Immortal Guests (standard:Ghost stories, 1142 words)
Author: dcastle	Added: Feb 20 2005	Views/Reads: 3568/2373	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is a short story about spirits that I have encounterd.

Immortal guests? 

I never use to believe in ghosts or spirits but since my father died ten
years ago, I am now beginning to wonder if they really do exist. I was 
doing some work in the shed in my back yard one month after my dad's 
death. This was in late February. It was freezing cold outside and 
snowing. I was concentrating on the job at hand when I noticed a very 
strong scent of Old Spice cologne. My father wore that brand. It lasted 
about two minutes. Over the last ten years, I have smelled this three 
more times. 

I bought this house from an elderly woman who I never met. She was in a
nursing home and my neighbor John who lives four houses down signed the 
documents as he had power of attorney for her. On a winter morning 11 
years later, I was in the shed when I got a big whiff of cheap perfume. 
It was so strong I could almost taste it. Like my dads cologne, the 
smell was gone within two minutes. I thought it was very strange but 
didn't give it any more thought. Two hours later, I jumped in the car 
to run an errand. I noticed John out shoveling his sideway. He motioned 
for me to stop and told me that the woman I bought the house from had 
died. I asked when and he said about two hours ago. I asked him if she 
ever wore cheap perfume. He said he yes and plenty of it. I was also 
told that she spent a lot of time in the shed when I asked him. Could 
this be their sole or spirits passing through? 

A relative of the family has woke up many times in the middle of the
night to see a woman staring at him. His parents have seen her many 
times too. She doesn't do anything, just stares until she slowly 
vanishes. 

My brother in law saw his deceased daughter in his bedroom window
motioning for him to come with her seconds before he died. He was a 
mechanic and wasn't well enough to fix my windshield wipers and felt 
pretty bad about it. They hadn't worked for quite a while. I had to 
drive my other car on rainy days. The day after he died I got caught in 
a rainstorm and thought I'd try the wipers even though I knew they 
wouldn't work. To my surprise, they did and have never failed me since. 


My brother and I have gone fishing to a remote area on the river with
our father for as long as I can remember. Our annual trip is always 
taken in July. As you know, that is one very hot month. The river is 
usually quite low which doesn't make for the best fishing. The camp 
site is all overgrown with weeds and grass as tall as two feet. 
Firewood is always a problem to find. I remember my dad telling me the 
bluebird was his favorite bird. A bird I had never seen. I had always 
wanted to catch a big catfish but had pretty much giving up on that 
idea. 

Our father died in February of 1995 and was buried just one mile from
where we fish. Although it was very hard, we decided to continue with 
our annual fishing trip to the river that July. It was nearly a hundred 
degrees when we left Kansas city. A freak cold front came through that 
weekend and gave us temperatures in the high 70s for the three days we 
were there. The grass in the campsite had been cut by someone and a 
half a cord of firewood was neatly stacked between two maple trees. The 
river was absolutely perfect. Not to high and not to low. I saw at 
least 50 bluebirds in those three days. We use trot lines when we fish 
and it's pretty much a waste of time to run the lines during the day as 
catfish mostly bite at night. We ate breakfast and cleaned up the 
campsite Saturday morning and decided to visit the cemetery our dad was 
buried in. 

On the way back my son in law said he wanted to check the lines when we
got back. I told him it was really a waste of time but I would do it if 
he really wanted to. At high noon, four hooks out from the bank on the 
first trot line was the biggest flathead catfish any of us had ever 
seen. After a five minute fight, we landed the 60 pound fish. 

Ten more trips over the next ten years have been exactly like the trips
before my father death. Very hot and humid, plenty of weeds, no 
firewood and a low river. No more blue birds and no huge catfish. We 
still catch a good number of smaller catfish and have a great time but 
will always remember the special trip in 1995. A fathers parting gift 
to his sons? We think so. 


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