Lindsay Gregory is a city girl born and raised in Jacksonville, Florida. She aspires to be a graphic designer, but this may change a few times before she finishes college. Among all her life experiences, college has been the most productive and important. She has finally realized that life is about living, not about obtaining or getting by. She never imagined that her work would be published, and just the thought has opened her life to a world of possibilities to pursue her true creativity.

On the Northside of Jacksonville, Florida, the Pumpkin Hill Preserve State Park is located deep in the countryside off Cedar Point Road. When traveling to this region, you see the regression of urban life the further you head down the road. The area is beautiful in its vast forestry, natural greenery, and serene peacefulness untouched by city lights. Another of Jacksonville’s hair-raising historical places, Kingsley Plantation, is only a few miles up the road. Like any other recreational area, there are many things to do here, including hiking, bike riding, and swimming. There's also a cemetery. In a remote part of the preserve sits the Anderson family cemetery, and the story of its inhabitants, or lack thereof, is one that still haunts this rural community.

At night, the cemetery is lifeless, with only the light of the moon to show you the way. The very center of the cemetery is clear and in the open, with graves of many Anderson family ancestors surrounding the edges of the square fenced-off area. Many resting places are of young people whose deaths were marked by a severe shortcoming or tragedy. The youngest inhabitant of this cemetery is only one day old, and one of its oldest tenants was born in 1879. Cemeteries are naturally eerie places, and this one in particular is the marker of the tragedy that fell upon the Anderson family in 1974.

One August evening, 37 years ago, two young sisters were abducted from their home. Their names were Lillian and Mylette Anderson. The girls’ mother, Elizabeth, had left them at home that evening, while she and her other daughter left to visit a sick relative. Lillian was eleven years old, and Mylette, six, and both suffered from medical conditions that required daily medication. The girls were reported as having thyroid issues and asthma and needed their medication, especially if they became “overexcited” or nervous. Ms. Anderson left the girls home alone, expecting their father to be home within the hour. She called to check on the girls around seven o’clock. Everything was fine and the girls were safe. Their father, Jack, was delayed at work and did not return home at the expected time. By the time Mr. and Ms. Anderson arrived home that evening, their two young, sickly daughters were not home and were never seen or heard from again. They were only two of the five abductions that occurred within a three month period that year. They were believed to have been murdered.

Their abduction and murder remains unsolved to this day; nevertheless, police have minor evidence pointing to Paul John Knowles, better known as the “Spree Killer.” Knowles is known to have killed 18 other females in Northeast Florida, and he claimed to have killed as many as 35. Apparently the Anderson girls noticed Knowles dumping a stolen car after a heated escape from local police. It's believed that he recognized the girls as acquaintances of a family member and captured and murdered them to keep them quiet. It's also suspected that he not only murdered them, but buried their bodies somewhere on the west end of Commonwealth Avenue in the swamp. Knowles was never convicted or brought up on charges for these murders because he was killed in a police shootout late in 1974. After his death, the police found recorded tapes of Knowles confessing that he murdered two girls who happened to match the descriptions of the Anderson sisters.

Since the girls’ remains were never found, their grave sites remain only cenotaphs, empty markers of their short lives. The cemetery provides you with a sense of the unfinished, and you're easily brought to tears at the chilling tale that accompanies the sight of their poorly kept graves. The trees that outline the outskirts of the small graveyard give it the composition of a home. The vegetation canopies over the tombstones in a protective, secure manner. Around the cemetery, the Northside of Jacksonville is a place where time seems to have stopped in its tracks. The simple area speaks of a time long ago, and its lack of development is a sort of graceful blessing to the people who call it home.

Since there has been little urbanization here, it is almost an escape to another world. Although this area remains remote, houses that were once humble and utilitarian have been replaced by today’s McMansions, built for people that believe living in the country is the new city. The family cemetery will soon be lost, forgotten. There is already evidence that some family members who lie here have been long lost, with some of their graves so overrun by shrubbery that the headstones are completely hidden. Time will eventually take its toll on this tranquil area, and soon the loved ones who maintain it will pass on, and the Anderson family heritage will be a lost secret. It sincerely shows how much we take for granted in our lives.

One of the Anderson Family Cemetery's youngest inhabitants. The epitaph reads, "Infant daughter of Bif & Mary Courson: Born and Died Aug, 31, 1942."

This are Lillian and Mylette’s headstones. Although their bodies were never recovered, the marker here helped their mother achieve some type of closure.

This stone marks the oldest grave in the cemetery. At one time, it was vandalized, and the line going through the middle is where it had been broken in half. It has since been repaired.

From left, Mylette Anderson, Paul John Knowles, and Lillian Anderson. These are the girls' school pictures from when they attended Louis Sheffield Elementary.