Posted by John Echoff, October 2008
Spooky Story: The Mysterious Helper
In police work we have a saying about war stories that usually begin with "This is no ----, man". Translating to mean, ‘this story is true, or at least mostly so...’ Thus, I will relate a real ghost tale for the Halloween season.
After my real father was killed by a train in the early 50's, he was buried in a cemetery in Kilgore, Tx in an unmarked grave. At the time of his death we did not have money for a headstone. Over the years, I thought about him and the lack of a proper marker. My brother Jackie and I agreed to purchase a stone and have it placed. Jackie died of a heart attack before we got around to getting the stone, so a couple of years after Jackie's death, I ordered the stone. It sat at the funeral home waiting for me to pick it up. Then I had heart surgery. While recovering, I thought about the promise to place the marker. Figuring my survival meant I was to fulfill the promise, I made arrangements to pick up the marker and take it to Kilgore over the Memorial Day weekend (1988).
I was still married to June and she agreed to accompany me and assist any way she could. We picked up the stone on Friday. It was very heavy and hard to get into the trunk of the car. Along the way, June was insistent we find someone to help place the stone, hire a couple of kids or someone. She feared she could not help me lift the stone out of the trunk.
We found the cemetery without a problem. I needed to buy some sac-crete to stabilize the stone and keep it from sinking. I stopped at a small store and asked for directions to a hardware store. The directions didn't seem very clear, and sure enough we found ourselves in the freight yard of the railroad. We found our way to the main highway and saw a small Monument shop. I had to go around the block to get back to the shop. The elderly man in the shop looked like he just stepped out of a Norman Rockwell painting - heavily creased face, shirt buttoned up to the neck and sleeves buttoned, wire rim glasses, etc. He gave me directions to a large hardware store-behind the Monument shop, which I did not see when we circled the block! He told me to get a bag of sac-crete and he would meet us at the cemetery office. When we got to the cemetery office, he was waiting and he asked for the name of the deceased. I told him my dad's name and told him he was buried in the plot owned by my late aunt. He looked up my aunt's name and commented he knew where it was located. We followed him down a couple of small cemetery roads and then he stopped, walked back to the car, and said "if you'll open the trunk I'll help you get the stone out". After taking the stone to the graveside, he began to remove the grass. I told him I wanted to move my car to the shade, and drove it about 50 yds away, parking it under a large oak. As we placed the stone, we engaged in a little small talk as he spread the sac-crete. He asked me to get two water jugs out of his truck. As we placed the stone, he carefully cleaned the stone and dried it. After finishing the task, we visited for a few minutes beside his truck, he refused any offer of pay, and stated he had chores to tend to. After we shook hands, he drove off. I noticed when we shook, his hands were very smooth and soft, not what you'd expect from someone working with stone. Also, I had removed my outer shirt and was working in a "T" shirt (sweating heavily), while he was wearing a long sleeve flannel shirt buttoned at the neck and sleeves! Of course he did not break a sweat. As he drove away, I was walking toward my car and noticed he had turned beside it. When I got to the car and tried to turn around, I found that the road was partially blocked by two little old ladies that had parked a HUGE old 4 door Buick so that it was partially blocking the narrow street. I managed to get past it and turned around in the CULL-DE SAC, returned to the gravesite and loaded up my tools.
The next morning (Sunday) we were having breakfast with friends. June insisted I tell them of the "Guardian Angel" that helped me place the stone marker. As I was relating the tale, it suddenly dawned on me. When the man turned by my car, he drove into the same CULL-DE-SAC where I turned around, yet he was not there. He had not driven out, he had simply disappeared in thin air! The cemetery is on flat ground, you can see the entire place from any location. The man and his truck had vanished! I have not had any desire to return to Kilgore, nor have I had any need to check the local papers to find a report of some elderly man killed in his truck! Whether he was an Angel, or a genuine ghost I don't know and really don't want to find out!!! I'm just grateful for his helping me in a time of need...
As I said earlier this really happened . . . and here’s another of my many unexplainable experiences. . .
The Noise in the Closet
Around 1 am on a fall night, cool air, clear skies, dispatch issued a prowler call for any unit in "District 3A", which is just off IH10 East & Monmouth Drive, near the San Jacinto River. One unit responded to the call, a second unit acknowledged enroute as a backup. A third unit and I went enroute when the dispatcher gave additional information on the call: "Reportee has a pistol, cannot locate her husband".
Upon arrival, we found the scene to be a two story residence with a large front porch, facing South. We approached the house with caution. The female reportee and her husband met us at the front door and stated they could hear footsteps on the 2nd floor. We quickly "cleared" the 1st floor and began an ascent to the second floor. As we cleared the upstairs landing, we could see that there were three rooms down the hallway, two on the right and one on the left. We quietly moved down the hallway.
The lead deputy (a former Marine Firearms Instructor) stopped at the closed door, placed his ear against it and listened. Then he signaled that he was hearing noise inside the room. We coordinated our sequence of entry - the lead man, followed by another Former Marine, the third man was an Army veteran of Desert Storm, followed by me. We breached the door and made entry, quickly surveying the room, weapons at the ready. Unable to locate the source of the noise previously heard, we turned on the lights in the room, checked under the bed, in the adjoining bath, and finding nothing, opened the closet door.
And what did we find there-a single coat hanger gently swinging back and forth.
We went downstairs and told the folks of our search, pronouncing the house clear of any prowlers. The lady spoke up and stated "Oh, it must have been the 4 year old", I went ballistic, I chewed and fussed, admonished, and generally told them how stupid can you be to have us charging thru their house armed, ready for deadly combat, nerves on edge, how dare they allow us to do this while having a 4 year old in the house. Didn't she realize what might have happened if we had stumbled upon the child unexpectedly! My blood pressure was topping out!
She innocently looked me straight in the eye and stated "We do not have any children, we bought this house 20 years ago, and every once in a while we see the image of a small boy around 4 years of age crossing the upstairs landing, but this is the first time he has made any noise." All three of my street hardened, combat tested patrol deputies stated as one, "Sarge, we are writing this address down so we can remember to NEVER come back here! You don't pay us to chase ghosts and we ain't going to!"
I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't been there, but I was there, and I did see the coat hanger swaying back and forth. Guess I can't really blame them for not wanting to repeat that experience.
I'm sure some of you have your own stories about various types of paranormal events, so I'm hoping that you will get into the "spirit" of the season and share them with us through comments made below.
John (couldn't resist the pun) Echoff
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