My choral director from the old high school days is a great friend of mine. Even though she has been retired a long time from teaching, she works nearly every day at the family-owned funeral home, that her late husband started many years ago. The mortuary building was attached after the fact, to the house they lived in way back then. She still lives there.
Linda told me one day when I stopped by, that she lately has to go to visit the bathroom pretty often- in the middle of the night. And a lot of times, there is a policeman sitting in a parked squad car, across the street at the credit union, in the darkness. She supposes that he is there because it’s a good place to catch an occasional late night speeder traveling along the highway, which is connected to her little side street. Anyhow, she grabs a flashlight from the nightstand as she goes to and from the loo, so she won’t have to turn on an overhead fixture.
She wonders what the officer thinks if he ever notices the light bobbing up and down, strangely floating past the front windows. Linda would love to see the look on his face, and so would I. We both wonder if he drops his hot cup of coffee and lets out a slight gasp; or if at least his eyes get really big, accompanied by an open mouth, at seeing the phantom glow. HaHaHa.
Now that is a great example of what cool little stories can come out of a small town. I just might drive down past the funeral home one of these nights. Maybe I will catch a glimpse of the light in the mortuary, too. It would be awesome to see- even though I know who the ghost is. Good stuff.