From: hkelly@edsr.eds.com (Kelly Shuldberg)
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
Subject: My mother's stories
Date: 28 Aug 92 22:16:51 GMT
Organization: EDS Research

I recall my mother talking about three things that happened to her that can
be chalked up to coincidence, but which are strange enough that perhaps
they qualify as "ghost" stories.

1) My uncle Ross was ill for most of his life.  His wife, my aunt Elva,
would bring him to visit in their car every couple of weeks or so, just to
get him out of the house for a change.  My mother was an artist, and
painted lots of different things, including a portrait of a plains Indian
chief in full headdress.  Ross loved that picture, and he asked my mother
on several occasions if he could have it.  When it became clear that uncle
Ross was not going to live much longer, she consentend to let him have the
picture, but it was clear she was reluctant to part with it.  Ross took the
picture home and hung it on the living room wall across from where he
usually sat so that he could see it easily.  Well, Ross proved a tougher
customer than anyone expected, and managed to live a couple more years.
The whole time, the picture hung in its place on the wall.  When Ross
finally died, they had the funeral, and the immediate family was invited
over to my aunt Elva's house to talk and eat and generally kind of help her
deal with getting used to being alone.  Everyone had been at the house for
a couple of hours, and Aunt Elva seemed to be doing as well as could be
expected under the circumstances.  Since some of the family had quite a
distance to drive to get home, people began leaving.  Just as my family was
getting ready to go, my mother and aunt Elva were standing in front of the
picture, looking at it.  Aunt Elva thanked my mother for letting Ross have
the picture, and told her how much he had enjoyed it.  My mother was just
about to say something, when the picture dropped off the wall right at my
mother's feet.  It was as if Ross was saying, "OK, I don't need it anymore.
You can have it back now."

2) My mother was always a very religious woman.  Her brand of religion
believes that men who hold a particular rank in the church can have great
effect on sickness by annointing the ill person's head with holy oil, then
laying their hands on the ill person's head and praying for recovery from
the illness.  One time, before I was born, she was extremely ill with
hepatitus.  The doctors didn't believe she would live (I'm here, so
obviously she did).  My father was with her, and asked her if she wanted to
have the elders adminster to her--there were a couple of them circulating
through the hospital at that very moment, and he would go ask them to come
and administer to her, if she liked.  She replied that she wanted to be
administered to, but not by just anyone.  She specifically wanted two men
who were church leaders in her own community.  My father reminded her that
these gentlemen lived some fifty miles to the north, and that they would
have to make a special trip, while these other elders were already right
there in the hospital.  My mother insisted that it had to be the gentlemen
she had requested.  So, my father reluctantly conceded and got up to go
call these men and ask them to drive the fifty miles to the hospital.  He
opened the door of the hospital room to go find a phone, and the two men my
mnother had asked for were standing at the door, just about to knock.

3) My mother had a favorite nephew whom she absolutely adored, and
apprently the feelings were mutual--they were very close, especially since
his own mother seemed to be interested in other things more than in him.
One night, my mother awoke with a start.  She didn't know what had awakened
her, but she was in a panic, and thoughts of her nephew were screaming
through her head.  She claimed that she could distinctly smell blood and
burning flesh, and she became very alarmed.  She got out of bed and went to
discover the source of the smells, but the house was quiet.  It was around
1:30 in the morning.  She couldn't get back to sleep, and the odor was
stronger.  Finally, in spite of the hour, she called my nephew's house to
see if he was all right, but my sleepy aunt said that he hadn't come home
yet.  In the morning, my mother learned that the nephew had been killed in
a fiery car crash, and had been so badly burned that he couldn't be shown
at his funeral.  The police listed the time of the accident at around 1:30.

h. kelly shuldberg
hkelly@edsr.eds.com
Albuquerque, NM
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories