Another Story (about a one legged man)

{ February 18, 2009 @ 11:47 pm } · { Uncategorized }
{ Tags: ghost storied, humor, I hope people read this, it took a long to write, one legged man }

  You would think that a person would not have many stories about  a person missing body parts and while the first story was about a bum, this one is also about a person who I did not know.  I have to tell quite a bit of back story before I get to the point so please stick with me.

When I was growing up, my family lived in a beautiful pre-civil war home. That house is what I compare all places that I have lived since, none of them felt like home in comparison.  This house was set in the country and you would think that life would be calm, but no that was not the case. I don’t know if any of you have ever lived out in the country but people are always stopping by. Some of these people wanted to ask you about your horse or something that they found interesting, some needed something and since there were no cell phones and the nearest gas station was some ways off they would stop for their minor emergencies. Then there were stops of people who used to live in the house or their friends used to live in the house, and hey when a house is over two hundred years old that can add up.

One day we were all out in the yard, and an elderly lady comes around to the front and starts asking my Dad questions. It was not long before the women had convinced my Dad to let them host a family reunion at the house. So as soon as she left we got to work on fixing up the little things around the house.  

So, the day arrives and so do the people. There were tons- and they all had the best stories. One lady took us on a tour of the house and told about events that happened in certain spots. It got really interesting when she got to my parents room.

“Oh this room was used as the parlour. We would have all the viewing, those of the dead bodies, you know for funerals, in that there corner over there, actually right where your bed is darling.” 

My mom’s eyes got big on that one. (Before they were out of the drive way she had moved the bed to a different spot. That still makes me laugh.)

“Oh and over here is where they amputated Thomas’s leg.”

Dad- “I always thought might be a blood stain, but you never know.” 

My dad was a big history guy and actually worked on old houses. He was used to being in homes that the civil war used as hospitals. So a blood stain was not new to him.

“Yes, well you were right. You see Thomas was the very first one in this area to get a motorcycle. The day he got it, he went out and had an accident and they had to remove his leg, actually they buried in the yard.  Mother told him, that he would be the first to own a bike and the  first one killed on one too.  I can’t quite remember why we decided to bury the leg…”

 

I remember at that moment, seeing my younger brother’s eyes. He ,like the rest of  us, was hooked on every word that the former occupant was saying, but I also knew that knowing that the leg was out there was a huge challenge to my brother.  What else is a second grader going to want to do, but find it and dig it up.

After they left my brother went out in search of a shovel but he could not find it and when he found my Dad to ask where it was, he found both. I guess that Boys never really do grow up. They searched the hill and finally found the foot stone that marked the grave, once that happened I was not sticking around to actually see the foot, too wierd for me.

So a couple of weeks goes by and life turns back to normal. Something else about the house that I did not mention before is that all the rooms are connected. There was more than one door to each bedroom. In mine actually there were four. One to the living room, one to the bathroom that was actually in an old closet (remember when the house was built there was no indoor plumbing) and another was connected to my sister’s room and the forth was to the outside porch, which was used as the main door. I know the layout sounds strange but I loved that room, it was big and I always knew what was going on.

One night a thunder storm began and while I liked them, this one was a loud one. Since there were mountains and valleys the thunder would get caught down in a valley and the sound would last a good ten seconds.  The wind was also quite strong and would sometimes make a howling sound when it was caught in the storm windows or doors. Well a loud crack broke into the air and the outside door was caught by the wind and started to open.

Just about the time I sat up in bed to go shut it, a blot of lighting struck right outside only a few hundred yards away and lit up the sky. Suddenly there IT was on the porch. It was the leg. I screamed, but either the sound did not come out or it was covered up by the thunder. Before my scream and the thunder had the cleared the air I realized my ghostly limb was only a boot.  You see my Dad had taken off his work boots and had left them on the porch before coming inside. One of the boots had fallen down, leaving the other standing up right and in place for the haunting.

 I waited for someone in my family to come and see about me, but no one did.  And it was actually many years later that I told my family members that story.  We sometimes get to talking about that house and we always have new memories to share with each other.  I think that we only lived there five years, but it has given me a life time of stories.  If you like this one there are more where that came from, just let me know.