Your True Tales
January 2004 – Page 16

Boy at the Cemetery
by Kristie N.

My daughter is only two and 1/2 years old, but speaks very well for her age. Back in July of 2003, I was nine months pregnant and about to go crazy trying to go into labor. So she and I decided to take a walk down a road near our home. We had only gone about a fourth of a mile when we passed the small rural church we attend and the cemetery beside it. She suddenly smiled and pointed to the cemetery and said, "Mom, I want to play with that little boy." I quickly replied, with chills going up my spine, that there was no boy. She replied, "He is right by that tree." With that, I turned around and headed back home.

A few weeks later, my curiosity got to me and I had to stop and see who was buried by that tree. The gravestone was covered in moss, but I could make out a name and a date. The date was born 1889, died 1892. Oh my! It was a three-year-old boy she wanted to play with.

A week or so after this, my daughter went to visit a family friend she calls "MeMe." She and her daughters had taken in a kitten that was not being taken care of by its mother. They named it Mattie. That day my daughter told MeMe that Mattie was going to die and go to heaven. Since we had a relative die recently, MeMe thought that she was just rattling on. But two days later, MeMe came home from work and found the little kitten dead.

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