a story or two. Ask them about the unmarked, unnamed, gated off road above Turtle Creek Cemetery. Ask them about the facility at the end of that road, and what it used to be used for. Ask them about Baboon Lane.

Mostly, you'll hear the official story. The facility at the end of baboon lane was a research lab that specialized in studying the effects of various diseases on Baboons, who are closely related to humans, and so the research is viable. Another story says that Stolle had to do something with his money, so he bought a bunch of animals but couldn't properly care for them, and just locked them in there. The younger kids will tell you different local legends; my favorite is that it's a storage facility for some kind of government black ops organization storing something like the Arc of the Covenant or something. The occasional ghost haunting story is to be expected, so are aliens and such. It is a farm, after all, and I'm sure I believed one of those stories at one point. But on a rare, rare occasion, someone will know, and be willing to part with, the truth. And when they do, you'll understand why its so rare.

My story starts as many of my childhood stories start: My cousins were over at my grandparents' home. At the time, Oregonia had little to no internet or Cable. We actually had to play outside back then. There were six of us. My cousins Matt, Shane, Ethan, Tory, and Monique, and me. I was the youngest, only eight when this happened, But my older cousins usually treated me well and made me a part of everything, if not only because I lived there with my parents just up the road from my grandparents house. I knew all the trails, the hills, the valleys, the places to play. Without me, they would get lost, and they did pretty often if they didn't take me or got separated.

When we were all there together, we would usually grab a bunch of toy guns and play soldiers; even the girls, because there wasn't much else to do. Sometimes we'd grab sticks and fight, and sometimes we'd play tag, or hide and seek in the woods, but I always won, so we didn't play that often. This story was soldiers. We were all dropped into Normandy to fight Nazis.

D-Day was in the morning, just after we ate breakfast. By the time noon rolled around, we were in Vietnam, and after dinner, when the sun was setting, we were out of wars to fight. The oldest of us, Matt, looked to me and asked,

"Is there anything else we can do?"

I thought about it, and replied. When I remember this story, this is the part where I wince, like watching that part in a movie where a character makes a stupid decision that gets someone killed. I didn't get hurt, but there are things you just don't want to know, and the deal with Baboon lane was one of them.