Ok, I guess it’s time for a ghost story. Gather round girls and boys.
Like I wrote earlier, ghosts are an acknowledged part of Chuukese culture. Unfortunately, out there, being attacked by one is known to make you crazy, incredibly ill, or even kill you. Almost from day one I was warned about the ghosts.
I came home one night ready for bed. The power was out again, as result of the governor trying to dodge a huge debt to Texaco by privatizing the power company. The result was the power company couldn’t afford to pay off Texaco, and in turn Texaco stopped delivering fuel for the power station. The governor in turn took the generator from the radio station for personal use as to not be inconvenienced (just one example of the corruption). I had my flashlight though, as lack of electricity had become more common than actually having it.
I pulled back the covers ready to rest my head, but the sight that greeted me was unlike anything I had ever encountered. My mattress was a huge crawling mess of ants. There were millions of them. The single bead was a black and moving mass.
Needless to say, I was not stoked.
Fortunately the bed that one of the owners’ nephews had been using in the other room was still made. I decided that would work just fine. I could deal with the ants in the morning. Pulling back the sheets I made a thorough scan for any sign of the nasty black critters that had claimed my bed as their own. Finding none I soon was in bed and off to sleep. This would be the first, (and little did I know) last time I would sleep in that room.
I don’t know what time it was. I awoke suddenly, wide awake and terrified. My heart was racing. I was literally petrified with fear. I had not yet opened my eyes. I didn’t want to. Finally, I convinced myself to open them. Immediately my eyes locked onto a space at the foot of the bed near the door. It is hard to describe. Kind of like the reflection of light off something shiny onto something else. Not something chrome or mirror shiny, more defused, like off shiny paint. It was not cast onto any object, only the air. There was no discernable form, no obvious movement. Only a fear I have seldom felt before and the deep-rooted knowledge that what I was looking at was causing it.
I’m by no means a religious man. The logical part of my brain was still telling me it was nothing. I tell my friends, I’m an atheist until things go really bad.
Oh, I prayed. Big time.
Not out loud, but inside.
I still couldn’t move.
Finally, I closed my eyes, still uttering my silent prayer until slowly the fear subsided.
Eventually when opened my eyes again there was nothing but the dark.
The next morning, I told my friends in the village what had happened. They were not surprised. They told me how a niece of the woman who owned the house had once been staying in that room. One night, she was attacked by a ghost there. She fell very ill and died a few days after.
I never slept in that room again.
Sorry, no warbirds.
Happy Halloween.
I also never wrote about it before.
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