Ghost Stories

We used to have a silly way of talking that no one but us understood. For instance, if something was good to eat, we would say it was "larapin." I do not know why, but we used a lot of expressions like this. Instead of "I dare you" we would say, "I double dare you and you're a coward unless you take it." Well, one could not pass that kind of dare.

I guess my folks did not realize back then that you should not frighten kids. Many times, if we were really naughty, my mamma would say, "I guess you've forgotten that 'old rawhead and bloodybones' is in the attic and hears you misbehaving." Well, need she say more? I had a vivid picture in my mind of a bad, mean monster of some type that I had never seen, but who, none the less, heard all things at all times.

Old folks would sit around at night and tell us ghost stories. Then we were scared out of our wits, afraid to go to bed. They told of such things as seeing caskets floating at a local cemetery. When the young men passed by there at night and called out for Uncle Nathan to come out, they swore he came out, casket and all, and followed them home.

This was a way to show how brave they were, or so they thought. My pappa never believed in ghosts. He always said, "Anything can be explained if investigated." He was very brave. He went anywhere at night or day.

Mr. Camel, a neighbor of ours, was so frightened of storms it was said that he always got in a ditch or between feather beds to keep the lightning away from him. We thought he was strange. He had a crooked forefinger. When he dipped it into his snuff bag, it was just right to scoop up enough snuff to sniff up his nose, which was how he chose to use tobacco.

Poor fellow did not die from lightning, though his death was accidental. He chopped down a tree for wood and somehow it fell on him. He died from the injuries. That was an unhappy time in our community because everybody cared for their neighbors.