The day was chilly, a brisk wind was blowing out of the north, though the bright sunshine pierced my eyes on that day, May 12, 1863. The Ladies were out bustling about town, some in mourning garb as they had just come from the funeral of a soldier.
The funeral was a sad event, the soldier had also been a doctor in town and he co-owned a mercantile. The widow placed a wreath on the grave and stood aside to watch the 13 gun salute. As the smoke cleared the air and the ladies silently wept, the Chaplin offered a closing prayer. He prayed for safety, closure to the war, and preservation of the Confederate States of America.
The crowd moved into town, across from the court house, where a pot-luck brunch was set up, and the townspeople milled about, chatting about the war, their sons, death and the lifestyle they could lose. There was a doctor's tent and a small camp set up on the courthouse lawn; the Confederate army knew the Yankees were close, and moving in, but they didn't know how close they were, if they would by-pass the town or stop in to ravage things, as they had done in so many towns nearby.
Presently they heard the volley of gun-fire just south-west of town, and the tension in the air increased 10 fold. The soldiers herded the townspeople away from the courthouse, into an alley between two buildings, surely they would be safe there if an attack should come. But, lo, from the very alley that was supposed to be a safe haven, came running a powder boy, about 12 years of age, running like the very devil himself was on his tail, screaming, "THE YANKEES ARE COMIN' THE YANKEES ARE COMIN'!"
Right behind him, (the devil indeed in the eyes of the townspeople) came tearing up the alley the Yankees, whooping and shouting. As soon as they cleared the crowd and got into the street, they knelt and began to fire. It was a small band of Yankees but they were fierce and accurate with their guns.
Having been taken by surprise, the confederate soldiers had no time to load the cannons so they ducked behind the wall surrounding the courthouse and began returning fire. The fight seemed to be an even one until more Yankees arrived from the east side. Confederate soldiers started to fall and it became clear they were going to lose this battle so they ran into the courthouse, opening windows on the second floor and sending shots from inside. Still no Yankees fell.
One young soldier slumped on the window sill of a second floor room, many were dead and wounded on the lawn. The gun fire subsided for a moment, giving the Yankees a chance to storm into the courthouse. Presently the doors opened again, letting out a stream of confederate soldiers, arms in the air, guns held upside down. As they stepped over the dead and wounded, some of them broke to run, and the battle was on again.
Once again, the confederates, feeling the sting of losing more comrades, dove into the courthouse for protection, and once again, the Yankees went in, herded them up and marched them out.
The Yankees decided to burn the courthouse, to flush out any remaining soldiers hiding in there and to prevent any more from ducking back in there. The ladies watched in horror as their soldiers fell and were marched out in shame with a Yankee rifle pointing at their backs.
It was interesting to see that the Yankees left the medical tent alone, and the medics were not harmed as they worked to pick bullets out of a soldiers leg.
After the battle I came back to 2010 and went home, reflecting on what I had just witnessed. As a Yankee myself, in a confederate state, it was strange to hear the Chaplin pray for the preservation of the lifestyle, (slavery) and the preservation of the Confederate States of America. But more so, it was sad to see brother against brother in that battle, such a small slice of the whole war. In such a short time, maybe 20 minutes in all, the town had been turned upside down, the most important building in the town reduced to ashes. Having the advantage of being 'from the future', I knew that the lifestyle that these people had become accustomed to, the riches gained from their huge [labor camp] plantations was soon to be all gone. Life would change dramatically for them, while not so much for the Yankees. Of course, the north lost lives too, cotton, wheat, and other commodities from the south would become dear in the aftermath of the war, but the lifestyle would just go on. Get up in the morning, milk the cow, go to work in a printing press, iron forge, clothing factory...
It was an interesting day, in all. I'm glad I don't live in that time! Yes, there is a war now, soldiers march and die, but we don't see it, it's not in our back yards. In my comfortable lifestyle, that probably won't change as dramatically or as quickly as the southern genteel did, I am grateful.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Protecto-cat awakens owner
The storms had been raging for a full 24 hours, I had been up for at least 20 of those hours, listening to the canned voice on the weather radio drill me on where to hide in the event of a Tornado and by the way, turn around, don't drown.
I went to work the evening before, wondering for 8 hours if (Is that all, sir?) I (Pump 8 is on, Ma'am) would make (15.89 out of 20.00, thank you, sir) it home that night. I did make it home, at midnight, and fell into bed, exhausted. I heard the canned voice of the weather radio interrupt my sleep several times during the night, I think he/it said something about a flood warning, heavy rain and even a tornado warning, and turn around, don't drown, but I was drowning in my own badly needed sleep, so I shut him/it out.
About daybreak, (which was only about 5 hours since Ihad closed the world out hiding under my pillow), the cat started acting goofy. He was up on the window sill, 'rowwwwling' the strangest 'rowl'. "Shut up, Smokey, I'm sleeping, I'll feed you later", I don't know if I said it or thought it but the Cat responded by mountain climbing on my head. I brushed him off, said something like "Git" and rolled over. This scene repeated itself several times, the rowling, mountain climbing on my head, jumping up and down off the window sill, until my protecto-cat decided this was a problem that needed desperate measures.
He bit me. "OW!" I screamed, but he didn't run, he just sat on my chest looking at me, with HUGE green eyes. Ok, I thought, somethings up, so I guess I'll get up too. If all this goof-ball wants is a little crunchy in his dish he's getting his furry tail tossed out into the rain. Grouchy thing, I was!
Protecto-Cat saw I was FINALLY responding so he made a bee-line for the window sill again. I dutifully followed him, and BAM! I saw what his problem was, my entire back yard was under water.
Smokey-protecto-Cat looked at me and ran like his tail was on fire to the front door, so, again, I dutifully followed him, opened the door and looked out, not at my yard, but at a river. Holy Moly!!
Upon further investigation, I discovered that this WAS a pretty big deal, the dirt was washing out from under my house, (would it tip over? I didn't know, still don't know...) Everything that was under the porch (for supposed protection from the weather) was now out in the yard under three feet of water. My Protecto-Cat knew there was something really, really wrong, and he needed to let me know. What a good cat. He makes the treats and litter box all worth it.
I wonder what he would do if a fire broke out? Probably rip my face off instead of a little bite!!
I went to work the evening before, wondering for 8 hours if (Is that all, sir?) I (Pump 8 is on, Ma'am) would make (15.89 out of 20.00, thank you, sir) it home that night. I did make it home, at midnight, and fell into bed, exhausted. I heard the canned voice of the weather radio interrupt my sleep several times during the night, I think he/it said something about a flood warning, heavy rain and even a tornado warning, and turn around, don't drown, but I was drowning in my own badly needed sleep, so I shut him/it out.
About daybreak, (which was only about 5 hours since Ihad closed the world out hiding under my pillow), the cat started acting goofy. He was up on the window sill, 'rowwwwling' the strangest 'rowl'. "Shut up, Smokey, I'm sleeping, I'll feed you later", I don't know if I said it or thought it but the Cat responded by mountain climbing on my head. I brushed him off, said something like "Git" and rolled over. This scene repeated itself several times, the rowling, mountain climbing on my head, jumping up and down off the window sill, until my protecto-cat decided this was a problem that needed desperate measures.
He bit me. "OW!" I screamed, but he didn't run, he just sat on my chest looking at me, with HUGE green eyes. Ok, I thought, somethings up, so I guess I'll get up too. If all this goof-ball wants is a little crunchy in his dish he's getting his furry tail tossed out into the rain. Grouchy thing, I was!
Protecto-Cat saw I was FINALLY responding so he made a bee-line for the window sill again. I dutifully followed him, and BAM! I saw what his problem was, my entire back yard was under water.
Smokey-protecto-Cat looked at me and ran like his tail was on fire to the front door, so, again, I dutifully followed him, opened the door and looked out, not at my yard, but at a river. Holy Moly!!
Upon further investigation, I discovered that this WAS a pretty big deal, the dirt was washing out from under my house, (would it tip over? I didn't know, still don't know...) Everything that was under the porch (for supposed protection from the weather) was now out in the yard under three feet of water. My Protecto-Cat knew there was something really, really wrong, and he needed to let me know. What a good cat. He makes the treats and litter box all worth it.
I wonder what he would do if a fire broke out? Probably rip my face off instead of a little bite!!
Friday, April 30, 2010
Ok, I'm a prude
Yes, I said 'Prude'. I thought I was pretty 'worldly', you know, I knew a lot about life and what makes the world go around. I have a new job in a convenience store, sells beer, cigs, gas, expensive snacks, lottery tickets and, and, well, condoms.
A young fellow came in the other evening and asked me, "Do y'all sell condoms?" So what does reactive, innocent, shocked lil' ol' me say? I says, " CONDOMS????" There are 1/2 a dozen people in line behind him, they all hear me react like a little old grandma (oh, yeah, I am a little ol' grandma, aren't I?). The poor [horny] young fella shuffles his feet, clears his throat and says, "Yes, Ma am". Ma am. BOY, did I feel like an old crotchety lady then. The line shuffles their feet and look at the floor, ceiling, their groceries in unison.
"Um", I says, looking around desperately, when the other clerk steps up and points the poor embarrassed fellow towards the rack behind the counter. "Which kind do you want, there are three here", she explains. Now I'm dying. I don't want to name the 'flavors' out loud, so I invited the poor [not-so-horny-anymore] fellow behind the counter to pick his own.
He picked out two, a purple box and a red box. Ick. I rang him up and he hurried out.
I've learned several things working at the store: Old ladies spend A LOT of money on lottery tickets. Food stamps buy junk food. Beer sold by the can invites progressively drunken people to cycle in and out the door at least 1/2 a dozen times in a two or three hour period. I have the right (and responsibility) to flag the one who is staggering and slobbering the most, and condoms are a part of life.
I want a job shoveling elephant poop. Elephants don't waste money, drink, play the lottery or need condoms. Hmmm, that would be one big box, huh?
A young fellow came in the other evening and asked me, "Do y'all sell condoms?" So what does reactive, innocent, shocked lil' ol' me say? I says, " CONDOMS????" There are 1/2 a dozen people in line behind him, they all hear me react like a little old grandma (oh, yeah, I am a little ol' grandma, aren't I?). The poor [horny] young fella shuffles his feet, clears his throat and says, "Yes, Ma am". Ma am. BOY, did I feel like an old crotchety lady then. The line shuffles their feet and look at the floor, ceiling, their groceries in unison.
"Um", I says, looking around desperately, when the other clerk steps up and points the poor embarrassed fellow towards the rack behind the counter. "Which kind do you want, there are three here", she explains. Now I'm dying. I don't want to name the 'flavors' out loud, so I invited the poor [not-so-horny-anymore] fellow behind the counter to pick his own.
He picked out two, a purple box and a red box. Ick. I rang him up and he hurried out.
I've learned several things working at the store: Old ladies spend A LOT of money on lottery tickets. Food stamps buy junk food. Beer sold by the can invites progressively drunken people to cycle in and out the door at least 1/2 a dozen times in a two or three hour period. I have the right (and responsibility) to flag the one who is staggering and slobbering the most, and condoms are a part of life.
I want a job shoveling elephant poop. Elephants don't waste money, drink, play the lottery or need condoms. Hmmm, that would be one big box, huh?
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
There are no jobs out there?
Dumb luck. Sometimes I stumble into it and sometimes it stumbles into me. That's sort of the story of my life. Take driving a truck: I never, ever, ONCE contemplated climbing into something over 70 feet long and pulling 14K miles a month, AND actually enjoying it. But that's where I ended up. From "would you like more coffee" and "May I take your order?" to "Oh, look, I have 7 stops on this load" and "I wonder what my back-haul will be?"
This change took seconds to happen, not weeks of researching, months of training, studying for a test, applying at multiple companies, the job simply dropped into my lap somewhere between "More coffee?" and "Would you like your check now?".
I stayed with that career (not the same company, though) for almost a quarter of a century. In that time I've been moved into supervisor, dispatcher, trainer, customer service, all with no formal training or even a chase on my part. These opportunities just came to me. And I took them and ran with them, as is my way.
A few jobs I've been tossed into, not against my will, mind you, but with a little protest, like the cat spreading himself wide to avoid being stuffed into the crate. But I persevere, and learn new things anyway.
As a tax preparer, I signed up to be a volunteer, so I thought I knew what I was getting into, but, alas, like the wind blows, I found myself blown into a paid position as a site coordinator. Never saw that coming! But I've enjoyed it, and rose to the challenge. It's been fun, but April 15th looms large, and I've been wondering just what will I do next?
I set out this morning intending to spend money I didn't want to spend. The ignition thingy in my truck gets stuck, and, after a few short cuts trying to get it to work, (graphite, spray), I decided to go to the chevy dealer and pay some over-charging mechanic to replace the dumb thing. After all, I'm pretty impatient, when I want to start the truck and go somewhere, I want to do just that, I DON'T want to sit there in a 90 degree truck and play jiggle jiggy with the switch! Next Monday I'll be about 125.00 buckaroos poorer, but at least I can go-go-go at my smallest whim!
On the way back from making some mechanic really happy with the promise of some bucks next week, I decided to console myself with a cup of joe and a newspaper at my favorite mini-market-gas station-deli. I know the lady that runs the place, she's seen my ugly mug in there before.
So: I'm sitting at a booth, slurping coffee and getting my daily chuckle with the funny page when my friend the store manager saunters over to me, saying something about a job babysitting an old lady once a week for 100 bucks. Well, I've done the babysitting-an-old-lady thing before, and 100 bucks is a 100 bucks, so I said yes, I'll do it. She walked all the way to the front of the store, did a U-turn and came back to my table. "Yes?" I said, interrupting Charlie Brown for a moment, upon which she said, "Forget the job watching the old lady, I need someone to close the store, it's 38 to 40 hours a week, are you interested?"
Once again, a job drops into my lap. I didn't ask for it, had no idea she was hiring, and, best of all, I don't have to wonder what I'm going to do for a paycheck after April 15th.
She has to talk to the big boss and will call me in a few days. There, problem solved for the moment! Maybe she'll move to Timbucktoo and I'll get to manage the place? Ok, don't get ahead of yourself!!
This change took seconds to happen, not weeks of researching, months of training, studying for a test, applying at multiple companies, the job simply dropped into my lap somewhere between "More coffee?" and "Would you like your check now?".
I stayed with that career (not the same company, though) for almost a quarter of a century. In that time I've been moved into supervisor, dispatcher, trainer, customer service, all with no formal training or even a chase on my part. These opportunities just came to me. And I took them and ran with them, as is my way.
A few jobs I've been tossed into, not against my will, mind you, but with a little protest, like the cat spreading himself wide to avoid being stuffed into the crate. But I persevere, and learn new things anyway.
As a tax preparer, I signed up to be a volunteer, so I thought I knew what I was getting into, but, alas, like the wind blows, I found myself blown into a paid position as a site coordinator. Never saw that coming! But I've enjoyed it, and rose to the challenge. It's been fun, but April 15th looms large, and I've been wondering just what will I do next?
I set out this morning intending to spend money I didn't want to spend. The ignition thingy in my truck gets stuck, and, after a few short cuts trying to get it to work, (graphite, spray), I decided to go to the chevy dealer and pay some over-charging mechanic to replace the dumb thing. After all, I'm pretty impatient, when I want to start the truck and go somewhere, I want to do just that, I DON'T want to sit there in a 90 degree truck and play jiggle jiggy with the switch! Next Monday I'll be about 125.00 buckaroos poorer, but at least I can go-go-go at my smallest whim!
On the way back from making some mechanic really happy with the promise of some bucks next week, I decided to console myself with a cup of joe and a newspaper at my favorite mini-market-gas station-deli. I know the lady that runs the place, she's seen my ugly mug in there before.
So: I'm sitting at a booth, slurping coffee and getting my daily chuckle with the funny page when my friend the store manager saunters over to me, saying something about a job babysitting an old lady once a week for 100 bucks. Well, I've done the babysitting-an-old-lady thing before, and 100 bucks is a 100 bucks, so I said yes, I'll do it. She walked all the way to the front of the store, did a U-turn and came back to my table. "Yes?" I said, interrupting Charlie Brown for a moment, upon which she said, "Forget the job watching the old lady, I need someone to close the store, it's 38 to 40 hours a week, are you interested?"
Once again, a job drops into my lap. I didn't ask for it, had no idea she was hiring, and, best of all, I don't have to wonder what I'm going to do for a paycheck after April 15th.
She has to talk to the big boss and will call me in a few days. There, problem solved for the moment! Maybe she'll move to Timbucktoo and I'll get to manage the place? Ok, don't get ahead of yourself!!
Sunday, April 11, 2010
People in a few paragraphs
Hello. I'm a Peep. There are few Peeps in the world, but many People. I don't like people much, I am really good at dealing with People in a business setting, not so good in a personal setting. So this is a short synopsis on People vs. Peeps.
What's the diff, one might ask. Well, I'm here to tell ya. I'll start with People, since I am having a serious attack of I-don't-like-em's. People are, well, people, they emote, so do Peeps, but People emotes are WAY off the charts. I know a people person who gets mad if I don't call her often enough, or have to click out of a conversation to take a business call. Sheesh, must suck to be her, maybe because I'm a Peep and very likable? Correction, I'm very likable until I don't perform up to standards-according-to-People-Laws.
I never liked rules anyway.
I know a People person who likes me only if I am giving my all to please her. I slipped up yesterday, I got down-right SELFISH and went to have fun with someone besides her. I don't feel bad, though, creep that I am, I had a good time and I will relish the memory of that wonderful day in spite of the tsunami it seemed to create in a People's mind.
Funny, I didn't even get wet in the tsunami. Probably because I reject the actuality of the tidal wave.
I don't like waves either, they knock me down and put sand in my pants.
Now on to the the Peeps. I like peeps because even though they might be having their own tsunami, they never throw buckets of waves at other people. They just surf the tide until things calm down. Oh, a tsunami-engulfed Peep might ask for a floaty, or a rope, and I'll gladly throw one, but real Peeps never drag someone under with them.
My Cat is a good Peep. My Sister is a good Peep. I'm a good Peep.
I'm glad I'm not a psychologist. I'd probably go to jail for shaking up a poor-poor-pitiful-me client.
Ok, I'm done blowing off steam. Glass of wine and hot bath sounds like a good ending to a great day in the yard and garden!
What's the diff, one might ask. Well, I'm here to tell ya. I'll start with People, since I am having a serious attack of I-don't-like-em's. People are, well, people, they emote, so do Peeps, but People emotes are WAY off the charts. I know a people person who gets mad if I don't call her often enough, or have to click out of a conversation to take a business call. Sheesh, must suck to be her, maybe because I'm a Peep and very likable? Correction, I'm very likable until I don't perform up to standards-according-to-People-Laws.
I never liked rules anyway.
I know a People person who likes me only if I am giving my all to please her. I slipped up yesterday, I got down-right SELFISH and went to have fun with someone besides her. I don't feel bad, though, creep that I am, I had a good time and I will relish the memory of that wonderful day in spite of the tsunami it seemed to create in a People's mind.
Funny, I didn't even get wet in the tsunami. Probably because I reject the actuality of the tidal wave.
I don't like waves either, they knock me down and put sand in my pants.
Now on to the the Peeps. I like peeps because even though they might be having their own tsunami, they never throw buckets of waves at other people. They just surf the tide until things calm down. Oh, a tsunami-engulfed Peep might ask for a floaty, or a rope, and I'll gladly throw one, but real Peeps never drag someone under with them.
My Cat is a good Peep. My Sister is a good Peep. I'm a good Peep.
I'm glad I'm not a psychologist. I'd probably go to jail for shaking up a poor-poor-pitiful-me client.
Ok, I'm done blowing off steam. Glass of wine and hot bath sounds like a good ending to a great day in the yard and garden!
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Reading old blogs
I don't know what gets into me sometimes, I miss the Maternal Figure a lot this week, it's so nice out, I've been sitting on the porch with my coffee in the mornings and my book in the evenings, beside Maternal Figures empty chair. Oh, crap, maybe I should throw the chair out and get rid of the wheel chair ramp?
So now it's dark out and I came in to check my other blog, "Are You Mr. Eshelman" to see if anybody commented and ended up reading all my previous blogs that I wrote when MF was here. I told myself not to do it but I read on and on. The end result? I had lots of smiles and chuckles. Maybe this means the grief is over and I can revel in the good memories.
After all, she was a funny ol' thing, when she wasn't mad about something! I laughed out loud at the comments made to my blog about her primping that two men at the nursing home liked to push her wheel chair back from the smoking room. And how about the time she fumbled around and found some matches? She wanted to go outside at 3 in the morning SO bad, actually found the strength to nearly JOG across the room ahead of me!
It was a tough year, having her here, but her presence generated a lot of good memories. Thanks, Mom. I still love you, but I guess you know that.... Hope you're happy with your cello, or maybe you're still making people fetch it and move it for you?
So now it's dark out and I came in to check my other blog, "Are You Mr. Eshelman" to see if anybody commented and ended up reading all my previous blogs that I wrote when MF was here. I told myself not to do it but I read on and on. The end result? I had lots of smiles and chuckles. Maybe this means the grief is over and I can revel in the good memories.
After all, she was a funny ol' thing, when she wasn't mad about something! I laughed out loud at the comments made to my blog about her primping that two men at the nursing home liked to push her wheel chair back from the smoking room. And how about the time she fumbled around and found some matches? She wanted to go outside at 3 in the morning SO bad, actually found the strength to nearly JOG across the room ahead of me!
It was a tough year, having her here, but her presence generated a lot of good memories. Thanks, Mom. I still love you, but I guess you know that.... Hope you're happy with your cello, or maybe you're still making people fetch it and move it for you?
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Are you Mr Eshelman?
I was dreaming that I was moving back into the spooky house, the haunted house I lived in as a kid. The attic was really, REALLY scary, there was a small door at the end of the hallway by the bathroom where the ghost could come into our part of the house, the ghost watched over us as he/it allowed us to go to the bathroom and leave the upstairs immediately.
I had all my stuff moved into the house, but didn't stay there at night. I just didn't feel ready, so I visited it during the day. In the dream there was a bathroom downstairs that had a hole in the wall to the outside, and critters could come in and out at will, so I plugged the hole and closed the door. One day when I was visiting the house, my cat Smokey got spooked and ran out, I went to the room he ran out of to see what was up and found a litter of kittens there. I grabbed one by the scruff of it's neck and, trying to keep if from scratching/biting me, I ran to the bathroom where the hole was, and now it was a door. I flung the door open only to find a drop of about 3 feet, no steps.
I threw the cat out and did the same with two more. My heart was pounding, whew, it was only stray cats, not a ghost!
Next day I was walking home from Parmers store, across the field with another family and my dog Kelita. We were trudging through the snow and had to go past the old house to get to my new one. It would have been easier to go through the old house than to keep plowing through deep snow and the other family questioned me, I told them I forgot about that option.
As soon as I got away from the house and close to my front porch it became summer, the family said goodbye and went on their way. I went into the old house to visit, (I guess, don't remember why I was in there) and I heard *BOOM* *BOOM* coming from above. It didn't sound like kittens, it sounded like someone pounding their feet on the upper floor.
I ran outside and towards my new house, and feeling compelled and frightened at the same time. I turned to look at the attic windows. There, in the window, peering back at me, was a bearded man, looking very angry. "Are you Mr. Eshelman?" I asked. "NO", the voice boomed back at me, "I OWN this house and YOU STAY OUT!"
I said I didn't own the house, I was only renting it and then noticed that is was sitting on MY land, only feet from my house. I was terrified, that I lived so close to that evil house, and couldn't easily move away.
I struggled awake as the bearded face in the window screamed "GET OUT" and "HAHAHA, you DO own it!!".
I had all my stuff moved into the house, but didn't stay there at night. I just didn't feel ready, so I visited it during the day. In the dream there was a bathroom downstairs that had a hole in the wall to the outside, and critters could come in and out at will, so I plugged the hole and closed the door. One day when I was visiting the house, my cat Smokey got spooked and ran out, I went to the room he ran out of to see what was up and found a litter of kittens there. I grabbed one by the scruff of it's neck and, trying to keep if from scratching/biting me, I ran to the bathroom where the hole was, and now it was a door. I flung the door open only to find a drop of about 3 feet, no steps.
I threw the cat out and did the same with two more. My heart was pounding, whew, it was only stray cats, not a ghost!
Next day I was walking home from Parmers store, across the field with another family and my dog Kelita. We were trudging through the snow and had to go past the old house to get to my new one. It would have been easier to go through the old house than to keep plowing through deep snow and the other family questioned me, I told them I forgot about that option.
As soon as I got away from the house and close to my front porch it became summer, the family said goodbye and went on their way. I went into the old house to visit, (I guess, don't remember why I was in there) and I heard *BOOM* *BOOM* coming from above. It didn't sound like kittens, it sounded like someone pounding their feet on the upper floor.
I ran outside and towards my new house, and feeling compelled and frightened at the same time. I turned to look at the attic windows. There, in the window, peering back at me, was a bearded man, looking very angry. "Are you Mr. Eshelman?" I asked. "NO", the voice boomed back at me, "I OWN this house and YOU STAY OUT!"
I said I didn't own the house, I was only renting it and then noticed that is was sitting on MY land, only feet from my house. I was terrified, that I lived so close to that evil house, and couldn't easily move away.
I struggled awake as the bearded face in the window screamed "GET OUT" and "HAHAHA, you DO own it!!".
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