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At another time I was visiting with a partner of my dad’s in the mining business, Sherman
Whited. He was the son of our former pastor, Bud Whited. After Supper we went out on the porch where Sherman commenced to roll a cigarette
using Prince Albert tobacco and OCB papers. Sherman told me about his latest purchase in guns, an ‘awfulmatic shotgun’.
“Where did you get the shotgun,” I asked.
“I traded it up at the Raven ‘free market’,
was his proud reply.
As the evening wore on, and as more than likely happens in the south,
our conversation turned to ghosts we had encountered.
“What is the most unusual encounter
you have had with ghosts, Mr. Whited?” I enquired.
“I s’pose it’d be the time at Mountain
Top Lake over in Russell County that I saw the weirdest thang ah evah seen.”
Dad and I
wuz fishin’ there one night, night fishin’ was legal in them days, when all of a sudden lights came on in a lil’ cabin crost the lake.
I cried, Dad, do you see that? Them folks air getting’ up mighty early!
“Musta been ‘bout
one in the mawnin’.”
“There’s no one livin’ over thar, dad replied. All that’s there is
an old dock house for changin’ clothes when a person wants to swim.”
“Well, they’re thar
just the same,” I replied.
“Why, looky thar, thar’s a maid servin’ some men suppah.”
“We could hear the dishes a’rattlin, the spoons and forks a’clankin, we could even hear the men talkin’ and a’laughin.
“After the meal was served, the men sat back and lit up seegars, they continued to talk and laugh. I thought, these men shore have
got a lot to talk aboot.”
“As suddenly as the lights had lit up, they turned off.
We halted our fishin’ for the rest of the night and sat around discussin’ the recent happenin’.”
“What do you thank ‘twas, dad?” I asked.
“Well, more’n likely ‘twas some folks that died
heah’bouts, and their souls are caught between earth and paradise. They can’t go forward and can’t come back. They’re like in limbo
searchin’ for somethin’,” was dad’s solemn explanation.
“Anyhow, Sherman continued. At
daybreak, we went around the lake to check out what had happened to see if thar wuz any human explanation. All we found was the deserted
dock house, with a few mice runnin’ ‘round, with not a human bein’ in sight.”
I could only
sit wide-eyed with wonder and amazement!
I believed what Sherman Whited told me as he didn’t
have any reason to lie to me. After all, his dad was our pastor.
Haints in the Graveyard
“Thar’s one other thang that happened t’me one night when I was a young’un that was awful
hard to explain.” He continued.
“I had been down to Raven, Virginia settin’ ‘round with
some buddies of mine, maybe havin’ a beer or two. The trail I had to take back to Mill Creek was a windin’ cow trail leadin’ up past
the Newberry grave yard. Anyhow, that was the shortest way.”
“When I come to the gate headin’
through the grave yard, I reached out to open it. Quickly, it opened of its own accord. I was a little shuck up and stood thar a little
bit, then perseeded on my way. The gate swung back into place, I said, Thank you, and went on up the hill to Mill Creek.”
“Who opened the gate?” I asked.
“I ‘spose it was one of them haints in the grave yard.
I had heard before whar that same thang had happened to other folks, but this was the fust time it had happened t’ me.” Sherman smilingly