Out For A Stroll

Recently I was told the following story by a gentleman who said he still doesn't really believe in ghosts, or things that go bump in the night, even though he witnessed this tale with his own eyes. I myself thought the story was quite interesting, but I'll let you be the judge...

My dad was in the service when I was a kid, my family moved around a lot. Probably due to this, I was a very shy teenager. I mean very shy. I had a bunch of male friends, but when it came down to females, even just to hang out with them with my other friends, pffft. Not only would I get tongue-tied and stupid, but I would profusely turn red just by being near a girl. So all my long, lustful stares took place from a far distance, without ever actually talking to the girl I would be gazing at. I missed out a lot, but I made up for it when I got to college.

Anyway, one day I was sitting in my parent's dining room, just looking out the window, daydreaming. All my buddy's were off doing something else, something that involved having members of the opposite sex close by, so I choose to chill at home.

As I was sitting there, this girl walked by. She was a beauty. Long golden hair, creamy white skin, and wow, what a body. {insert devilish chuckle here} I just stared as she went past the window. She was different though, there was just something about her that felt, or appeared different. I just couldn't put my finger on it.

The next day as my family and I sat for dinner, I happened to notice this same girl walking down the street in front of our house. Again, I just stared. She really was gorgeous. I kept thinking about how much I would love to just run outside, approach her, and say hello. But I knew I'd only get up and trip over my own two feet before even making it to the door.

Everyday for the next week I would see this girl passing by. I didn't say anything to my parents, brother, or friends. I knew my parents would try to convince me to wait outside for her so I could strike up a conversation when she walked by; yeah, me, right. And my brother and friends would just bust my butt, riding me to no end about my shyness when it came to girls; no way was I going to open my mouth to them.

After about a week or so she stopped coming by. A few days later, and I was pretty much jonesing for a glimpse of her. Nothing.

A month later my grandfather came to visit. He was a cool old dude, and super sociable. I told him about this girl, and how much I would have loved to have met her. My grandfather shook his head in his usual way and in his broken English told me to just speak. The words would flow once my mouth opened. I knew he was just trying to make me feel more confident, but we both knew this tactic would never work for me. The entire time of his visit I kept wishing that this girl would walk by. My grandfather would have started a conversation with her. And then maybe I would have...hid in the back room until she had left probably.

My grandfather ended up befriending another old dude from down the street. The two of them would sit out on the porch for hours; playing poker, drinking coffee with more Irish whiskey then cream, and trying to out-do each other with tales from the "good ole days". Once-in-awhile I would sit with them, and just listen. On one of these occasions is when my grandfather brought up the girl. His buddy just sat and listened to the story of how every day I had watched her walk by, and then one day, poof, gone, nothing, no more gawking time for me.

My grandfather's friend sat quite for a few moments after my grandfather and I had finished with our 'passing girl' tale. Then the old dude looked me dead in the eye, and in the most honest, sincere voice & stare I have ever heard or seen, he told me a story about a young girl he once admired.

He said he would go fishing every afternoon after his chores where done. And every afternoon for a week or so this beautiful, blonde haired angel would walk down the street. But, he said, she was different, it was like she wasn't really walking, wasn't really moving, wasn't really there. The old dude said he would just watch her until she was out of sight. He stated that he thought about approaching her a few times, but something stopped him. He wasn't sure what.

One day while helping his dad, he brought the girl up in a conversation. The old dude said his father asked him a bunch of questions about her: what she looked like, how old she was, what she was wearing, where she came walking from and where she was walking to. After he was done answering, his father told him he had a story to tell. He asked him to take a seat and listen with an open mind. At this point, this is what the old dude had stated to me also. So, I pushed all humor aside, and listened to the man.

He told me how his father recollected a night when he was young. He began to tell him about how he and his friends, girls and boys, hung out down in one of the horse barns. The owner had no idea that the teens would sneak in and spend a few hours, a few nights a week. One night, the owner of the barn came out after the teens got a little rowdy. The old dude said his father continued to tell him about how the barn owner started yelling, and began shooting off shotgun shells into the air to scare the kids. You can imagine that the horses didn't take too well to this.

The teens scattered, but unfortunately, one teen girl, the pretty blonde, didn't get out unhurt. A horse trampled her and she was rushed to the nearest doctor. Her injuries where too severe and the doctor couldn't help her. She died a few hours later.

The old dude said that every year, during that one certain week, teenagers reported seeing a pretty blonde walking a few hundred feet down the road, and disappearing over the little incline. And they all have said the same thing, "there's something different about her".

After my grandfather's friend left, my grandfather asked if I believed the story. I shook my head and laughed. My grandfather was from a different time, he came from a country that talked about the paranormal like it was something that you expected to encounter everyday. So my grandfather got up from the table, glanced at me, and, in his broken English said that one day, I would regret not believing.

I still haven't had anything happen that would make me a complete believer. But I will stand by the fact that that girl I watched so many years ago was somehow 'different' than most other girls.

So readers, is this the typical ghost story? Pretty dead girl walking somewhere, doesn't talk, doesn't look around, just glides on by. Anyone else out there ever have an encounter with a ghost who's out for a stroll? I'd love to hear about it!