Cover Page
This is a story my grandfather told me many times.
He'd usually start with, "Did I ever tell you about the time the ghosts..."
And I'd say, "Oh grandpa, tell me again."
Sometimes he'd leave something out and I'd say, "didn't such and such happen?"
He'd stop and think then say, "Oh yes, I forgot about that." Then he'd add it.
Sometimes he'd add something I hadn't heard before and I tried to hang onto every word.
What I didn't know at the time was that grandpa was teaching me something about life. Something I'd never forget.
I received the Jack London Award for the original version.
My thanks to all of you for your devotion, kind comments and encouragement with this second story.
The Haunted Well (Page 1)
The old stone well in John Parmley’s meadow was haunted. Legend had it that on the night of the full moon three headless ghosts would rise up out of it carrying their head under their arm.
When my grandfather was about 12 years old all that was left of the old well was a pile of rocks but the legend lived on. At that time grandpa's only source of entertainment was to spend an evening listening to the local men spin yarns down at his Uncle Wilbur’s cabin. That was where he first learned of the ghosts and their legend. When he left the cabin at night he had to walk home alone in the dark... Through the woods, and the meadow… passing right by the old stone well. "It was a fate worse than death," he said.
Then came a night when the full Harvest moon rode the sky and he was sure the legendary ghosts had him and he nearly died of fright.
The Legend (Page 2)
What brought about the legend happened before the village of Matherton was even established. It seemed there were three old crones living in a cabin in the meadow and on the night of a full moon the women were murdered and beheaded then thrown into the well.
Some claimed that Indians attacked them and burned the cabin to the ground.
Others said it never happened at all but that John's Great-Granddaddy had made up the story to keep kids away from the pile of rocks. But there were still those that swore it was true. Some claimed they had seen the ghosts rise up out of the well and were more than happy to scare the bejeebers out of anybody that believed them.
It was even thought by some that the women were witches with potions and charms and that they were disposed of by a band of vigilantes in a type of witch trial. But whatever the case some chose to believe that the women were real. That they had their heads severed from their bodies and unceremoniously dumped into the old well rendering it accursed.
Too Soon the Night (Page 3)
The night Grandpa fell prey to the ghosts he had gone down to his Uncle Wilbur's cabin in the afternoon. He and his cousin Willie played checkers while his uncle and the local men talked about the up and coming Cleveland-Harrison election, how the cost of living kept going up and the latest news about a man named Jack the Ripper who was still terrorizing the streets of London.
When the oil lamps and tallows were lit to chase the darkness into the corners of the room grandpa knew he's better hike his boots for home. His ma wanted him home before dark and he realized he'd already stayed later than he should have.
"There's a full moon tonight," Willie reminded him. "The ghosts will rise up out of that old well tonight for sure. WHoooooo, whooooo, whooooo,” Willie clawed at the air looking and sounding demented.
Grandpa didn't take the time to punch him though he sorely wanted to he just strode out the door already quaking in his boots.
Whistling in the Dark (Page 4)
Outside the light was fading fast and Grandpa knew it would be black as pitch by the time he reached the dreaded well. He tried to walk like a man until he got out sight of the cabin. Willie would be watching him and if he took off running Willie would accuse him of being scared, "witless," and he probably was but he didn't need Willie rubbing it in especially since grandpa knew Willie was every bit as afraid of the old well as he was.
The scent of wood smoke followed him into the woods. Dead leaves rustled, twigs snapped. An owl who-who-who'd sounding a little like Willie but this time the sound made him shiver. When he was sure he was far enough away he started running like the wind praying the ghosts couldn't catch him. His heart was already a tom-tom before he reached the meadow and when he did he placed his arm over his eyes and run even faster hoping to quickly out distance himself from that horrid place and the ghosts. And that's when it happened.
Note: I had my grandson, Hunter, pose for this scene. I told him the look I wanted and I think he did a good job of it.
Horse Sense (Page 5)
The ostrich act of covering his eyes made him as blind to opportunity as to disaster.
But according to grandpa what happened was an opportune moment. "I plowed into that old horse with such a force it knocked me goofy and I thought the ghosts had me for sure. With all that screaming and snorting and trampling around me I was sure that Beelzebub had been loosed from the pit of Hell with all his fallen angels," he said adding that his eyes were still closed, "I was too stunned and scared to open them, but when I come to myself grappling down there on the ground thinking I was fighting off ghosts then realized it was only John's old horse I'd spooked… well, I felt like a fool. It took that old horse to knock some sense into my noggin and I somehow knew right then and there that there wasn't ever any truth to that old legend. After that well... I was never afraid of that old pile of stones again.”