A group of teenagers are hanging out at Hell’s Bridge on a cold October night, waiting for something to happen. They glance at their cell phones and see the time fast approaching midnight. It’s at midnight they heard you are supposed to hear the Devil laughing if you are standing on the bridge. They wait quietly, straining to hear any sound in the darkness around them. The only ghostly thing they see is their own breath floating above them in the cold air. Suddenly, one of them grabs the other and hurriedly states in a frightened whisper, “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” the others respond with the same hushed whisper.
“I heard someone laughing!” Someone else chimes in with, “I think I heard a kid cry!”
Everyone looks at each other for a few moments and gets quiet again. Something in the woods is heard but it’s unclear what’s making the sound. At that point, everyone flees the bridge, gets in their car and leaves the Devil and his laughter behind. They pull up to a Denny’s and discuss it among themselves and tell others how they heard the “Devil laughing” and “kid’s crying” while at Hell’s Bridge. And the legend continues…
Hell’s bridge is a popular urban legend around west Michigan and tells of the “demon possessed child killer”, Elias Friske. “Hell’s Bridge” is a small, not so special metal bridge found in Algoma Township, crossing the Rogue River. The legend says that a man named Elias Friske murdered seven children, blaming it on a demon. According to the story, he threw their bodies in the stream where the bridge is located. Paranormal teams around the area have looked into this legend, each one having a different experience. Some teams felt there was nothing there and the haunting was exaggerated, while others were convinced that the area was rampant with paranormal activity and they could hear the screams and whimpers of the murdered children. Some say the bridge is further down and not the one everyone photographs.
Out of curiosity, I checked the census records for a man named Elias Friske in the Algoma area. The legend states the murders happened in the late 1800’s sometime, but the Friske family doesn’t show up in the Algoma area until the 1910 census and there’s no one by the name of Elias Friske. Now that doesn’t mean he didn’t exist. The census records were not perfect by any means, but it does give further fuel to this story being just another haunted legend in Michigan.
No matter how much truth you are able to expose about a legend, they still have a way of getting into the minds of the curious, possessing them like poor, fictional Elias Friske.
Have you experienced something at Hell’s Bridge? Comment below.
My two friends and I just got back from Hell’s Bridge. We walked about 14 feet down the path when another car pulled up with about 5 or 6 people in it. It was pretty eerie so we just decided to all group up. The setting was perfect…pulling onto Friske Drive and watching the entire fog rise from the damp street. The atmosphere alone was freaking us all out.
We trekked further into the words until we came to the bridge. We got there at about 5 minutes to midnight. As soon as someone said that it was 12:00 we heard an ominous laugh come from the woods. We all looked at each other and me, along with 4 of the other people there, walked onto the bridge. For a while it looked like someone was walking on the water towards us and the girls there had to leave after that. Everyone there heard what sounded like children faintly screaming and whimpering. Me and the guy next to me looked down at the water and saw a kid floating there. That’s when we got the (bleep) off that bridge. The second party of people left while me, my two friends, and my brother stayed back. I got my brother to come onto the middle of the bridge with me to see if we could hear anything else before we left. I pointed to the spot where that other guy and I saw the kid. When we both looked, we saw two kids with rope around them floating in the water. We hauled ASS out of those woods.
I just got back from Hell’s Bridge with my friend tonight. All was pretty quiet until nightfall. We decided that something on the side of the bridge opposite the big tree was starting to not feel quite right after the sun went down. That’s where we’d been standing during sunset. We sat down by the big tree when it was dark and let one of our digital voice recorders roll. My friend took some digital photos while I filmed with one of my camcorders. We sat there and talked randomly, then I asked some questions. My friend got a cold sensation down her back (which was facing the tree, I sat facing her). I started to get cold chills. I also thought I heard people talking and walking down the path toward us. Thinking it was more curious investigators, I waited. No one came. Eventually, we started to feel so physically weird and like we were being watched, that we grabbed our stuff and hauled butt up the trail. It was really muddy, but we were trying to move quickly just to get back to the car. We got back to my house and played the recording she took on her recorder after dark, when we were experiencing things. We heard a ton of unexplained noises including voices, a child crying, a girl singing, and really bizarre growls.
Also, I found bruises on my right arm that were not there earlier in the day. I do not recall any way in which I could’ve sustained these bruises. I have three on my upper arm spaced at the width of three spread human fingers, but they look like I was being grabbed by something from behind. At this angle, I couldn’t have done them myself. I also have one in the middle of my lower arm. I did not see or feel any of these until I got home, took off my hoodie, and was washing my hands. There is no way I would ever go back there after nightfall. Ever. I don’t care if it’s Elias Friske, some other spirits, whatever. I don’t scare easily, but that freaked me out. I will gladly return to my beloved haunted Aquinas College before setting foot back in those woods again.
I have always been someone skeptical of the legend of Hell’s Bridge. The road that Hell’s bridge is off of is named Friske Road. If a man by the name of Elias Friske really murdered a bunch of children, then why would they name a road after him? If the road was named before the murder, I would think they would change it instead of letting continue to pay homage to a murderer. I do know that people have had some strange experiences there, so I’m not ruling out that the place is ‘active’. I’m just skeptical of the story around it.