Peripheral Visions
The station was empty.
It usually was, except on weekends when the tourist train came through. The tourists came to see what life was like 150 years ago. Back then there was rarely an empty station. The whole valley was alive with men seeking their fortunes. Oil was flowing in this valley since Colonel Drake drilled the first well in 1859.
I usually stay away from the tourist sites. The derricks and pumphouses are fine for the out-of-town visitors, but I have them all my life in their natural habitat. They still dot the forests and fields. But this train station was different. It was a new structure that was made to look old. I could sit on the bench facing away from the developments and listen to the thump, chug, chug, chug of the pumphouse over by the museum.
As I would sit there my mind would wander back to the 1860s. When my mind wanders sometimes my imagination takes over. One day as I was sitting on the bench daydreaming I was suddenly jolted back to reality. I was certain the station was empty. I would have heard anyone approaching on the wooden walkway. But out of the corner of my eye I suddenly became aware of someone sitting on the next bench down.
At first I was embarrassed, wondering if I may have been talking to myself as I often do at the station. I didn't look over. When I detected that the person was beginning to stand up, I turned.
The station was empty.
A chill ran up the back of neck. I stood up and quickly began turning around. The incident had so startled me that I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was behind me. No matter which direction I turned I felt a presence behind me.
I rushed out of the station and down the walkway continually looking back and forward and back again. When I got back to my car I began to rethink what had happened. The more I thought about it the clearer the memories became. I was certain I had seen someone. I could even tell that it was a man. A man dressed mostly in black with a full beard. As I returned to town the feeling of fear left me and was replaced with curiosity.
I had to return.
For two weeks I returned to the station every chance I could. I would sit in the exact same spot and try to get myself in the same state of mind. Not only did I not see it again, but I no longer felt the peace that I used to feel at the station.
I had already decided that the man must have been a ghost. What other explanation was there? I then decided to investigate it logically.
I was absolutely certain that I had actually seen the man and not imagined him. I thought perhaps the ghost might be trapped by some other-worldly rules. Perhaps he could only appear under specific circumstances.
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Copyright Edward D. Clark, Jr.