This story a part of the True Ghost Stories page on Obiwan's UFO-Free Paranormal Page. Please do not copy or distribute without permission from Obiwan and/or the original author!
From: "Yeah Yeah" (cc@mindspring.com)
Newsgroups: alt.folklore.ghost-stories
Subject: Civil War - Gettysburg
Date: Sat, 6 Mar 1999 11:06:52 -0600
I posted this earlier, but it was deep in a thread. I hope, for those who have already read it, you don't mind seeing it again. - Christopher
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It was 1981 and I was on vacation with my family passing through Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. It was summer and the trees, in all of their full leaf glory, were like jewels on the beautiful Pennsylvania landscape. It was a hot day with the sun shining and the blue sky was dotted only occasionally by a passing cloud. It was the kind of day that would have invited even the most melancholy heart to bask in cheer and tranquility.
We visited all the significant residences, battlefields and museums like any respectful tourist worth their weight in film, making sure to read each and every informative marker. During the day, it was mentioned how quiet I had been and by the end of the day, the observance was again duly noted and embellished. Of course, at that age - I was thirteen – I was known for the inability to control the growing muscles in my mouth and the ever-increasing opinions flooding my maturing mind. So, for me to remain quiet most of the day, was almost of historical significance as the Gettysburg address.
One would assume, as did my family, because of all the sites and fascinating information occupying my thoughts that, like Microsoft Windows trying to multitask, I was rendered speechless. In all actuality, it was something far deeper and more sober than that. It took me several years before I was willing to reveal what had happened and only then to a select few.
We were standing on one of the battlefields looking across the grassy expanse. Suddenly, I was gripped with deep sorrow completely in defiance of the beautiful day. The sun disappeared into insignificance and the horror and darkness of bloodshed hypnotized my attention. Everywhere I looked I could see bodies – bloody bodies of soldiers who lay dead or dying. I looked at each body and the one closest to me was a man in his mid 30’s with dark hair and a full beard that traced his jaw. He lay on his stomach with his face toward me, his eyes closed forever. Yet, his soul was so real I felt like he would look up at me any second. He was a confederate soldier as I can remember vividly his gray uniform. His canteen had not fallen far from him and I could see his knife and another leather pouch of some sort lying on top of the tall, damp grass. As I stared in disbelief, I heard cannon firing in the distance and listened to the cries of men in agony. The smell of blood and mustiness permeated the heavy air and I had the unexplainable feeling of wanting to die.
Just as quickly as the phantom scene appeared, it vanished leaving the moment embedded in my memory with every detail in tact. Images are one thing, but when they are accompanied by emotions – emotions of sorrow, despair and pain – they become experiences that chill an observer like an arctic breeze. Even now, with every recollection of that phenomenon, I am silenced with soberness.
I know this is an unusual haunting, atypical to many experiences where an apparition interacts by one way or another in our world. Nothing said “boo” nor did an icy finger tap me on the shoulder. What I saw was a ghostly scene much like a photograph with a foggy border but with the eerie three-dimensional sensations of smell, taste and presence.
Sometimes I wonder if what we have experienced, Elizabeth, was haunting in the truest sense of the word. The ghost did not visit our world, we visited the ghost’s world.
Christopher