Grandfathers House


I grew up in the countryside of southern Indiana, on a 10 acre plot 
of land which my grandfather purchased in 1950. 

When he bought it, there was nothing, just bare, grassy ground and 
a small forest. When he was done working on it around 1956, it didn't 
look like it was even the same place. He added a lake, and a beautiful 
2-story house, all built by him and his sons. My grandfather had a 
grand vision when he first spotted that bare plot of land. Despite 
the fact that he was a very poor man, raising 6 children, he made his 
vision become a reality. 

For those of you reading this who have never been in the country, much 
less the countryside of southern Indiana, let me explain something. It 
seems that the ground out there exudes a measure of relaxation, and 
peace. Where this house is located is roughly a few miles distant on 
each side of the nearest neighbor. 

Complete solitude. My grandfather loved that place so very much. It was 
the house he and my grandmother raised their 6 children in, and even 
some of us grandchildren were raised out there as well. I rarely got to 
see my grandfather in that house.  Shortly before the house was 
officially finished, he fell sick with a terminal disease that he 
contracted from being exposed to pigeon droppings. I don't remember 
the name of the disease, but it has no cure. This was before I was 
born, so I never really got to see my grandfather in his prime. 

During childhood, I remember once a week going to visit my grandfather 
in a nursing home about 35 miles away, in a small southern Illinois 
town called Grayville. It was a poor, run down place that smelled very 
awful, even where nursing homes are concerned. 

On few occasions, like Christmas, we were able to take him to the house. 
But as he got older, and the disease worsened, his visits became less 
and less. On his birthday, the year after he died, I happened to be 
staying out at the house with my grandmother. 

She lived alone, so I would visit her roughly once or twice a week to 
help her keep the place up. There was a powerful spring shower outside 
that day, with thunder crashes as loud as incendiary devices, which 
sometimes shook the house in their deafening power. The wind howled 
through the tree branches in the woods behind the house, making an 
almost inhuman banshee sound, like it almost always did when it stormed 
heavily out there. 

The darkness was complete, save for bright flashes of lightning every 
so often. I usually sleep very soundly on stormy nights, but this night 
seemed different. 

I retired for bed at around 11 pm that night, hoping to get up early 
the next day. The storm had started to die down slightly, leaving a 
hard rain, but little lightning activity. I woke up a few hours later 
because I was cold, despite the fact that I had 2 blankets on. It felt 
like a deep cold, like It was winter. 

There were no lights on in the house, so I sat for a few moments to let 
my eyes adjust a little bit. I got up to grab another blanket from the 
antique doughbox in the hallway where the extra linens were stored. 

As I approached the hall, my vision started to form hazy spots, like 
the kind you see in complete darkness when you were just looking at a 
bright light. 

At first I ignored it, until I realized that it was not my eyes at all, 
but a hazy figure walking in front of me. I froze in my place, in more 
awe than in terror, as I saw the figure of my grandfather materializing 
before me. With each second, this apparition became more and more clear. 
The figure slowly stopped walking, and turned around, and looked at me 
with swirly eyes. At first, I wasn't afraid, until he began to raise his 
hand, and reached out towards my face. 

With that, I abruptly turned around, and marched back into the living 
room, telling myself that I did not see that. I curled up into my covers, 
warmer now, and tried to go back to sleep, and tried to disbelieve what 
my own eyes saw there, my grandfather, heading for the bedroom where my 
grandmother was sleeping.

I have never seen his figure in the house again, that was years ago. 
However, as a footnote to the story, strange things have happened in 
that house. Sometimes unexplained noises, or something of that nature. 
My mother and stepfather bought the house after my grandmother decided 
she wasn't able to care for a house that size by herself anymore. They 
fixed the place up like I feel my grandfather would have wanted it to 
be, had he had the financial ability to do what he wanted to with it. 

During this time, my stepfather has told me on many occasions that he 
feels my grandfather is still there, in the house that he loved so much.