21 September 2017
881
R. Linda:
It was a day just like this one, gloomy, dark and rainy. The kiddos were in school, Tonya was at work, and I was off taking care of Mam who had taken a bit of a tumble and was sore and achy. We were sitting in the living room watching the wind and rain while sipping our tea. I asked if she'd like a light on to brighten things up, but she said no, why not light a candle instead.
"Atmosphere, ye knoo." Said she.
I did that, two big pillar candles in fact, but they did little to give much light. We continued sipping staring into the darkened fireplace as though there was a nice cosy fire going. It was too warm for that, but we contemplated the hearth as though there was one.
"Ye knoo dere be a man in dis hoose, besides yerself," she threw out.
"Wot ye mean?"
"Well, I see him upstairs a lot he opens and closes me door he duz." She took a sip and looked at me over the cup's rim.
"A dark shadow do ye mean?"
"I do. Never a figure but a shadow and it be dark and fleeting. He spends most of his thyme in me rum he duz." And she sighed and took another sip.
"I've seen em' too. A dark shadow out of the corner of me eye." I said, now that she mentioned it I had seen something like what she described.
"Ye knoo I found out that the first owner and builder of this hoose, died up dere in me rum. Dey had em' laid out right here in dis ere' rum in front of the hearth." She nodded at me and took another sip, all-knowing.
"Where'd you ere' dat?" I said getting very Irish, which happens when I get nervous.
"Frum da neighbour next door." She made a face as if it were a repugnant thought that a shadow was inhabiting her room. "I close dat door and he opens it in the middle of the night. I hear 'em do it, wakes me right up. An' if dat ain't enuff, he blows on me face to wake me!"
I knew about the door she complained long and loud over kiddos getting up in the middle of the night opening it and waking her, but they swore up and down they didn't and well, when they were all on an overnighter the door opened and Mam then realised it wasn't the kiddos playing tricks. I even looked the door over because in me old abode all the doors opened by themselves because nothing was plumb in that old house. But this house is new, and constructed of steel beams so there should be none of that going on.
"I sit in me sitting rum opposite me bedrum, and I see it flit from me powder rum to the bed itself. Even me cats sit at the door and stare at it. The one, Molly will yowl at it sum times." Another great sigh.
"Do ye remember when ye first came to visit me and we were livin' at the old abode, and it was September and ye remarked how it felt like Halloween in that house?"
"Oh yes," she nodded.
"Well, it's September here and we have all that shadow activity goin' on up dere. Must of been September when the owner passed do ye knoo?"
"Likely it be," she said, "but it was September when the man next door shot his head off."
"No, he hung himself I heard. Back in the woods, the neighbours won't go there or show me where it was." I said.
"I heard he shot 'emself." She had a frown on her face. "The lady on da utter side of us won't tell me where either. I asked her and she tole me not to go in the easterly direction if I wanted to walk in da wuds." She sat silent for a moment and then added, "The man . . . I can hear his stomach rumble and I knoo it ain't mine because it be from across me rum. I also git woken wit em' sayin' a word ta me. I don't remember wot he says but he talks to me."
Oh my, I thought, I wouldn't like that.
"Do ye tink he's da one oop in yer rum?"
"Oh my noo, dat utter is oot dere in da wuds. Dere be two spirits."
"Do ye wish to change rooms?" I asked not sure who would swap with her.
"Noo, it be fine he don't scare me nun."
"He's harmless is 'ee?" Well, really what can a spirit do but scare the bejesus out of you and not much else. Then I remembered that for the past two rainy nights there had been some kind of crash and the dog went crazy barking in the wee hours of the morning. I had even got up to look out the windows but I saw nothing. I asked her if she'd heard it too.
"I haf. I got oop too and saw nuthin'. I heard wot sounded like sum one roonin' a stick against the porch railing and noon did I see. Dat were two nights agoo."
"How do ye feel breath on ye?" I asked a chill running up me spine at the thought.
"It be sum one breathe' up 'ere just by me temple on the side. I can't do that so I know it ain't me dooin' it and da waken me oop wit a single word, well dat dere does fill me with anxiety. Dunt knoo why it do, but it do."
"Maybe it is the guy frum next door." I offered.
"Noo, dis be da one dat built dis hoose. Dat utter be out haunting' the wuds like I say."
I wonder. Since I made some enquiries and found that yes indeed, the builder and first owner did die in the house. That there was a large wake held in the house with him laid out in the living room. He was well-liked by all and the mourners came from all around. The other one had some kind of blow-up with his wife and went out back and either blew his head off or hung himself. Depends on who you talk to and he did one of these acts near me property line, but again, no one will tell me exactly where. They just say, "You don't want to go there." In truth, I don't really, but I am curious where to not go.
"Mam, ye don't tink the ghost of John from the old abode came wit us?" I asked.
"Ooh noo, dis be sum one new." She was emphatic about that.
I have talked to some friends about this phenomenon that seems to have more power to it than the one we left behind. No one doesn't not believe me. That's disconcerting right there that everyone believes we have activity. But this is New England and for some reason, ghosts abound.
"All dis ghost talk be giving me da heebie-jeebies, especially on such a dark day," I said taking a sip me tea to steady me nerves.
"Well den, dis will take yer mind off it. I wuz doon the rood talkin' ta Mrs. McGilicutty an' admirin' her flock of barnyard birds which she keeps as pets she duz. She tole me her muddeh-in-law visited recently an said to her son dat she had a peckishness for a nice roost turkey dinner. So the vera next day dere wuz a ploomb turkey all plucked an' reedy fur da roostin'. It wuz so tasty da muddeh-in-law expressed a roost chicken dinner made her peckish too! Next day dere was a nice ploomp chicken an' da Mrs. roosted oop dat an' da muddeh-in-law says, "All dis good eating' could we finish oop me stay wit a nice roost duckling?"An sure nuff, da next day a lovely duck waitin' fur da pan."
"What duz dis haf to do wit anythin'?" I asked puzzled.
"I be gettin' dere. So's after da muddeh-in-law left da Mrs. went oot to her barnyard fowl an' since her in-law's visit she hadn't been oot to coo over her birds. "Where be Harry Turkey?" she asked herself, then she noticed Mrs. Cluckingham Jones the big chicken was missing an' den vera suspicious she looked for Quackers da large duck and well lo and behold dey were all a missin'. Seems da mistah beheaded dem all so hiz mam could haf juicy eats." With that, she took the tea things and left me sitting in the dark with candles flickering wildly like the dead fowl were protesting their demise. Not another word, notta, nothing. WHO DOES THAT?
So I be doing the same to you because I know you read every last word! Misery loves company.
881
R. Linda:
It was a day just like this one, gloomy, dark and rainy. The kiddos were in school, Tonya was at work, and I was off taking care of Mam who had taken a bit of a tumble and was sore and achy. We were sitting in the living room watching the wind and rain while sipping our tea. I asked if she'd like a light on to brighten things up, but she said no, why not light a candle instead.
"Atmosphere, ye knoo." Said she.
I did that, two big pillar candles in fact, but they did little to give much light. We continued sipping staring into the darkened fireplace as though there was a nice cosy fire going. It was too warm for that, but we contemplated the hearth as though there was one.
"Ye knoo dere be a man in dis hoose, besides yerself," she threw out.
"Wot ye mean?"
"Well, I see him upstairs a lot he opens and closes me door he duz." She took a sip and looked at me over the cup's rim.
"A dark shadow do ye mean?"
"I do. Never a figure but a shadow and it be dark and fleeting. He spends most of his thyme in me rum he duz." And she sighed and took another sip.
"I've seen em' too. A dark shadow out of the corner of me eye." I said, now that she mentioned it I had seen something like what she described.
"Ye knoo I found out that the first owner and builder of this hoose, died up dere in me rum. Dey had em' laid out right here in dis ere' rum in front of the hearth." She nodded at me and took another sip, all-knowing.
"Where'd you ere' dat?" I said getting very Irish, which happens when I get nervous.
"Frum da neighbour next door." She made a face as if it were a repugnant thought that a shadow was inhabiting her room. "I close dat door and he opens it in the middle of the night. I hear 'em do it, wakes me right up. An' if dat ain't enuff, he blows on me face to wake me!"
I knew about the door she complained long and loud over kiddos getting up in the middle of the night opening it and waking her, but they swore up and down they didn't and well, when they were all on an overnighter the door opened and Mam then realised it wasn't the kiddos playing tricks. I even looked the door over because in me old abode all the doors opened by themselves because nothing was plumb in that old house. But this house is new, and constructed of steel beams so there should be none of that going on.
"I sit in me sitting rum opposite me bedrum, and I see it flit from me powder rum to the bed itself. Even me cats sit at the door and stare at it. The one, Molly will yowl at it sum times." Another great sigh.
"Do ye remember when ye first came to visit me and we were livin' at the old abode, and it was September and ye remarked how it felt like Halloween in that house?"
"Oh yes," she nodded.
"Well, it's September here and we have all that shadow activity goin' on up dere. Must of been September when the owner passed do ye knoo?"
"Likely it be," she said, "but it was September when the man next door shot his head off."
"No, he hung himself I heard. Back in the woods, the neighbours won't go there or show me where it was." I said.
"I heard he shot 'emself." She had a frown on her face. "The lady on da utter side of us won't tell me where either. I asked her and she tole me not to go in the easterly direction if I wanted to walk in da wuds." She sat silent for a moment and then added, "The man . . . I can hear his stomach rumble and I knoo it ain't mine because it be from across me rum. I also git woken wit em' sayin' a word ta me. I don't remember wot he says but he talks to me."
Oh my, I thought, I wouldn't like that.
"Do ye tink he's da one oop in yer rum?"
"Oh my noo, dat utter is oot dere in da wuds. Dere be two spirits."
"Do ye wish to change rooms?" I asked not sure who would swap with her.
"Noo, it be fine he don't scare me nun."
"He's harmless is 'ee?" Well, really what can a spirit do but scare the bejesus out of you and not much else. Then I remembered that for the past two rainy nights there had been some kind of crash and the dog went crazy barking in the wee hours of the morning. I had even got up to look out the windows but I saw nothing. I asked her if she'd heard it too.
"I haf. I got oop too and saw nuthin'. I heard wot sounded like sum one roonin' a stick against the porch railing and noon did I see. Dat were two nights agoo."
"How do ye feel breath on ye?" I asked a chill running up me spine at the thought.
"It be sum one breathe' up 'ere just by me temple on the side. I can't do that so I know it ain't me dooin' it and da waken me oop wit a single word, well dat dere does fill me with anxiety. Dunt knoo why it do, but it do."
"Maybe it is the guy frum next door." I offered.
"Noo, dis be da one dat built dis hoose. Dat utter be out haunting' the wuds like I say."
I wonder. Since I made some enquiries and found that yes indeed, the builder and first owner did die in the house. That there was a large wake held in the house with him laid out in the living room. He was well-liked by all and the mourners came from all around. The other one had some kind of blow-up with his wife and went out back and either blew his head off or hung himself. Depends on who you talk to and he did one of these acts near me property line, but again, no one will tell me exactly where. They just say, "You don't want to go there." In truth, I don't really, but I am curious where to not go.
"Mam, ye don't tink the ghost of John from the old abode came wit us?" I asked.
"Ooh noo, dis be sum one new." She was emphatic about that.
I have talked to some friends about this phenomenon that seems to have more power to it than the one we left behind. No one doesn't not believe me. That's disconcerting right there that everyone believes we have activity. But this is New England and for some reason, ghosts abound.
"All dis ghost talk be giving me da heebie-jeebies, especially on such a dark day," I said taking a sip me tea to steady me nerves.
"Well den, dis will take yer mind off it. I wuz doon the rood talkin' ta Mrs. McGilicutty an' admirin' her flock of barnyard birds which she keeps as pets she duz. She tole me her muddeh-in-law visited recently an said to her son dat she had a peckishness for a nice roost turkey dinner. So the vera next day dere wuz a ploomb turkey all plucked an' reedy fur da roostin'. It wuz so tasty da muddeh-in-law expressed a roost chicken dinner made her peckish too! Next day dere was a nice ploomp chicken an' da Mrs. roosted oop dat an' da muddeh-in-law says, "All dis good eating' could we finish oop me stay wit a nice roost duckling?"An sure nuff, da next day a lovely duck waitin' fur da pan."
"What duz dis haf to do wit anythin'?" I asked puzzled.
"I be gettin' dere. So's after da muddeh-in-law left da Mrs. went oot to her barnyard fowl an' since her in-law's visit she hadn't been oot to coo over her birds. "Where be Harry Turkey?" she asked herself, then she noticed Mrs. Cluckingham Jones the big chicken was missing an' den vera suspicious she looked for Quackers da large duck and well lo and behold dey were all a missin'. Seems da mistah beheaded dem all so hiz mam could haf juicy eats." With that, she took the tea things and left me sitting in the dark with candles flickering wildly like the dead fowl were protesting their demise. Not another word, notta, nothing. WHO DOES THAT?
So I be doing the same to you because I know you read every last word! Misery loves company.
 |
| Mr. & Mrs. Cluckingham before the disappearance of Mrs. Cluckingham |
 |
| One buff duck Quackers is gone! They all look shellshocked one went missing |
Yes, me Mam had pictures of remembrance thanks to Mrs. McGilicutty. She's as bad as Amanda sans shrooms!
Gabe
Copyright © 2017 All rights reserved
Gabe
Copyright © 2017 All rights reserved
