Supernatural
2007-09-03
THE GHOSTS OF SLIDE By Dick Inkum
Several old timers around the area told me this legend. They all swore to its veracity though some admitted they might have embellished it a mite. They agreed upon all of the main events.
Slide Mountain earned its name. Its rockslides were unpredictable. Years might pass without incident, then suddenly it would seem that half the mountain was disintegrating.
No one lived there but Charlie Thompson. Charlie had built a shack, cleared enough land for a dozen sheep to graze, and further up the mountain, a still. He was actually a squatter, and no one seemed concerned that he might be on state property.
Regarding his still, lots of folks did that in those parts and if it wasn’t a big commercial operation, well the law wasn’t concerned about a few jugs trading hands.
As to his sheep, Charlie’s meadow had a mighty steep slope. Folks joked that Charlie’s sheep had to be born with two long legs and two short ones so they wouldn’t topple over while they grazed.
One day, late spring of 1940, Slide Mountain slid. It knocked the stuffing out of Charlie’s sheep shed and tragically knocked a car off the road in front of Charlie’s place and into the ravine killing the young couple inside. The couple wasn’t from this town, so while sad, it didn’t touch folks directly, except for Charlie as we shall soon see.
It was about a week after the slide when Charlie was out working on his shed.
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He stopped to rest a bit a gazed over the meadow. There about forty feet away from him were two ghostly figures copulating on the ground!
Charlie froze. His jaw dropped. He shivered.
The woman’s legs were kicking up in the air and the man’s buttocks were apparently thrusting his cock in her.
Charlie’s blood ran cold but he couldn’t move. In a bit, the man turned his head, looked at Charlie and began to laugh silently. The woman faced Charlie and laughed without sound. Then suddenly they got up and in ghostly nakedness, ran into the woods.
Charlie recovered enough to run back to the shack, grab his shotgun, and from the back porch, deliver both barrels in the direction of the woods. Blam! Blam!
A lot of birds flew up, but no ghostly body parts.
Charlie wasn’t going to stand for this! He got in his Model A and drove to the Sherriff’s office in town.
“I seen that couple that got killed” Charlie began, “They’re on my property and I want ‘em off!”
Sherriff Johnson tried to be concerned.
“What’d they look like, Charlie?”
“Well, they was kinda transparent and sorta white. You could see right through ‘em, but you could see all their features.
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”
“What were they up to, Charlie?”
“They was screwin’ in my meadow. They was naked and Sherriff Johnson vainly tried to suppress his laugh.
“ Whatda want me to do, Charlie, arrest ghosts for lewd conduct?”
“And trespassin’” Charlie said, “and I’m keepin’ my gun loaded”
Sherriff Johnson laughed so hard, tears rolled down both cheeks.
“How do you put ghosts in jail, Charlie? If you can bring them in, I’ll lock ‘em up. Lots of folks would pay to see that!” the Sherriff squealed between gales of laughter.
Charlie was mad as hell. He knocked over the chair and kicked the door shut as he left. He could still hear Sherriff Johnson laughing.
“Goddam idyit!” Charlie muttered, “Don’t know how any fool could vote for such an idyit”
Charlie got back to his car and sat and thought.
“Guess I ought to see preacher Roe” Charlie reckoned, “mebbe spirits is his Now the churches in this area weren’t much on rituals for expelling ghosts and demons. Most of the spirits they encountered were distilled by their congregants.
Reverend Roe listened very sympathetically to Charlie’s story and kept a straight face doing so. Reverend Roe consulted several texts on the matter.
“Well, Charlie” he said at last, “about all I can come up with is that we should pray that they find peace in the grave. ”
“They don’t want no peace in the grave” Charlie exclaimed, “They want to screw on my property!”
Charlie left disappointed.
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He had an inadvertent accomplishment. He’d told his story to the two people most likely to spread it. Word of Charlie’s lewd ghosts spread for miles around. Lots of gents in the community stopped by to see old Charlie on one pretext or another. None of them ever saw the ghosts.
Charlie hadn’t seen them for a while himself. Though Charlie figured they could walk right through his walls if the wanted, he kept the doors and windows bolted and his shotgun by his bed. Awake, he carried the gun all the time.
One day, Charlie determined that his still needed attention. He began his trek up the mountainside quite warily, scanning the woods on either side. As he approached the summit, in a bit of a clearing, he saw them. The man was standing and the woman kneeling in front was giving him oral sex.
“I aint gonna have it! I aint gonna have it!” Charlie screamed.
The ghostly man raised his arm and pointed at Charlie.
Charlie raised his gun and blasted a round of buckshot.
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The ghosts had vanished.
“That’ll teach ‘em” Charlie muttered, and continued up the path. Charlie ran off his squeezin’s.
On his return trip, Charlie saw them again, this time further down the meadow. They were copulating with the woman on top. He could easily see the woman’s breasts bouncing to the rhythm of her act.
“Aint got no shame!” Charlie declared and fired his other barrel. Again the ghosts disappeared. Charlie had put half the charge into the side of his shack.
Beyond all the gossip and chatter, some folks had concerns for Charlie’s mental state. They implored Reverend Roe to intervene.
Reverend Roe visited Charlie. He walked over the property with Charlie
to see the spots where Charlie said the ghosts appeared and prayed over them. Of course he was sort of hoping to see them himself.
At the end of the visit, he advised Charlie to give up the place before the delusion drove him over the edge.
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“It aint no delusion!” Charlie bellowed, “It’s screwin’ and stuff all over my property!”
At last, Charlie concluded that he had no choice. He sold his sheep for half value, abandoned the still and shack, and went to live with relatives in another town.
More than sixty years later, people around here still tell the tale of Charlie’s sexual apparitions. They delight in scaring the children with non-sexual tales of Charlie’s old haunted house and meadow and the wicked spirits abiding there.
Every spring, a certain segment of the population climbs old Charlie’s path to the still, hoping to see the fucking ghosts.
END
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