Tag Archive for: stories

A Ghostly Encounter

I am a certified city of Charleston tour guide. Sometimes I give ghost tours. Once one of the tourists told me that what was scary about my ghost stories was that I told them as a matter of fact, not fantasy.

 

Well, it’s because I’ve had a few ghostly encounters. I thought you might like to read about one of them.

 

My best friend and I babysat at a house in Pinopolis, SC, where we lived. (Side note: it was a fantastic place to grow up!) We had never been told specifics about the ghost in the house, but I had lived at the house next door for a few years and had heard there was a ghost at this house, as there was one in the house I lived in as well, but that’s another story.


Pinopolis is a peninsula on Lake Moultrie outside of Moncks Corner, SC.

 

We put the children to bed. We locked the front door with the skeleton key and placed the key on the credenza all the way across from the front door. We checked the side door (near the dining room) and the back door in the kitchen. 


Once we put the children to bed, we did not check on them again as the room on the right at the top of the stairs gave off weird vibes. When I had to walk past it, and you didn’t have a choice as it was on the way to the rest of the upstairs, I would close my eyes and dash across the doorway, whether the door was open or closed, it did not matter.

 

In the past I had heard someone going up and down the stairs while I bathed the children in the tub between the den and the study. I never saw anyone, even though I would take the kids out of the tub and go investigate. 


A view of Lake Moultrie from a home in Pinopolis.

 

Anyway, back to that night … We had popcorn and a soft drink, probably Mountain Dew as we were big fans of Mountain Dew. We had just finished watching the Love Boat and Fantasy Island’s starting credits had begun. I was on the couch that was parallel to the wall at the bathroom. My friend was sitting in the lounge chair that was to my left and at an angle facing the television. We were both facing the opening to the hall and the television.

 

I got that eerie feeling that someone watched me. I glanced up at the door between the hall and the den. A little old lady peered at me around the door frame. Her hair was in a bun. She was short. She had on a dress. Her gnarled, arthritic-looking, fingers were gently placed on the door frame. She stared at me until I broke contact to look at my friend. She was staring at the same spot in the doorway. She practically levitated to the spot next to me on the couch after she said, “did you see that little old lady looking at you?”

 

We sat with our hands entwined until the parents arrived. They said the front door was wide open and they fussed at us. We asked them if there was a ghost in the house and gave the description. They were in disbelief, not because they didn’t believe us but because they said she never showed herself to anyone but family. (My friend is related to them, but she was staring at me, maybe trying to figure out who I was and why I was there so much?) The parents said it was the man’s relative who had been bedridden in later life and the room at the top of the stairs had been her room.

 

After that, whenever I babysat for the children I’d talk to the ghost and tell her what I was doing so she’d be aware, and maybe, hopefully, not appear to me again!


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Robin Hillyer-Miles lives happily in the Lowcountry of South Carolina with her husband, teenaged son, and three dogs. She’s supposed to be editing her latest novel to be self-published but she has been lazy. This new novel is based in a fictional town called Marion’s Corner, also located in the Lowcountry. It has a witch, many ghosts, and quite a few people of all ages looking for love. She’s published in short-story format and is the president of the Lowcountry Romance Writers of America.


follow her on FB: 

https://www.facebook.com/RobinHillyerMilesAuthorTourGuideYoga

 

Sock Stories by Debra H. Goldstein

SOCK STORIES by Debra H. Goldstein
Have you ever
noticed the socks a person wears? Like the words a writers put on paper, each
pair tells a story or evokes images or feelings.

For example, my
husband wears dark socks to his office because he has bought into the theory that they look more  look more professional than gym socks, but his disinterest in how he dresses is reflected by his
unwillingness to take the time to match the color of his socks to the shade of his slacks.
He’s just as likely to wear black with brown as he is to grab a pair of brown
socks. Joel is most comfortable in gym socks and sneakers. To my chagrin, his yucky
looking tube socks and an old pair of slip-ons are the image indelibly pressed
into our neighbors’ minds when they seem him going outside every morning to
retrieve his precious newspaper.

A young man I
know tells a different story through his sock choices. He considers himself to
be a player. Consequently, he coordinates the sharpest socks I’ve ever seen
with tailor made suits and shirts, as well as specialized pocket handkerchiefs
or patterned ties.

Personally, I’ve
always been fond of wearing socks that tell a story or bring a memory back to
me. I wear Chanukah, Mah jongg, and other holiday socks to make a statement for
the moment, much as one does with a Christmas sweater. On a bad day, I choose
between the comfort afforded by two pairs of warm soft fuzzy socks.

Last week, when
we took a family cruise to Alaska, the socks I ended up wearing not only
created a story for the moment, but became part of memories I will pull up in
the future.

The ages in
our group ranged from five to seventy-five. I wasn’t the oldest, but I easily
was the group’s cattle herder. Before we sailed, I reminded everyone to bring
passports, cold weather and rain gear (and of course our coldest day was 72
degrees and the only time it rained was once while we were sleeping), and other
essentials. I chided, sent e-mails, and while packing managed to leave my air
pushed out of it plastic bag of socks on the dining room table.

I arrived on
the ship with only the striped sneaker socks I was wearing, but never fear,
cruise ships sell everything. That is why I am now the owner of pink and purple
socks that all say Alaska and have moose heads, full sized mooses, bears, and
something I’m not sure of on them.

Each morning,
as I pulled on a pair of these socks, they reminded me I was sharing Alaska with
people who matter to me more than anything else. The animals, background
mountains, and whatever it was on one pair that I wasn’t sure of, also made a statement
that this would be a day of new experiences and beautiful terrain.

Our most
varied day was in Juneau. For us, it was the day of the glaciers. Joel and I
took the most sedate way of seeing them – busing and hiking to lookout points,
but even from a distance, the beauty of massive pieces of ice broken from the
main glacier fascinated me. What I saw and the ranger’s movie made me ever so
much more aware of global warming because of how the glacier itself has
receded. My daughter and her husband kayaked out to the glacier; my two sons
took a float plane into the glacier area; and our five year old grand-daughter and
her parents visited a dog camp and rode a dog sled. Everyone came back to the
ship impressed by what we experienced.

From now on,
whenever I put on a pair of my Alaskan socks, I will remember the looks of
happiness everyone had while telling me about their day.

My initial
anger at forgetting my socks has been replaced by the stories my new ones will
always unlock. Whenever I see the pink moose or either “Moose Hug” or “Alaska” on my socks, memories and
scenes from the cruise will be triggered – much as words create mental images
in a good book, short story or poem.