 This incident happened to me when I was working as a security guard for a private Massachusetts beachside community in 1997. It was the first weekend after Labor Day and a good number of owners had begun or already closed up shop and went home for the season. There was still a steady trickle of people running and it would remain like that at least through September, but for the most part things were relatively quiet around this time of year. The actual complex bordered a quarter mile stretch of beach. It consisted of three multi-story buildings that each housed a few dozen condominium units along with a few avenues of conjoined townhomes and detached residences. There were a couple of pools and other recreational areas for the kids while most of the adults would park themselves at the beach. Most residents were elderly couples and families, but there were a few cliques of younger kids that roamed around during the day and night whose ages ranged anywhere from 9 or 10 to early or mid-20s. You had your select younger residents or renters that were more troublesome than others. Anyone under 18 had to return to their condos or houses when quiet hours started, which was 11pm. Most of the collegiate kids weren't too problematic and were primarily looking for somewhere to drink or smoke, which we tolerated so long as they weren't too loud. Around this time of year, a lot of them had already returned home to school with the exception of those whose institutions were nearby or lived close enough to still come down on weekends. It was a weekend night, a little past one in the morning, and there were only three of us working, aside from making our usual rounds and asking a small group of 20-somethings that were drinking by one of the pools to relocate to the beach. It was shaping up to be a relatively uneventful night. We were all hanging out in a little gatehouse at the community's main entrance when the camera feed monitoring the north trail to the beach went black. I volunteered to investigate the matter and took one of the golf carts that we shared with the complexes maintenance team. The complexes pools and residential section were separated from the beach by a stretch of trees and dense shrubbery about four acres wide. Three pathways cut through this patch of thicket that connected the rest of the complex to the beach, which were simply known as the north center and south trails. The north trail was the longest and most secluded out of the three, especially since part of it technically cut through a wildlife management area that bordered with the complex. From the gatehouse, the drive to the north trail took about three minutes. The trail started at the northeast corner of the complex, which consisted of a parking lot for residents, row of storage sheds, and small sitting area with some grills and fire pit. When I arrived, it appeared darker than usual, which was when I realized only three of the nine street lamps within the parking lot were illuminating. I quickly noticed some movement by a beach near the north trail entrance and caught the parting trails of two teenagers as they scurried into the wall of darkness marking the pathway's edge. I caught a light whiff of marijuana in the breeze coming from the direction of the beach and shook my head as a light chuckle escaped my lips. Probably would have just told you to take it to the beach anyway. I muttered under my breath while walking towards the storage sheds. Glancing back up the street lamps, I wondered if the camera's feed going out was part of a bigger power related issue as I approached a panel board that was embedded in the white painted concrete wall separating the parking lot and start of the underbrush. An initial inspection revealed no switches had been tampered with for both the camera and street lights. Resetting the power, I turned the switches for the security camera and street lights off and flipped them back on after two or three seconds. To my satisfaction, all nine street lamps were again illuminated. Making a smirky smile at my accomplishment, I retrieved my radio as I pridefully surveyed the rest of the parking lot. How's the feed looking now? I asked the other two guards at the gatehouse. Still nothing, Tex? Bill, our supervisor, said in a crackly static-filled reply. Take a ride down to the platform, see if there's anything wrong with the actual camera itself. There should be a way to manually reset it on the actual camera, like a button or something. If that doesn't work, then we'll have maintenance look at it in the morning. Okay, I'll radio you when I'm there. I replied, after which I released a long, huffy sigh. Putting my radio back in its belt clip, I closed the panel board and got back into the golf cart. I've been doing the North Trail by myself at night before, and I'll admit it's pretty creepy. I got back into my golf cart and started driving down the wooden trail. None of the three pathways had any lighting along them until you reached the wooden platforms on the beach. It instantly became dark, leaving me to rely on the golf cart's headlights as my only light source. After seeing those two stoners flee down the path and remembering the group of kids that we told to go to the beach, I was expecting other people would be at the platform when I arrived. Granted, the North Trail wasn't used as often and in a relatively secluded section of the complex, it made for a popular drinking and smoking spot. These thoughts were on my mind as I rolled down the trail. Feeling the radio clip on my belt shift, I looked down to adjust it while trying to manage the golf cart down a curve the pathway made with my other hand. Upon looking back up, my eyes widened and I slammed on the break, bringing the golf cart to a harsh but instantaneous halt. Standing in the middle of the trail was a young looking girl wearing a white camisole dress. The first thing I noticed was her dress was covered in light brown patches of sand and dirt. Her skin was noticeably pale and she had two large, sunken, green eyes surrounded by slightly darkened circles. Her dark brown hair appeared choppy and ragged looking but was tied in a bun with clumps of sand and dirt caught within its strands. She must have been no older than 15 or 16, had very frail looking limbs, was barefoot and appeared to be in a daze. Right away, I could tell she had to have been intoxicated or on some sort of drug. Readjusting myself in the driver's seat, I took a slow deep breath while I stared at the girl and waited for her to move. At first, she did nothing and continued gazing straight ahead. It looked like she was staring directly at me, but I could quickly tell she was really staring out into space and didn't appear phased by my unprecedented appearance. Sorry, I didn't see you there. I finally said, after a few brief moments of silence, do you have your residence band? Residence bands were wristbands that residents and renters wore to indicate they were staying at the complex. Before she could respond, I quickly swept over the girl's wrist and ankles with my eyes and didn't see her wearing one. Being that it was past peak season, however, we were pretty lax on this rule, so I decided to let it slide. The girl didn't respond and wore a mournful expression on her face like something troublesome dominated her train of thought. Do you live here? I then asked, which seemed to get a reaction out of her as the girl's eyes flashed back to life, and she lightly adjusted her head to face me. She didn't say anything and vertically shook her head. I shuddered to imagine how impaired this girl truly must have been as I looked her over for a second time. Part of me wanted to resume driving, but I did feel a little sorry for her and could tell something upsetting happened to her tonight. Can you take me home? The girl asked her unexpected question, making me jump a little. The golf cart had two rows of back seats. We technically weren't supposed to transport residents, but usually made exceptions for some of the community's elderly residents and occasional drunkards struggling to make their way back every once in a blue moon. While something was clearly off about this girl, I found myself rigidly nodding my head indicating the girl could catch a ride with me. I just have to make a quick stop at the platform, but I can take you back afterwards if you don't mind coming for the ride. I said to the girl as she slowly shuffled towards the golf cart and climbed in the back. Where's your unit? It's not far. The girl lightly whispered in a sullen, wistful tone, hanging her head like she was staring down at her feet. Are there any people at the platform right now? I asked as I resumed driving, going slower than I initially was in case I encountered anyone else walking back from the beach. The girl didn't respond and continued hanging her head. Persing my lips, I figured she must have not been in much of a talking mood and kept my eyes fixed on the trail. My sluggish speed along with the growing unease emanating off this strange girl sitting behind me was making the drive feel like it was lasting in eternity. I completed about three quarters of the drive and was in the more sequestered section of the pathway that briefly cut through the wildlife management area. I caught my first glimpses of the platform's lights when the girl's voice rang out and shattered the silence that consumed our ride. Stop. The girl demanded in a quick firm tone, prompting me to bring the golf cart to an abrupt stop. What's the matter? I asked the girl who didn't say anything at first and slowly extended her left arm to point towards the trees. I'm here. Before I could respond, the girl stood up, stepped out of the golf cart and started walking off the path toward the underbrush. Wait, what? Where are you going? I asked with slight concern and confusion, partly stepping out of the golf cart while the girl started casually walking toward the thicket. Stopping, the girl didn't turn and continued staring straight ahead. It's okay. Ewing is coming soon. She uttered in that same dismally humbling tone that contained a slight hint of hope. Perplexed by her response, I paused for a moment, unsure how to exactly respond. The girl continued walking into the trees and underbrush. Knowing I couldn't let her go by herself, I quickly hopped out of the golf cart and caught up to her in a few lunge-like steps, quickly reaching out and placing my hand on her shoulder. Wait, can you hold on a second? I stammered as my grip tightened on her shoulder, after which the girl finally stopped. You can't be wandering around out here in your condition. Look, I'll turn the cart around right now and take you home. Just tell me where your unit. I was cut short as I gestured for the girl to turn around. When she did, I was completely paralyzed by what I saw. The girl's skin was now mottled in a sickly light gray color. Her white dress completely ragged and covered with brown and dark red stains. The worst part about what I saw that still sticks with me after all these years. The girl's face was completely missing, with a dark gaping void in its place like her entire face had been torn off her head. She stood completely still at first, but then slowly canted her head, during which a squishy crackling sound rang out in conjunction with her shifting neck muscles. Screaming loudly, I scrambled back to the golf cart, threw it in reverse and attempted to make a K turn backing into a tree in the process. Still seeing the faceless girl in my peripherals, I wasn't even phased by the crash as I hastily completed the maneuver and sped back down the pathway toward the complex. My heart was pounding, stomach churning, and I was taking short frantic breaths, feeling like I lost complete control of my body. All I could do was keep my foot pressed on the golf cart's accelerator and my eyes fixed on the road ahead of me, until I burst out of the pathway back into the parking lot. I maintained my speed while I headed back to the gate house and even ignored a call on the radio from Bill, who angrily asked why I was driving so fast after seeing me on one of the cameras. I was hysterical upon returning, unable to make out words. I was perspiring heavily and needed a few moments to catch my breath, although I didn't even run. Bill and the other guard began frantically asking me what was wrong and what happened at the back of the golf cart. All I could utter before finally calming down was that I saw something. When I finally did calm down, I told my two coworkers what happened and outright refused to return to the North Trail. I could tell they were skeptical and Bill even proposed I must have been the brunt of a sick joke played by one of the more mischievous younger residents, but could tell I was really shaken up. He agreed to have maintenance check the camera in the morning and let me spend the rest of my shift in the gate house before letting me leave early. I spent the next week completely avoiding the North Trail and was even apprehensive about going anywhere alone around the complex at night. I refused to discuss what I saw any further. The other guards teasing me because they all thought I'd been on the butt end of a perfectly executed prank. About 10 days later, during one of my day shifts, we received a complaint that an unleashed dog was seen entering the North Trail, which they weren't even allowed to go down in the first place, so I had no choice but to investigate. Fortunately, Bill was also working that day and agreed to accompany me. To my dismay, we found the dog at the exact spot where the girl had gotten out of the golf cart that night. It was a German shepherd and had been frantically barking, whining and scratching at the ground a few feet into the thicket in between two oak trees. There was another man at the scene whom I recognized as one of the complex's residents and recalled he was a recently retired police officer. Upon our arrival, he eagerly walked up to us with great concern across his face. I'm sorry about the dog. He quickly said, I just adopted him. He was part of our canine unit and the man's voice trailed off as he looked back at the dog who seemed fixated on one particular spot as it continued to scratch at the ground with its front paw. Well, I'll be blunt with you. He used to be a cadaver dog and he always acted like this whenever he thinks he's got a hit. Bill and I looked at each other before turning back to the man and squinting in confusion. My blood ran cold when the man continued talking. I think he smells a dead body and I think you ought to call the police to investigate. After consulting with the community's general manager, he reluctantly agreed to have us call. My guess is he wouldn't have if this happened during peak season and may have tried to dismiss the matter. It took longer than expected for the police to arrive, mainly because the particular spot in question was technically part of the wildlife management area property, so we initially had to notify the department of fish and wildlife who manage the land. When the area was excavated, the authorities did in fact uncover skeletal remains. I was helping with cordoning off the area while the forensics team worked and was deeply unnerved when I saw the skull they exhumed, was missing all of its facial features. I later learned the body was determined to be that of a girl in her mid to late teens and had been dead for about 30 years, long before the complex was even built. I later read in the paper that she must have died around the same time a local 15 year old girl went missing whose case was unsolved. On the day of the excavation while the forensics team was extracting the bones, I overheard one of the CSIs speaking with a man whose dog sniffed out the grave. The investigator asked what his dog's name was and the man's response still gives me shivers. To this day, his name's Ewan.