I love listening to my great-grandma's stories, so I didn't object when she started to tell me a story about one of her strange experiences over a glass of iced tea…
My Great-Great Grand-dad died in 1918 at the age of 48 when he fell off of a galloping1 horse. My Great Grandma was only 17 when this happened. The story goes that at the get together after the funeral, a strange man showed up. No one had seen him at the funeral, or anytime else for that matter. He stayed for a long time, hardly talking to anybody, and refusing to take off his coat and hat. When my Great-Great aunt pointed2 out to this man that, for the life of her, she could not recall who he was, he became absolutely livid and ran from the house. You can imagine how strange this seemed to everybody.
Curiosity got the best of Great grandma and she decided3 to follow this strange man outside to see where he had gone. She stepped outside and proceeded out into the middle of the yard, but she stopped short because the strangest sight met her eyes…the man was standing4 quietly on the roof of the barn, just about 5 yards away, illuminated5 only by the moonlight. She remembers that he had an unnatural6 gleam to his eyes, and when the clouds passed over the moon, and the night was pitch black, that gleam remained.
In this small town, my family and I had lived at several places, before settling down in a house on Pennsylvania Ave. A very quiet neighborhood, my folks quickly made friends with those all around.
In the house on the left of ours lived an old woman named Lucy. She and my parents got along splendidly. Her husband had died about two years prior1, and having no family close by, we became sort of a surrogate family. Lucy and her husband had bought their house and property in the 1940's. Her husband loved to tinker around the house and yard, but the yard was his real passion. He gave meticulous2 care all year long, while she would type letters to distant relatives about the progress being made.
Lucy's husband brought the yard to a beautiful state. Everybody admired and remarked on its condition. When he died Lucy thought it befitting to spread his ashes in the back yard, the place where he had spent countless3 hours. But after some time Lucy was convinced4 that her husband had come back to his yard. She was especially frightened of the sprawling5 back yard where he had spent many daylight hours. Lucy would tell us of hearing the sound of footsteps6 coming across the grass or of someone or something tapping her on the shoulder. So she would try and avoid that area stating simply "it just spooks me out."
Over the next several years were lonely times for Lucy. We often had her at our house for family functions, but it didn't quite make up for losing a loved one. She spent the majority of her time typing letters on an old typewriter to family and friends. During the spring and summer months when we had our windows open, we could hear her busily typing away.
When Lucy died the house remained vacant7 for a long time. Before the new owners were to take over, my Father did some repair work inside. He often said he heard footsteps on the old hardwood floors. But we all knew something was happening when we heard the unmistakable striking8 of typewriter keys. Lucy had come back to type her ghostly letters. I guess you could say that neither Lucy nor her husband was going to give up the things they loved the most!