Yesterday, my Mother told me a scary story that her mother’s mother told her. That would be my Great Grandmother Caledonia.
In the late 1800s, Caledonia’s family arrived in Tennessee from Scotland where they settled in a small farming community. After living there for a year or so, they attended a wake for one of their neighbors—a young teenaged girl who’d died unexpectedly. Caledonia did not know the girl well but was very distressed as they were similar in age. As she watched the townspeople mill about she went up to the handmade casket balanced between two dining chairs that’d been turned toward each other. She noticed the lid had already been nailed shut. She took a sharp intake of breath as she realized just how fragile life was even for someone as young as herself.
Looking around the room, Caledonia saw her parents, sisters and brothers visiting with the townspeople they so infrequently got to see. The room buzzed with their voices as they caught up on each other’s lives. When she was certain no one was watching, she slipped out the back door to be alone with her thoughts. Standing on the back porch she felt a chill run down her spine even though it was a warm day in October. Wrapping her arms around herself, she looked out over a nearby field. That’s when she noticed a stranger walking down the fence line with her back to her. From her long brunette braid and slender form she appeared to be a young girl too.
Suddenly the stranger stopped walking and turned to look up toward the house. She had a lovely face . . . until her head split open and fire rolled out.
Caledonia wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. In fact, she couldn’t even move. All she could do was watch as the stranger turned and continued walking down the fence line. Surely, it had been her imagination. Perhaps it was the way the sun was shining. Or maybe she was ill.
But no, twice more the stranger turned and looked back at Caledonia. Both times fire rolled out of her head. Then when she arrived at the end of the fence line, she simply vanished.
Finally Caledonia’s feet were able to move, and she ran crying back inside the house where she was met by the mother of the deceased girl. “Oh, Caledonia!” the grieving woman said as she hugged her tight. “Don’t despair. Let’s be happy for the short time we had with her.”
Caledonia knew it was not the time to tell what she saw outside. Instead she took a seat in a chair someone had pulled up for her. A hardback chair similar to the two that the casket was balanced between. As the women folk gathered near, her whole body shook with intense fear. A flood of tears burned her eyes. Someone handed her a white cotton handkerchief. She could hardly hold it in her shaking hand. To calm her pounding heart, she took a deep breath.
No one said a word as they waited for her to compose herself. Perhaps that’s why the rattling noise inside the nearby casket sounded so loud.
