Small towns love their ghost walks.
It’s tourism gold: a handful of half-remembered tragedies, a few atmospheric alleys, and a tour guide in a polyester cloak dramatically whispering about restless spirits while secretly checking the time on their phone.
Hollow Hill’s offering promised an “authentic paranormal experience,” featuring “chilling tales,” “real haunted sites,” and “verified spectral activity.” I should have known what I was in for when the “historic downtown” turned out to be two antique stores, a shuttered diner, and a vape shop that somehow still had a “Grand Opening” banner.
Our guide, a man named Mason who looked like he’d lost a bet, met us in front of the town’s defunct courthouse. Mason wore a crushed velvet cape, carried a lantern that kept blowing out, and spoke in a tone that suggested he once played the back end of a horse in a community theater production of Camelot.
The walk itself consisted of wandering from one poorly lit street corner to another while Mason recited town legends that, charitably, sounded like rejected B-movie plots. The “haunted mill” was now a real estate office. The “cursed crossroads” was a four-way stop featuring an aggressive Dunkin’ Donuts drive-thru. The “bloodstained tavern” was, unfortunately, a CVS.
Every location came with a flourish:
“Some say you can still hear the cries of the restless souls…” (Car alarm blares nearby.)
“Many visitors report a sudden chill on this spot…” (It’s 43 degrees and raining.)
“Locals claim mysterious orbs have been captured right here…” (Streetlamp flickering due to loose wiring.)
Halfway through, Mason encouraged us to take photos to “capture paranormal energy.” Several tourists dutifully snapped dozens of pictures of absolutely nothing. One woman gasped excitedly at a blurry spot that turned out to be her own thumb.
The grand finale was a stop at the “haunted cemetery,” which, upon closer inspection, was an empty lot next to the sewage treatment facility. No spirits manifested, unless you count the ghost of good judgment.
If Hollow Hill’s restless dead truly exist, they’re doing the smart thing by staying indoors.
This ghost walk wasn’t an exploration of the spirit world. It was a brisk, damp reminder that when people run out of real history, they start selling shadows.
If you go, bring a coat — and extremely low expectations.