Kentucky Hauntings (10 page)

The voices from the store faded behind her as she moved deeper into the woods. Everything became silent as the snow blanketed the trees and ground, turning them into unfamiliar sleeping things. With the path snow-covered, Barbara Jane had trouble finding her way. She held up her lantern, but all it showed was snow in every direction. Everything was still and white like a forest morgue. She figured she must be nearing the drop-off above the stream, but nothing she saw confirmed that. She stopped and stood, frightened, trying to get her bearings.

“Nobody would find me if I fell into that stream tonight,” she said aloud. “I would die for sure.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she realized she would freeze if she stayed still. She forced herself to move on, carefully taking one step at a time. Suddenly her foot hit something, and she slid to the right. She gasped as her body bumped into something that stopped her. She thought it must be the big rock near the drop, but it was snow-covered like everything else.

Then in the lantern light, a shadow flickered for an instant. She could feel something on the path in front of her, but she couldn't see it in the darkness. A calmness began to take over her whole being. She heard nothing, but she knew she should follow whatever was in front of her. She clutched the gifts and the lantern and stumbled along. She was lost, yet she felt something was leading her in the right direction. She walked and walked, and then she felt she was alone again. Whatever had led her was gone.

She looked around and saw that it was all right. She was at the edge of the woods, and she could see the light from the house in the window. She hurried with renewed energy and quickly reached the door.

Aunt Lou heard her footsteps and flung the door open.

“Oh, thank goodness you're safe!” she said, taking the lantern and gifts and helping Barbara Jane inside. “I didn't realize it was snowing like that when I sent you out. Did you have trouble finding the way?”

“Yes, it was awful,” said Barbara Jane. “But you will never believe what happened.”

As they stuffed stockings and wrapped the gifts and put them under the tree, Barbara Jane related the events of the evening to her uncle and aunt.

“A shadow led me home,” said Barbara Jane. “I felt it keeping me safe.”

“It was a miracle!” said Aunt Lou. “Did you know our boy died in the woods last year? He always went out on Christmas Eve to get the presents. It was one of his favorite things to do. Last year, he slipped over the drop and was killed in the fall. I've always heard that on Christmas Eve, the dead can leave their graves and walk the earth. Tonight, I think he came back to walk with you.”

Lillian Dean Simpson, Roberta's mother, told this story. It happened to her
.

In the early 1900s, the flu swept through Kentucky. It showed no mercy and often left several members of the same family dead at the same time. In those days the flu was a new enemy, and nobody knew how to fight it. To make matters worse, there was a shortage of doctors. Each doctor had to cover a large territory because there were no hospitals to contain the infected patients in one place. Even when the doctor came, he had no medicine to wipe out this deadly disease.

In a society where neighbors were used to helping one another in time of sickness, the flu put an end to that custom. In some homes, every family member was sick and unable to help each other, much less go to help a neighbor. The people not infected were afraid to expose themselves for fear of getting sick themselves. This wasn't a disease that would just make them uncomfortable; this was a disease that would take their lives.

One man, Mr. Otis, was an exception. He rode his horse every day to every house in the neighborhood, bringing much-needed supplies and medicine to sick families. He also brought news of the community that everyone wanted to hear. Otis had never been the best-liked man in the area, but now he was a godsend. His main fault was his love for a drink of whiskey, and some of the more religious citizens in the community didn't approve of drinking. Otis thought a drink of whiskey would keep the flu away, so he would always take a drink of whiskey as he rode up to each house.

Otis never actually went inside the houses he visited. Whoever was able would come to the door when they heard the sound of his horse. He would give them whatever he had for them that day and then ride on to the next house.

In the Dean household, little Lillian was the only one in her family who did not come down with the flu. Her mother died from it, but her father, brother, and two sisters were still alive and suffering. Lillian was only nine and scared, so she welcomed the sight of Otis riding up to the door. He brought her one bit of news that likely saved her stricken family from death. He told her that everybody who took the third dose of medicine that the doctor was giving had died! He told her that an herb woman he knew had been giving herbs to patients that had helped them recover.

“Could you bring me some?” Lillian asked.

“Don't worry,” he told her. “I'll get some and bring them tomorrow. Everything will be all right.”

Lillian noticed that Otis looked tired and was coughing as he rode away. She turned her attention back to her family, though. The decision she had to make was a difficult one for a child of nine, but she could see that the doctor's medicine was not working. She had given them two doses of the medicine already, and her family seemed to get weaker instead of stronger. She decided not to give them that third dose. Instead, she gave each one some hot soup and let them rest.

Early the next morning, Lillian heard a horse coming. She ran to the door just in time to see Otis ride up and drop a bag by her door. He waved and rode off without a word. She thought nothing of it because he always had lots of places to go.

She took the bag of herbs inside and boiled them into a tea. All day, she gave the tea to each member of her family. By late afternoon, she could see that they were gaining strength. The fever broke in each of them, and though they were still far from completely well, Lillian knew they were all going to make it.

She was starting to make more soup for supper when she heard the sound of a horse and buggy. It was the doctor coming to pay a call. He inquired about the family, and she told him they were better now.

“Otis brought me some herbs this morning,” she said.

“This morning?” the doctor asked.

“Yes,” she answered. “I've been making tea from the herbs all day.”

“Honey,” said the doctor, “you must be getting sick yourself and imagining things. Otis died last night! He came down with the flu, but he forced himself to keep going until he collapsed.”

Lillian knew she wasn't sick and she wasn't imaging things. Otis might have been a ghost, but he had brought her the herbs like he said he would. Her family was alive and recovering to prove it!

Christmas, not Halloween, used to be the traditional time for ghost stories. We loved hearing them from our aunts and uncles who came for the Christmas holidays. We would settle down by the fireplace to munch Christmas goodies and hear stories, including those about the chime child
.

A chime child is a child born when the clock chimes at midnight on Christmas Eve. It is widely believed that children born at this time are said to have the special gift of seeing ghosts and talking with the dead.

Mary Sinclair was a chime child. She didn't tell many people about her special gift because the few people she did tell had laughed at her. Her favorite aunt, Aunt Martha, never laughed, though, when Mary told her about some of her experiences. She took Mary's stories very seriously.

Aunt Martha was the sister of Mary's mother. The two sisters had been very sad when their mother died, even though she had been suffering for several months. Mary was sad, too, when she attended her grandmother's funeral that day. Later that night, she was drifting off to sleep when she saw her grandmother appear at the foot of her bed. Mary noticed that the pain was gone from the old lady's face and she was smiling a radiant smile. After a few seconds she faded away, and Mary went off to sleep. Seeing her grandmother's ghost did not frighten Mary. It made her feel better to know that her grandmother was still around.

The next morning, Mary told her mother and Aunt Martha about the visit from her grandmother, but her mom told her it was just a dream. Aunt Martha believed her, though, and took it as a sign that her mother had returned to let them know she was happy now and at peace.

Not long after her grandmother's death, Mary had another ghostly visitor. This time it was her cousin Orville, Aunt Martha's son, who was far away fighting in World War I. Mary awoke in the middle of the night to see someone standing beside her bed. The room was unusually cold, and she shivered as she pulled the covers tighter around her. She recognized her cousin in his uniform, but he had a wound in his head. He didn't speak to her, but she felt he had died and was trying to get a message to Aunt Martha to let her know it was okay and that he loved her. He vanished then, and once he had left, the temperature in the room felt normal again.

The next morning, Mary told her parents and Aunt Martha what she had seen and felt. Her mom and dad dismissed it as a dream, but Aunt Martha knew it was a sign that her son had died in battle. News traveled slowly then, so it was a few weeks before Aunt Martha received the news confirming Orville's death. Mary's experience comforted Aunt Martha in her loss because it confirmed her belief in life after death.

The loss of her son took its toll on Aunt Martha, though. That autumn, when all the leaves died, Aunt Martha died, too. Mary was heartbroken. She came home from the funeral, ate an early supper, and went to bed right away. She was sure that Aunt Martha would pay her a visit that night, but nothing happened. Mary was disappointed because she had wanted to see her aunt again.

Autumn turned into a very cold winter, and Mary's thoughts turned to Christmas and her birthday. She was hoping for a white Christmas, and she was delighted when she looked out the window on Christmas Eve morning and saw that her wish had been granted. Huge snowflakes were falling fast and sticking to the ground. The snow would surely be around for Christmas morning and beyond. Mary's father had gone into town very early to pick up some gifts and groceries so he could get back home before the roads became impassable. Mary and her mother were home alone.

After breakfast, Mary went to play in her room. Suddenly, she knew she was not alone. She looked up and saw Aunt Martha's face outside, looking in the window. She was very agitated, and it was clear she was trying to tell Mary something. In Mary's mind, she heard Aunt Martha say, “Help Ralph now!” Then it looked like she just melted into the falling flakes of snow.

Mary felt her sense of urgency. Her cousin Ralph was Aunt Martha's youngest son. He had been living alone on the farm next door after Aunt Martha had died. Aunt Martha had made it quite clear to Mary that something was wrong with Ralph. Mary knew she had to make her mom believe her.

Mary had not been sleeping when this happened, so her mother couldn't say it was a dream. She went to her mom and told her what had happened. Mrs. Sinclair could see how upset Mary was, so she decided it wouldn't do any harm to ride over and check on Ralph.

She and Mary bundled up against the cold and saddled the horses for the ride over. It was a good thing for Ralph that they did. As they approached, they saw someone on the ground in front of the barn. As they got closer, they saw it was Ralph. His leg was broken, and he couldn't get up by himself. Together, they managed to get him inside and get help.

Ralph had started to the barn to milk the cows, but he slipped and fell on ice. He would have frozen if nobody had come along to help him. After that, Mary's mother believed her little chime child had special powers.

The rest of the winter and the entire springtime passed without further paranormal incidents. One summer night brought a dramatic change, however. Mary had another experience.

The Sinclair family had gone to bed early that night. A summer storm raged outside, and Mary hadn't been able to sleep because of the thunder. She listened for her big brother Andy to come home and put his horse away, but he didn't come. She thought that he might stay at his girlfriend's house to wait out the storm, but she'd really feel better if she knew he was safe. She always slept better when she knew that all the family was home safe and sound, especially on a stormy night like this one. She lay quietly and worried. The storm showed no signs of letting up. She tossed and turned as the storm continued, pounding the house with wind and rain. The beat of the rain finally made her drowsy, but she was still awake when it happened.

As before, she realized she was not alone in the room. Something was staring at her. She looked at the foot of her bed, and there stood Aunt Martha's ghost. She projected her thoughts very clearly to Mary this time.

“Your brother is hurt,” the ghost told her. “He's by the old oak tree down the road near the creek. He needs help now or he will die.”

Having completed her message, the ghost faded away in front of Mary's eyes.

Mary never doubted for a second the truth of what Aunt Martha's ghost had said. She jumped out of bed, ran to her parents' room, and woke them.

“Andy needs help right now!” she told them. “He's hurt down by the creek near the oak tree.”

Her dad was still groggy from sleep and not too happy about having his sleep interrupted.

“What are you talking about?” he snapped.

She repeated what she had just said.

“You had a nightmare because of this storm,” he said. “Now go back to bed.”

“No!” Mary insisted. “Aunt Martha came to me and told me!”

“You're not starting that psychic nonsense again, are you?” he asked, sitting up and glaring at her now. “Andy wouldn't come out in a storm like this.”