What a lovely gnome story. They can be helpful little buggers, can't they? PS... Did you like your bunny, Kath? Bad, bad Turkle!!

FUNNY THINGS KIDS SAY Heather and her daughter Sarah, 3, were leaving the house one morning. Heather said, "Oh look, our hibiscus is blooming." Sarah said, "What's that?" Heather replied, "See that plant with the orange flowers? That's a hibiscus." "Oh," said Sarah, "I didn't even know we had blooming hot biscuits!" -- Jaymi Ahrendt (about her neighbor Heather) of Kingwood, Texas Eldon's aunt bought her first house in a neighborhood that was just being built. She moved in with her 3-year-old son, Marc. Construction of houses went on all winter long, and in the spring it was time to lay the sod on the yards. One day, Marc watched as some workers were laying the sod on the neighbors' front yard. A week later the neighbor decided that he was going to install a light pole near the driveway, and he rolled back the sod to install the wiring. Marc watched with great interest, and then yelled out "ARE YOU MOVING?" Marc thought that the new neighbor was rolling up his grass to take it with him to their new house! -- Eldon W. Bell of Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario, Canada As Laura was driving their paper route one nice morning, there was an elderly woman on her knees trimming the grass around her mailbox with shears. Laura's son said, "Mom, I feel sorry for that lady... she must be poor, she has to cut their grass with scissors." -- Laura Imerese of Lewiston, New York Preschool twins, Anna and Sarah, were running errands with their dad when he pulled in front of the local dry cleaners. He had brought along a pair of dress slacks he needed dry cleaned. "Where are you going, Daddy?" Anna asked. "The man in this store is going to clean my pants for me," he said. When he came back to the car a minute later, Anna had an important question for her dad: "How did you cover up?" she wanted to know. "What do you mean?" Anna's dad asked. "When you took your pants off so the man could clean them, how did you cover up so they didn't see you in your underwear?" Anna asked. -- Bob Buttgen (father of Anna and Sarah) of Ligonier, Indiana Lisa tried to prepare Joshua, 2, for the arrival of his new baby brother. She taught him lots of important big brother things during her pregnancy so he would be able to teach his little brother things after he arrived. One of the lessons was counting -- zero, one, two, three, four, etc. Joshua couldn't wait for his big brother role to begin. However, about a month after the baby arrived, a little jealousy set in and Joshua was ready for his brother to be taken back to the hospital. So, Lisa placed Joshua on her lap for a heart-to-heart talk about how they had to keep his little brother. She told him that although this baby was taking up some of the time they had together, Joshua would always be her number one son. Joshua smiled and replied very seriously, "And Mom, you'll always be my zero." -- Lisa Durham of Collinsville, Alabama Alia, 3, went with her father to the jeweler. While Bob examined the diamonds for his wife's ring, the jeweler talked to Alia. "When is your birthday, sweetheart?" he asked. "August 6th," she replied. "Oh, so you're a Leo?" the jeweler said. "No, I'm Alia," Alia quickly replied. -- Bob Harlan of Cleveland Heights, Ohio Alia, who is now 11, had a role in a local theatre production. A newspaper did a review of the play, and while she was listed as Captain of the Guard, her performance (which was outstanding) was not mentioned. Alia was in tears over being slighted. Her mother told her that her part is a supporting role which makes the stars look better. Alia got a smile on her face and said, "So that means that I would get a Best Supporting Actress Emmy?" Amanda's 3-year-old saw her eating some cashews. "What's that?" he asked. "I'm eating cashews," Amanda replied. He picked one up and said, "I don't think it's cow shoes. It looks more like horse shoes!" -- Amanda Burgess of Cookeville, Tennessee Devin, 2, was learning his colors. His grandmother decided to play the "I spy something with my eyes" game. They were moving right along, with him guessing everything his grandmother said. Then she noticed her gray Persian cat sleeping on the floor. So, she said to Devin, "I spy something with my eyes that is gray -- what is it?" (meaning the cat). Devin quickly replied, "Grandma's hair!" -- Devin's grandma of Blaine, Minnesota The family was new to the community and Sis, 7, was in the first grade. One day, Lori received a phone call from the principal. She was told to come right away to the school. Sis had never been in trouble before so Lori had no idea why she had been called. At school, Lori was asked about what Sis had said in class. It was fire prevention week and a fireman was in class talking about safety. They had talked about what they could do to stay safe. One child in the class had said, "Don't do drugs." Sis had said, "Well, my mom does drugs 'cause they make her feel good." Lori had to explain to the principal that Sis was talking about her prescription medicine for her migraine headaches. -- Lori of Noblesville, Indiana An older lady at church died. When her 4-year-old great-grandson was told that "Great Nanna went to be with Jesus," he asked, "When is she coming back?" His mother replied, "She's not coming back." He put his hands on his hips and said, "Then you'd better tell me how to get there!" -- Janice Langford of Pierce City, Missouri When Taylor started kindergarten, her mother emphasized that she should be well behaved in school and obey the teacher. She also tried to instill in her young daughter that she needed to pray everyday. About a week later, Taylor's mother asked her if she had been praying. Taylor smiled and said, "Yes, and you know God really does hear our prayers... last week at school we were lined up to go out on the playground and our teacher told us to wait until everyone was ready, but I didn't wait. When the teacher scolded me for going out, I prayed to God to make teacher forget to tell you, and see, it worked!" -- Debbie Blankenship (about her niece Taylor) of Tuscaloosa, Alabama

Hobgoblins (or Goblins) The Piper and the Puca In the old times there was a half-fool living in Dunmore, in the County Galway, and although he was excessively fond of music, he was unable to learn more than one tune and that was the "Black Rogue." He used to get a great deal of money from the gentlemen, for they used to get sport out of him. One night the piper was coming home from a house where there had been a dance, and he half drunk, when he came to a little bridge that was up by his mother's house, he squeezed the pipes on, and began playing the "Black Rogue." The Puca (a goblin) came behind him, and flung him on his own back. There were long horns on the Puca, and the piper got a good grip on them, and then he said, "Destruction on you, you nasty beast, let me go home. I have a ten-penny piece in my pocket for my mother, and she wants snuff." "Never mind your mother," said the Puca, "but keep your hold. If you fall, you will break your neck and your pipes." Then the Puca said to him, "Play up for me the Shan Van Vocht." "I don't know it," said the piper. "Never mind whether you do or you don't," said the Puca. "Play up and I'll make you know." The piper put wind in his bag, and he played such music as made himself wonder. "Upon my word, you're a fine music-master," says the piper, then: "But tell me where you're bringing me." "There's a great feast in the house of the Banshee, on the top of Croagh Patric, tonight," says the Puca, "and I'm for bringing you there to play music, and, take my word, you'll get the price of your trouble." "By my word, you'll save me a journey, then," says the piper, "for Father William put a journey to Croagh Patric on me, because I stole the white gander from him last Martinmas." The Puca rushed him across hills and bogs and rough places, till he brought him to the top of Croagh Patric. Then the Puca struck three blows with his foot, and a great door opened, and they passed in together into a fine room. The piper saw a golden table in the middle of the room, and hundreds of old women sitting around it. The old women rose up and said, "A hundred thousand welcomes to you, you Puca of November. Who is this you have with you?" "The best piper in Ireland," says the Puca. One of the old women struck a blow on the ground, and a door opened in the side of the wall, and what should the piper see coming out but the white gander which he had stolen from Father William. "By my conscience, then," said the piper, "myself and my mother ate every taste of that gander, only one wing, and I gave that to Moyrua [Red Mary), and it's she told the priest I stole his gander." The gander cleaned the table, and carried it away, and the Puca said, "Play up music for these ladies." The piper played up, and the old women began dancing, and they were dancing until they were tired. Then the Puca said to "Pay the piper," and every old woman drew out a gold piece, and gave it to him. "By the tooth of Patric," said he, "I'm as rich as the son of a lord." "Come with me," says the Puca, "and I'll bring you home." They went out then, and just as he was going to ride on the Puca, the gander came up to him, and gave him a new set of pipes. The Puca was not long until he brought him to Dunmore, and he threw the piper off at the little bridge, and then he told him to go home, and says to him, "You have two things now that you never had before-you have sense and music." The piper went home and he knocked at his mother's door, saying, "Let me in, I'm as rich as a lord, and I'm the best piper in Ireland." "You're drunk," said the mother. "No indeed," says the piper, "I haven't drunk a drop." The mother let him in, and he gave her the gold pieces, and "Wait now," says he, "til you hear the music I'll play." He buckled on the pipes, but instead of music, there came a sound as if all the geese and ganders in Ireland were screeching together. He wakened the neighbors, and they were all mocking him, until he put on the old pipes, and he played melodious music for them; and after that, he told them all he had gone through that night. The next morning when his mother went to look at the gold pieces, there was nothing there but the leaves of a plant. The piper went to the priest, and told him the story, but the priest would not believe a word from him, until he put the pipes on him, and then the screeching of the ganders and geese began. "Leave my sight, you thief," says the priest. But nothing would do the piper till he put the old pipes on him to show the priest that his story was true. He buckled on the old pipes, and he played melodious music, and from that day till the day of his death, there was never a piper in the County Galway was as good as he was. A Treasury of Irish Folklore, ed. Padraic Colum, 1967, Crown Publishers

this will most likely go all nutty in transit, so here is the web addy too. kath (I was trying to find that little NP <nosepicker> Gnome and found this.) <G> http://www.grayweb.com/gnomes.html Gnomes Round about A.D. 1200, the Swede Frederik Ugarph found a well-preserved wooden statue in a fisherman's house in Nidaros (now Trondheim) in Norway. The statue was 15 cm. (just under 6 in.) high, not including the pedestal. Engraved on the pedestal were the words: NISSE Riktig Storrelse which means "Gnome, actual height." The statue had been in the fisherman's family as long as anyone could remember, and Ugarph succeeded in buying it only after days of negotiation. It is now part of the Oliv family collection in Uppsala. X-ray tests have proved the statue to be more than 2,000 years old. It must have been carved from the roots of a tree that is no longer known; the wood is incredibly hard. The letters were carved many centuries later. The statue's discovery and dating illustrate what gnomes themselves have always said-that their origins are early Scandinavian. It was only after the Great People's Migration beginning A.D. 395 that gnomes appear in the Low Lands-probably in 449, when the Roman outpost of Britannia fell to the Anglo-Saxons and Jutes. Some evidence of this comes from the statement of a pensioned Roman sergeant, Publius Octavus, who owned a villa and farm in the woods outside Lugdunum (now Leiden, in Holland). He had married a local woman and so did not return to Rome. It was pure luck that his property was spared destruction at the hands of the barbarians. Publius Octavus wrote the following description in A.D. s470: "Today I saw a miniature person with my own eyes. He wore a red cap and blue shirt. He had a white beard and green pants. He said that he had lived in this land for twenty years. He spoke our language, mixed with strange words. Since then I have spoken with the little man many times. He said he was a descendant of a race called Kuwalden, a word unknown to us, and that there were only a few of them in the world. He liked to drink milk. Time and again I saw him cure sick animals in the meadows." In the chaotic times up until 500, after Odoacer, king of the Germans, had disposed of the last ruler of the Western Roman Empire, the gnomes must have established themselves in Europe, Russia, and Siberia, although exact information is lacking. Actually, gnomes find writing history uninteresting, or at least pretend to, but it is rumored that they have certain secret records. In his book of 1580, Wunderlich mentions that in his time gnomes had maintained a classless society for more than 1,000 years. Except for their own chosen king, there were no rich, poor, inferior, or superior gnomes. This is perhaps why they made use of the Great People's Migration to begin afresh. It all sounds plausible until he tells of a map (now lost) of a gnome king's palace and adjacent gold mines; apparently slave labor was used in the mines, and sometimes there were slave revolts. Using our scant information as a guide, we must conclude that gnomes gradually sought more contact with the people they lived among, and that they were completely integrated into our society 50 to 100 years before the reign of Charlemagne (768-814). 1 Sometimes Gnomes are not pretty... Since "Nisse" is the Norwegian word for "Gnome", it is obvious that their population extends farther that a single language, so it stands to reason that they are fairly widespread. "How widespread?" you ask. I'm not certain, however I did find this map showing their habitat on the North American continent, as pointed out by a gnomish teacher: In Kharkov, people enjoy telling this story. Just outside their town lived a certain Tatjana Kirillovna Roeslanova. She was seventy years old but still had a pretty, straight nose and shining white hair which she parted in the middle. She had been exiled from Moscow by the secret police; her husband was dead and she was without resources. Nobody was allowed to employ her, so to make a livelihood she bought a cow with money from secret friends. Then she did something that Soviet authorities prefer not to see, but tolerate through necessity. She supplied ten houses on the outskirts of the town with milk-they would, otherwise, have had to travel so far for their milk that it would no longer be fresh when they returned. Tatjana lived in a shack in the middle of a small vegetable garden and spent the days grazing her cow along the roadside. There are hundreds of thousands of these one-cow businesses in Russia. The economic consequences of removing them would be so great that the government turns a blind eye. And so Tatjana grazed her cow by day, was continually affectionate to her, and at night brought her into a corner of the shack for milking. In the opposite corner of the shack, behind a black cloth, a number of religious icons were hidden. Tatjana had managed to smuggle them from her large Moscow house, and daily she prayed before them. The cow gave 20 liters of milk a day; but there was a six-week dry period when she was expecting her calf (every year she was sent to a bull owned a sympathetic farmer) and Tatjana had to reckon on this period in stretching her earnings over the entire year. Although Tatjana had once been a well-to-do lady, she accepted her lot and made the best of it. She always sought out new roads, searching for the best grass for her cow, but usually returned home through the same dense alder thicket not far from her shack. In the center of the wood were a few large boulders. Under the boulders lived two gnome families with nearly adult children. Every day Tatjana stopped in the woods and picked up from under a bush a small, artfully made pitcher half the size of a jam pot. She filled it with milk from a few squeezes of the cow's udder and put it back under the bush. She did this every day, even during the scorching Russian summer heat, or biting cold, or snow, or fog and rain. And each morning following, the pitcher stood in its place again-empty and scrupulously clean. One evening while closing the small shutters outside her shack Tatjana fell and broke her ankle. She dragged herself inside but could do nothing more. The next day she managed to milk her cow, but by evening the beast was bellowing hungrily though Tatjana had given her all the bread in the house. The next day an ambulance stopped in front of the shack (one of Tatjana's customers had alerted the health service). A grumpy doctor examined her ankle hastily and, with the help of an attendant, rushed her off to the hospital. She pleaded with them to do something for her cow, but they shrugged their shoulders and drove on. None of her neighbors dared do anything for fear of the police. In the hospital, Tatjana wept for her cow. Everyone she asked for help either shook their head or shrugged their shoulders. Her ankle was put in a plaster cast, and she was told that she would have to stay in the hospital for eight weeks because it was a complicated break. Tatjana worried herself sick over the cow, but soon news from home reached her. As soon as the sun had set on the second day after Tatjana's accident, the shack door opened, the cow walked out and, without a tether, followed a gnome, who took her to the best grazing areas along the road. Just before sunrise she returned. In the meantime, all the empty milk cans belonging to Tatjana's customers had been collected-along with the money that was left in advance to pay for the next morning's milk. In the shack, the cow was milked by the two strongest gnomes, and the filled cans were back at their respective addresses as the sun began to rise. When Tatjana arrived home eight weeks later, with her ankle in a smaller plaster cast, she wept again, but this time from happiness and gratitude. There the cow stood, the picture of health, and beside the ancient samovar on the wooden table lay the milk money for eight weeks and two days, neatly stacked. When she went to bed that night, thinking about how she would be able to shuffle along the road the next day, she worried aloud that she would not be able to go very far. "No need to," a voice behind her said. And when she turned around she saw five gnomes standing behind her humble bed. "We've come to get the cow;" the eldest said, critically looking at her plastered foot. "There is no question of your walking long distances for the time being. You go to sleep now and we'll take care of the rest. We hope you don't mind if we fill our own pitcher?" Immediately the others ran off to gather the empty cans, and the eldest gnome, clearing his throat, took the cow on her way. 2 1. Gnomes, Wil Huygen & Rein Poortvliet, 1976, Unieboek B. V./Van Holkema & Warendorf, Bussum, Nederland 2. Ibid.

thought this was the neatest idea. :-) all made up and ready to go. kath http://www.heirloomseeds.com/wedding.html SPECIAL OCCASIONS Our flower, herb and vegetable seeds make wonderful favors for all your special occasion needs. These delightful seed packets will help remind all your friends and relatives of the very special event you've planned. Your guests will be delighted to share in the love and beauty each seed packet contains! This service lets you pick out the variety of seeds you want to include in each envelope - providing you a chance to express your own individual taste! Ordering is made simple with our fast and easy on-line order form. If you have any questions on this unique service, please call: (412) 384-0852 to talk with a member of our friendly staff, or e-mail us at: mail@heirloomseeds.com

Our Guardian Neighbors It was the mid-1980s and the job situation began to wind down for us in our small town. Though we'd never lived in a city, friends in Las Vegas, Nevada, suggested we stay with them a few days and look the city over. We found a single-level apartment in an adults-only complex, and were settled in the next week enjoying our new home. Sometime later the state of Nevada ruled that you could not have an adults-only complex, and younger people with families began moving in. Little by little this gave way to young working Mexican families. They were delightful -- always quick with a wave and greeting. When they celebrated a child's birthday on the lawn with balloons, streamers, cakes, and games, we'd be offered a piece of cake or some other delicacy if they saw us. I don't speak Spanish, though, so it limited our conversations. All during this time we'd been looking at homes, wanting to buy our own rather than continue renting. We eventually found a place we liked at a price we could afford. So began all the paperwork, the packing, and asking the question, "Where did we get all this stuff?" We were packed and ready to move about a week before our new home was ready for us, so we decided to fly back to the Midwestern part of the country to visit family. As usually happens in a move, there were a few items we decided not to take with us. Ours included a small white leather couch, a couple of lamps, a small table, and a blender. We thought of calling a charitable organization to pick them up, but after discussing it we decided to set it all on the front patio and let the neighbors have first choice while we were gone. We figured that if there was anything left when we returned, that would be the time to call a charity. We had a wonderful visit with our family, but quite a surprise on our arrival back home. Of all the items we'd left in front of the apartment, not one had been disturbed! They were all sitting just as we'd left them. Within a half hour of our return, a young Mexican lady with her English-speaking friend came to the door to ask how much we wanted for one particular item. Once they understood it was free for the taking, the patio was empty within an hour, with each item going to a different household. In a city of more than a quarter-million people, you would expect at least some of those items to be carted off during the week we were away. I've often wondered if our neighbors posted a 24-hour watch over our things. In a time when you hear people say that you can't trust anyone, this episode reinforced my faith in the basic goodness of the average person.

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Hi there EchoBabe, I'm glad that you have joined us. I know you will have a great time. Lot's of nice people on this list. Welcome, Elsie in CA At 12:37 PM 5/28/01 -0700, you wrote: >Hi EchoBabe. :-) Welcome to Folklore~! >Kath >Washington State

WEIRD TALES OF THE LIVING DEAD by Sarah Abraham It was midnight! The earth-bound living dead gathered together on Castle Drive. All surveyed their homes of yesteryear; all now restored to their original elegance and beauty this past year. A century ago these were their homes, no one else's. They decided to move back in. Their hearts were filled with anger and jealousy of the present owners, who were so happy and felt so lucky to live on such a lovely street and have a beautiful historic home-they called their homes their "castles." Two years ago the city officials saw the wasted beauty of this historic area, as once it had been the elite part of town, so they decided to restore it to its former beauty. The area had become decrepit and rundown. The houses had been sold and made into apartments and rooming houses. Then the miracle of restoration started. When finished many wealthy people bought the homes, and Castle Street again became known as someplace really special, a desirable place to live, and a place to be proud of. They loved it! All was perfect.until the night the living dead moved in. Their ghostly figures moved through the homes that they had built a century ago. Things began to happen. If they didn't like something, they punished the owners, such as breaking dishes and furniture, moving things around, making them uncomfortable and fearful. Each home was taken over by ghosts of the past. As this strange phenomenon continued-noises, apparitions, doors banging-the neighbors got together to discuss these strange events, some laughing at the ghosts' antics, some filled with fear. Each family had a different story; it was a fantastic string of events. Many hated to admit they were caught up in the unknown and supernatural, but they could no longer ignore some of the violent, frightening manifestations. Some went out and bought guns. There were friendly ghosts and mean ones. People felt the weird, uncanny feeling that seemed to run through the streets at midnight: they saw tall pillars of glowing light that moved swiftly down the street and then disappeared. As time went on, the manifestations became more prevalent, louder and more dramatic. It was eerie. One had the feeling of someone watching one, of not being alone in the area on the street or at home. One felt the sense of "a presence". These bizarre events and strange manifestations, ghostly shenanigans, were all so mysterious, unexplained and scary. Some owners thought of moving, but, as time went on, nothing really serious happened-until one night a paranormal tragic event took place. This is the story of what happened. The real estate agent had just sold Jack a home on Castle Street, and they were signing the final papers. Now the house was his; he was overwhelmed with his good luck to get such a lovely home in the best part of town. The homes were castles in elegance, style, and beauty. He was delighted! Casually the real estate agent said to Jack, "You know there is a legend about this old house. I don't know if its' true or not, but they say when they built these homes years ago often an ancient cultural custom was practiced-a live cat for a good-luck charm to ward off evil spirits in the house. This meant sealing a live cat in the walls or attic when the house was built. It would eventually die of thirst and hunger. Starvation and the lack of humidity caused the flesh to mummify, rather than decay as it would normally do, so the cat and its spirit would live forever in that home. That's what they say! Who knows, maybe you will find a cat in this house." They both laughed then went their separate ways. In the little cupola attic of the house, the cat lay there snarling, spitting, and working himself into frenzy, waiting and thinking about the new owners of this house. His leer became more sinister as the twisted remnants of his own private memories began to mock him. Hate consumed him for these stupid people who thought he was dead. His lips drew back, hard and white in a feral grin that made his face look life a mocking skull. Spit oozed out of his mouth. His eyes glittered in primitive pagan savagery. He let out a screech of triumph as he looked at his sharpened claws lovingly. His evil eyes lit up like coals of fire, for soon the Master Spirit would come with his subjects, and they would all have work to do on Planet Earth. He licked his lips in anticipation; his maniacal laughter resounded. A month later, Jack and his wife had finished the clean-up job inside the house, but not the little cupola attic. His wife said, "That has to be cleaned too." Her weary husband said, "No way, we will never use it anyway!" As usual the wife prevailed. They both went up through a trap door. As their eyes became used to the dim light in the area, they were startled to see a mummified cat stretched out by the tiny window, its eerie light casting ghostly shadows over the dead cat. There he was, as he had been for years. keeping vigil! They looked at him sadly with tears in their eyes. They let him lie; this was his final "resting place". Let him rest in peace! Little did they know they were in the presence of the evil one. As the trap door closed, the cat opened his eyes. His lips curled scornfully, drawn back over his teeth in an evil grin, as he spat and snarled to show his utter disdain for those stupid people. They thought he was dead-HA! Didn't they know his ancestors were gods in Egypt? Were treated as such and lived in kings' palaces? Here he was, sealed up alive in this tiny area, left to die with no honor-and called a "good luck charm"! His laugh became maniacal and died in a deep gurgle in his throat, as he whispered; "They will drown in their own blood!" They did not know that he would live forever. He had paid the price. Now it was their turn to pay the price. The Master Spirit had told him so! He was now one of them free to roam and kill on appointed nights to do the Master Spirit's bidding. The forbidding shadows of the night loomed ominously as he waited for the Master Spirit and his subjects to appear. Hate, anger, and the lust for blood filled him with excitement. His eyes glistened. At midnight they appeared; all were silent. The Master Spirit had complete control over all his subjects. He felt a sensation of power, compelling, irresistible. He looked at his slaves with deep satisfaction. He had brought them along from his Kingdom of Hell to do his bidding. He thought of his throne, creatures rising from the deep abyss to worship him, all his slaves bowing down before him with their glazed eyes and scarred faces-all had been baptized in the lake of Fire, making them forever as his own. Tonight he would add more to his kingdom; someday he would rule the world. His evil face hill of hate, spit oozed out of his mouth as he told his slaves of the work to be done this evening. The darkness of the night was closing in on them, inky blackness, a howling wind, the eerie sounds, dark and foreboding perfect flight for evil. The room was now filled with maniacal laughter. The Master loved the savagery in their faces. He was content they were his. Jack and his wife sat in the living room talking about the strange cat in their cupola attic. They were kind, tenderhearted people; they were glad they had left the cat undisturbed and peaceful in his private graveyard, feeling they had done him a favor. They spent the evening talking about the strangeness of it all. What could it mean? But they came to no solution, so finally went to bed. After midnight they were startled awake by the meowing of dozens of cats, followed by snarling and angry yowling. They sat up in bed in fear; it was sinister. They felt threatened. Something was wrong in this house-they could sense it. They listened intensely, being perfectly still, unwilling to move until they could put a finger on their feelings of dread and fear. Now it was utter silence. They looked at each other sheepishly and said, "This is all a figment of our imagination. We've got cats on the brain tonight. It can't be!" They started to laugh, but the laughter died into a scream of tenor as the Master Spirit and his slaves appeared before them like a horrible nightmare, each face frozen into an individual emotional state, the hatred of hell in its eyes. Their sharpened claws unsheathed like daggers of death. They looked at them proudly; they would use them tonight. Stupid earth people wondered at the strange claw marks on their dead. They were all ready for action-fur standing up on end and mouths drooling with anticipation, spitting, yowling, and screeching in triumph. Working themselves into a killing mood. Jack and his wife clung to each other in terror; they were just petrified. They were seeing things beyond their power to grasp. They became hysterical, incoherent, screaming for help! They knew their end was near. Again the room was filled with wild screeching. Slowly, stealthily, the cats advanced toward the bed. Then howling with rage, they pounced on their victims. Anguished screams. Then utter silence. The Master Spirit watched the kill with his lustful hate-filled eyes on the woman and smiled as they both drew their last breath. Morning came. They found them in their blood-soaked bed, drowned in their own blood. Horror and fear spread through the entire area. BUT no one knew what had really happened. From then on, the house was vacant; people shunned the place because they felt it was haunted and was the abode of unearthly spirits. The house kept its bad reputation, so no one would buy it. So finally it was torn down and made into a parking lot. One by one, people sold their beautiful historic homes. As time went on, It again became what it had been before- run-down, decrepit area of town. The living dead gathered together at the end of the street surveying their beautiful homes gone, again. They said, "What must we do, give it all up?" With a look of apprehension, of fright and hatred in their eyes, disillusioned and unhappy, they decided it was time to move on. Their voices betrayed a hint of melancholy as they agreed to search for new territory, something more invigorating! But they felt so weary! Suddenly they laughed. What a good time we had here! Wasn't it wonderful how they feared us? They felt our presence, recognized the horror of us, their faces paling with absolute dread knowing we have the power to kill them. It was exhilarating! An insane sense of pleasure shone in their eyes! But -- again they felt so weary! Slowly, the dark, forbidding shadows of the night loomed ominously. With one last look at their street, they started out to their graveyard. As they entered, their mysterious, luminous glow faded into the dank graveyard mists into nothingness. The graves opened to receive them! ©1998 Sarah Abraham

A Ghostly Encounter in the Cascades by Wade Spenader of spenader@206.213.167.130. When I was in college, I liked to visit Lassen National Park in Northern California. I still often visit the park, and I am always reminded of an incident that occurred a few years ago. A buddy of mine and I spent a weekend hiking and camping around the park. We decided to spend some time at the Cinder Cone volcanoe at Butte Lake. To get to this enchanted place, we had to drive out of the park, onto a highway, get behind the park, and then take a dirt road in. A real secluded spot. We spent the day hiking up the cinder cone volcanoe and swimming in the lake. We had a very relaxing and fulfilling day after a long semester of studying. The day ended with dinner in front of the campfire. Since we didn't have a tent, we thought we would try sleeping in the car (bears were around). As imagined, sleeping in a little car is not comfortable. Around 2 AM I woke up, fed up with the conditions, and determined to sleep outside by the fire (bears or not!). I lifted up my head to check if the fire was still going. I could tell that it was and that the smoke from the fire was flowing up and off to my left (I should mention that the car was parked about 15 yards from the fire). What I found odd was the smoke next to the fire, to the right, that was not dissipating. It was standing still. I slipped on my glasses to get a better focus. What I thought was smoke, was not smoke. It appeared to be a hologramic figure. It was very tall, as there was a lawn chair in front of it to judge it by. I would say it was in the 7 foot range. This figure did not move, it just stood in front of the fire- it seemed to be comforted by the fire. Now I consider myself a rational person. I have had an interest in ghosts all my life, but before I concluded what this thing was, I went through a "mental checklist" of the possibilites. Was it a bear? No, I told myself, it's kind of white in color. Was it a ranger writing us a citation for leaving our fire going? No, because I can see through it. Was it a reflection off the fire, of the moon, or something? No. What made it more interesting, was that the site of our camp was fairly wide open; there were not a bunch of trees or shrubs to obstruct my view. Just when I was about to tell myself it might be a ghost, my friend in the front seat woke up. He told me later that he wasn't sure why he woke up. But, as soon as he did, he looked at me in the back seat and asked what I was doing. "Jeff," I muttered, "do you see that thing out there?" Jeff looked and immediately began to freak out. "Oh my God, what is that?" As soon as he said that, I knew I wasn't crazy. We watched this figure for a good ten minutes. At times it seemed to turn towards our car and look at us. Mostly, it seemed to look at the fire. The figure was very broad shouldered, and at times, it looked as if it were wearing a wide brimmed hat. The detail was never really in focus, and as I have mentioned, it was hologramic, so it seemed to fade in and out. Eventually, I said to my friend that if we went back to sleep and left it alone, it probably wouldn't be there in the morning. We layed back down, but we weren't going to sleep. I suggested that, since we were going to leave early in the morning anyways, that we depart now and let spirit have the fire. We did not bother to retrieve the lawn chair. We started the car and went out on the dirt road a lot faster than when we came in. We said nothing to each other until we got on a major highway. Then, we began to brainstorm. We concluded that if it wasn't a ghost, we didn't know what it was. What ever it was, it made us leave a remote camp site at 2 in the morning. Of course, our friends laughed at us. Some of them beleived us. A few of them said they would have left the car to check it out. But, Jeff and I disagreed. There was a definite feeling that this thing just wanted to be left alone. Some intersting notes: It's possible that the figure was some sort of Native American spirt. The area that we were in was very spiritual and surely sacred to the local tribes. Another possiblity is that it was a fellow from the 1840's on his way to Oregon who never made it. Our campsite was less than a hundred yards from the old migrant trail that went to Oregon. When I called Lassen National Park to report this, they did not sound, at all, like I was being silly. They took the report. I'm wondering if anyone else has seen anything weird at Lassen? I've also been to Gettysburg a few times and have seen some weird stuff.

Theodosia Burr Reprinted from "Coastal Ghosts" by Nancy Rhyne, Sandlapper Publishing, Inc. The Waccamaw Neck was a lonely place for the 17-year-old bride. Her father, Aaron Bun, hadn't encouraged Theodosia's marriage to Joseph Alston of South Carolina. But Joseph, who had finished college before he was 17 years old and had finished the training for the practice of law, had convinced Thee that he was a man of considerable courage, refinement and training: he would some day bring notice to himself. Although Thee was not in love with Joseph, and her friends discouraged her move to the swamps of the Waccamaw region of South Carolina, she gave him her hand in marriage. The coast of South Carolina was like a foreign country to her. Girls there didn't walk hours on end while balancing books on their heads in order to learn to walk as straight as a rod. Nor did they bury their heads in language books in order to speak fluent French and other tongues. Instead, they wore frilly dresses, fretted over who swung down the Virginia reel line with whom, and never went out without at least two body servants accompanying them. It was so wasteless, so desolate. It all made Thee sick. Really sick. She took to her bed more and more in order to blot out the useless goings-on in the mosquito-infested, Godforsaken land in which she had chosen to live with her new husband. Joseph did everything in his power to make Thee comfortable and happy. He encouraged her to continue the studies of the subjects she enjoyed, inspired her to write long accounts of her new life to her father, and consoled her when she was pale and her strength waned. And he never failed to remind her that for one so young, he had inherited an extraordinary plantation from his grandfather. The grandfather's name was also Allston, but he spelled it with two Is. Joseph Allston's will provided: July 1784 I Give and Devise to my Grandson Joseph Allston (son of William Allston) when he arrives to ye age of Twenty four years old that plantation or Tract of Land Will'd to me by my Father with all ye Island of Swamp Lands over against ye same. Also one other Tract of Land joining ye same which I purchased of my brother John Allston making in the whole about One Thousand Three Hundred acres more or less. The plantation was named The Oaks. and a new house was constructed there for Joseph and Theodosia after their marriage in 1801. But as far as Thee was concerned, all of the plantation was an "island of swamp lands." The mosquitoes brought blood when they punctured your skin. Thee's health further deteriorated with each year and her only happiness came as she wrote long letters to her father and doted on her only child, a boy named Aaron Burr Alston. When Thee's father challenged Alexander Hamilton to a duel, he didn't know if he would survive the contest, and he wrote Thee a heart-tearing letter: I am indebted to you, my dearest Theodosia, for a very great portion of the happiness which I have enjoyed in this life. You have completely satisfied all that my heart and affections had hoped or even wished. With a little more perseverance, determination, and industry, you will obtain all that my ambition or vanity had fondly imagined. Let your son have occasion to be proud that he had a mother. Adieu. Adieu. The day after this letter was written, Burr and Alexander Hamilton met on a grassy, wooded knoll in Weehawken Heights. New Jersey. It was July 11, 1804. The men refused last minute reconciliation. They walked off ten paces. Each took his position. They turned and fired. Hamilton fell, mortally wounded. Burr fled to Pennsylvania and again wrote to his daughter, but Theo could not be consoled. Why had life failed her, she wondered. Nothing could be straightened out. In the years that followed, Theo's health went from bad to worse, in mind as well as body. She spent most of her time lying on a long cushioned seat, without back or arms, and placed against a wall. Her body servants waited on her constantly, holding damp cloths to her forehead, and speaking soothing words. On Jan. 11, 1811, she wrote to her father: Imagine yourself the feelings of a woman whose naturally irritable nerves were disordered by severe illness, and who, during weeks of solitude, and pain, and inoccupation, lay pondering incessantly, amid doubt and impatience, and hope and fear, on the subject which mingled through the whole extent of her soul. Eighteen months later, when the weather was humid, the Alstons left for a holiday at their cottage at the seashore. While there, Thee's son took a head cold, Joseph sent for several physicians but they were unable to save his life. He died on June 30, 1812. Both Thee's husband and father insisted that she visit her father who was now back in New York, A friend wrote to Thee's father saying that Thee was bent on making the trip, as she was low, feeble and emaciated. Her complaint was an almost incessant nervous fever. She set sail from Georgetown on The Patriot on Dec. 30, 1812. The Patriot, after it disappeared over the horizon, was never heard from again. On foggy nights, if you stand on the beach at Huntington Beach State Park, you may see the slender figure of Theodosia Burr Alston suspended above the water. With her declining health after her marriage and the birth of her son, and the death of her cherished son, it is no wonder that the spirit of Theodosia comes back to the sea near her home.

Alice Flagg Reprinted from "Coastal Ghosts" by Nancy Rhyne, Sandlapper Publishing, Inc. It is a common story, the tale of Alice Flagg, but as one hears more details of this sad narrative, it becomes dazzling. For Alice Flagg is the most popular ghost on South Carolina's famed Grand Strand. The Alice Flagg story began in 1849 when she lived with her brother, Dr. Allard Flagg, and their mother in Murrells Inlet. They lived at The Hermitage, which was the seashore home of the owners of Wachesaw Plantation during the colonial period. This is a case of the mother and brother becoming deeply involved in the life of a young girl when she fell in love with a man believed to be beneath her station in South Carolina aristocracy. "Every woman must leave her mark on the earth," Alice's mother whispered to her. "And how can you etch on this earth anything that's worthwhile if you attach yourself to this common lumberman?" But Alice was obsessed with her young man and paid scarce attention to her mother and her brother. However, on day when the tall, clean-cut lumberman came to call and Alice was about to step into the carriage with him, her brother stormed out of The Hermitage, and yelled, "Wait!" He refused to allow Alice to ride with her young man, and he forced the lumberman to ride a horse while he, Dr. Flagg, sat in the carriage beside Alice. Alice felt she was suffering under the tyranny of her family, and she hotly resented their unrestrained exercise of power. She was wretched, and for all she could tell, her mother and brother didn't care! While her mother and brother had extolled the virtues of falling in love with someone who would be a glorious addition to the Flagg family, Alice could not relate to their arguments, spoken with great fervor. She accepted an engagement ring from her true love. Dr. Allard Flagg staunchly refused to allow Alice to wear the ring on her finger, so she attached it to a ribbon and concealed it around her neck. As the days passed, she believed she was successful in concealing the ring. But one day her mother discovered the ring on her chest and another fighting match flared. The mother shouted that the lumberman was deplorable and plebeian and unfashionable as well -- worthy of no better wife than a common shop girl! After suffering undue abuse, Alice was unable to persuade her mother and her brother to change their attitudes toward her betrothed, and under their bitter arguments she agreed to leave Murrells Inlet for Charleston where she would attend school. But living in Charleston, with the change of terrain and the sensation of being alone in the pastel port city -- plus what seemed to be a lifetime of grief over her lost love -- took its toll on Alice. She became frail and listless and complained of some discomfort in the left side of her head. Lying on her bed, crying into her pillow, she carved in her mind a track of her life without the man she loved, and the track ended, always in a blur, an indistinct ending to her future. When she had first arrived in Charleston, she had been able to look with stark clarity on her predicament, but now it was blinding, a remarkable silence that she couldn't comprehend. Was she to survive this, she wondered. One night, as she lay on her bed, although she was in a southern port city, she began to think that she was trying to walk in deep snow. It was a mystical experience as she pulled herself through deep white powder, struggling, and then, floating. The wilderness was on a grand scale of sky-high white spires, ancient glaciers and faraway valleys. Later that night, word went from the school that Alice had taken sick and should be sent to her home in Murrells Inlet. When her brother received the word, he left at once in his carriage, but the way was long and arduous. Four days later he reached Charleston. He found Alice incredibly fatigued, with no strength to even nod to him. Her stamina had evaporated, and her nerves seemed in knots. He carried her to his carriage, and one of her friends packed her favorite dress for the journey. It was another four-day trip back home. The jostling and jolting as the carriage convulsed and bumped on the uneven roadway and across several rivers by ferry heightened Alice's nervousness. When she reached home, she was substantially weakened and soon lapsed into a coma and died. Alice Flagg was dressed in her favorite dress for her funeral at All Saints Church, but her engagement ring had been taken away. Her corpse wasn't one of beauty. Her waxy face clearly showed the pain of losing her true love, and then, her life. A plain marble slab, engraved ALICE, was placed over her burial mound. Myriad friends and relatives say they have seen Alice's apparition at her home, The Hermitage at Murrells Inlet, and in the burial ground at All Saints Waccamaw Episcopal churchyard. It is believed that she comes back to search for her lost engagement ring. When a group of young people stood at the gravesite of Alice Flagg, a ring suddenly flew off the finger of one of the girls. It took the group much of the day to locate the ring, which was treasured. The girl had been unable to remove the ring from her finger for several years due to a weight gain. NOTE: Clarke A. Willcox, owner of The Hermitage in Murrells Inlet, opens his home each week for visitors to see the home of Alice Flagg. Some people question whether Alice Flagg was buried in All Saints Church cemetery. The gate at All Saints Church is usually open, and you can walk among the grave markers of the rice planters, the people who lost their lives during the terrible hurricane of October 13, 1893, and see the gravesite marked ALICE. All Saints Church is on S.C. 255, about three miles west of Pawleys Island.

The Curse of the Wachesaw Skulls Reprinted from "Coastal Ghosts" by Nancy Rhyne, Sandlapper Publishing, Inc. Are skulls imbued with the power of the deceased persons! Can they emit serenity and devotion, or radiate sardonic influence or disease! Edwin O. Fulton stood in his workshop on the grounds of Wachesaw Plantation at Murrells Inlet and fondled a piece of wood. About the room were tables, benches and other pieces of furniture fashioned by this master craftsman. Dozens of preserved deer heads with sharp-tipped antlers were attached to overhead beams. This man, as skillful a hunter as a cabinet-maker, had taken the deer in his many hunts on the plantation. Fulton ran his hand along a piece of wood to determine the kind of product the well-seasoned, knotted wood would make. Then he held it to a window and viewed a distortion in the grain. His head nodded satisfaction as he decided the deformity of the cypress would enhance the characteristic of the table he planned. "What's up!" the cabinetmaker asked, as he tipped a table and let a mound of sawdust fall to the floor. "I want to know about the skulls," the visitor asked. "The Indian skulls that you found here on Wachesaw Plantation. "You an Indian relic fan?" Fulton asked. "No, just interested in the skulls. I've heard they carry a kind of, uh, wish that misfortune, or evil, befall another." "Let's go over to the house," Fulton said as he reached for a cane. The arthritis in his back was a nuisance. In the living room of the comfortable, cozy home, Edwin Fulton spoke of the Wachesaw skulls. The Wachesaw excavation site was first uncovered in the late 1920s when a man named Chandler worked with Fulton on a cabin being built as a hunting lodge for the couple who had purchased the plantation. This was during the time that the old families were selling their Low Country plantations to people from the North who used the old rice fields as places to hunt ducks. Wachesaw had been one of the most historic and beautiful of the South Carolina rice plantations. During the nineteenth century when rice was at its peak of production, Wachesaw Plantation was the northemmost plantation in the Georgetown district, on the eastern side of the Waccamaw River. The master of Wachesaw Plantation was Dr. Allard Belin (pronounced Blane) Flagg, brother of Alice Flagg. Wachesaw came to Dr. Flagg as a gift from an uncle, the Reverend James L. Belin. Dr. Flagg married Penelope Bentley Ward on Jan. 16, 1850. She was the eldest daughter of Joshua John Ward of Brookgreen Plantation, the richest rice planter of that day. At that time, the planters of the Waccamaw region set themselves into a small group, above the rest of society. But first had come the Indians to this land. The Indians that occupied this region were of the Eastern Siouan tribes, and they included the Winyahs and the Waccamaws. The Waccamaws are believed to have had four villages populated by 210 males and 400 females in the early eighteenth century. They established a trading post near Wachesaw in 1716. The Waccamaws were destroyed in 1720 after 60 of their 100 braves made war on the settlers and were captured and sent to the West Indies to be sold into slavery. While Chandler and Fulton worked on the construction of the hunting lodge at Wachesaw Plantation, Chandler lived in a house on the plantation near the site of construction. Fulton also lived on Wachesaw Plantation, and he and his wife live in the same house today. One day as Fulton and Chandler were digging, they came upon something that seemed so unusual they took great care so as not to break the object. Cautiously, they removed dirt, sometimes using a shovel, other times using their hands. As they stripped away the earth, Fulton gasped at what he saw emerging. A skeleton! Then, as more earth was dug away, another skeleton was visible. Then three. After they had finished removing the dirt, seven Indian skeletons were spread before them, each in a crouched position, with the knees drawn up under the chins. Despite Fulton's instinctive repulsion, he was surprisingly observant. The eye sockets had been stuffed with Indian trading beads. But more than any other part of the skulls, the teeth caught his attention. "They were the largest front teeth I've ever seen. Some of them had been worn down, and there were only stubs left near the gums. But others had front teeth as large as my thumb." It appeared to Fulton, and to Chandler as well, he said, that the skulls were unusually small and remarkably well preserved, despite a yellow tinge hinting of age. And like all skulls, these had the classic mockery of mirth. They were grinning! Word of the discovery was dispatched to the Charleston Museum, and men from Charleston arrived on the scene and removed the skeletons. The remains from the Wachesaw excavation were examined by experts, who made estimates of the sex and age of the individuals. Although not enough material was found to age the Indian remains accurately, they appeared to range in age from 20 to 45 years. Not long after the skeletons were found, Fulton was plowing the banks of an old road near the now-completed hunting lodge. The roadway had become gutted, making travel impossible. While Fulton was repairing the road, he found what he thought were two clay urns. As he examined them, out fell the remains of two Indian infants. The tiny skulls were stuffed with Indian trading beads, which, it was later learned, consisted of eleven distinct types that dated from 1600. (The urns and infant remains were sent to the Charleston Museum.) The baby skulls were delicately formed, when compared with the skulls Chandler and Fulton had discovered earlier. But the baby faces, like the adult ones, were smiling. Under what circumstances had the children died, Fulton wondered. As he talked about it to others who came to view the tiny heads, it was assumed that the children had probably died of some disease that had swept through the Indian village once located on the banks of the Waccamaw River, where Wachesaw Plantation now stands. For that matter, the adult skeletons could have been the remains of some people who had died from a dreaded disease on the rampage. That seemed to be a logical explanation for the mass Indian burial. Other questions arose. If bacteria had been present at the time of the burial, could it be lying dormant in the skulls! "You know." Fulton said, leaning back in his rocking chair, interlacing his fingers across his forehead, "strange things occurred after we found the skulls. Chandler, who worked on construction of the hunting lodge and helped me examine the skulls, had a child who came down with diphtheria. And then my son, Edwin O. Fulton, jr., came down with diphtheria. I asked Dr. Norris, who owned Litchfield Plantation at that time, about it. Dr. Norris said it was entirely possible that the bacteria that causes diphtheria, Corynebacterium diphtheriae, was still active in the skulls of the Indians who were buried at Wachesaw." Naturally, this heightened the interest in the Indian skulls. Were they invoking evil on those who found them? A curse? The people of Wachesaw began to have dreams that were so real they seemed to be visions. In the visions, there was always an Indian warrior, an unusually large man with big teeth, standing nearby. Along with the visions came eerie sounds and flashes of lightning. Then someone reported seeing several Indians fighting one another over the relies that had been unearthed at Wachesaw. A flash of lightning suddenly took the Indian braves away. Laborers who worked at Wachesaw also reported strange sights, like Indians disappearing into snow clouds. Today a new Wachesaw Plantation is emerging. Wachesaw Plantation Limited Partnership purchased the plantation several years ago for $3.2 million. The developers' construction project calls for 733 residential units, single-family lots, duplex cottages, villas, great houses, a golf course and marina. The partnership is also financing diggings conducted by archaeologists contracted through the University of South Carolina. Already uncovered from the acidic soil at Wachesaw are three human remains from the Mississippian Period and one from the protohistoric period, a period when the Indians had contact with the Europeans. Wachesaw Plantation is being developed into a private eighteenth century resort plantation. Huge yellow dirt carriers are moving earth for a golf course, and roads are being built. By the time this book is published, new residents will be living on the plantation. Should they be warned that Indian skulls are at rest under the moss-draped oaks by the Waccamaw River! And they are not impassive. They are grinning! Note: To reach Wachesaw Plantation, turn onto Wachesaw Road from U.S. 17 in Murrells Inlet and drive two miles to the Waccamaw River. Wachesaw Plantation is near the Wacca Wache Marina, by the river.

Love Lives On I do have a short story for you that I thought you'd like to hear and maybe share.....it's pretty sad but it's another "proof" that love does live on beyond death. My husbands uncle passed away a month ago from cancer. His uncle was/is married to a lady that has had mental problems for over 20 years and has had to be in convalescent homes and institutions for her problems. I had become very close to both, his uncle and aunt, and found out they had a love together that is very rare, even with her condition. She's a very sweet lady and I've been able to see the "real" person beyond her condition. The day my husband's uncle went into Hospice, his wife had cardiac arrest and went into Hospice herself....same day, unreal! The following day he passed on. 20 minutes after he passed, we went to the Hospice where she was and she told us that John, her husband, had just visited her to tell her he loved her and had to leave and to please get well. We thought maybe she had hallucinated the event but then the nurse said a man did walk into her room and she described John. Of course we were speechless. Over the next few days his aunt got better and she currently is doing better than she has been in the past 20 years. Unbelievable! My husband and I are in the process of getting guardianship for her because the doctor's and attorney's are saying it needs to be done. We still are planning on moving in the future and we're taking her with us to start a new life. It's so sad but I swear I'm seeing a miracle with her getting better. Another odd thing about this is we've had to spend time in their home to clean out things and get things ready for the estate sell. Every evening something out of the normal happens. One night a music box which hasn't worked in years started playing. It was John's favorite music box. In the morning at 9:00 his coffee pot turns itself on and we found out through his neighbor that that's when he usually got up and always drank coffee. My husband's mother stayed at the house for a few days to help out and she told us that one evening while she was in the basement she heard the front door open, heard footsteps through the hall and when she walked upstairs, no one was there and the dog was barking like crazy which she doesn't usually do. Just thought I'd share that with you.......Oh....before I forget..... His last couple days of living, he called me into his room and told me how he knew I was supposed to move to the San Francisco area but I was stopped. Remember me telling you how we were moving to the San Fran Bay area? We never told him about that. He also told me that he knew I believed in life after death and to keep on believing. I could tell he had definitely been touched in some kind of way.

Mother Still Goes On The 2nd night after my mother passed away I was spending the night at my father's house. I made my bed downstairs because I knew I'd be up early and I didn't want to wake my father. I woke up earlier than usual from "some" noise that seemed to be directed right into my ear. To this day, I cannot explain this noise. It was like a whisper, wind, howling and faint words which I couldn't understand. This startled me and I kept telling myself I had to be dreaming, but at the same time, I knew it wasn't a dream. I just couldn't explain it. Right at that moment, the grandfather clock rang 5AM, which was the time my mother always got up, even during the weekends. This coincidence didn't occur to me at the time though. I sat there for a few moments still startled and then I heard footsteps upstairs. I could hear them clear since the floors are wood upstairs. I sat there confused because these footsteps were not my father's. They were too light and too fast for him. I realized this fact immediately but I also thought "It had to be him because it couldn't have been anyone else". I just sat there trying to make sense out of everything and wondering if I should go upstairs to check on my father but at the same time, I was frozen. All of a sudden, I heard a loud slam of a door. I swear it echoed through out the house. I ran upstairs as fast as I could because it scared me and I thought it had to be my father. When I got upstairs the first thing I noticed was all the doors were open. I continued to my father's room and he was sitting up. We both were in some state of shock because at first neither of us said anything, we just looked at each other. I asked him if he'd been up and he answered no. I was so confused and just replied "I heard a loud door slam and thought it was you" and started to turn around to go back downstairs. He said "WHAT" and I repeated myself and looked at him wondering why he was startled too. He then told me he heard the door slam too but it wasn't a door in the house. I just looked at him and he said "That door slamed in my room but it wasn't a door in this house". We sat there questioning each other. He had heard the footsteps too and they weren't his. To us, it had to be my mother and the door was her way of saying she's going to the next plane. My father was an atheist, 100%, before this happened. I really believe my mother did this to let him know she still goes on, just not here.

The Silver Ghost by S.G.Holmes Jimmies dad was a long hauler. he drove semi's from coast to coast, and jimmy was proud of him. His dad worked hard for his family and was gone a lot, so jimmy and his brother cherished the time he could spend at home with them. The boys always knew when there dad was nearing home, day or late at night he would sound the big horn, with there special secret signal. Which Jimmy was now quick to point out, as he was older. that Its not so secret since they whole area has heard it so many times. And Know as well as jimmy did that it meant his dad would soon be home. Even late at night when the highways were shrouded in mist of fog, the horn would sound and the boys would wake from even the soundest sleep and run to there mother....Daddys home they would shout. And jimmy and Billy would wait to jump in to his arms as he enter the door. Jimmy had named his Dad shiny new Mac the day he brought it home when Jimmy was only seven and his brother five. There had been a fog that day and when the Mac pulled on to the road where they lived jimmy had been in the front yard, and the giant trucks came through the foggy mist as if it were a ghost. Jimmy told his dad, then the name he would give the big Mac. "Silver ghost dad" he had said and that was her name from that day on. Jimmies dad had the name painted on her doors and across her hood. In the five years since that day the big Mac hadn't even started to show her age. jimmy Billy and there dad treated that old truck as if it was family. Washing and waxing between trips. Wasn't work to the boys or there dad it was an act of love for the huge beast. An act of love, and some say the old Mac knew it. It had been a cold and snowy morning when the boys awoke to the sound of the ghost horn. jimmy looked at his brother has they both smiled. there dad had been gone nearly 5 weeks, and both were as excited as all get out that he soon be walking in the door. They woke there momma, and excitedly said the ghost is coming dads home. They hurriedly went to the kitchen, where there mother began breakfast and coffee and the boys could watch for the ghost to come up there road from the windows. The smile on jimmies face slowly fades as a state police car pulled into there driveway instead. " Momma" was all he could say, as tears formed in his eyes. the officers told the boys mother there been an accident, a bad one about 12 miles out from town. It had been six weeks since they buried his father. And yet Jimmy still lay awake at night listening for the ghost. He knew he and Billy had heard the old Macs horn that night the police had brought the news. But even has loud as the Ghost horn was you couldn't hear it from 12 miles away. jimmy wanted his dad so much, these past 6 weeks his pillow tasted his tears each night as he would fall into a sad lost sleep. The boys lives seemed to be one endless drill now of school and home and deep heart ache. All jimmy wanted in the world was to know his dad was happy and..and missed them. That Monday morning has they grabbed lunches and kissed there momma as they went from the kitchen door to the bus, seemed like another of endless and meaningless days to jimmy. And has he always did as he took his seat on the bus, he looked out the window to the spot where the ghostly had sit, in the yard. A lone tear found its way down his cheek. the long ride into town use to be fun for jimmy, talking to his friends , watching his little brother silly antics. But now, he felt like the ride just went on forever, and it hurt to be there. The bus had just pull onto miller lane and was turning toward there school. The driver stopped at the rail road racks as the whistle sounded, from the on coming train, less half a mile from the crossing. Just then there was the loud screech of tires and then crushing metal as a pick truck smashed into the rear of the bus. The force of the impact had been so great that the bus was pushed half way across the tracks and the front exit was jammed up against a telephone pole. The pick up had road up enough on the rear of the bus, to prevent the emergency exit from being used. As the kids began to shake off the impact of the crash, they heard the scream of the train now moving toward them at lighting speed. The panic caused by the crash was now giving way to the panic of the on coming train. People now were all running to the bus, beating on it, and windows in a vain effort to get to the trapped children inside. jimmy had now shaken the cobwebs from his head he went through the screaming children, fund Billy and wrapped him in his arms. his brother fear only adding to his own. the roar of the trains whistle now was ear shattering, as Jimmy looked desperately for a way to push his brother through a window. He sadly knew there wouldn't be enough time. Billy he whispered hide your eyes OK. And Billy buried his head into his brothers chest. And Jimmy held him and closed his eyes to..and whispered..daddy. Then a sound..a sound jimmy knew as well as he knew his name.. the sound over powered the trains whistle..and the screaming kids and adults out side. jimmies fear was soon replaced with an over overwhelming joy..the sound...the sound it was the Ghost. Billy looked up into his brothers eyes, both boys now in tears, they fought there way to the rear of the bus, and looked through the rear window...there in..in a deep white mist the ghost came screaming..there secret code blaring loudly from the ghosts horn. all the kids on the bus and people around it stopped and started as the huge silver Mac came flying down rout ten with Heavens Fire blazing from her 18 wheels. The Ghosts air breaks locked ands screamed as she slid into the wrecked truck blocking the rear door to the bus, knocking it easily out of the way. Then so gently as if from a shove by angels the ghost pushed the crippled bus from the tracks. In those few seconds jimmy and Billy peered into the windows of the ghost..and they saw..they saw there dad, he blew them a kiss..as the trained barreled into the ghost and she broke apart as if she were only a wall of fog. The injured children were quickly taken to the hospital and the others hurried to there homes by police and friends. None had died, and jimmy and Billy were unhurt. The story soon spread near and far. And is told late at night, on camp outs and sleep overs every where. many scoff, and laugh. But to a town and to two small boys The Silver Ghost will always live on.

The Balloon About a month after my father passed away in January of 1977, my mother and brother were having a conversation at my mothers home when a strange event occurred. In the right front corner of the living room, resting on the carpet was a red balloon that had come with some flowers I had sent my mother for her 48th birthday the week before. The helium had all but gone out of the balloon over the six or seven day period. As my mother and brother carried on their conversation the topic turned to my father and how much my mother missed him, they had celebrated their 27th wedding anniversary that past October 29th and losing my father over the holiday period had proven to be very difficult on all of us. As they continued to reminisce about my father, all at once the balloon began to rise off the carpet and bounce up and down against the living room ceiling. As my brother got up and started to grab the balloon, my mother told him to "leave it alone and see what it does". As the two of them looked on the balloon continued to bounce up and down against the ceiling for a few more seconds then drifted down about half way between the ceiling and the floor and began to float down the hallway toward the rear of the house. The balloon stopped at the doorway of the family room where my father spent most of his leisure time reading, watching TV or dozing in his easy chair. After bounding around for a minute or so, the balloon floated through the doorway and into the family room. Still watching from a distance my mother and brother observed the balloon eventually drift across the family room to just above my fathers easy chair, then gently as a feather settling to the ground, the balloon came to rest on the seat of the chair. Once the balloon had settled,my brother picked it up and tossed it up in the air a couple of times and it quickly fell to the floor as there was no helium remaining in the balloon at all. My mother felt that the incident was a sign from my father that he was OK and that he would always be with her. What would cause a half filled balloon to suddenly rise and travel some 65ft down a hallway and make a "left turn" to another room only to come to rest on my fathers easy chair. maybe it was some sort of sign from my father that "he was home".

The Rider This story involves my great uncle John Tate and took place in Ripley West Virginia. Uncle John Tate used to ride his horse "buddy" to and from church each week down the same old dirt road, a peaceful ride across the creek bed, past grandpa Walkers place through about a four mile stretch of woods to the church. It was usually an uneventful 10 mile ride until this particular Sunday afternoon in late May. It was a beautiful spring afternoon and was near dusk when the Sunday services ended. Pastor White had given a powerfull sermon and uncle John left the services full of the holy spirit. After speaking with the reverend about his sermon and talking with a couple of his neighbors for a short while Uncle John was on his way down the road. He was about half way through the 10 mile trip when he noticed clouds quickly beginning to form and winds picking up as the sky began to grow dark. It seemed impossible that the weather could change so quickly but Not wanting to get caught in a storm John stepped up the pace and brought buddy to a full gallop. As the winds increased and lightning now began to flash, heavy rains came down and suddenly John felt a jolt behind him as if someone or something had jumped on the back of the horse and was now riding with him. John turned from side to side attempting to look behind him as the frightened horse had now broke into a full gait. Uncle John was certain he could feel someone riding with him on the horse but couldn't see anyone through the driving rain, after several miles of galloping uncontrollably through the woods they finally approached the clearing just ahead of them when buddy began to slow down to a steady trot as the storm passed and the sky began to brighten before them. Uncle John couldn't believe what he was seeing as the sky was again clear and the winds calm, the only sound being that of the birds singing and uncle John's nervous breathing. By now they were only a couple of miles from home and old buddy knew it and began to pick up the pace until they got through the front gate. Once they got to the barn uncle John got off Buddy and began to wipe him down still not understanding exactly what had happened to them, when he noticed strange marks on buddy's hind quarters that looked simular to those left by a riding crop. uncle John had never used any type of whip on buddy and could now see why the horse was so frightened. As he led buddy into the barn uncle John tried to think of a rational explanation for what had happened to them but could not. John Tate was never one to be frightend by ghosts or spirits, but according to grandma he never took that road through the woods again. Did uncle John "pick up" an unseen rider that afternoon and if he didn't where did the marks on old buddy come from.

The Vision All her life my grandma seemed to have the gift, if you would like to call it that, to see events which had not yet occurred, either through dreams, visions or a feeling she would get about something. In February of 1948 my grandfather was working as a contract lineman for the local power company in West Virginia and was often working out of the state. My grandma lived with their three daughters each two years apart at 15, 17 and 19 years of age. The oldest, my mother worked across town and would often stay with relatives who lived near her work. The middle daughter was my aunt Mary who was a bit rebellious to say the least. she would often get in trouble at school just for the hell of it. In her senior year she began dating a local boy named Danny Brooks who had a bad reputation for drinking, racing his car and generally creating problems for the local law enforcement agencies. Within a few short weeks of my aunt dating Danny my grandma began to have terrible visions in which she saw my aunt in her new fur coat she had gotten the previous Christmas, covered in blood. In these visions grandma would be walking up on the scene of an accident and my aunt would be lying there covered in blood. Grandma began to have these visions nearly every night, and she finally told my aunt about them and how worried she was. Aunt Mary was not one to believe much in visions or bad omens, however she did promise grandma she and danny would be careful when out driving around. A couple of days later my grandma again had the vision but this time she saw that it was Danny's car in the accident and once again my aunt Mary was covered in blood. Grandma was so terrified that she called her brother Donald who lived in town and asked him to please drive to the diner that my aunt and her friends hung out at and see if she was all right. A short time later my great uncle Donald arrived at my grandma's home and told her that Danny's car had indeed been in a bad accident and that all the injured were taken to Charleston General Hospital. When my grandma and uncle Donald arrived at the hospital emergency room grandma was stunned by what she saw as standing there by the emergency room door was my aunt Mary with her new fur coat covered in blood. It seems that aunt Mary's boyfriend Danny let his younger brother Jim borrow the car to pick up a friend from work but before he even got three blocks away a car ran a red light and hit him broadside. My aunt Mary and Danny witnessed the accident and ran over to the scene where my aunt held the frightened boy in her arms until the ambulance arrived which is how her fur coat got covered in blood. Just as grandma had seen it in her visions. Once again one of grandmas visions had come true, fortunately for my Aunt Mary this time the events that occurred were not exactly as grandma had seen them...

The Token My grandma Holmes had three children that survived to adulthood, my father, my aunt Myrtle and my aunt Betty however grandma lost four children that all died as infants, something that was not uncommon in those days in that part of the country. As this story begins my grandma had given birth to her second child a month earlier but the baby had been suffering from a series of respiratory problems since birth. The old house on Tuppers Creek road was set quite far back off the road up on a hill with great grandma's house at the foot of the hill by the road side. The woods ran down from the hill to within a stones throw of the house and an Erie fog often ran down the bank off the hill and into grandma and grandpa's back yard in the morning. Grandma often said she would get frightened in the mornings as grandpa had to leave the house at a little before 5 o'clock in the morning to get to work on time and she and my infant father would be alone in that old house until sunrise with that fog rolling off the bank and surrounding the house. Grandma said she would often wrap the baby in a blanket and go down the hill to great grandma's house till daylight. After all grandma was still just a kid herself as she married at 16 years old and was still a month short of her 18th birthday as this story unfolds. Each morning grandma would get up and make breakfast for grandpa before he went to work. This autumn morning grandma got up to make breakfast and after checking on the baby in the crib beside their bed, she went into the kitchen and lit the fire in the stove and started her coffee. After rolling out the biscuits and placing them in the oven grandma noticed a glowing light through the curtains in the kitchen window that looked as though it could have been a fire. Grandma pulled back the curtains and saw a small glowing light that seemed to slowly come from around the side of the house and after a few moments began to slowly move across the back yard through the fog and by the garden. As grandma called for grandpa to come into the kitchen the light moved up the bank toward the family cemetery where it faded from view just as grandpa got to the kitchen. "did you see that" Grandma asked grandpa "I saw something" said grandpa but he couldn't say what it was. All her life grandma had heard of "Tokens" warnings of the impending death of a loved one, seeing this light frightened grandma who quickly went into the bedroom to check on the baby and found that the baby had stopped breathing. This was the first of the four infant children my grandparents lost, two of which were born premature. For many year now grandma has heard "Tokens" in the form of someone knocking on the door three times within a day or two of the death of a relative. Did grandma actually see the life-force of her infant child leaving the house, was the light a "Token" of her babies death, even now at 91 years of age grandma believes that it was.