Chapter 13
A Ghost Story
I was always small for my age, and easy prey for teasing. One dark, rainy night when I was 7, my brothers and cousins dared me to do something that would prove to be a defining moment.
Aunt Alice lived one mile away through dark, dense woods. There was a narrow path, lined with trees of all descriptions and covered with undergrowth. It was a struggle to get through those woods even in the daytime, and very few of the younger kids would try it at night.
On this particular moonless night, cousin Edgar and brother Donnie had dared me to go through on the path. Of course, I couldn’t ignore the dare, so I started out. The path was wet and slippery. I was having a rough time keeping my feet. My face was getting wet from the leaves that reached out and grabbed me. I had traveled maybe a quarter mile when suddenly I saw a white figure coming toward me. I was startled, and jumped into the brambles of a raspberry bush.
The figure, which appeared to be covered in a white sheet, kept coming. The sheet swayed in the wind. I cowered in the brambles, hoping the figure would go past without noticing me. It never got to me. Even though it appeared to be moving, it was only moving back and forth. I waited a few breathless minutes, then, in my usual calculating style, decided that, if it wasn’t coming to get me, maybe I should just check it out.
I painfully extricated myself from the briars. I was bloodied a bit but not really hurt. I advanced slowly down the path, using the stealth techniques I imagined Indians used when hunting cowboys. After traveling about 20 feet or so, I saw what it was that was haunting me. It wasn’t a ghost, or even someone dressed up like one.
A white birch tree had shed a big section of it’s bark. A piece about 10 feet high and 2 feet across was held by one side still attached to the tree. It was swaying back and forth in the wind. I looked sheepishly around, hoping that no one had seen my fright. When I had calmed down and determined I was all alone, I traveled on down the path.