tiny house swung open and the stranger walked in,
ducking his head to get in through the door. He was wearing the same black suit
with the same black tie knotted neatly around his neck, and he carried his old
black hat in his hands. He came right into the house and stood in the centre of
the floor.
“Well, my good man,” said the husband, “what do you want from us?”
“Sir, “spoke the stranger, in a deep, hollow sort of voice,“I
beg of you to move your door somewhere else. If you do me this favour, I will
never bother you again.”
The husband said he would do just that. At this, the stranger nodded. He then
turned around and stepped back out the door, still holding his hat in one hand.
He closed the door behind him.
That was the last of his visits, for the very next morning the husband went to
move the door. As he looked around, he discovered an old grave, right where he
had built the door to his tiny house. Every time anyone went in or out the door,
they were walking over the grave of the man with the hat.
Needless to say, the man lost no time in boarding up the opening of the old
doorway. He moved the door around to the other side of the house, and they never
saw the stranger again.
W
hen the following incidents occurred
exactly, I cannot say, but I can assure you that they were related to me as a
true tale. The story goes that in a certain place not too far from here, a ghost
suddenly started to haunt a location where a ghost had never been seen before.
Travellers coming home late at night were terribly frightened by the ghoulish
apparition, for it was a truly unusual figure, even for a ghost.
The ghost appeared to make good progress, even over rough ground. It moved with
a peculiar gliding motion. The strange movement could be explained perhaps by
the fact that the phantom was completely legless. It was headless as well. Or
perhaps more properly, it could be described as partially headless, for its head
hung down its back between the shoulders, its eyes staring out behind. From its
head sprouted one long pigtail, tarred black, a pigtail so long that it trailed
along on the ground.
In its arms, the figure carried a long bundle wrapped up in some sort of
fabric. It seemed to be the ghost of a sailor, as it was dressed in a dark-blue
uniform which was the fashionamong seagoing men in those days.
Around its waist it wore a broad leather belt with a large brass buckle and a
pistol thrust into it, all a-twinkle in the moonlight.
After several people were frightened close to death by this horrible spectre,
one man, more brave, or perhaps more foolish, than the rest, decided that he
would follow the creature. He waited one night for the ghost to appear, and when
it did, the man followed it with quaking steps.
Although its head was upside down and looking theother
direction, the ghost still seemed to know precisely where it was going. The man
followed along behind, and tried to stay out of sight of those awful, staring
eyes. He crept along as the ghost glided down the path until it came to an old
well.
There it stopped, balanced the long bundle in its arms, and then dropped it,
short end first, down into the well. The phantom sailor then hovered aimlessly
around the circumference of the well for some time. It then sat on the edge of
the well, paused for a moment, and fell backward, vanishing after the mysterious
bundle down into the well.
The next day, the man shared his story with his family and friends. He was
laughed at by many who heard the story. But the man insisted he was telling the
truth, and that he had indeed followed the ghost as he had described.
Eventually, it was decided the only way to get to the bottom of the case was to
get to the bottom of the well.
The townspeople gathered around the mouth of the well, armed with ladders and
rope. A volunteer was found to make the journey down into the dark depths,
ducking his head to get in through the door. He was wearing the same black suit
with the same black tie knotted neatly around his neck, and he carried his old
black hat in his hands. He came right into the house and stood in the centre of
the floor.
“Well, my good man,” said the husband, “what do you want from us?”
“Sir, “spoke the stranger, in a deep, hollow sort of voice,“I
beg of you to move your door somewhere else. If you do me this favour, I will
never bother you again.”
The husband said he would do just that. At this, the stranger nodded. He then
turned around and stepped back out the door, still holding his hat in one hand.
He closed the door behind him.
That was the last of his visits, for the very next morning the husband went to
move the door. As he looked around, he discovered an old grave, right where he
had built the door to his tiny house. Every time anyone went in or out the door,
they were walking over the grave of the man with the hat.
Needless to say, the man lost no time in boarding up the opening of the old
doorway. He moved the door around to the other side of the house, and they never
saw the stranger again.
W
hen the following incidents occurred
exactly, I cannot say, but I can assure you that they were related to me as a
true tale. The story goes that in a certain place not too far from here, a ghost
suddenly started to haunt a location where a ghost had never been seen before.
Travellers coming home late at night were terribly frightened by the ghoulish
apparition, for it was a truly unusual figure, even for a ghost.
The ghost appeared to make good progress, even over rough ground. It moved with
a peculiar gliding motion. The strange movement could be explained perhaps by
the fact that the phantom was completely legless. It was headless as well. Or
perhaps more properly, it could be described as partially headless, for its head
hung down its back between the shoulders, its eyes staring out behind. From its
head sprouted one long pigtail, tarred black, a pigtail so long that it trailed
along on the ground.
In its arms, the figure carried a long bundle wrapped up in some sort of
fabric. It seemed to be the ghost of a sailor, as it was dressed in a dark-blue
uniform which was the fashionamong seagoing men in those days.
Around its waist it wore a broad leather belt with a large brass buckle and a
pistol thrust into it, all a-twinkle in the moonlight.
After several people were frightened close to death by this horrible spectre,
one man, more brave, or perhaps more foolish, than the rest, decided that he
would follow the creature. He waited one night for the ghost to appear, and when
it did, the man followed it with quaking steps.
Although its head was upside down and looking theother
direction, the ghost still seemed to know precisely where it was going. The man
followed along behind, and tried to stay out of sight of those awful, staring
eyes. He crept along as the ghost glided down the path until it came to an old
well.
There it stopped, balanced the long bundle in its arms, and then dropped it,
short end first, down into the well. The phantom sailor then hovered aimlessly
around the circumference of the well for some time. It then sat on the edge of
the well, paused for a moment, and fell backward, vanishing after the mysterious
bundle down into the well.
The next day, the man shared his story with his family and friends. He was
laughed at by many who heard the story. But the man insisted he was telling the
truth, and that he had indeed followed the ghost as he had described.
Eventually, it was decided the only way to get to the bottom of the case was to
get to the bottom of the well.
The townspeople gathered around the mouth of the well, armed with ladders and
rope. A volunteer was found to make the journey down into the dark depths,
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