Throughout the farm there were many paths some through fields, forests, and mossy groves but none compared to the Willy trail. Off to the distance there were the woods and a small abandoned church. The land along the pathway wasn’t worthy for crops. The only thing that grew along the path where small orange bushes, the rest of the plants where dead and If not dead then dying. The Thomas boys once dared me to walk down it all the way from one end to the other mid December. Even in the winter the path was foggy. They also said that the path was haunted, and every time I always tell them that there’s no such thing as ghosts, that they are just being silly. But deep down I started thinking they were. That was the last time I ever stepped foot on the Willy trail again. Though grandpa has pictures of him and ma on the path standing on those grey stones on the path, it seemed as if it would go on forever.