Ghostly Tales of Minnesota - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Ruth D. Hein grew up in Van Horne, Iowa, as the middle child in a ghost-free Lutheran parsonage. With an MA from the University of Northern Iowa, she taught high school English and creative writing for 28 years―21 of those in Decorah. Ruth lived with her husband, Ken, on a small acreage near Worthington, Minnesota, where she collected ghost stories and wrote the historical column for the Worthington Daily Globe for 14 years. She passed away in 2011.

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A Hovering, Smothering Spirit

Grandma Emma was glad that the day had come to an end. Tidying up had taken awhile. The grandchildren had hauled out all the toys, one by one, as they thought of them. Bingo and Checkers had to be put back on the shelf. Slap and Crazy Eights and the other card games had to be put back in their basket.

Usually that was done before the kids left. They were good about that. But this time was different. There was the call saying the sheep were out on the road, and everyone, including Grandpa Will, left in a hurry.

Emma had everything straightened up by the time Will came home.

“Well, that should be the last time now. We fixed the fence, while we were at it,” he said.

“Did they just push it down, or what happened?”

“They got to rubbing their backs and necks on the barbed wire. You know how they do. That strained the stakes until they tipped, and the sheep just walked the fence down and got out. But we took care of it.”

“Good. I’m tired. I’ll bet you are, too. I think I’ll call it a day and crawl in.”

“See you later, then,” Will said. “I’m gonna watch the news and weather first.”

Emma crawled into bed, pulled the covers up and settled in for sleep.

Their home was on a farm on the edge of a town not far from Worthington. They weren’t farming the land anymore. They had retired. It was a quiet place, and sleep came soon enough that night.

But it didn’t last long.

Emma began to struggle and hit out toward something. She didn’t know what it was, but she felt as though she was being smothered. Her actions woke her. She looked around the room.

Nothing there.

She felt foolish as she realized that she must have been dreaming.

Another night, about a week later, Emma again struggled in her sleep. The feeling was the same, but she also saw a gray, indefinite mass coming down toward her.

“Will! Will!” she cried out.

Will snapped awake and turned on the lamp. He looked at his wife beside him. She seemed all right, but she looked and sounded all washed out when she told him that she must have had a nightmare.

This went on for a long time. It didn’t happen every night, but off and on. At first, Will tried to tell Em she was just tired out and sleeping poorly and having dreams.

Emma wasn’t convinced. The more she thought about it and tried to relive the feeling or to tell someone else about it, the more it troubled her.

Each time it happened, it was as though a gray mass came down to smother her. When it seemed to bear down upon her shoulders and neck, she’d wake up and scream.

Will always quieted her and comforted her. He put his arm over her and told her, “It was just another dream. Try an’ get back to sleep.”

That only helped temporarily. After many restless nights, Will told a neighbor about the dreams.

Henry listened carefully and spoke up after Will finished. “Em might just be having dreams. But on the other hand, there may be something more to it. Why, they might not be dreams at all. Do you believe in spirits?”

“Ya mean, like, good spirits an’ evil spirits?”

“Yah, or the spirit of someone that died and is still hanging around.”

“Still hanging around! What on earth . . . ? There’s no one rattling around in that old house but the two of us, and I don’t want to hear nothin’ more ’bout spirits!”

“But, Will, didn’t you know that there was a murder in the house you bought? It happened a long time ago. Most of the neighbors just got used to knowing it and sort of forgot about it, I guess. Matter of fact, so did I―until you told me about Em’s dreams.”

“You might as well tell me the rest of the story now, even if I might not be able to sleep because of it!”

“All I know is that someone was murdered in that house, long ago. Come to think about it, it seems to me it was a woman. Say, what room are you two sleeping in?”

“We took the one on the second floor, back in the northwest corner.”

“Why, I believe that’s the room where the murder happened. But that’s all I know about it.”

“Thanks for telling me. If the spirit of that person is hovering in her old room, maybe she’s upset. We just have to do something about it. We have to confront it, I guess.”

The next time the hovering gray mass appeared to be closing in on Emma, Will spoke up. He emphatically announced to everyone present, “There’s no need to be upset or jealous or angry or anything else. Emma had nothing whatsoever to do with the murder. Why, she didn’t even know it had taken place. And now, be so kind as to leave us in peace!”

The spirit never appeared again, but Emma still had a hard time getting to sleep on some nights. She couldn’t help remembering those troubled, sleepless times. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was a dream, a presence or if it was connected with that murder.

Will and Emma moved a few years later. The house and the farm buildings on the old place were destroyed as a matter of course.

Although she still wonders what the deal was, Emma sleeps soundly in her new home. “Somehow, I feel lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from me. Maybe it was. I’ll always wonder.”