Author’s notes: This story is based on an actually ghost story. You can read all about it at the end of this story. What’s that? YOU DON’T’ BELIEVE IN ‘GHOST’ you say! Perhaps my story will change your mind. You can email me and let me know after you’re done. In the mean time - BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

 

Ghost Story

by: Kelly Davidson
kelly@tgender.net

 

Fade in…

The wooden house was old and in need of repair. I suppose in its day, it had been a castle to the people who had built it. Time, however, had robbed the house of its past glory. That’s where I came in. I was going to restore some of that glory back to it. I knew it was going to be a long process. The house was solid, but in disarray. For one, the huge stone fireplace that made up half of the living room wall was falling apart. I was going to have my hands full repairing it in time for winter. Still, for a house that had sat empty for almost thirty years, it was in very good shape. Some new paint and a few holes patched here and there, and the house would look as good as new.

The upside to my situation was that I had purchased the two-story residence for a fairly cheap price. Another selling point (at least to me, anyway) was that it was located in a rather isolated area. My nearest neighbor lived more then a mile away. Being a writer of sorts, I valued my privacy.

That afternoon I moved in some of my stuff so I could spend the night. It wasn’t much, an old sofa bed and a table with some chairs. My plan was to work on the upstairs first, and transport my bedroom stuff in after I was finished. Hopefully, sleeping on the sofa bed would motivate me to get the job done quicker.

After evening settled in, I opened up an old suitcase I had hidden away in one of the closets. Inside were my clothes - my girl clothes. In addition to being a struggling author, I was also a crossdresser. I wanted to spend the first night in my new house dressed as Kelly. I took joy in putting on the tan sweater and long, silky skirt. After making sure my wig and makeup were on properly in case someone drove by and saw me standing in front of the window, I proceeded to make dinner.

Later on, I sat on the couch reading a lovely romance novel written by Prudence Walker. I took little notice in the howling wind picking up outside, with the anticipation of a storm moving in. Bad storms were common in this area, or so I had been told. Suddenly, my attention shifted away from my book when I heard something moving upstairs. I put the book down and listened carefully, but was rewarded with silence. Feeling a little foolish at letting my imagination get the best of me, I rubbed my eyes and looked at the clock. It was almost two in the morning.

Yawning, I stood up to get ready for bed with I heard it again - the sound of someone walking on the squeaky floorboards above my head. Then I heard crying, softly at first, but growing with every passing moment. I realized that whomever, or whatever it was, it was coming down the steps. I grabbed a bat that I had brought along just in case, and waited. When the crying reached the bottom of the steps, I gasped.

It was a ghost, there was no doubt about that; but it was a baby ghost. Well, not really a baby, more like a small child about three years old. He wore a white nightshirt, and had a teddy bear clutched in his hands. He was sobbing loudly, and I felt sorry for him despite my fear. When the ghost saw me, he rubbed the tears out of his eyes and asked, "Mommy, is that you?"

I was too frightened to answer. I stood there staring at the small ghost, not knowing whether to scream in fright or try to comfort him. Finally I got up the courage to say something. "I’m - I’m not your mommy, little boy," I stuttered. "May - maybe I can help. Can you tell me your name?"

The ghost shook his head and sobbed, "I’m lonely. I want my mommy! Mommy, where are you, mommy!"

The small ghost moved toward the couch, and I watched in fascinated horror as he disappeared into the back of it, and reappeared on the other side. He walked up to the stone fireplace, and disappeared. Moments later, his sobs faded away.

I wasn’t the bravest man, so needless to say, I grabbed some clothes and ran out of the house as fast as I could - still dressed as Kelly. I drove to a nearby town and rented a motel room for the night. Sitting on the bed, I tried to calm my nerves. I was both terrified over what had happened, and yet, heartbroken. Obviously, this ghost child was scared, and needed my help. I felt a deep conviction within my heart to do something for him.

The next morning I went down to the courthouse to find out everything I could about the house. I discovered the Mason family had built the structure in 1810. Court records indicated that there had been eleven children born in the house, and three of them had died before they reached the age of ten. One of those had been a three-year old boy named Samuel George Mason.

Playing on a hunch, I drove to the cemetery where the Masons were buried. The family had their own private section, indicating the parents had money when they were alive. However, I couldn’t find a gravesite for little Samuel.

Armed with new information, I drove back to the house. I went inside and stared at the fireplace. I played everything I knew about the Masons over and over again in my mind. Samuel had been the first child born to Harvey and Mary Mason. According to the town records, he came down with pneumonia and died just after his third birthday. Being their first child, his parents must have been devastated. I could almost imagine the grief his mother must have gone through. Maybe it had been so bad that she couldn’t bear to be away from him? Maybe the father had felt the same way? Maybe they couldn’t stand the thought of putting him in a cemetery so far away from them? Perhaps they hadn’t!

Carefully I chiseled around the rock at the spot where the ghost had disappeared into the fireplace. When it was finally loose, I grabbed hold and slowly pulled it away. Peering inside, I found the remains of a small body. Still clutched in its skeleton hands was a tattered teddy bear. I ran outside and called the sheriff.

 

Less then a week later, I was sitting on the living room couch enjoying a book written by Joan Banks. The body in the fireplace had been solved rather quickly. A note written by the parents had somehow survived, and it explained how they couldn’t bear being away from their departed first-born son. They had entombed his body in the fireplace so he would be close to the family from then on. They never thought that one day the house would be abandoned, leaving him alone once more. With donations for the local historical society to pay for a small funeral, little Samuel had been laid to rest next to his mother and father that morning. I prayed that he had finally found peace.

The sound of laughing startled me out of my reading. I stood up quickly to see who it was, almost tripping over the hem of my long skirt. The same small ghost child I had seen earlier came bouncing into the room, holding onto a woman’s hand. She wore a long, ruffled dress from the 1800s, and had her hair pinned up in a stylish manner. The female ghost gave me a warm smile, and asked, "Are you the lady who returned my son to me?"

"Yes, I - I’m her," I replied nervously. "I’m Kel - Kelly. Kelly Davidson."

"I have been searching for Samuel for such a long time," she explained pleasantly. "I know that sounds strange, but I had forgotten where he was until you brought him to me. You made us both very happy."

I swallowed hard and nodded, not knowing how to answer.

Mary Mason continued, "I want to reward you, Kelly. I know you’re not the woman you appear to be. I’m going to help you find yourself, the same way you helped Samuel find me. Please, do not be afraid."

Mrs. Mason spread her arms, and a white light flashed out and engulfed me. Moments later everything returned back to normal. I rubbed my eyes furiously, trying to remove the spots circling about in my vision. It felt like someone had just taken a picture of me with a bright flashbulb.

Both ghosts smiled at the results.

"She looks just like you, mommy!" Samuel giggled happily.

His mother nodded and said, "We must be leaving now. You will not see us again, my sister. Enjoy the house, and my gift to you. Goodbye, Miss Davidson."

Slowly, they both faded away.

‘Gift?’ I thought. ‘What gift was that? What has she done to me?’

I stumbled over to a mirror to see what she meant, and gasped. There was Mary Mason staring back at me, dressed in the same clothes I had on. Then I realized that wasn’t her reflection, it was mine. I ran my hands over my face to be sure. My skin felt smooth and soft, just like a woman. I tried to pull off the wig, but found it had been merged to my head. No, that wasn’t right. It felt different in my hands, like real hair. Quickly, I reached down and checked between my legs. There was now a void.

"NO!" I screamed out. "No, you misunderstood what I was, you damn ghost! I don’t want to be a girl for the REST OF MY LIFE! I just like to dress up as one from time to time to relief my stress, but I don’t really want to BE ONE! PLEASE, come back! Oh, PLEASE COME BACK AND CHANGE ME INTO A MAN AGAIN. OH, PLEASE!"

I continued to cry out for her, knowing my begging was useless. She had told me they were leaving, and I would never see her again. Mrs. Mason had thought she was repaying my kindness by changing me into a woman. How could she have been so wrong? How could she have done this to me without asking first? I fell down on the couch and cried bitter tears.

 

Authors notes: Oh, come on, people, what did you expect? It’s a Halloween story, after all. <Grin>

Okay, I told you this story was based on a real ghost story, and here’s what happened. Sometime in the early 1980’s, a man purchased an abandoned house built in the 1800’s with plans to refurbish it. The first night in the house, he was awakened about 2 am by the sound of someone crying. He watched as a small child walked down the steps crying, and disappeared into the stone fireplace, sobbing sorrowfully the entire time. Needless to say, the man was spooked <grin> and left right away.

The next morning he returned and decided to find out what was behind the fireplace. When he removed one of the large stones, he discovered the remains of a small child. It seemed the child had died and his parents had buried him there. That’s not as uncommon as you might think. There have been similar cases of family members being buried inside their house - some even in the area where I live. I know of one house where you can walk in the front door and can see three gravestones of people buried underneath the floor.

Anyway, to make a long story short, the detectives located the boy’s deceased parents, and buried him next to them. That night, the man heard another noise - it was the sound of a child laughing joyfully. That was the last time he heard from the ghost again.

Happy Halloween, everyone! 8^)

 

 

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© 2001 by Kelly Davidson. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.