There's a crazy old man that lives on the hill above the town. The talkative folk call the house the Winchester mansion as cruel irony. The shack is far from a mansion.
The old man has become a legend in himself. Some say he's the ghost of an old cripple. Some say he lost his leg in a war. Some say he lost the love of his life, and has been mourning them ever since. Some say his house is haunted by his family and he has been driven mad by their spirits.
All myths contain elements of truth.
'Sure.' You scoff. 'But there's no such thing as ghosts.'
Are you really so sure? Take one look at the man, the sullen cheeks, the haunted eyes, the wild hair, he looks like a ghost, and he sure as hell acts like one, or like one is haunting him.
You'd best leave him alone. Steer way clear of that house on the hill. No, he's never hurt anyone, but there's always that fear.
He rolls into town every now and then, for supplies and what not. His voice never goes above a mutter. He's old and crippled and polite, the whole town gives him a wide berth. He's the town crazy, the urban legend. Everyone knows him, but no one knows much about him.
He got admitted to the hospital during the summer holidays. My Uncle Gary shared a room with him, heard him mumbling about angels and demons and calling, screaming for his brother. The lights flicker and a glass smashes to the ground and a spoon bends on the dinner tray.
The nurses start to talk about the ward being haunted, but a week later, Old Samuel Winchester is discharged from the hospital and the strange occurrences stop.
That loud music you can hear from his house? That old heavy rock music? Oh, that's normal. Well, normal for him anyway.
But, in all his insane ramblings, I can't shake the feeling that he isn't haunted by ghosts, but by some empty not-there. The presence that should be hovering over his shoulder but isn't.
Somehow, I think that's worse.
I'll be interested to know people's theories on this. What's the history, do you think?
