Excuse Me?!

It was a dark and stormy night. 
Okay, it wasn't stormy, though there was lightning and thunder.  And it was almost dark.  So, there! 
Lisa was in the room we laughingly call the office, since it houses the computer and file cabinets.  She goes in there, not to actually do any office type work, normally, but to have an excuse to get away from the rest of the family and just have a bit of quiet time.  That was what she was hoping for on this night. As she settled in and got the computer going, she let her mind wander to the affairs of the day. 
She had packed quite a lot into a small amount of time, today.  There had been the trip to the recycling center to haul off all the paper that consisted of junk mail, catalogs (of every size, shape and description, selling everything under the sun), magazines (read and unread), flyers advertising every event within a 50 mile radius and last but not least .. phone books.  (My Lord, how many phone books does one house need, or want?)  The trip lasted longer than anticipated once she realized that a stop by the grocery was called for if she wanted the family to eat, tonight.  Then there were the candles that she was making for the 4th of July festival in Maggie Valley.  It promised to be a big one and she needed to carry as many as possible in order to make some money.  So, yes, it had been a busy day.
The office chair that Jerry insisted they have really felt good, today.  Though not overly padded, it was soft enough and just the right height for typing. 
She had given notice to all that she had work to do in the office and did not want to be disturbed.  Of course, with two grandchildren in the house, that was like spitting in the wind.  But anyway.  They were why she wasn't really surprised to hear someone come into the room.  She was immersed in what she was typing and didn't bother to look, expecting that it was either Nate (3) or Abby (2).  Instead, it was their mother, Rachel that said, "What are you doing?".  At least it sounded like Rachel.
Lisa turned toward the voice, ready to ask, "What part of .. leave me alone .. did you not understand?" That 's was what she intended, anyway.  The sarcasm died on her lips as she realized no one was there. 
Thinking that Rachel had ducked back out of the room, she left the computer and went in search of the intruder.  She stuck her head in every room, but no Rachel.  Not in the hall, the den nor the kitchen.  Matter of fact, there didn't seem to be anyone, anywhere in the house ... but her.  Realizing that she was all alone and that someone that was not there had asked her what she was doing, she felt the best thing that she COULD do was exit the premises!
She found David, the farm help, lounging in the swing under the tree.  He promised that he had not been in the house over the last half hour or so.
After catching her breath and calming down a bit, she admitted to herself that she had just been visited by the Lady.  And even though she did not doubt that the Lady would never harm her, she determined that, from now on, she wouldn't be so adamant about being left alone.

Little Danny

The screams woke her again.  She knew where they were coming from, of course.  From herself.  It happened about once a week and had been for many years.  She would wake in the middle of the night to the dieing echoes of her own screams.  And she knew the cause. The nightmare.  Same one every time.  Well, not actually a nightmare, more of a memory, though she wished for the millionth time that it was only a dream.

It was the summer of 1964 and the weather was miserable.  It was even worse in the house, so El had decided to take her young nephew, Danny out for a walk .. maybe to the store down the street and around the corner.  Heaven knows, there wasn't much else to do in Johnston.

Chambers, the mill village she and her family lived in was just down from the Masonic Lodge and not far from the railroad tracks that led through the town.   Sometimes you couldn't hear yourself think for the trains coming and going.  Specially when they hit mid-town and started laying down on their whistles and horns.

Johnston wasn't a bad little town as little towns went.  It had a movie theater, a drug store with a fountain, a Western Auto, and of course the shops and grocers where everybody shopped.  Everybody that is except for those fortunate few who got to go into Greenville now and then.  That was the Big City.  Not far away as miles went, but a distant country when it came to accessibility.

El was only 15 at the time, but her mind and heart were far away, already.  She had a beau.  His name was Randal, or Randy as his friends called him.  She preferred Randal.  It sounded much more distinguished and important.  And he was important, at least to her.

Randal had joined the military and was away.  El missed him.  They wrote back and forth, but never regularly, though she treasured the letters that she received.  It had to remain just friends for now, anyway.  Her Mother and Father would throw a hissie-fit if they knew how much she really cared for him.  But she would get to see him when he came home on leave one of these days and that filled her thoughts.

She held little Danny by the hand.  He was only 4 years old and rambunctious.  He had his own ideas as to how quickly they should be walking and in what direction they should go.  Sometimes it was difficult to control him, like now.  At just that moment, as Danny tore his hand from her grasp and made a bee-line for the other side of the street, a driver desperately locked his brakes and tried to swerve past the flash of red that was Danny.  He did not succeed.  The sound that followed was unrecognizable, yet it came from El.  Before her, in the street, a pile of rags and broken bones lay crumpled in an expanding pool of blood.  Little Danny was gone.  That quickly his life was extinguished and her life would never be the same.  She cried and begged God to let this not be real, but it was.

Randal came home as promised in November.  She had finally accepted that the world as she knew it would continue to turn and so would life.  Randal asked her to marry him and she agreed.  It should have been the most wonderful time of her life, and it would have been, if not for the nightmares.  Those haunting, dark, miserable nightmares.  They just wouldn't leaver her alone.  They constantly brought to mind the same question, "Why?"

It was a simple question, but one with no answer.  "Why?  Why didn't she just stay at home that day with Danny?  Why didn't she hold his hand tighter?  Why did no one blame her for his death?"

No, no one blamed El, except for El.  Of course she had seen the look that came over Danny's parents faces when they learned what had happened.  When they saw her covered in Danny's blood.  But no one had come right out and blamed her.  Maybe it would have been easier if they had.

It was almost unbearable when people spoke about the tragedy.  They would make over her and pat her and say how sorry they were that she had gone through that.  It was as if they felt more sorry for her than for Danny.  And that wasn't right.

But life did go on as the old folks said.  And she and Randal made their wedding plans.  Nothing fancy, just a small affair in the park with her parents and Randal's parents.  She had invited Jim and Nora, Danny's folks, but they said that something came up and they couldn't make it.  Just as well.  It was better this way.

The years went by and the world continued to turn.  Randal got out of the military and they settled down on the outskirts of Greenville.  It didn't seem as much a 'big city' now as it had when she was younger.  Seeing a bit of the world had changed her perspective a bit.  But not her nightmares.

This particular night seemed different, though.  It seemed in her dream that Danny stood on the far sidewalk.  No blood, no torn clothes.  The same gap-toothed grin on his face that he normally had.  He was waving for her to come on, follow him, he had something to show her.  He kept disappearing around the next corner, leading her farther and farther from the place where he died.

Finally, they came to a stop in front of an old iron gate, the one to the cemetery where he was buried.  She woke up.  This time she wasn't screaming.  This time she felt differently.  It was as if she were on a mission.
She checked the time .. 1:15am.  She had been asleep for a couple of hours.  She had made it her habit to go to bed about 11pm and let the sound of Randal coming in wake her when he got home from working the second shift at the mill.

This time his coming in hadn't awakened her.  Matter of fact, she could hear the shower running and that meant that he had been extra quiet this time.  She loved him more and more every day and he loved her.

She thought about putting her head in the bathroom door and letting him know what she was doing, but she knew that he would try to talk her out of it.  Not that he could, she was pretty strong willed when she wanted to be.  And besides, it was only a short distance and she would be right back.  It was always easier to ask forgiveness than get permission.

She grabbed the car keys and headed for the door.

The silkiness of the night air brushed against her and the stars shown with a brightness that lent a lie to the dark.  She knew that it was not normal to go out like this in the wee hours, but she felt compelled.  Not frightened, just that it was important.  To her.  She backed out of the drive before turning on her headlights, knowing that they would cast their light on the bathroom window.  No need to startle Randal.

The drive was a short three miles and in what seemed only a moment, she pulled up to the gate, the same one in her dream.  Old and a bit rusty, the black paint chipping and peeling a little from the wrought iron, it swung open with an unexpected quiet.  She half thought that it would screech like in the movies, it should, right?  Rusty iron gate to an old cemetery in the middle of the night with the moon full?  Oh, well.

As she made her way along the cement path that had been installed a couple of years ago, she began to question hear reasoning for coming here at this hour.  Was it just because of her dream, or had Danny reached out from the grave to pull her here?  Her musings had no answer before she was startled back to reality.  A light was glowing from just beyond the old, gnarled oak next to the path.  It wasn't a bright light, just a glow, like the luminescence from one of those light sticks the kids get at the festivals or concerts.  Just a glow.

She pulled up sharply as she rounded the tree to find Danny's grave with Danny sitting Indian style on top of the stone!  Her breath left her lungs as if she had been sucker punched.  The stars that had been so bright just a moment ago, now seemed to swim in the heavens and the m\om danced.  But only for a minute.  She closed her eyes, shook her head and truly believed that when she opened them it would be to see her bedroom and realize that she had just experienced a dream within a dream.  her eyelids parted just the tiniest space and she peeked out to find Danny still sitting on the stone, still wearing that "Boy, I sure scared you", grin.

"Hi, El," he said in way of greeting.  "Where ya been?"  Okay, this was getting a little weird.  Wait a minute, it was already weird.   There was absolutely nothing normal about this scene.  She was not going to carry on a conversation with the ghost of little Danny, who really wasn't here and this was definitely just a part of the dream within the dream within the .... oh, never mind!

"Hi, Danny".  Well she had to say something.  "Long time no see."

"Not really.  I stop in to check on you every once in a while.  You sure do cry a lot."  It was true, each time she had the nightmare, she cried.  Each time she remembered the accident, she cried.  Each time he crossed her mind, she cried.

" I just wanted to let you know that it really wasn't your fault.  I was being a brat.,  I'm sorry that you've hurt all this time because of me."

El could be still any longer.  "Because of You?!  I'm the one that was supposed to watch after you.  I'm the one that decided to go after ice cream that day.  I'm the one that didn't hold on to you tight enough.  It was me.  It was my fault!"  El's voice had risen a full octave as she spoke.

"Calm down, you know I'm right," Danny said from his perch.  "Anyway, I'm way more happy than you.  I don't cry 'cause there's nothing to cry about in Heaven.  I don't have to worry about none of the stuff you do.   And, guess what?  I know a lot more stuff than you do, now.  Can't tell you what it is, but I know things that you just wouldn't believe!"

Right now El thought that she would probably believe just about anything.  She started to smile in spite of herself and lowered her head to hide it.  When she looked back up, he was gone.  The glow, Danny and all.  Had it been real?  She hoped so.  It would be wonderful to know that Danny didn't blame her for his death.

She turned and made her way back to the path and then, the gate.  As she closed the gate behind her (This time with a haunted house type screech!) she could have sworn she heard Danny say, "Yeah, it was real."

Thankfully the drive home was uneventful and  El was almost in a state of euphoria when she glided in the door to see Randal sitting on the couch waiting for her.  The expected questions from Randal about where she had run off to gave her the opening she needed to tell him all that had gon on that night.  Amazingly, he
accepted her story at face value and didn't question her sanity.  His only statement was that he hoped it helped her.

Randal and El were married another twenty-nine years before she passed away and in all that time El never again woke screaming in the middle of the night.  Never again haunted by the memory of little Danny and his death.  Never again haunted by guilt.  A God fearing woman that stood with her husband day in and day out, El lived a great and wonderful life.  One thing that many said after meeting her for the first time was that she seemed to have a peace about her that few had.  El would have told you that it was due to her faith and maybe just a bit because of something a little boy named Danny had said.

 

The Donaldson House

Donaldson, SC was once a sleepy little community just outside the city of Greenville. It was a community that shared its resources between farming and the textile industry. It was, that is, until the Air Force established a base, complete with hangars and run-ways there. Donaldson was initially known as Greenville Army Air base and was used by the United States Army Air Force's Third Air Force as a B-25 Mitchell medium bomber training airfield during World War II. Renamed Greenville AFB following the establishment of an independent U.S. Air Force in 1947, and later renamed Donaldson AFB, it was home to C-124 Globemaster II transports and called "The Airlift Capital of the World" for its role in the Berlin airlift, Korean War, and Cold War, being assigned to both Tactical Air Command (TAC) and the Military Air Transport Service (MATS). It was closed as an active USAF installation in 1963. The base is now known as Donaldson Center Airport and the Donaldson Center Industrial Park.

When Jerry and Lisa moved back to the Greenville area, they did so with mixed feelings. Jerry was happy to return to an area in which he had grown up as well as being close to his mother and family. Lisa had been promised a good job at the hospital in town as a registered nurse. They brought with them their two daughters, Claire and Rachel as well as their nanny, Taimi and her son Rick. Taimi and Rick had been with the family since before the move from Pamplico and were as much a part of the family as anyone else by now.

They had planned the move after Jerry had found a beautiful home in the Travelers Rest area, with a pond in which he and the kids could do some fishing on hot summer days. Four bedrooms, 2 baths It sat in a small valley on fifteen lovely acres with pasture for the horse. It even had a ready made chicken coop! (Jerry had several hens he kept for their eggs.) However, after selling their small farm in Pamplico, the widow that owned the property decided that she couldn't bring herself to sell, so they found themselves scrambling to find a rental til they could locate another property they liked.

Almost as a miracle, they stumbled across the farmhouse that sat on what later became the air base. It was a two story that had seen a hundred years of husbands, wives and children come and go. It had been expanded at least once, in the ‘forties when the owners had added a large ‘family room’ off the kitchen. Two baths, 4 bedrooms, living room with a large Craft stove and a huge eat-in kitchen as well as just the ambiance of a home this old made this a fine temporary residence. A beautiful, old clapboard with a covered porch across the front. A fixer-upper, but beautiful, just the same.

As you pulled off the side street when approaching the house, your first impression was of the grounds. A large, stately Magnolia tree greeted you in the circular drive with a boxwood hedge along the border. What had once been a well manicured lawn had long since gone to weeds and the dandelions had all but overtaken what portion the wild onions had not claimed. Oaks and pines dotted the landscape of the acre plus yard. A worn path that had been gravel at one time, led to the porch that was obviously intended for swings and rocking chairs. The family was taken by the sight at first glance. But this old place had much more to offer than stateliness and possibilities.

As the family moved their furniture and belongings from the U-Haul to the house, they began claiming their individual spaces. Claire and Rachel were immediately drawn to the bedroom off to the right at the top of the stairs while Taimi decided on the room at the far end of the upstairs hallway. Rick had already staked his claim to the room next to his "sisters". That left Jerry and Lisa with what was believed to have been the formal dining room at one time. This was located off the living room and the hall that ran from the front of the house to the back. Heavy drapes made for a workable petition for privacy from the living room and a door let into the hall. Just right.

The family found that moving in could be hard work and called it an early evening after setting up the beds. Unpacking and placement of the rest of the furniture could wait for the morrow.

Two in the morning and something woke Lisa up. A sound, maybe. But she was sure that something was not right. She and Jerry had taken the downstairs bedroom that was just off the living room. It also connected with the kitchen via a short hallway.

That was it. Not a sound, but a smell! It was the aroma of someone baking bread. It was wonderful, but she wondered what could have prompted Taimi to be up at this hour? Then another thought struck her. There was no oven for Taimi to bake in. Matter of fact, there was no stove at all since they had left theirs in Pamplico believing that any rental house would surely have a stove. So where was this smell coming from?

Lisa, always curious, switched on the small lamp she had placed on the floor next to the bed and made her way into the hall leading back by the kitchen. As she neared the rear of the house, the aroma grew until she was convinced that she would find loaves of fresh baked bread cooling on the table, stove or no stove. She entered from the hall to find .. nothing. She got up, fully awake now, and made her way down the hall to the kitchen. She peeked around the corner, not really sure what she expected to see. What she did see, however, was nothing. No non-existent person cooking on a non-existent stove with her non-existent apron hanging around her non-existent body. Even the smell seemed to disappear. It was gone so quickly that Lisa wondered if she had been dreaming it. After all, yesterday had been tiring and the snack they had all had before retiring didn't go far. Sure, that was it. Wishful thinking and hunger pangs.

She didn't say anything about it the next morning, knowing that she would be embarrassed for the others to find out her mind had been playing tricks on her. After all, she was a college educated, very logical person. She was not given to flights of fancy. It was actually Taimi that brought up the subject as she made breakfast on the two burner camp stove that had made the trip with them.

"Did anyone smell anything, last night?" she asked.

Lisa was immediately attentive. "Such as?"

"Well, it was weird", Taimi said. "It smelled like fresh baked. I thought about getting up to check it out, but then I heard one of you up and figured you were doing something. So I rolled over and went back to sleep."

Lisa then related her experience of the night before and she and Taimi agreed that it was strange but probably nothing to be concerned about. It may have been coming from a neighbor's house and just transported on the breeze. That is, until two nights later, when again the family had been busy all day unpacking and arranging things to suit them in the house. This time it was Jerry that woke to the wonderful smell of cooking. But not to bread baking, no it was spaghetti. It was of spaghetti sauce that had been cooking for several hours. Rich and full of garlic and herbs and spices. Wonderful, still, no stove. He woke Lisa (She just couldn't get a full nights sleep.) to make sure he was not imagining it. He wasn't. Oh, well.. back to sleep and figure it out in the morning.

These two episodes began a great time in this old farm house. Over the next year they had several events that we shall relate a bit later on. None of which caused any terror or danger, but were, none the less, a bit weird.

Speaking of weird, it so happens that Jerry is a relative of the Hendersons that we write so much about as well as being the son of Clara from the story ‘After the Game’. Hmm… Seems to run in the family.

The Visitor

Mary Ramsey had finally gotten to bed. She had been up late with her young husband, Ben, getting him fed and off to work at the mill. He worked the graveyard shift and she would always stay up until he left. He worked hard for her and the two children that they had. It wasn't easy in these times and they were having to live in the old farm house with her family until times got better. But someday, things would change. They had already been talking of moving to Slater, the town that the mill owned. At least Ben wouldn't have to travel so far for work.
She really didn't like being up this late, specially with what she knew would be happening in a very short time. But Ben was worth it.

You see, there was this thing that happened pretty much every night in this old house. Okay, let me start from the beginning.

The bedroom that she and Ben shared had a large hump in the floor, right in front of the door. This made it extremely difficult to open the door. Actually it too two strong men to open it all the way to the wall. Except that each morning would find this door completely open. Everyone believed that a ghost opened it. Of course, with everything else that went on around here, it wouldn't be surprising. This occurred at precisely midnight. Several people had heard the terrible scraping and dragging that the door mad as it opened. Except for Mary of course, she had always been blessed with being in a sound sleep that only a crying baby could interrupt.

She had tried everything to keep the door closed. She had even tried the suggestion made by the old widow woman down the road, to tie the door shut with a baby's bonnet. Mary had taken her daughter Betty's bonnet and tied the door, knowing that this would settle the problem (the woman was rumored to be a witch). Next morning .. you guessed it .. the door was all the way open, again.

Tonight she was not going to get to sleep before midnight, she knew she wouldn't. It was already a quarter til and she was just now climbing into bed. As she rolled onto her side, trying desperately to will herself to sleep, the clock on the mantle downstairs began to chime ... midnight. If Mary had not been a good Christian she might have cursed, but instead she just burrowed down under the down filled quilt that Aunt Sara had given her on her wedding day and began to silently pray. It did not help.

The clock had just struck the final chime when she heard the doorknob rattle in its housing. She felt the draft as the door opened as far as it could until it came in contact with the hum in the floor and then .. oh, Lord .. and then she heard the door begin to scrape and drag across the floor. But there was another sound, a softer sound, one that an old fashioned petticoat made as it rustled around slippered feet.

Mary fought with the urge to peek out from under the quilt just to see what it was that could open this door. She decided instead to call across the hall to her sister, Nelly. "Nellie", she called, but no answer. "Nellie!", a little louder. "What?" was the reply. "I need you, Nellie." "No you don't. You just afraid over there by yourself. I heard the door!" "Please come sleep with me", Mary begged. "Well, only if you light the lamp. I ain't coming over there in the dark!"

So Mary, with her eyes still tightly shut, found the matches and having struck one, maneuvered the top off the hurricane lamp and managed to get it lit. Once done, Mary cracked her eyes to peek and found ... nothing. Oh, the door was open alright. All the way to the wall, but there was no gray ghost or any other color ghost for that matter. Just the open door.

Nellie did come across the hall and climb into bed with Mary, by the way.

Not In My Room You Don’t! (Nellie's Viewpoint)

Nellie was the last sister living in the old farm house on Fish Trap Road.  Her brother, Lewis Henderson had bought the house for his spinster sisters many years before. 
She had been afflicted with polio when she was a small child and had been crippled ever since.  For most of her life she had been able to get around with canes or a walker, but over the past few years she found herself needing more and more help in daily living.
Her niece, Clara, had been taking care of her for the last couple of years (until the time of her death), first with having Nellie live with her in Travelers Rest and then living with Nellie here in the old house.  Clara had not left her alone, of course.  Her sons, Harold and Ben, along with their fiancées, Sonya and Wendy respectively, still lived in the house and watched after her and saw to all her needs.  They were wonderful young people .. but.  

It was difficult getting older and more dependent.  Clara had been sweet and was, truth be told, Nellie’s favorite niece, but depending on someone tended to change things.  When Clara was young she would come and visit and would sit next to her, hanging on every word of the stories that Nellie would tell of past times and the family.  It was nothing for the two of them to sit for hours in this way, sometimes way into the night.  Now, well, the boys were great and their fiancées were treasures, but it just wasn’t the same.  Oh well.
It was nice being home and hearing others in the house besides the voices of lost loved ones echoing through the emptiness.  This still happened at times, in the darker moments of the night or when the kids went out to run errands.  

She would hear things.  Noises, voices, bumps in the night.  She tried not to tell the others since, when she had, they had given her the “Are you okay?” look.  She even had ‘visits’ from some, such as her sister Beatrice who would come to her in her dreams at times.  That was nice.  Nicer by far than when Doris stopped by.  She was as bitter now as she was when she was still living.  Maybe worse.  Always griping about ‘outsiders’ living in their home.  Didn’t seem to matter that the two boys were her great-nephews or that the reason they were there was to help Nellie.  No, Doris was always about being in control and making all the decisions after Lewis died.

Of course she knew that she was not the only one to experience these ‘visits’.  She had overheard Ben telling about how all the cabinet doors and drawers in the bedroom he shared with Wendy were opened each morning when he woke.  This had been Lewis’ old room and Nellie had no doubt that it was her brother’s sense of humor to shake up his great nephew a little.

Another thing that happened, though, concerned Nellie more than Lewis’s sense of humor.
Wendy had gone to explore the upstairs that had been unoccupied since Doris had passed.
After rummaging through the wardrobes, dressers and trunks that still inhabited the two rooms, Wendy had begun to feel uneasy, almost as if someone were standing just out of sight, watching and not being very happy with what she was seeing.

After a few minutes of trying to ignore this spine crawling feeling and having found a notebook full of poetry, Wendy decided to postpone any further explorations till she had someone to keep her company.  

As she moved to the top of the stairs, her mind was on the dresses, shoes and other things she had found in the bedroom.  She certainly was not expecting what happened next.  With one hand on the rail next to the stairs, the other gripping the notebook and her right foot in the process of finding the first step, she felt two hands in the middle of her back.  Two small, feminine hands placed quite deliberately and with force.  Then a shove that all but sent Wendy head over heels, tumbling toward certain injury, if not death, down the stairs.  Only the reflex of tightening her grip on the handrail saved her from this. 
As it was, Wendy suffered a wrenched shoulder as well as two very sore spots on her back that coincided exactly with the placement of the hands upon her.

That evening Wendy told Ben about her experience and he explained that the room she had been in had belonged to Aunt Doris.  Wendy stated that, “If she didn’t want me in the room, all she had to do was say so.  Then I would have probably broken my own neck trying to get out from there.  She wouldn’t have had to push me down the stairs!”
Nellie contemplated what she heard.  Next time Doris visited, she would need to ask her about it.  It was one thing to scare someone now and then, quite another to try to hurt them.  Specially if they were family.  Yes, she would definitely have to ask her about it.
.

A Friend Comes to Visit?

The Hendersons gathered on the porch of their rented two story farmhouse on that hot, late summer afternoon as was their want. It was much cooler here than in the house, what with the slight breeze coming through the oaks and shake from the same. It was a habit passed down from many generations and a good one at that. It not only helped with the heat, but gave everyone a reason to get together and discuss the farm, work, pleasure or just the weather.  Today they also shared a bushel of corn that needed shucking. A pile of discarded shucks lay between them on the floor of the porch waiting to be taken to the hog pen.

Jack, the youngest of the men, looked up from his ear of corn and noticed a movement down in the cow lane leading up to the barn from the back pasture.

"We expecting company?" he asked to no one in particular.

"Not that I know of," said Ben, Mary's husband.

"Well, I thought I saw old man Johnson coming across the pasture. Least it looked like him from here." Mr. Johnson was an older gentleman that lived on the farm that backed up to the Henderson's. He would drop by once in a while to visit or borrow some flour or sugar. Any excuse to have someone to talk to. His wife of 56 years had died last spring and he got awfully lonely by himself, with his two girls grown and gone.
The pasture was in full view as was the front and back of the barn, from where they were sitting. The cow lane was a fenced funnel, if you will, into which the cows were herded into the barn, twice a day for milking. Though, truth be known, they no longer had to physically herd the cows, they just wandered in at meal time by themselves. The most you had to do was whistle a couple of times and here they came.

If someone approached from the back pasture, they would naturally have to go through the barn to get to the house. And the only time they would be out of sight was during their passage through the barn.
"Well, wonder where he is?" Ben asked to no one in particular. Mr Johnson, if that was who it was, had entered the back of the barn, but had not emerged from the front. Since there were no doors on the other side he should have come out by now.

"Well, nothing to do but go see what happened" said Jack. "Hope he's okay. Hate to have something happen to him, he is getting old and he's not been himself since his wife passed.
"Well," said Ma Henderson, "you boys go fetch him on in. Supper's almost ready and we've plenty for one more." It was well known in the community that the Hendersons never turned away company from the table, no matter what was on the stove. And it was always something good. All the Henderson women were good cooks.

Jack and Ben sauntered, in no hurry, down the drive to the barn. They really weren't concerned about Mr. Johnson getting hurt. He probably just stopped to relieve himself out of sight of the house.

As they approached, Jack noticed that the barn sounded awefully quiet. Matter of fact, there seemed to be no sound coming from the baarn or the grounds surrounding it. The air seemed heavy, too. Like a storm was bearing down. He looked up, not a cloud in the sky.

But not a sound! The chickens were even quiet. No sound of the rooster raising a ruckus or even the hens singing. Strange.

Ben noticed all this as well. He really didn't like the barn, not since the experience he'd had last winter when he had come out to milk. ('Morning at the Barn') But Jack and the rest of the family knew nothing about that and he wasn't about to tell them now.

"Mr. Johnson?" Jack called as they entered the front of the barn."Mr. Johnson, can you hear us?"

They moved from the glaring light of the midafternoon sun into the dim, cool gloom of the hallway. You could smell the musky fragrance of the hay that lay on the hard clay floor, mixed with cow manure that, by spring, would yeild some great fertilizer for the garden and the flower beds.

They continued into down the hall, looking into each stall they passed, beginning to be concerned. After all, Mr. Johnson wasn't young and people did die from heart attacks and such.

They opened the tack room and Ben searched it. This was his favorite area, since it held all the hanes and harnesses used with the mule. Traces were hung on the wall along with girths and headstalls. The collars had their own section since they needed to be cleaned and oiled more often than the rest. The smell of leather permeated every inch of the room.

He looked under and behind everything in the room, but no old man.
"Jack, you see anything?"

"Nope, nothing. But I know I saw him come in here. And there wasn't anywhere for him to go without someone seeing him."

"Think maybe we should check the loft?" Ben asked.

"Might as well, though I doubt he would go up there. No reason to."

They scrambled up the ladder to the loft where they stored the winter's supply of hay. When the cold hit, the grass would die and the cows and mule had to have something to eat.

The two young men searched high and low. They left no bale of hay unturned, so to speak. But could find no sign that the old man had been there.

"Well," Jack said, "he ain't in the barn. Danged if I know where he went, but he's not here."

Last but not least, they went to the rear entrance to see if, maybe, he had fallen or something before he actually got into the barn. Here they found footprints in the soft manure leading in, but none going out!

They got back to the house just as Ma and the girls were setting supper on the table and advised them of their unsuccessful search. No one had any answers and, after much discussion around the table, the subject was dropped for talk of chores that must be done prior to winter coming on. The mystery was put aside. Untill the next day, when word came of the passing of Mr. Johnson. Seems he had died in his sleep the night before. Strange thing was, there was dried cow manure on his boots. That was strange, since it seems that he had been bedridden for nearly a week according to his niece who had come to stay for a few days. And she had cleaned his boots two days before.

jfs

After The Game

'Not a bad game', Clara thought as she got off the bus at Fish Trap Rd. 'Not our best, but not the worst, either.
Clara was on the Slater High School Girl's Basketball team and she had just participated in an away game against Easley. Clara was a guard, first string. That really wasn't huge since they didn't have that many girls who had gone out for the team.

She did have one claim to fame, though. She held the record for fouling out. She had not even made it through the first quarter of the game before she was asked to leave the floor. Amazing. Not the biggest girl in the game, but man she could scrap!

She had gotten permission from her school (with a slip from her mother) to get off the bus at her aunts' house on the way back from the game. She liked visiting her aunts. They weren't married and Doris was fairly close to her age. Someone she could talk to.

The bus stopped at the corner and she hopped off to walk down the road the hundred yards to the two story farm house.

The house was seriously old, but pretty. It was white and always seemed so welcoming. Her uncle, Lewis, had purchased the home for his sisters with the money he made in the Air Force. He was a bachelor and had decided to make the military his career. He was really neat and he treated his sisters well.

Clara reached the house and went to the back door. If you were family, you never went to the front, that was saved for salesmen and the preacher.

Upon climbing the steep back steps, she went in without knocking. Again, she was family. The door opened onto the back porch with another letting into the kitchen.

“Hello”, she called as she entered. “Hello?” There was no answer and her voice seemed to echo into the emptiness.

'Hmmm .. must be gone to the store', she thought. No problem. She could walk the mile down to the local general store and ride back with them. Anyhow, she would like to get a 'coke'. It was rare that she had the opportunity and the money at the same time for this little luxury and this store was famous for having the bottles so cold that ice formed on the inside!

After the walk, she was even more ready for the drink and looked forward to riding instead of walking back. She paid no attention to cars in the lot as she entered the cool interior of the store. It was dark and cool with a huge ceiling fan slowly turning from the open rafters. She called out to the owner behind the counter as she made her way to the 'coke' cooler in the back. She had reached in, grabbed a bottle, opened it and was intent on taking that first chilling sip when she realized that her aunts were nowhere to be seen. “Sir, have you seen the Hendersons this afternoon?” she asked the owner as she paid for the drink and added a pack of 'Nabs' to her purchase.

“Not since about three. They drove by headed towards town.”

“Well,” she replied, “if you don't mind, I'll wait outside and catch them as they come back. I would really rather ride than walk back to the house.”

“You're more than welcome to wait, long as you want. I don't close til about 8.”

“Thanks” she said as she went and parked herself on one of the worn out chairs still standing sentinel out front.

The minutes Clara had expected to wait turned into an hour and the sun was beginning to set. It looked as if she had no choice but to trek the mile back and she best get on it if she wanted to reach the aunt's house before dark. With that she struck out down the road.

Having reached the house, she went straight on in, turning on lights as she went. Since this was a Friday, she had no school tomorrow and, hence, no homework. What to do, what to do.

She decided to do what any red blooded American girl would do in her situation, she took what was left of her 'coke', made herself comfortable on the couch in the sitting room and opened her latest comic book.

Now the sitting room was situated directly off the kitchen with the rest of the house available through the two doors opening onto the formal dining room. From there you found the hallway (with staircase to the left), two bedrooms off to the right and the front door and porch. The front bedroom on the right was no longer used. It had been Aunt Annie's prior to her death. It was still just as she left it. Weird.

Anyway. Clara had read about half the comic when she heard someone coming up the front hall. Thinking that one of the aunts had come through the front, she quickly rolled off the couch and moved to a spot just behind the nearest door. She was going to scare whoever came through!

She heard the steady tread as it progressed up the hall and stopped just the other side. She waited for the door to open .. nothing. Waited a bit more in case the aunt was having to shift grocery bags in her arms. Nothing.

Not knowing what else to do and tired of waiting, Clara flung open the door, jumped through and shouted … Well, she started to shout, “BOOO!” but it never got past her lips, for on the other side of the door was, nothing. Not an aunt, not an intruder, not anybody, not anything.

She was sure that she had heard someone and that the footsteps had stopped at the door she just jumped through. But, come to think of it, she had not heard anyone come through the front or even heard the slamming of the screen on the porch.

All of a sudden, this wasn't fun anymore and the house that had always been so welcoming wasn't.

With this in mind, Clara hastily gathered her book and made a dash for the back door.

She waited, sitting on the front steps even though it was dark outside. The dark, however, was more inviting than whatever was inside.

Within fifteen minutes the aunt's car pulled into the drive and she followed it to the back of the house. Hugs were given and received and Aunt Beatrice explained that they had gone to the grocery and forgotten that she was supposed to spend the weekend with them. Noticing that Clara was unusually quiet, Beatrice asked what was the matter.

Clara was still quite shook-up from her experience and so it took a while to tell the story of what she had gone through. Still, it took less time to tell than it had to live it. She helped take the groceries into the kitchen. She didn't notice the looks that she got from the aunts as she finished her story.

Nellie had made her way into the sitting room to her chair by the heater when she called Clara to her side. She had suffered from polio as a child and was only able to go out with the assistance of her sisters and walking sticks, so the trip to the grocery had worn her out.

After Clara had taken her seat, Nellie asked, “Was this the first time you heard the footsteps in the hall? Why, its not unusual for us to hear those footsteps as well as other sounds every so often. Nothing going to hurt you. Its all family.

Nellie went on to explain that ever since Annie had died, there had occasionally been heard footsteps coming from the front room and progressing up the hall to the sitting room door, where they would end with no one ever coming through. It was believed that it was she who walked the hallway.

Annie had died in that room (it was her bedroom at the time) as well as having been 'laid out' the day before her funeral in that same room. There were stories about that wake, as well!

After this explanation Clara really didn't feel any better. Matter of fact, the weekend seemed to draw on and on as she was constantly listening closely for any sound that might seem out of the ordinary. From that point on, when she visited the aunts, she made sure they were home and that she was never alone in the house, again.



jfs