Was That a Ghost?
I love to sit back and reflect on my experiences over the years. I can’t help but chuckle at the many escapades that have coloured my life. That’s one advantage of getting older — you’ve got so many more experiences to draw upon. From my childhood antics to more recent adventures, my journey has been a tapestry woven with laughter, lessons, and the occasional moment of sheer terror.
One memory that always brings a smile to my face — and admittedly, a shiver down my spine — happened when I was probably around ten or eleven. My family had gathered at my mother’s childhood friend’s home, a sprawling backyard with dense pine trees down the back. Over the back fence was nothing but bushland. My brother and I were often partners in crime, always on the lookout for our next adventure. Little did we know our dad had a surprise for us that evening.
The sun had set, and the property was cloaked in the inky darkness of a moonless night. My brother and I, armed with our trusty torches and friends in tow, played down the back of the yard amongst the large pine trees. We had heard stories of wild animals and mysterious noises, but our curiosity outweighed our fear—until that night.
As we ventured further away from the house, the shadows cast by the tall pines created an eerie, almost supernatural atmosphere. Suddenly, we heard a rustling sound nearby. We spun around, our torches flickering wildly, but saw nothing. The noise grew louder and closer. Our hearts pounded in our chests, and we exchanged nervous glances.
Run!
Then, a ghostly figure emerged from behind the stable out of the darkness. It moved slowly, deliberately, with an otherworldly grace. The sight was enough to freeze us in our tracks for a split second before unadulterated fear took over.
“Run!” I screamed, and we bolted like our lives depended on it. My brother and I raced out from under the pine trees, leaving our friends in our wake. My legs moved faster than they ever had before, fueled by the adrenaline coursing through my veins. At that moment, I was sure that a ghost was pursuing us.
In our frantic escape, we approached a wire fence as we neared the house at the front of the property. Without breaking stride, I leapt into the air, flying through the fence without touching the wires. My brother, following close behind, did the same. We didn’t stop until we reached the safety of the house, where we collapsed in a breathless heap.
It was there that we discovered the truth. Our “ghost” was none other than our dad, who had played a joke on us. As he emerged from the darkness of the pine trees, sheet in hand, he was laughing so hard he could barely stand. Uncle Don, who had witnessed the whole thing, couldn’t stop laughing. “I’ve never seen anyone clear that fence without touching it!” he said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.
In hindsight, the entire episode was hilarious. It became a favourite family story, retold at countless gatherings. It was a testament to my dad’s mischievous spirit and our boundless imaginations.
A Wistful Smile
As I muse over my countless experiences, I realise moments like these are the threads that have woven the fabric of my life. They remind me of the joy of being alive, the thrill of adventure, and the importance of family and friends. They are stories I will always cherish. And when I think of that spooky night all those years ago, a wistful smile appears as I remember those faces long since gone and the joy they brought into my life.
So here’s to the escapades of years gone by, the laughter, the scares, and the leaps of faith — literally — that make life the grand adventure it is. And here’s to many more stories yet to be written.