I've lived alone in this house for ten of my fifty-four years in this home. Dealing with the loss of my husband has been hard over these years but I have held my head high and kept myself busy with my garden in the spring, my canning in the summer and my quilt sewing in the winter. I am very proud to have kept our home as beautiful and glorious as the day we bought this home all those decades ago.
Over the mantle I keep photos of the happy times with my husband and on the walls I hang my finished quilts for all to see. I keep my cans in the cellar for year round access to my prize winning jam.
It was a chilly dreary morning and I was cleaning house as I did every morning. I carefully dusted all my trinkets and house pretties then I swept. After I had finished my work I decided to go in the kitchen for buttermilk and biscuits. I open the refrigerator and to my irritation I found no buttermilk. I will have to go to the store and get some.
I went and got my favorite purple sweater and pulled it over my speckled dress. I was just running to the store for some buttermilk it didn't matter what I looked like. I grabbed my old Buick's keys and stepped outside into the chill. I started my grey Buick and shifted into reverse and pulled out of my driveway onto the road and took off.
I followed the narrow country road away from my beautiful white house. I passed the many fields and trees I had grew so used to seeing. Suddenly over a hill out of nowhere a green pickup truck came speeding right at me I turn the wheel to miss them and hit a large elm tree on the side of the road. My poor Buick crumbled and crunch with bending metal and shattering glass.
I set up in my bed gasping for breath
it had only been a nightmare. I shuttered wiping my hand across my cheek. Lately there had been this green pick up truck speeding up and down my road constantly. I was always worried that they would hit somebody.
I stood up from my bed to peer out the window. It was a clear morning. I sighed getting dressed for my day. I hoped to shake the bad dream from my mind with my daily activities. When I got downstairs I went strait to the kitchen to fix my coffee. I poured the grains and water in coffeemaker and pressed start. I wondered around the kitchen enjoying the smell of fresh coffee.
I heard a something fall in the living room. I quickly ran in the living room and found that my favorite portrait of my late husband had fell off the mantel. I looked around puzzled. What had made the picture fall I wondered in my mind. I put it back in place. I admired the photo for several moments before returning to the kitchen for my coffee.
When I got in the kitchen I found my coffeemaker was gone. What had happen to my coffeemaker? I looked around feeling fear. Had someone broke into my house and stole my coffeemaker of all things. I heard a bang in the living room again. I ran in there to find all my pictures had fell from the mantel. This made me mad now.
"Alright who's in here!" I demanded.
I heard another bang from the cellar. I rushed down the stairs to find two of my canning jars of jam had been busted on the cement floor. I turn and ran back up the stairs grasping my chest. I felt ill. It looked like I had a ghost. I ran my fingers through my long silver hair and entered the living room.
I sat on the couch and flipped the TV on. The local news was broadcasting about a wreck that had happened on my road. It was the green pickup truck! I rubbed my forehead and turned the TV back off. The driver of the truck was haunting my house now! That's why I had dreamed of it last night.
I took a deep breath. I was going to have to confront this ghost.
"I told you that that speeding was going to get you killed. I always shouted at you to slow down when you would pass my house. Now get out of my house!"
It made me pretty proud how firm I was able to shout. All was silent. Maybe the ghost had took me seriously and left.
I entered the kitchen again. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw a little boy run around the counter. I had a child ghost in my home. Shameful bad driver must have got his son killed too. I heard more banging in the living room. I ran in the living room to find my quilts were gone. I turn to the mantle all my photos were gone.
A sudden movement behind me caught my attention. I turn to find a figure in black walking toward me swinging a small smoking pot on a chain and sprinkling water with his free hand . I was about to chock on fear as this dark figure got closer and closer to me. Suddenly I realized there was several people in the room behind the dark figure. I had a whole room of spirits!
A great wind started swirling around in the room and all of a sudden a bright light lit up near the mantel. I turn to see a figure in the light facing the dark figure. I cupped my hands over my nose and mouth when I saw the light figure was my husband James.
"It's time Abby" he said with his old gentle voice I hadn't heard in years.
Tears stream down my cheeks when he called to me. I rushed over to the light away from the dark figure and hugged him. I was so happy to see him.
I looked at him weakly. "So I am the one that's dead."
He smiled. "I've been waiting for you." The warm sensation of holding James again made my heart sing with joy.
James smiled at me. "We'll come back together and scare these people out of our house."
I had forgotten about how mischievous James could be.