Your True Tales
June 2004 – Page 3

The Ghost by the Well
by Sarah

I have lived in my current home nearly all my life (since I was five years old). Sometimes, especially in the summer and spring, it isn't uncommon to see strange things on our property. Our house is very old, dating back to the early 1900s. When it was first built, a different family lived here, but they moved after the death of their teenage daughter, selling the house and the acreage to my great grandparents. After their death, my mom, my brother, and later, my stepfather and I moved in. Of course, throughout that time there have been many improvements made to the house and the property and we currently have a very nice farm home. However, there are still indications as to how old it is, such as the hand dug well in our front yard. And that is basically where my story comes from.

The summer I was nine years old was a blistering summer, nearly unbearable because of the heat. My bedroom had just had new insulation put in the walls that previous winter, so at night, my room would get so hot I could hardly get to sleep. There were two beds and three windows. My sister's bed was arranged up against the double windows on the side of the house that faces the road, and my bed was by the single window facing the well, the eastern side of the house.

That night, I got up quietly as to not wake my sister and I went out on the porch to cool off. It was a beautiful night; very starry. I sat in the metal chairs on the porch, looking down at a flower I had plucked off the vines that curled up the cast iron porch rails. Soon, I got ready to go back inside, but I heard a noise that caused me to look up. It came from the area where the old well is. I looked up to see a young girl, about 17, standing beside the well, in the shade of the rose of sharon bush. She was wearing a white nightgown, and she had really long, dark hair. She held her hands close to her, looking out towards the driveway, and making a weird sound, like a kind of sobbing noise.

Well, being only nine years old, I was scared out of my wits. I ran to the front door, and forgetting that it made an awful squeaking noise, (and still does), I opened it up quick as can be. I looked back at the girl, who looked back at me. I scared her, I guess and she stepped out into the light of the street lamp and was gone. I went inside and woke my sister, some flower petals still clutched in my hand. I showed them to her as proof and told her the whole thing. I think she was more spooked than I was, although she's quite a bit older than me. Needless to say, we slept in her bed that night.

Since that night, though, I have seen her every summer, and I am not afraid anymore. It is kind of sad, I think, how she is always looking for something. I think maybe she misses her parents. She sees me every summer too, and she isn't afraid anymore either, but she still doesn't stick around long. I get the feeling she is very sad and lonely, but I know that is something I couldn't change. I never told anyone but my sister about that, but a few nights ago, I saw my ghost again, sitting on the tailgate of our pick-up, not too far from her beloved well, of course, and I decided to tell my mom about it. And yeah, she thinks I am joking, but I don't care. I know what I saw, and I'm glad I saw it actually.

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