 |
| Circut preacher |
A preacher caught in a freezing rain one night stopped at a farmhouse to request shelter.
The farmer informed him he had no room but there was an empty cabin across the field. After supper the farmer accompanied the preacher to this old house to help him gather wood and light a fire for the night.
Before he left, he told the preacher he hoped he wasn’t afraid of ghosts for the cabin was haunted. Shrugging off the warning the preacher placed a chair by the fire’s warmth and read his Bible for a couple of hours.
After he fell asleep he awoke several hours later to find the fire had died out. He struck a match to check his watch. Twelve o’clock—midnight.
As he hunkered back down into his bedroll he heard a loud noise. It sounded as if someone had unloaded a wheelbarrow full of bricks on the roof. He went outside only to find the rain falling softly and no one else around.
Once back in the cabin he heard a rooster begin to crow but this sound was abruptly stopped as if something had choked the bird into silence.
Unnerved, the preacher sat down and began to read his Bible once more. He looked up from the book hearing a loud moan. He couldn’t tell where this sound originated. He stoked the fire and sat back down.
He then heard a series of moans and groans coming from all over. It sounded like a woman sobbing. This woman called something out which he could not make out. Then the sounds stopped.
The preacher heard footsteps approach the back door. It swung open and he caught the vague form of a woman who was crying. She faded and the door slammed shut.
He tried to resume his reading but the sobbing and moaning began once more. The door opened and the form appeared again. This time the preacher invoked a prayer and asked, “What do you want?”
The figure half floated, and half fell in the direction of where he sat. She sobbed and grabbed his coat lapels with her hands. She drew her face up close to his.
She was wearing a dress that was faded and in rags. Her hair was tangled around her face. There were dark empty sockets where her eyes should have been. She didn’t have a nose.
The preacher grasped for breath as he sat frozen in fear. The frightening form spoke. “I want to be properly buried. You’ll find my bones buried over there.” She pointed to the hearth rock near the fire.
She turned back. “My sweetheart killed me for my money. If you do what I request and come back tomorrow night I will tell you were its hid.”
The preacher listened frozen to the spot. “Bury me in the churchyard, all except my little finger on my left hand. Invite all the neighborhood folks to come to supper tomorrow. Put my finger bone on a plate and pass it around.”
She floated above him. “It’ll stick to the hand of the one who murdered me.” She then sobbed and faded down into the hearth.
The preacher sat in the chair the rest of the night, unable to sleep. The next morning he enlisted the help of the farmer—telling him about what he heard and saw.
The two men dug up her bones and buried them in the cemetery. The preacher performed a solemn funeral service and arranged for a fine supper that night.
A plate with the finger bone was passed around. When it reached a grey haired man it stuck to his hand. He started to holler and tried to get if off but it stuck fast.
The man was so horrified he confessed to the murder at which point the bone fell to the floor. It was a crime he had committed 40 years before. A week later he was hanged.
The preacher returned to the cabin once more. The spirit true to her word showed him where the money was hid. But he was never able to wear his favorite suit coat again. The spirit’s fingers had burned holes through the lapels.