“Telephones are not the same anymore. No longer do we get crossed lines, mysterious strange noises, nor do we have to ask an operator to be connected to our number of choice. Indeed, we mostly carry our telephones with us, easily available for instant use, and usable in many different ways. Overhead telephone lines are also fast disappearing, as the conversion to underground cables and fiber optic connections continues at a constant pace. The ugly telegraph poles will not be missed though, especially the one near the medieval village of Lenham, locally known as The Killing Pole.
“Here’s a story for you. I’m not sure if it was a ghost, but it was weird enough for me to wonder.
I’m in the car quite a bit as I travel for work, and my territory covers three states. Not long ago, I was about half an hour into a two-hour drive on Highway 64 West, just past Apex, NC. It was about nine in the morning, and it was POURING. The wind was roaring, and every now and then thunder rumbled in the distance. This stretch of highway had no exit ramps, no crossroads, and no houses, just fields and trees.
As I was driving, I noticed a man standing on the shoulder of the highway. I was at least a mile away, but because of the hills I could see pretty far. At first I thought he was a construction worker, but there were no other people were around, no equipment, no road work signs, nothing. The man never moved. He just stood there in the pouring rain.
As I got closer, I saw he was wearing old-fashioned overalls and one of those old white construction hats that kind of look like a bucket. He was completely soaked and was facing west, looking up the road away from me. Though it poured, the man just stood on the shoulder of the road. He didn’t move once. Cars in front of me switched over to the left lane as they passed him, so I know other drivers noticed him. Not once did the man turn his head to look at the cars or lift an arm to shield his face from the rain. He just stood there, arms hanging at his sides.
I watched the man as long as I could, continuing to check my rear view mirror until I could no longer see him. It was the strangest thing. I have never heard of any part of that highway that might be haunted. I did a quick Google search when I got home that evening, but no luck. Odd.”
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See also: “The Woman in the Rain“
The following article comes from the New York Sun, September 20, 1907.
HAUNTED BY WIFE’S GHOST.
Appeal of Man Who Wants to Take Her Body From Potter’s Field.
NEW YORK – Explaining that for two years he had been haunted by his wife’s ghost, John Crane, a laborer, of 261 East 71st street, yesterday appealed to Coroner Harburger to assist him. His wife committed suicide In 1905 by jumping into the East River.
When the body was recovered, Crane was sent for, but he denied knowing the woman. He told Coroner Harburger that he had refused to make the identification, owing to the gossip of his neighbors, who had said he was really glad to get rid of his wife because he wanted to marry a younger woman.
I have been a personal support worker for 14 years and have witnessed several strange occurrences, including a few that really stick out. This happened during a graveyard shift a few years after I started.
The night started like any other. There were no call bells in that facility as we visually checked everyone every hour. During our first round, as I walked to the end of the hall, I saw a white flash out of the corner of my eye in the doorway of room 312. I quickly turned to look, but nothing was there. I continued on with my task thinking my mind was playing tricks on me.
It happened again during the next round, but this time the flash of white was in the doorway of room 313. I ignored the flash, thinking I was still seeing things. On our third round, we checked on the women in room 312, and one of the ladies had a very frightened look on her face. Her eyes were fixed on the corner of the ceiling above her bed, and she looked terrified. This patient had advanced dementia and was non-verbal. She was a very pleasant lady who often shuffled around the halls, confused about who or where she was.
The charge nurse sat with the woman, giving her as much comfort as possible. The patient passed away suddenly a few minutes later. We completed her final care and continued with our night. A few hours later, as I folded laundry across from the nurse station, I started to hear shuffling sound coming down the hall. Confused, I asked the nurse if she was shuffling her feet under the desk. She said, “No, but I hear it too.” The shuffling continued slowly down the hall toward the dining room. To this day, I wonder if it was the frightened patient, taking one last walk down the hall.
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