W
hile some people enjoy them far more than others, everyone likes a scary story. From fireside classics to the local urban legends we hear growing up, anything that causes the hairs to stand up on the back of our necks provides a rush like no other. I was pretty easily spooked as a child, but that didn’t stop me from listening when ghost stories were being told. Like a moth to a flame, I took in every word until the big reveal was delivered, knowing I wouldn’t be able to sleep that night or perhaps for the next three. Did I learn from this folly? Of course not. I continued to listen, ignoring my own better judgment, because you can’t allow yourself to seem scared as a tough little boy and mainly because the stories were intriguing. After attending several different summer camps and getting different renditions of the same old stories I began to catch on to the scam. The same stories were told over and over again but changed
OWNER + CEO Ian Griffin MAG ART & DESIGN Ellie Borromeo
Ian Griffin OWNER+CEO
Publisher’s Note just slightly to make them “local.” It was then that I gravitated towards the truly local urban legends. If you grew up in Rome, you heard about CCC Road (a rumored breeding ground for satanic rituals) and, of course, the disappearing seventh bridge (a haunting of three-mile road) and the slew of tales involving Berry College, just to name a few. And let us not forget the unmentionable happenings in the hills of Chattooga Co. at Corpsewood Manor. The locals know this story well. (V3 Magazine Oct. 2010). Twickenham Mansion was another story I grew up hearing, in which a little girl roller-skated into a fireplace to her death. Those familiar with the home said you could still hear her skating around the ballroom, giggling before she screamed when meeting her life’s end. The house also had a woman in purple or pink, depending on who told the story, who wandered the halls crying over her lost daughter. On a Friday the 13th in the early 90s, a group of my sixth-grade chums, and one brave older brother of an aforementioned chum, decided to investigate the mansion when the sun went down. We didn’t have a plan, other than figuring out who might be the bravest of the bunch, so we took our flashlights and started on our way. The night was crystal clear. As we walked through the tree-canopied, gravel driveway, a dense fog rolled in almost instantly. Within moments, we couldn’t see each other – just the beams of our flashlights burrowing through the fog. This, of course, caused all of us to panic and run for the entrance, where we escaped into the cul-de-sac and the cool night air. When we turned to look back, the fog remained settled on the driveway behind us, confirming something didn’t want us coming in. I’d like to say my merry band of “Goonies” confirmed one of Rome’s tall tales that night, but there is no such proof. It could have been an isolated flash fog occurrence or the supernatural. I can’t say one way or the other, but I won’t ever forget that night. This month, Oliver Robbins challenged himself to debunking the legend of CCC Road by talking to others about their experiences on the road and then biking the road at dusk with a group of V3 staffers. I hope you enjoy his story and all the others in this month’s edition. Get lots of candy this year and Happy Halloween. Ian Griffin, Owner
8
v3 magazine
EDITORIAL MANAGER Oliver Robbins CONTRIBUTING EDITOR Tannika Wester WRITERS J. Bryant Steele, Holly Lynch, Oliver Robbins, Erin deMesquita, Dan Tompkins, Matt Pulford PHOTOGRAPHY Derek Bell, MFA 706.936.0407 AD SALES + CLIENT RELATIONS Chris Forino, Arion Bass AD DESIGN + MARKETING CONCEPTS Ellie Borromeo, Christian Turner PUBLISHER V3 Publications, LLC CONTACT One West Fourth Avenue Rome, Ga. 30161 Office Phone 706.235.0748 v3publications@gmail.com CREATOR Neal Howard
v3magazine.com COVER ARTIST OTHER LEVEL SCULPTURES JEREMY SMITH (706) 331-0837 WWW.FACEBOOK.COM/ OTHERLEVELSCULPTURES