The Telltale Lilac Bush

     Okay boys and ghouls, it's Halloween time.  The leaves are changing colors and blowing around in the wind.  People are starting to think about costumes and Thanksgiving - and if you're like me, Christmas shopping.  Yep, it's that time of year again.  But for now let's just stick to Halloween.

     In elementary school I remember reading a book, a scary ghost story book.  It was even scarier because it was a book about ghosts from my home state, West Virginia!  Well, as an adult I decided that I wanted to get that book again - and I did.  You can get your own copy here.

     I've decided to post a few of my favorites in honor of Halloween, my youth and my beloved state - hopefully no one will be mad.

The Telltale Lilac Bush

     An old man and woman once lived by themselves along the Tygart Valley River.  There had been trouble between them for many years.  Few people visited them, and it was not immediately noticed that the wife had unaccountably disappeared.  People suspected that the old man had killed her, but her body could not be found, and the question was dropped.

     The old man lived a gay life after his wife's disappearance, until one night when a group of young men were sitting on his porch, talking of all the parties which the old man was giving.  While they were talking, a large lilac bush growing nearby began beating on the windowpane and beckoning towards them as though it were trying to tell them something.  No one would have thought anything of this if the wind had been blowing.  But there was no wind - not even a small breeze.

     Paying no attention to the old man's protests, the young men dug up the lilac bush.  They were stunned when the roots were found to be growing from the palm of a woman's hand.

     The old man screamed and ran down the hill towards the river, never to be seen again.

The Old Horse

      When my father first started working in the Grant Town mine, the men had horses to pull the coal buggies instead of machinery as they have today.  The horses were the men's best friends, and it was a sad say when they were taken out of the mines.  One man liked the horses so much that he quit working when they were taken out.  This story is about that man and how he became so attached to one particular steed.

     My father started working the midnight shift when he first entered the mines, along with another buddy, Flora Santa.  In those days a miner had to use a pick and shovel to dig out coal, and it was hard work, especially if one ran into slate or sulfur balls.  When the buggy was loaded, it would be pulled down to the mine shaft by a horse to unload the coal.  The horses were often slow, and it usually took several hours to make the trip.

     One night, when my father finished loading the buggy, Flora said he would take the load down to the tipple.  It was supposed to be my father's turn to make the trip, but Flora said,  "You're not as strong as I am, boy.  You sit here and take it easy, and I'll make this trip for you."

     My father was tired, so he didn't argue with Flora.  To reach the tipple, Flora had to pass a section that had had a cave-in just a few days before.  As Flora reached the section, the horse started whinnying.  Flora cursed the horse under his breath for making so much noise.  Then he heard a rumbling sound coming from overhead.  Now he knew why the horse was making so much noise.  The ceiling was caving in.

     When Flora opened his eyes, he found he was still alive.  He was half covered with slate and he was almost choked from the rock dust that was in his mouth, but he was alive.  With the help of his free hand, he was able to get out from under the slate pile.  The horse too had lived through the cave-in.  Dazed, Flora got to his feet and started walking in the direction of the tipple.  He walked for a long time, but seemed to be getting nowhere.  When he came to the caved-in section he knew that he had been walking around in circles.  He sat down on a lump of slate and waited for someone to come and rescue him, but then he realized that nobody would come for him, because nobody knew that he was missing or hurt.  My father wouldn't think anything had happened to him because he knew it usually took two or three hours to make the trip to the tipple.  The men at the tipple would think that he and his buddy were still working up in their section.  Flora was a goner and he knew it!

     Flora felt the air getting heavy and knew that it was only a matter of time before all the oxygen would be used up.  He laid his head against the side of the ribbing and prepared himself for death.  Then he heard a deep, far-off voice say, "Get up, Flora.  Get up, Flora."

     Flora opened his eyes, but there was nobody in sight - nobody but the old horse.  Thinking that he was only dreaming, he closed his eyes again.  Just as he was about to give up, he felt something hot against his face, and the same voice said, "Get up, Flora.  I'll show you how to get out of here."

     When Flora shut his eyes again, the horse put his head against Flora's shoulder and turned him over on his side.  Again, the deep voice said, "Get up, Flora.  Get up, Flora, and I'll lead you out of here."

     More dazed than ever, Flora managed to get to his feet and follow the old horse.  It was as if some spell were compelling him.  When Flora came to his complete senses, he was at the tipple.  He didn't tell anyone how he got out of the cave-in, because he knew no one would believe him.

     Years later, when the horses were all replaced with machinery, Flora quit the coal mines.  And he didn't quit because he was ready to retire.  He quit because he knew that a piece of machinery could never take the place of an old horse.

Help

      Many years ago Doctor Anderson was awakened by a persistent knocking at his front door.  Accustomed to getting calls at all hours, he dressed quickly and hurried downstairs.

     The red glow from the hearth cast flickering shadows through the room.  Glancing at the large wall clock, he noticed it was just past midnight.  Outside the moon shone brightly on the white snow.

     He opened the door and was surprised to see a young girl twelve or thirteen years old standing before him.  He had never seen her before.  She was dressed in a blue coat, carried a white muff, and her cheeks were ruddy from the cold.

     "Please come to my mother," begged the girl.  "She's sick, and I'm afraid she'll die."

     "Who is your mother?"  asked the doctor.

     "Mrs. Ballard," replied the girl.  "Please hurry."

     Then the girl explained that they had only recently moved to the old Hostler place about three miles away.  She said she thought her mother had pneumonia, and since her father was dead, there was no one else to come for help.

     When the doctor said he would come at once and do all he could, the girl darted away, running up the road in the direction of the old Hostler place.

     Doctor Anderson bundled up in his sheepskin coat, pulled down the earflaps of his cap, picked up his bag, and went to the barn for his horse.  He lost no time in throwing on the bridle and saddle, picking up a blanket because it was "blue cold," and heading for the Hostler place, for in those days pneumonia was a dreaded illness.

     As he hurried his horse up the cold snow-covered road, he kept thinking of the bravery of the young girl who had faced the severe cold to seek help.  She had run off before he could ask her in to warm herself, yet she hadn't appeared to be cold.

     His thoughts soon turned to his own discomfort, because his feet and hands began to feel numb before he saw the glow of a lamp on the old Hostler house.

     Quickly tying his horse to the gatepost, he threw the blanket over it and hurried up the snow-covered walk to the porch.  There was no answer to his knock, so he opened the door and walked in.  The sight was a common one to him.  There in a bed lay the sick woman.  The fire was almost out, but the oil lamp still burned.  He felt the woman's pulse and found that she had a very high fever.

     He placed more wood on the fire because the room was cold, then set to work with confidence that comes from having handled many emergencies.  He knew if he could break the fever, he could possibly save the woman's life.

     After giving her medicine, he heated water and applied poultices to her chest.  She soon rallied enough to ask, "How did you know to come?"

     The doctor replied that her daughter had come for him and that she was a brave girl to go out on such a bitter night.

     "But I have no daughter," whispered the woman.  "My daughter has been dead for three years."

     "What!"  exclaimed the doctor.  "Why a young girl twelve or thirteen years old called me out of bed and begged me to hurry here."

     "It couldn't have been my daughter.  She died from pneumonia three years ago."

     "Who could it have been then?"  asked the doctor.  "And how did she know you were ill?  She was dressed in a blue coat and white muff."

     "My daughter had a blue coat and white muff,"  whispered the woman.  "They're hanging in the closet over there."

     Doctor Anderson strode over to the closet, opened the door, and took out a blue coat and white muff.  His hands trembled when he felt the coat and muff and found them still warm and damp from perspiration.