“If you’re standing above the creek with a flashlight, looking into the water, Martha might already be looking up at you.”

There is a creek crossing on White’s Chapel Road in Barren County where, according to an old ghost story, a little girl has been waiting for someone to find her for more than a hundred years. Some people claim to have seen her running down the hill toward the water. Others say that if you shine a flashlight into the creek after dark, you might see her face looking back at you.

And I don’t mean a reflection standing behind you.

I mean a little girl’s face beneath the surface of the water.

The place is known as Martha Divine Hole, although depending on who you ask, you might hear it called Martha Devine Hole, Martha’s Divine Hole, or even Martha’s Vines Ford. It’s located along Falling Timber Creek near the end of White’s Chapel Road, off Highway 90 East, outside Glasgow, Kentucky.

During the day, there’s nothing particularly sinister about the location. For generations, people came here to swim, picnic, and spend summer afternoons along the creek. Families attending White’s Chapel Church also used the water for baptisms. It was a familiar gathering place, the sort of spot that becomes part of a community’s memories.

But somewhere along the way, Martha’s Divine Hole became associated with a little girl who supposedly died there in the late 1800s.

There are several versions of what happened to Martha, and none of them ends particularly well.

In the version most often told, Martha was riding in a horse-drawn wagon when she fell into the creek. The water was deep, and thick vines grew beneath the surface. As she struggled to get out, she became tangled in the vegetation and drowned.

Another version tells a slightly different story. Something broke on the wagon as it traveled down the steep hill toward the creek, causing the horses and wagon to lose control. Martha was thrown from the wagon, or possibly jumped out to escape. She tried to run, but the wagon continued down the hill and struck her.

In still another telling, the wagon overturned, crushing the little girl.

Nobody seems to agree on exactly how Martha died. There isn’t even agreement about her name. Some accounts give her surname as Devine, while others suggest it may have been Chism. It’s possible that the name Martha Divine developed from the name of the swimming hole itself rather than from a documented person.

But whatever happened to the girl in the story, the legend claims she never left the creek.

People traveling down White’s Chapel Road after dark have reportedly seen what looks like a young girl running downhill toward the water. She appears suddenly, sometimes directly in the path of an approaching vehicle, before vanishing.

One account tells of a driver who became so frightened by what he believed he saw that he ran his truck off the road. Fortunately, he reportedly survived the accident.

Imagine coming down that hill at night, with your headlights illuminating the road ahead, when a small figure suddenly appears in front of your vehicle. Your first instinct would be to hit the brakes or swerve. And on a narrow country road approaching a creek, that reaction could be dangerous whether the figure was real or not.

But the apparition on the hillside is only part of the story.

For years, people have visited the bridge at Falling Timber Creek hoping to experience something unusual. According to local folklore, one way to summon Martha is to stop near the bridge, turn off the headlights, and call her name.

Some visitors claim to have seen small white lights darting back and forth above the creek. Others describe a thick fog that appears unexpectedly, rising around the bridge and surrounding their vehicles.

The fog is particularly interesting because some accounts describe it developing quickly, even on otherwise warm, clear evenings. One local writer who spent years collecting stories about the location described witnessing the sudden appearance of fog firsthand, although they did not claim to know its cause.

The same writer also reported seeing brief flashes of blue flame near the creek, which they attributed to igniting gas. That observation offers one possible explanation for some of the strange lights people have described over the years, although it doesn’t explain every account.

And then there’s the story about the face in the water.

According to the legend, visitors brave enough to approach the creek at night and shine a flashlight into the water might see the face of a young girl staring up at them.

Not floating on the surface.

Not standing along the opposite bank.

Beneath the water, looking directly toward the light.

I think that’s easily the most disturbing part of the entire story. A shadow moving along a road could be almost anything. Strange lights over a creek might have several explanations. But the idea of looking down into dark water and seeing a child’s face looking back is something else entirely.

Of course, there’s no verified evidence that Martha’s ghost appears in the creek, and the historical details surrounding her supposed death remain uncertain. But the story has been passed around Barren County for years, long enough that different generations have developed their own versions.

There is also an interesting detail about the location itself. The bridge people visit today isn’t necessarily the place where the tragedy supposedly occurred.

According to local historical accounts, the original road crossed Falling Timber Creek at a ford approximately a quarter of a mile downstream from the modern bridge. Before improvements were made, the crossing near the current road was little more than a low-water ford, which could become impassable after heavy rain.

That distinction matters because people looking for the site of Martha’s supposed death may actually be visiting a crossing that developed later.

Over time, the creek and surrounding countryside changed. Roads were improved, bridges were built, and the swimming hole that generations remembered became known to a new audience for its ghost stories.

But the legend remained.

What I find interesting about Martha Divine Hole is how many different experiences have become attached to one small place. There’s the girl running downhill, the strange lights above the water, the fog around the bridge, and the face supposedly visible beneath the creek.

Some of those reports may have perfectly ordinary explanations. Others are stories repeated by people who heard them from someone else. And the tragedy that supposedly started it all has never been firmly established through historical records.

Yet the story has survived long enough to become part of Barren County’s folklore.

I can understand why people would be curious enough to visit, although I wouldn’t recommend stopping on a narrow bridge or approaching a creek after dark. The real dangers of a dark country road and moving water are considerably easier to establish than the existence of a ghost.

As for Martha, I don’t know whether a little girl ever died at that crossing, or whether her name was even Martha Divine.

But there’s one part of the legend I find particularly unsettling.

If you’re standing above the creek with a flashlight, looking into the water, you’re the one searching for something.

According to the story, Martha might already be looking up at you.