 |
He was nearly 90 years old at the time, while I was just a poor, twenty-something college student, working a third job for this particular elderly landlord. Between classes and my other two jobs (plus being a full time art student - and believe me, doing artwork after classes means you put in a LOT of man hours), I was obviously exhausted most of the time, but I was young, and I had to make ends meet, so I always just said "yes" when the old man called to ask if I was "available to do some work."
Unfortunately, I didn't even get a break on my rent for working for my landlord. The old man was too cheap for that. But then again, he'd been through the Great Depression and all that. And he was a pretty good guy otherwise. More than anything though, he was just plain cheap. At his age, he wasn't exactly what you'd call a big spender. So let's just say that I didn't get paid all that much.
So anyway, when I wasn't mowing his lawn for bargain basement prices, what my misery old landlord and I actually did when I put in hours with him, was to tool around to all the properties he owned, where I'd help him fix (or sometimes even shamelessly jury-rig) all sorts of broken down things at apartments he was leasing. 'Cause naturally, the old man didn't want to pay for a real repair man! All those do-it-yourself activities also apparently helped him to "stay active" at his age, too - so I guess there was at least some very definite method to his madness.
At any rate, sometimes, we would even have to go downstairs into the creepy basement area of the ancient building where I was myself living, to get supplies and whatnot. And once, after I'd been living in the building for a least a year or more, when we went down into that spooky old basement - where it always, always, always felt like we were being watched, and where it was often just a little too abnormally cold - I was surprised to see the old man reach up and run his ancient, gnarled hands (in an odd, almost loving fashion) along the dark, pitted, heavy beams up near the low basement ceiling.
We'd been down there in that scary old basement dozens and dozens of times before, of course, but on that particular day, the old man just happened to start reminiscing about days gone by. I didn't think all that much about it at the time, to be quite honest, 'cause... come on, that's just what you get when you spend time with most old folks. It did seem rather odd though, that he had suddenly decided to pay so much attention to an obviously very, very old piece of wood running up along the low hanging ceiling.
The building was so old, he told me, that the basement had even been converted into makeshift apartments for American soldiers, who'd just gotten married after returning home from WWII. I've always loved history, so that was all really, really interesting, of course. But what he said next really threw me for a loop. He said he even remembered when the old slave house, that had once stood out back near the parking lot, had been torn down. So the old slave house wood beam he was touching had actually been salvaged for the building I had been living in for a year or more....
That explained why then, that near the little parking area out back behind my apartment building, I could always sense the ghosts of former slaves milling about. There were at least three or maybe four of them on most occasions, and they seemed to always be working with old farm implements, out in a shadowy little, long neglected garden area within a semicircle of trees.
For whatever reason, at the time, I ended up telling this particular ghost story to a group of fellow students at school, and one particular African American classmate quite understandably got a little emotional. He asked me if the spirits I encountered were wearing chains, or if it looked as if they'd been beaten. Naturally, he even guessed that the ghosts of these particular former slaves must still be tormented and in terrible agony.
That, however, was never the feeling I got. Not whatsoever. There was in fact, a very peaceful, even very much at ease feeling about those particular spirits. But hey, don't get me wrong! I'm quite sure that there are plenty of former slave ghosts running around out there in the ether that came to a very sad end, and therefore still haunt our world. I just haven't yet encountered any particularly tortured former slave ghosts myself yet though - so I honestly, really cannot speak to that.
All I know is that the ghosts I sensed out there in the parking area of the old apartment building I used to live in in Columbia, Missouri, way, way back when I was in college, seemed to be pretty quiet, tranquil folks. I even remember distinctly, quite often, when I was getting out of my car, getting the feeling (with the Second Sight I've had since as long as I can remember), that someone or other that I couldn't see with my own naked eyes (usually an older couple, and a younger man that seemed to be a son), would politely pause what they were doing to sort of greet me.
It didn't happen every single day, of course, because I was often in a hurry, or tired from school or work, but I sometimes got the distinct mental image of someone smiling broadly as they paused to rest their rake (or some other type of farm implement) under their arm, just to be polite. I'd even go so far as to say that they were downright friendly. Because honestly, I could go out to that clearing under that shelter of trees (an area that always seemed to be particularly dark, cool, and oddly peaceful, no matter what time of day or season it happened to be) and although I did not feel that I was alone, I always felt a sense of peace.
Although, to be quite honest, I've always suspected that, more than anything else, my encounters with those particular spirit folks had a great deal more to do with how I personally may have come off to them in particular. Meaning that, they could sense my good intentions and were cool and kind with me in return. And I still believe that to this very day, in fact.
Because really and truly, when it comes to the paranormal realm, quite often, you get what you give. And isn't that pretty much the way Life with still "living" people is on this plane of existence - before our earthly bodies inevitably decay and die?
