I posted this some time back, somewhere, I forget...
A true story, yes.
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I met a lady…
I met a lady on Saturday, Saturn’s Day.
I was riding my mountain bike, on flat ground, very near a river.
This was in a state park, and was also a bridal trail, yet I saw no brides.
Or, did I.
I met a lady today on this, just past Saturday.
While riding I noted a lady sitting on a single park bench, facing the river.
While she was yet, far off, I noted that she wore a white dress, a full length, a long white dress.
It was a dress, not one for the weather, not one for the era.
I believe she saw me coming, as her head appeared to be looking my way, maybe waiting for someone, surely not me.
Or, was she.
I would pass to her rear, as the trail was not more than twenty feet.
As I neared I noticed some trash that some fishermen had left behind.
I also noted some footprints.
The footprints were, footprints, not shoeprints, not boot prints.
While looking, still and surely her way, I hit a large tree root that was impossible to miss. One, that I had never seen before.
I have gone down this trail on many occasions and never saw the root that was never there before.
I hit it and I got tossed, like a ragdoll, my heels passed over my head and I landed flat square in the mud.
My butt was buried at least for inches in the ooey, gooey mud.
This, on the side of the trail.
My tailbone hurt like the ****ens, my pride stung like twain.
I looked up and the lady was standing before me.
“I knew you would come, da last time(s) we met, you a keep goin”.
I met a lady today, on Saturday, Saturn’s Day.
She was spot on, a spot taken over in my memory.
It had been at least four times that I crossed paths with her, never quite falling.
I did a lot of running during my lunch hour, at one place, I once worked. Always at the same time, 12 midnight to just before 1:00 AM.
Part of the loop that I traced with my sometimes summer hot feet, and sometimes icy feet in the winter, stood a grave yard.
A Catholic graveyard of immense size. Yes, I have relatives buried there.
My first encounter with this lady who appeared before me, was on a very, very foggy night, on a cloudy night in October. I put the time at say, 12:30 AM, or so.
So, I say, I calculate.
I came upon her standing on the sidewalk, blocking my path for sure.
Being young and nimble, I jumped sideways five feet and avoided coming in contact with her.
She said nothing at first, and then said, “Wait, wait, I ‘needa’ talk with you”. Her words were slurred, not outright sounding.
Being a combat vet and not a fool, I begged off and said my goodbyes. I ran that first 100 meters in eleven-point-five seconds flat.
Weeks later, I ran into her again, at another entrance to the same huge cemetery.
After that, I purposely crossed the street and ran on that side for two or more years. That side housed ****** tonks and strip joints.
I do not know what was worse? The lady ghost or the crazy drunks, oh, or the hungry prostitutes?
Other nights she could often be seen off in the distance, deep in the cemetery, but she never crossed the street and showed her face to the storefronts that lined that side of the road.
The meaning of this erstwhile meeting in that park, on that last Saturday, was to set things in place. To set things right for her, whereas, out of place, out of life for me.
I met a lady on Saturday, Saturn’s day.
The lady had that same white gown on.
The front side was very clean but musty in appearance. She had an odor about her, she smelled like damp clay.
I noticed that the back side of her gown was yellowy brown and dirty. It was very wrinkly and it remained pressed tightly to her back, and it stuck tight to the backside of her legs.
I looked up on the other side of the river and I noticed an old abandoned graveyard, topside of the opposing bank. I do remember seeing it before, but it had no significance as it did that day.
That Saturday.
She bent over as if to touch me. I rapidly rolled away and got up and ran.
When I turned around she was gone. I went back and recovered by bicycle, its front wheel, now bent.
I forced it as straight as I could and rode it, wobbling back and forth to my waiting truck.
I met a lady on Saturday.
I met her again.
I did.
A true story.
THRD- from his archives
