“Theorosa…Theorosa…I have your baby!” No, this isn’t the cry of one of the Bravo Housewives bragging that she stole someone else’s man. And as soul-rotting and spooky as those abominations of human beings can be on Bravo, the story you are about to read is far creepier!
So, who is this Theorosa person? Or what is she...[insert ghoulish laugh]. Theorosa is the key subject in a local tale of terror just outside of my hometown of Wichita, Kansas – represent! In a suburb called Valley Center, stands a haunted bridge where the ghoulish apparition of a distraught and decaying mother lurks in search of her lost infant.
Stories about the origins of this otherworldly disturbance are a plenty. Like most legends, many of these stories are passed on word of mouth by drunken teenagers, so of course a lot of the details are skewed or just completely made up. So, if any of you are reading this and saying “Nuh-uh! That’s not how the story goes, Mark” – forgive my gullibility and take your gripes to the inebriated high schoolers who shared these stories with me all those years ago.
The most common story I personally heard as a youngster went something like this. A young lady back in late the 1800’s went on a wagon ride or some such with a married man, and as it turns out, this wasn’t a “covered” wagon ride if you know what I mean. Unsurprisingly, the uncovered wagon lovin’ lead to an illegitimate little one. Naturally, a married man making a youngin with someone who wasn’t his wife was a no-no – especially in the 19th century. And though this sinning sir didn’t have social media to worry about spreading rumors regarding his infidelity, he wasn’t going to take any chances of letting this extracurricular activity ruin his good name. Instead of doing the fatherly thing and pampering this little bundle of joy, this candidate for worst-dad-ever pitched the baby over the bridge and into the frigid waters that ran underneath it. After learning what the man had done, Theorosa rushed to the bridge in search of the child. She looked up and down the rushing creek, under the bridge, in the woods, and every other possible spot the baby could be. Neglecting the cold Kansas elements, she too, fell prey to death’s grip that night.
Another story typically associated with this haunt is that a tribe of Native Americans ambushed a wagon train. They kidnapped Theorosa’s baby and delivered the same violent fate as the previous rendition of the story – throwing the kid over the bridge and into the deadly waters below. Desperate to save her child, Theorosa dove in after the infant but died in her brave motherly attempt.
Regardless of the specifics, the fact of the folklore is that a ghost mom is in search of her deceased baby, and her soul will not rest until she finds it and/or punishes the one(s) responsible.
Now, back to the first line of this story – “Theorosa…Theorosa…I have your baby!” Like many haunted locations, there is a ritual in place to conjure the resident spirits. It is said that if you park your car on the middle of the bridge at night, turn it off, stand outside, and recite “Theorosa…Theorosa…I have your baby!” that her very spirit will manifest in various forms. There have been multiple reports of bright floating orbs, silhouettes, the disembodied cries of a distraught woman, and even full-bodied apparitions. Rumors of cars not restarting and even the vehicles shaking were not uncommon.
The creepiest tale about the bridge I can remember hearing involves a grandpa and grandson on the hunt for some lighthearted spooky fun ended up getting a heavy dose of terrifying horror instead. Following the rules of this ghoulish game, the pair parked their car, stood on the bridge, and together chanted, “Theorosa…Theorosa…I have your baby!” several times in a row. Nothing happened. Just eerie silence and a thick lingering fog. The pair turned and shared a giggle at the excitement of partaking in the legend.
The grandpa then nodded to his grandson, and asked if they should give it one more shot. The grandson eagerly nodded in agreement. They turned towards the end of the bridge and shouted “Theorosa…Theorosa…I have your baby!” Before they could finish fully enunciating the last word, a screaming specter manifested out of the fog near the edge of the bridge. With arms violently clawing, the ghoulish form raced towards the pair of now frozen spectators. Ol’ Gramps finally grabbed his grandson by the arm and rushed back to the car with terror close in tow.
In one fluid motion, they hopped in the vehicle, locked the doors, and tried to fire up the engine. But the car wouldn’t start. Over and over again, Grandpa tried as the ghostly figure continued its wraithlike charge. Theorosa’s spirit then leapt atop the hood and began clawing at the windshield. Finally, the car kicked in and Gramps stomped on the gas in reverse. As soon, as the car left the bridge, the violent apparition disappeared, and the eerie silence and stillness returned. Grandpa and Grandson sped off – assumingly in search of a fresh pair of pants.
Okay, so now that we are all done with the backstory of this legend, we can move on to the true heroes of this tale – donkey-brained-18-year-old me…and, more importantly, my much braver friends. Seeing how this was like two decades ago, I can’t quite recall who all was with us, but the usual crew included Kyle, Behnam, Luke, Cameron, Ronnie, and Bober. So, dudes, whether some of you were there or not, you’re getting credit for it in this story.
After hearing the tale of Theorosa’s Bridge and experiencing a huge pang of cold Kansas weather boredom, we decided to investigate the infamous local landmark for ourselves.
But first, we needed to decide who was driving. We would’ve drawn straws, but we didn’t have any. And we would have flipped coins, but the only once we had was a bent Canadian quarter. So, we improvised by grabbing a bottle of mustard from the fridge, standing in a circle around it, and giving it a spin to see who it would land on. It turns out French’s brand mustard picked Kyle and his SUV for our fateful journey.
On a dark cold winter night, this handful of 18-year-old paranormal investigators loaded up in our version of the Mystery Machine and hit the road to drive the dozen or so miles north. Along the ride, we discussed the possibilities of what we might see, hear, or feel. We did an excellent job of conjuring up each other’s collective imagination by continuing to one-up each other’s descriptions of the terror we might witness. By the time we pulled within a short distance of our destination, we had properly scared the crap out of each other.
Since this was before the time of smartphones and widely available GPS – plus the fact that we were too lazy to print out the instructions on MapQuest – we relied on hastily scribbled directions on a post-it note. Given the lack of technological assistance, and the laziness, it took us a little while to navigate our way to the exact location.
During our trek, streetlights, buildings, and civilization itself seemed to fade away. Afterall, this was a rural suburb of a rural-ish city, so it wasn’t unusual to drive a bit in any given direction and find a lot of nothingness. But this nothingness was different. Perhaps it was the knowledge that we were heading to a supposedly haunted location, but the surrounding atmosphere was thick with bleakness, darker than a usual winter night, and exceptionally silent.
Finally, we tracked down the poorly marked intersection where we were supposed to turn. And with enough nervousness to fill an oversized trick-or-treat bag, we drove down the dreaded road. Looking out into the darkness, each of us searched for the bridge ahead. That is until we realized something. We were already on it. Gasp!
After our spines finished chilling, we discussed what to do next. Asking for volunteers to chant the creepy words tin order to conjure this haunted mistress, I was the first to speak up. And confidently proclaim that I was absolutely not going to do it. With my cowardice firmly cemented, the bravest of the bunch, Behnam, declared he would volunteer as tribute. Always calm and collected, he didn’t give off any hint of fear as he prepared himself.
Beginning the believed-to-be-true ritual, Kyle turned the car off with the rest of us tucked inside behind locked doors. Behnam opened his door. He stepped out into the remnant snowfall on the ground. He strode out to the middle of the bridge. After a brief pause, he unleashed the words.
“Theorosa…Theorosa…I have your baby!”
Silence. The boys in the car held tense with anticipation.
A little louder this time. “Theorosa…Theorosa…I have your baby!”
Nothing. Still “puckered”, the guys continued to hold their breath.
One last time, shouting this go around. “Theorosa…Theorosa…I have your baby!”
Aaaaaand still absolutely nothing. Only silence. We all breathed a sigh of relief and perhaps let out a nervous laugh indicating that we were totally tough and knew it was all BS from the start.
Seeing that the coast was clear and our knight in shining armor, Behnam, was unscathed, the rest of us exited the vehicle and began poking around on the bridge. Though no imminent otherworldly threat seemed to exist, I must say that the location was thick with an oppressive ambiance. Still fearful of the spooky setting, we let our eyes wander towards the woods, under the bridge, and down the road in search of our specter. But other than a few graffitied four-letter words and wiener drawings, we didn’t encounter anything else particularly intriguing. Given the state of the bridge, we were more likely to encounter a skittering crackhead than a ghost our ghoul.
Having received our fill of the nothingness on the bridge, we decided we would load back up and head home. We entered the vehicle, strapped on our seat belts, and waited for Kyle to start the car. In the back of each of our minds, we all thought perhaps this is where the creep factor will kick in. Will the car not start? Will a ghost shake the Mystery Machine?
But no, Kyle started the car in one try and we were on our merry way.
Relieved and disappointed at the same time, we voiced our opinions of the experience as we made our way back. Phrases like “Ugh, so lame” and “The only deadly apparition on that bridge came out of my ass” were possibly uttered.
Thoroughly underwhelmed and overly cold, we punched up the heater and sat with our own thoughts for a few moments after sharing our silly banter.
Remembering we’d turned the radio off during our approach to the bridge, the rider in the front passenger seat hit the power button.
And then it happened.
I spit you not – the very first words from the very first song that played through the speakers…
“All that she wants is another baby, she’s gone tomorrow…”
That’s right, Ace of Base came through in the clutch to deliver a one hell of a scare on behalf of Theorosa. Though her presence did not find us from the shallow waves of the creek under her bridge, she stalked us through the vast airwaves where she can reach just a little bit further. And Theorosa let us know that she was still searching for her baby.
As we sat in the car properly speechless, our spines tingled, infinite goosebumps emerged, and other things puckered up. All we could do was share shocked smiles with one another and sit in silence as we traveled home.
So, if you’re looking for a good bit of Halloween fun – or possibly a completely full tank of nightmare fuel – hop in your buddy’s car and head on over to the 109th Street bridge…Theorosa’s Bridge. Though a different structure now stands where the original bridge burned down, you still might find a lost spirit burning brightly, ready to greet you in her own spooktacular way.