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My grandfather, on my mother's side, was Omah Kessinger. He had a farm
at Rock Camp, Monroe Co., W. V.. Rock Camp is located at the
intersection of RT. 29 and Willow Bend Road. Rock Camp is hardly big
enough to even have a road sign, but it does have a general store (maybe
a gas pump) and services the surrounding houses and farms. Granddaddy's
farm was about a mile and a half east on Willow Bend Road. I was born on
that farm. When I was old enough to have seen few movies about ghosts and heard
stories of them, mostly from my aunt Olivia, Granddaddy told me one that
supported my feelings about such entities. This is the way he would tell
it.
"One evening about dark, I saddled the horse and road to the general
store for a few things. The trip was about a mile and a half but the
moon was bright and I wouldn't have any problem seeing where I was
going. The road followed the base of the mountain, and in one particular
stretch, the hill was cut away when they build the road. That left a wall of
stone, on the mountain side, several hundred feet long.
On the way back I was about to the place where the stone wall
began. I thought I heard another horse behind me. I stopped and looked
back to see who it was, but couldn't see anyone. I thought it might be
an echo of my own horse's hooves bouncing off the wall. I continued on
but I could still hear the sound of the other hooves. I didn't stop but
I turned around in the saddle and looked again. Still no one was in
site.
I must admit this got a bit unnerving. I didn't understand why I
couldn't see anyone, because the moon was so bright. This went on for a
little further and I finally stopped and pulled the horse to the side of
the road. I could hear the other hooves, and they were getting closer,
and I was determined to wait and see who, or what, it was. The sound was
beside me, but still no one, or anything was in sight. I sat there, not
moving as the sound went by me and on ahead until I couldn't hear it
anymore. I sat there a little longer, totally bewildered, to make sure I
wouldn't catch up with the sound, and then, at a slower pace, I went on
home."
When I remembered this story, I wondered how many granddads told ghost
stories to their grandkids. If your Granddad told you stories, perhaps
you would like to share them with the readers. I know I'd love hearing
them. The comment box is below. Be sure to put your name so we will know
who's telling the story. Have fun remembering. |
