Koinonia (koinonia) wrote,

Mother's Day and Ghost Stories

Went to Mom's for Mother's Day and gave her the yuzu soap, and lotion and bodyspray. Melinda was there with a new boyfriend, named James, he seems nice enough. A Sales Manager for Glaxo Pharmaceutical. Trish cooked. Oh, my God. There was so much food. Chicken and broccoli-and-cheese casserole, and rice, and salad and zucchini bread and Trish made challa, and for dessert there was creme brulee with fresh strawberries. And some sort of rather horrible white zinfandel with strawberry flavoring.

Bagel boy (aka Nevvie, Isaac) said the blessing over the challa, he had to whisper bits of it, but he remembered better than his mom did. And he was full of his usuall beans, so he was running around, and chasing the dog, and the little neighbor girl, Love. (Yes, that's her name).

However, over dinner, Steve (Trish's husband) started to tell these stories. Not just 'I was a rotten kid' stories, we were all telling those, but *ghost* stories. He said that once he was driving along near Plant City with his sister and brother, doing perhaps seventy miles an hour (far too fast). They weren't drinking, there were no drugs, but all of a sudden they saw a young woman run into the road. They tried to avoid her and could not. Steve said she looked terrified, so pale, but there was no sound of an impact, she seemed to go *through* the car. They stopped, and went back, and searched for her. There was no damage to the car. They searched along the road, on both sides, for a couple of miles, stopping every one hundred feet or so, but there was no sign of her at all.

Another time, when Steve and his brother Carl where perhaps fifteen, he awoke to a cold wind (in Tennessee, in midsummer, in a house without air conditioning.) Their bedroom door opened, and a dark figure glided in without touching the floor. Yes, it had a cloak. Yes, it had a sickle. It had a stark white face, and a dark almost heartshaped hole for the nose, and red eyes. It bent over Steven in the bed, and stared at him. He was so afraid he threw the blankets over his head. And then it bent over his brother. After a moment or two, it just glided back out again. Steve *swears* that it was Death himself.

On an entirely different note..I really am irritated at people who want me to do something then don't want me to do it because they don't like the way I do it. Even if they KNOW how I do it. Hello?

And please don't order me around.


I'm done.
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