© 2013, 2014 by Raymond Alexander Kukkee
Every once in a while we experience the unusual, and walk on the edge, in the complex and unpredictable margins and aberrations of time and space. The unreal. The inexplicable. The following story is such a *tale…
The Search: —this close to a ghost?
It was our way, our life, and our weekend entertainment to be out driving, exploring the back roads and highways back in the old days when gasoline was $0.38 a gallon.
Bright sunny October days they were too, a packed lunch, fishing rods, the old truck, a ’51 Ford puttering along, burning oil, clanking gears, labouring up hills unknown, past farms both futile and fertile, cattle and sheep, pastures prosaic, patchy woods, up logging roads and down. Some farms were even active and productive, and all roads guaranteed us a rough ride. We were out searching for a farm; exploring, finding a new place to live.
A previously unseen, perfect property came into view; it matters not that it wasn’t new or active, or `even where where the old farm was, close and handy or miles from anywhere. It was an exciting find, it had potential. We stopped to admire a little creek at the road, a straight old barn with sheds, -the inevitable, half-dozen necessary rural sheds, and an antique, but apparently usable farmhouse. The elegant old two-story sat gently in the distance, with what appeared to be intact glass in windows shining in the sun, and a straight, solid roof, a rarity in abandoned farms. A promising find.
The driveway was long, perhaps a quarter mile, and it was gently curved, grown in with long grass. Hay. Thick, healthy. Old, gnarled apple trees displaying ripe fruit lined the road. Perfect, we reasoned, the price should be right, but who owned it? Who would leave, who would abandon, who would ever dream of selling such a beautiful place? It was our dream and worth a try.
We were in luck. A tall figure moved in the distance; a man, dressed all in grey. He saw us, there was little doubt, and he turned and walked casually from the barn, disappearing into the house. We were delighted to see someone.
“Let’s go ask him if he wants to sell. ” We agreed, and down the long driveway we went, driving cautiously, flattening hay that was 3′ high with no apparent recent vehicle tracks.
There was no one in sight when we arrived at the house; the door was halfway open, the hinges solid with rust, obviously in neglect, and dust was thick on all of the windows. Curiously, a strange, worn and very narrow track led up onto the porch, apparently through the door, and into the central hallway. It seemed obvious that it was an active trail worn by repetitive use. There was no dust on the exterior doorknob, a plain steel doorknob, rusted, but polished smooth by decades of use by leathered hands.
We knocked on the silvered, blackened door loudly. There were echoes, but there was no answer. No sign of the man. No sign of anyone. …. Silence. “Hello?” we called.
Poking our heads just inside the open door, it was far too easy to see the well-worn track in the dust ended halfway down the hallway. Ended. The hair stood up on the back of our necks. Strange. We couldn’t be this close to a ghost…
No sign of life in the barn either. No trail in the grass from the barn to the house. We climbed back into the truck in a hurry.
The stubborn old truck finally started and away we went. Quickly.
Looking behind us as we drove back out to the dirt road, we left no track in the long, swaying grass.
How close had we come to the unknown?
On subsequent trips we could not find the property. Was there a gash in the space-time anomaly? Were we this close to a ghost?
*based on a true story
Is that Incoming I hear?
Tags: this close to a ghost, ghost stories, space-time anomaly, searching for property, the unexplained, the unknown, abandoned farms, rural life, true stories, Halloween stories
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