AN ARKANSAS GHOST STORY

The notes flowed steady from inside the locked room. John hesitated for a moment before putting the key inside the lock that held him outside the room. With a twist of his hand the door suddenly swung open. A musty smell came from within. Holding the lamp high, John first noticed the dust that clung to the ceiling and the furniture. The music was coming from inside the wardrobe. Slowly he made his way across the room and stood before the oak doors of the closet. Inside, he knew, were the bloody clothes of Uncle Frank and the banjo. A wooden latch held the double doors closed. With shaky fingers he turned the latch and pulled the doors open. The overalls still hung from their peg inside. The smell that emitted from them was stale and musky. The stains were still there and appeared to be bright red. John touched the overalls' strap and quickly drew his hand back. It was wet and on his fingers was the red stain of blood. Standing beside the overalls was the banjo. John reached in to pick it up. Suddenly a wasp flew out of the tiny hole under the strings. A single note issued forth. John laughed and closed the doors.

That was over three decades ago. Uncle Frank's mother passed away a few years after his death. Rosie says that on certain nights, you can still hear the music coming from the second floor. Could it be Uncle Frank playing his beloved banjo? Recently she took me up to that room and opened the door. Inside it remained the same as it did so many years ago. The wardrobe still stands against the wall and on the inside are the overalls and the banjo. The bloodstains were dry the day that I saw them. Rosie said she didn't know if they were wet or not on the nights the banjo played. They had never gone back into that room since that night, a year after Uncle Frank's death.

Copyright © October, 2001 Story written by Bertha Sutliff

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