Treehouse of Horror

I saw a little ghost.  

He saw me too.  

I said, “Hi.” 

And he said, “Boo!” 

This is this was how I felt on a clear, crisp, chilly (I mean COLD!) evening just before sunset. I didn't believe in ghosts but I guess at 8 years old, I never gave it much thought.  

My dad was a tease, prankster, a kidder. My mom on the other hand, not so much. She would always fuss at my dad if he played a joke on anyone... Especially me.  

I remember one evening. I had invited a friend over to watch television. That was special—but remember—back in ancient times, when you invited someone over to watch television, you watched it in the living room, WITH YOUR PARENTS, and you watched whatever they wanted to watch.  

After a while my father left the room and I didn't think much about it. My friend and I were sitting together on our living room couch right in front of a big picture window. We were thoroughly involved in what we were watching when all of a sudden, we heard a tapping on the window behind our heads. 

We both whirled around in our seats only to be staring into this horrible, ugly, distorted face of “something!” We screamed one of those “blood-curdling” screams that could have shattered all the windows.  

(You know how little girls can scream—EEEEEeeeeeek!)  

At that moment my mother who realized what was actually happening, yelled out, “Frankie, stop that right this minute. You are going to give those girls nightmares!” 

And with that, he jerked off the ladies' hose that he had so carefully pulled over his head, to reveal himself to us. To this day, I still have a clear picture of what he looked like with his face all squished and disfigured in the ladies’ stocking – and it wasn't purdy!  

The same little girl invited me over to her house not long after this episode. Can you imagine her parents letting her continue to play with me? But she never told them.  

Anyway, we lived on an oval “cul-de-sac" area with apartment buildings all around the outside of the oval – all facing the oval in the middle of the oval was grass where all the kids would play. It could not have been a better setup for the kids in the 50s—the 1950s not the 1850s!  

I was briskly walking over to her house when I spotted something out of the corner of my eye.  

“Oh, my goodness,” I frantically said to myself. “There is a ghost coming after me!” 

With my heart pounding in my chest, my feet started running. I ran into the apartment building up to the second floor.  

Safe!  

I was safe for the moment. The ghost wouldn't dare come into the building with all the light all the bright lights. So, I'm okay for now!  

We played until her mom said it was time for her bed.  

“Oh no,” I thought, “What if the ghost is waiting for me outside?” 

The only thing I could do was to run as fast as I could to my house and never look back. 

That's exactly what I did. 

I ran in to my apartment and slammed the door behind me—just in case that ghost was running right behind me.  

“Whew! I made it,” I said to myself, never saying a word to anyone about what had just happened. 

Next morning, all I could think about was the ghost that was haunting me. I had to get up enough nerve to peek out the window to see if he was still waiting for me.  

“Well, what do you know!” I said. The ghost was still in the yard, still in the very same spot, still watching me. He hadn’t moved all night long.  

“Who is that man walking over to the ghost?” I thought, “He must be very brave.”  

He was grabbing at the ghost.  

Why was he doing that?  

So, with one good yank, the white cloth covering came off in his hands. He folded it, walked over to the shed and put it away.  

Oh... it wasn't a ghost at all. I had nothing to be afraid of, right? It was a small tree that was covered to keep the frost from killing the new growth. That new growth almost killed me.  

As children, our imaginations can really “run wild,” can't they? 

I still love sharing the stories of my youth whether the stories are happy, sad or scary. And I hope that you have tails that you can share with your family and friends—whomever is willing to sit and listen for a moment.  

Come into my parlor... Shall we have a glass of wine and sit and chat for a while?