The Story of Red Amy

Hollow Park (Bring the kids! It’s a great place for all ages!). She was still dressed in her red dress, and it’s believed she was running barefoot at the time. No one was really sure what her real name was, but it’s generally believed it was Amy. No known police reports exist of the incident, and no arrests were ever made in her death. Of course, that’s not where the story ends. Whatever happened to that poor girl, it was so bad, that some say her ghost still haunts that field and creek to this day. Some have even claimed to have seen the ghost. They say that every night, between 11PM and 2AM, the ghost of a young woman can be seen running across the fields along Roberts Avenue. The ghost wears a red dress, and can be heard screaming, “Help me!” to anyone nearby, and then just as suddenly, disappears into the night. Others say that this happens only on the night she died; though which night it was, no one is really sure anymore. Some say it’s on the same night as the original prom night at Yerba Buena, others say the night falls on All Hallow’s Eve. No one is really sure.

Not that this would ever stop Dio from trying to find out. You see, one night, quite a few years ago, after hearing the story, I let Dio talk me into looking for the ghost. Choco was dragged along for the ride as well. So one night, it must have been sometime in the fall, I think October, the three of us agreed (me most reluctantly) to explore that old field and creek and see what we would find. The entire field had long since been turned into an abandoned and fenced off parcel of land, but driven by a since of curiosity and foolhardiness, we climbed the fence and explored that long forgotten field.

Deeper into the field, we began entering the creek and all was pitch black; not even the moonlight to guide us. Fortunately, we brought some flashlights to guide our way, but much like when exploring a haunted house, the limited light only serves to make things all the scarier. Fear comes not from the things you do or don’t see, but the things you THINK you’ll see. Behind every last tree branch, it felt like some crazy bug, bird, or god forbid something far bigger was lurking; looking to peck our eyes out or worse. For my part, I was more worried about running across a cop or a game warden and seeing our visit cut short by an arrest for trespassing, but even those practical fears didn’t stop me from wondering, what if something really IS out there? Not just rabid wildlife, or crazed bums squatting in the creek, but what if there really is a ghost? What would I do? What should a rational man do when faced with empirical proof of the irrational? For all of my hope that I wouldn’t see it, there’s still that tiny feeling deep down that I would; that I would finally see something that would make me change my view and understanding of the world. I was hoping, if only just a little, that maybe there are still mysteries out there to explore. In the meantime, the three of us had a very real world challenge to meet, and it was now time to cross that bridge, because we had gotten there. The creek had a fast stream, and the only way across was an old rotten log that had sat across it. The log was pretty big; about as big as me or Choco, but twice as long. We needed to shift it to make sure we could securely cross. So, here we were, knee deep in cold, and probably filthy water, trying to shove a log across far enough to use as a bridge. We managed to bridge the distance and crawl across. Ever seen one of those lumberjacks balance on a log in the water? It’s every bit as hard as it sounds. The log kept shifting ever so slightly as we crawled across, one by one, but thankfully we made it across safely, if a little damp and rancid.

Past the creek, we made it to the otherside of the field. The moonlight was bright and beautiful, and the wind cut like a knife, and howled with all the fury of hell itself. It all looked like what you would expect in an old horror movie, but one thing was missing: no ghost. No Red Amy. It seemed the anguished specter of legend was taking a night off. I was relieved, but also disappointed. Dio was disappointed, but also cold. Choco was Choco, and taking everything in stride.

We trekked across the rest of the field, and luckily avoided any cops, though in my hazy memories of the night, I think we may have come close. The field connected to the old Happy Hollow Historical Museum, and past a few houses that looked like they belonged perhaps less like Amityville, and more like Mayberry, it was smooth sailing from there. There was a street route back to where we started; much longer than the path we took. Cold, tired, and more than a little hungry, we made the long walk through the night back to my car. Afterward, we warmed ourselves to a horribly unhealthy, but comforting meal at a Denny’s. Over our grand slams and double bacon cheeseburgers, we talked about how disappointed we were to see no ghosts (Dio), how relieved we were to not get arrested (Me), and how it was a hell of an experience and adventure in and of itself (Choco). Looking back, I have to agree.

--Doc Tran (10/12/16)

Image credits: nbcbayarea.com, expedia.com, wikipedia.com