Your True Tales
March 2007 - Page 14
Dead Man Walking
by Brandon
When I was 17 years old, my mother worked as a hospice nurse (home care until a patient dies). She would occasionally have to go out in the middle of the night to work a patient's death. Most times, my dad or I would go with her to keep her awake on the way to the patient's home.
I remember it was a summer night, and my mom got called out to a patient that wasn't doing too well in the rural town of Quitman, Arkansas. When we got there, she went in and I stayed out in the car and waited on her for what seemed like hours. As I was flipping through the stations on the radio trying to find something decent to listen to. I caught movement coming out of the house. I thought, "Yes! We finally get to go home!"
But it wasn't my mom. A man walked out the front door, down the steps and over behind a tree that was in the front yard. Then he peeked around the tree at me. All I could think was: it was some old man just trying to play childish games with me. After two or three times of him playing "peek-a-boo" with me, he came out from behind the tree, and walked toward the car, but he never stopped. He walked in front of the car, looked at me and smiled, then walked across the road and disappeared into a field out of the street light.
I didn't think anything of it. Right after he left my sight, my mom came out of the house and informed me that her patient had just died, so we would be there a while. I asked, "Mom, who was the man that left the house? A neighbor?" I told her what happened. She then said, "Son, the only man that was in that house just died. There are only three people in that house. Me, his wife, and him. And he is dead."
But the funny thing is, I never felt scared or threatened. And my dad still thinks we're crazy.
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