The Dead Don't Walk

Recollections of a ghostly encounter

by Paul Erskin

Following my first two articles, I have been thrilled to find my inbox full of encouraging messages and odd stories (and more than a few complaints). It seems the good people of Lowery have a lot to share, if you catch them in the right mood. This story, sent anonymously, almost made me fall off my chair when I read it.

Enjoy.

“You’ve been publishing stories that most people get called crazy for sharing. I’ve got something that still plays in my mind every now and again. When I was just a girl, I saw my neighbor walking through Main Street. Three days after she was killed. 

Mary and her husband Oliver were always nice to me. They ran the old soda shop. Used to have me over for lemonade to keep me off the streets when my daddy worked late. Mary was a terrible gossip. She listened in on all her customers, and no matter how down in the dumps I was, she could have me cackling with laughter about any number of small scandals.

One day I stopped by the shop after school only to find it closed. Come to find out they’d suffered a break-in during the night. She was dead. Never found out who did it or how it happened. My pop wouldn’t tell me. Not sure if he knew, anyway.

Oliver kept the store closed while he mourned, but I still went by after school. Just sat on a bench looking through the windows, wondering what went wrong. 

The very next morning, I was walking to school just at dawn, when I heard some sort of sick animal on the side of the road behind me. I turned to look for just a moment, and what I saw got me running scared. Ran all the way to the police station just past the soda shop. They sent an officer out to investigate. After a bit, he came back and scolded me for making up stories, before sending me on my way to school.

I wasn’t telling stories. I saw Mary. She was only a couple days past buried. Her face was contorted in a horrid wail that only grew wider as we locked eyes. I’ll never stop regretting how I ran from her.

She had come back to tell me something. I know it. If I weren’t such a coward I might have listened. By the end of the school day, I had begun to convince myself the police officer was right and my imagination had simply played tricks on me… But then on the walk home, I found a handprint on the front window of the soda shop. 

It was real. I kept trying to explain it, but one day, I just learned to stop talking about poor Mary. Even Oliver moved on. But I still think of her face. I still wonder what might be different if I ran toward her to help.

Thanks for letting me finally tell the story one last time. You’re doing something important.”

Whoever sent this letter in: thank you. It wasn’t signed, so while I could certainly do a little investigating using some of the details you’ve included, I’ll instead suppress my curiosity to respect your anonymity.

Did this story happen? I don’t know. But I’d never heard it before and it doesn’t line up with any urban legends I’m aware of. Did the ghost of a woman return? For what purpose? Folklore is full of stories of spirits trying in vain to deliver a message. Could the sighting have been an omen of some sort? 

I wonder too if it’s possible she wasn’t a ghost but rather the woman herself, having crawled from her grave after a premature burial. That might explain a handprint on the soda shop window, but living beyond burial seems absurd in today’s day and age. Besides, wouldn’t the officer have found her? Where could she have gone so quickly?

It’s a puzzle we may never truly solve, but I’m learning that’s a common issue here in Lowery!

Until next time, keep your stories coming, and keep your eyes peeled. You never know what mysteries you might stumble across!

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