Ghost Buster

The break of day sheds light on a spooky mid­night vi­sion.

Farm & Ranch Living - - LOVIN’ THE LIFE - BY SHELLIE McSLOY

ICINCINNATUS, NEW YORK t was a dark and stormy night… well, ac­tu­ally, it was a some­what cloudy but moon­lit night. Now, nor­mally I’m a pretty heavy sleeper, but for some strange rea­son, sleep was out of reach on this par­tic­u­lar evening.

As I rolled over onto my side, I hap­pened to glance out the win­dow into the night. I froze for a heart­beat as I saw a ghostly vi­sion wan­der up my drive­way.

Was my mind play­ing a trick on me or did I se­ri­ously just see a ghost?

Try­ing to make sense of the ap­pari­tion, I fum­bled for my glasses and jumped up to get a bet­ter view from another win­dow. In­deed, there was what ap­peared to be a white horse walk­ing to­ward our yard.

“Frank, get up,” I called to my hus­band. “There’s a horse on the front lawn!”

“What? They got out?” he asked, still half asleep.

“Not one of our horses—I don’t know where it came from,” I said with ner­vous con­cern.

We pulled on jeans and jack­ets and hus­tled out­side. I ran to the left as my hus­band ran to the right, both search­ing for the enig­matic horse. I thought per­haps I re­ally was just see­ing things un­til I heard Frank whis­tle. The crea­ture had trot­ted through the open gate to the field ad­ja­cent to our horses— prob­a­bly try­ing to find a way to get close to the safety of the herd. By the time I reached the gate, the an­i­mal was half­way up the hill and dif­fi­cult to see through the fog. We de­cided to leave it se­cured there for the night and wait un­til morn­ing to start our in­ves­ti­ga­tion.

As I lay in bed fall­ing back to sleep, I won­dered who our vis­i­tor was and where it had come from. None of our clos­est neigh­bors owned a white horse. Was it a sign of some­thing to come? Was it a ghost? Would it be gone in the morn­ing?

At daybreak, the air was misty and there was a crunchy frost on the ground as we walked out­side to ob­serve our mys­tery guest. There, among the herd, was not the great white stal­lion I’d imag­ined in my dreams. It was not even a horse. It was sim­ply a small, lonely mule that had es­caped a barn in search of some new friends, which it seemed to have found.

I froze for a heart­beat as I saw a ghostly vi­sion wan­der up my drive­way.

The white crea­ture emerged like a ghost out of the mist.

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