Alas, nothing too creepy happened. I left the boys, as they tried to dig up pieces of old tombstones, and wandered around like a crazy person with my camera, asking nicely for the dead people to smile and say cheese. I took about 40-50 photos that night in the park. I was thrilled when there were a handful of photos that were somewhat mysterious, with blobs/orbs and smoke in them, that I could not explain for the life of me, even after the boys gave me some very logical explanations, which boys tend to do, because they aren't much fun when it comes to ghost hunting. (All I know is, that if there was something on my camera lense, then ALL of the photos should have had these weird things in them, not just a few.)
Who knows, maybe there were ghosts there with us, maybe there weren't. I think they were. Skeleton Park didn't scare me, and I was a tad disappointed. I wanted that adrenaline rush. However, once we hit the Ottawa Jail a few days later, I learned just how scary dead people, and history can be, and was wishing that I was back in uneventful Skeleton Park.