The year was 2001 when it happened.� I remember it well.� My aunt, before moving to another home in the month that followed, she lived in a home you wouldn’t think haunted.� Set on a small hill neighborhood in an area outer Hendersonville Tennessee, its age I would guess it would be about 25-35 years of age, so it was nicely aged; kept up, wooden flooring throughout the house, a nice basement surrounded by sturdy foundations with an overall lived-in homey feeling that anyone would enjoy.
However you saw this home, you wouldn’t expect it to be haunted by spirits.� In fact, the thought would not even cross your mind.� It never did mine.� On the night when it all started, I had only been there a few nights into visiting her and my family.� I was laying on the couch, by my choice because I love softy cushy couches (Lucky for me it was just that), almost into a sleep when a heard sifting.� You know how older houses contract during the day and at night it expands back out when it grows cooler at night, right?� No big deal I thought, so I turned over and went back to trying to find a more comfortable position to fall asleep.� That’s when it happened!� I hear light footsteps at first.� Off more toward the bathroom door, no more then possibly 20 feet away, from me.� I turned over to look.
At first, I thought it was one of my little cousin’s getting up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night.� Because of the heaviness of the footfalls, I assumed it was the older son.� So, I called out, “Lukie, buddy, you there?” no answer.� I waited for at least some response as a normal human would do even if you assumed wrong.� Nothing.� The sounded faded into the empty dark of night and left me puzzled.� I laid back down and closed my eyes, adjusting myself into a warm snuggle position I knew would put me to sleep.� My eyes snapped open when the heavy footfalls resumed their walking away from me.� I was, needless to say, a little scared.
This wasn’t a one time thing.� No, in the following nights up until the last night of our stay, he returned every night just after 2 am, I soon noticed later, to look at me.� Each night, he got closer and closer to where I lay.� I predicted his coming and pretended to be asleep just to hear him coming.� How do I know it was a “He” and not a “She”?� Good question with an explanation; My aunt and her husband saw this ghost face to face over a course of a year previous to our arrival (Our meaning my family and myself).� She described him as a young man in his mid twenties, clean shaven, an old battered uniform on his person.� At her description of him, she said that she confirmed to herself and to her husband that he was a victim from the Civil War that proceeded and ended more then 100 years ago.� I was in shock!� A ghost was, what, stalking me? I pretended not to be alarmed.� In fact, I was only as alarmed as I was strangely curious.� I wanted to know why he was there and why he died.� It left me with so many questions.
We left my aunt’s that following week, my thoughts were on him.� I was so curious.� I had so many questions.� I wanted to know so much, but how could I learn about a dead man with no record?� I was left at a stand still.� That was until, my brother mentioned something about this “Civil War Victim” that my aunt confirmed:� He was a victim of the war and was a soul in search of something he couldn’t find.� (She had felt this was the case when I was discussing it with her that previous week).� My brother, whom can talk to ghosts (if you believe in that thing), told me that the ghost told him he died because of a cannon firing and blowing up near him.� The explosion had battered him up and killed him instantly.� What shocked me was the fact my aunt had not told him about the ghost.� He was clueless that anyone knew about him.� I guess you might say my brother has a gift.� Or is it a curse? I’m not sure.
In her story, to make it short, she was folding clothes for her two boys for their following school days when the ghost appeared before her and was eying her with curious interest.� Like he had never seen anyone fold clothing.� She said she wasn’t scared.� Shocked but not scared.� She told him, in a even kind voice, “You can show yourself to me and to my husband,” (the ghost had appeared before him a week before), “But please don’t show yourself to my boys.� They’re too young and won’t understand”.� He nodded gently and faded away.� That was her story summed up.� (Her husband’s is another story, but not violent, just a big shocker on his nerves!)
To make this longer story come to a end, I learned not his name but at least how he died and that he was one of the brave soldiers fighting for the freedom that the Civil War was started on.
At the same time as the ghost from the war, I learned there was another ghost stalking me. Okay, it was a little freaky at that point.� Come to find out, it wasn’t just me, but my mom he was stalking as well!� Like, he and the civil war ghost were watching over us or something.� Me especially and that is no ego form whatsoever!� My brother also told me about this new ghost; in his life he was alive during the war and lived on the land that the house now inhabited.� He was a farmer and had a wife that apparently was like me (Hench why he was stalking me).� I never saw either of them but I felt the farmer like I did the soldier.� No mistake.� He too died because of the way.� It was a group of enemy soldiers that killed him and his family, burning his farm to the ground.� Now he wanders the area where his farm once stood and was all he knew.
To end all of this, here is my thoughts: I wish I knew more of them as individuals.� I bet, in life, they were good people.� I would have loved to know their names.� Until that time, they are forever known as “Civil War Man” and “The Farmer”.� RIP
Sent in by Charlotte, Copyright 2009 TrueGhostTales.com