Subject: The Brown Bottle
From: email@example.com (DEVKAANN)
Date: 18 Dec 1996 04:41:00 GMT
A newsgroup reader asked a very interesting question...is it possible to kill a ghost? I don't think it's possible to kill a ghost, since they are already dead, only to banish them from the space they are occupying. I recall something that happened when I was about 9 years old…seems like a dream now, but, as if it were yesterday at the same time.
My uncle and aunt, whom I have mentioned in earlier posts, moved into a house about a mile from where I lived. An older lady had lived there before them, she was probably in her 80s. She died about two years before my uncle and aunt moved in the house. As I mentioned before, spirits seemed to follow them wherever they went. It was an old, basically rundown house. My uncle had told us there was a ghost lady and a ghost cat in the house. The house itself was just really dark and dreary. I remember never liking stepping going inside of it. It was probably about 50 years old at the time....this was in the early 1970s.
I spent one weekend at their house. My uncle, three of my cousins, who were all under 5 years old at the time, and I were sitting in the living room watching television one Saturday night. My uncle looked at the clock and said, "It's about time for that ghost cat to come." About five minutes later, we heard the sound of something hitting the floor in the bedroom. Then a glowing white cat came running through the living room. It jumped on the kitchen table...the dining room adjoined the living room. It then turned, looked at each of us, and jumped off the table into the wall, where it disappeared. I was frightened beyond belief. My uncle said, "Don't worry. It won't bother you. Just needed some exercise." My little cousins paid no attention to it. Apparently, it was a nightly occurrence...I've asked them since, but they have little recollection of even living in that miserable old house.
Something did come along which caught their attention a while later. My uncle was sitting on the couch with the kids. I was sitting in a chair right across from him. It must have been about an hour after the cat ran through. My uncle said, "It's time for the other one now. Y’all just sit there and be quiet." I know my eyes got big as saucers. I wasn't much past the age of crying for my mother, and I was considering it. I had no idea what was to come and really didn't want to know, but at 9 years old, you don't have much say in your life.
A few minutes after my uncle made his statement, or maybe warning, a white mist appeared at the front door. I've argued with myself for years after that, whether the rest really happened or not. Before my uncle died, he confirmed it, but it just seems too bizarre. The mist seemed to be forming into a shape. It finally resembled an old lady in a long dress. It began moving toward the couch where my uncle was sitting. My uncle said, "Here we go." The old lady moved right in front him. She pointed her finger in his face. Then, there was a whiny, high pitched voice. She said, "You get your ass out of my house. You ain't ‘posed to be here." I was ready to run out of the house and thought the others would, too. My little cousins were crying, covering their mouths at the same time to keep from being heard. My uncle, though, did something totally out of the expected. He looked up at the woman and said, "I'd appreciate it if you'd get your finger out of my face, you old b*****." The woman lowered her finger and moved toward the door, where she disappeared.
My uncle then said, "I'll get her ass good in the morning." I didn't sleep at all that night. My uncle said we'd all have to get up early, when she was wandering around the long porch at the front of the house.
Really early in the morning, he woke us all up, it was before dawn. He placed a rather large brown bottle that you couldn't see through on the front porch, after removing the lid. He said, "Them ghosts are all nosey, she'll have to look to see what's in the bottle." He then told us to go inside and look out of the front window. We looked out of the window for what seemed a half hour or so, I don't know now. Once again, a mist appeared, this time on the front porch. The old lady appeared in front of the brown bottle. She stooped over and peered in the bottle, then put her hands on her hips and started shaking her head like she was irritated. Then, she vanished and a white mist appeared and went into the bottle. My uncle immediately ran out of the front door and screwed the lid on the bottle. He said, "I got her old ass now." He told us all to go back to bed, although I was beyond the ability to sleep for a couple of days. The next day, he picked up the bottle and told us to follow him. He threw it in a pond behind their house.
I never heard of them seeing the old lady again, although they did mention the white cat often. I never stepped foot in that house again, so I didn't witness anything else there. I must agree with everyone reading this that this is bizarre. I was very young at the time, but this is what I remember happening. I thought for years that my uncle was just brave, but, upon the age of becoming cognizant, realized he was an alcoholic and got the bravery for these antics from a bottle, as entertaining as they were. I also got the feeling that he had known the old lady in life and hated her, although I'm not sure why. The house is still standing in Jedburg, South Carolina. I've been tempted to stop and ask the current residents if they have seen anything, but not brave enough myself.