The night air is dry and cool, in stark contrast to the thick, humid air of daylight in Savannah, Georgia. The Spanish Moss, so majestic in the sunlight, now clings forebodingly to the branches of the imposing monuments of trees lining the cobblestone avenues.

The twilight gives the greenish-gray, hair-like strands of moss an eerie resemblance to cobwebs that drape from corners of antiquated mansions as seen in horror movies, similar to the ghostly manors we are passing. The moss obscures some of the light from the moon, casting areas around us in shadow — the perfect setting for a ghost story.

Savannah’s squares, once used for public hangings, are said to be some of the most haunted spots around town.

Savannah is often billed as America’s “most haunted city.” Founded in 1733 near the mouth of the Savannah River, it is Georgia’s oldest city. Many of its beautiful 18th and 19th century homes have been beautifully restored. The city’s founder, British general James Oglethorpe, planned the city in a neat series of grids with 24 shaded squares that served as meeting places and centers of business.

Twenty-one of the original squares are still in existence today, and they’re said to be some of the most haunted spots in town. Some of them were used for public hangings. Others were the historic settings of chilling tales of jealousy and murder, betrayal and vengeance. If only the old live oak trees could talk, they surely would have many a hair-raising tale to tell.

Lush sanctuaries from the hot Southern sun during the day, the squares seem especially dark and mysterious at night — a fitting backdrop for the many tours that play upon Savannah’s ghostly populace. Some of the guided walks assemble at the squares, yet I decided there is probably no better way to explore this spooky town than the way many of its restless spirits began their restless journeys — in the back of a hearse.

This October evening, I find myself in the back of a midnight-black 1984 Cadillac that had actually been used by a funeral home and a coroner. According to Nathan, our long-haired guide, for 15 years the hearse carried 3,000 bodies to their final resting places.

The hearse has been renovated for these creepy tours. Eight of us teeter on top of stools that are loosely bolted to the elevated floor in the rear of the hearse. I try not to think of who or what may have rested where I do now. As I balance myself precariously on one of the seats, the hearse starts forward with a jerk, a casualty of the often-rough lanes that make up old Savannah. The rocking motion of the chairs begins to feel normal as we bump along the streets.