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                If

anyone asks me what the weirdest thing was that ever happened in my life, I

tell the following story. It's rather weird as stories go, even if it weren't entirely

true. But it is true, though I rarely try to impress that upon anyone.  It's not worth the bother. I let them think I

made it up. But here's the thing. I have pictures from that day, so I have

those images to back me up. One of them is hanging on my wall. It still gives

me shivers when I see it.                It all

started because I was a Civil War re-enactor. The town I grew up in had a

yearly historical event where a handful of the more important past locals were

highlighted. The local genealogy society contacted a number of the various

re-enacting groups to see if any of us portrayed any specific person. As it

turns out, I did; my great, great grandfather. He was an infantry officer in

the Civil War.                I lived

a little ways away, but since I hadn't visited my hometown in a while, I took a

room at the local bed and breakfast, which was in an beautiful old Victorian

house. The place was supposed to look fairly original to when it was built and

that suited me fine. It would go great with my costume.                The

event was called Living History Day, and I was surprised by the crowds of

people who turned out for it. While the number of speakers and presenters was

limited, the group that filled the cemetery was almost indecent in number. I'm

not a squeamish person and I think the dead are dead and that is that. But seeing

all those people milling about, and in some case sitting on tombstones; well

that made me a bit sad. I don't think disrespect was supposed to be on today's

menu. Of course, it didn't help that the event was held in the third week of

October, and so close to Halloween. I think a lot where just here for their

jollies.                All of

the re-enactors were gathered at the top of a small hill that provided the

center point of the cemetery. The old timers always put their cemeteries on

higher ground to make sure the bodies weren't under water during spring floods,

and this was the highest, and therefore the oldest spot. We spent some time up

here rehearsing for the rules were simple; you had to stay in character as much

as possible to keep it believable.                 There

was an open area here where there used to be an enormous old oak tree that had

probably spouted before the first white person was buried here. It had been

removed a few years back after lightning struck it and split it in half. Now,

today, there was a small podium set up, and in a semicircle, a few rows of

chairs.                While

we were waiting for the crowd to assemble and get organized, I looked over

those gathered to see who I knew. A number of the crowd arrived in period style

costumes just to be part of the fun. I knew how that was, as every once in a

while I would wear my period uniform to the coffee shop just to liven things

up.  Today I saw a few old men in long

tailed coats likely portraying former business men of the area, and a few

ladies in dresses, complete with hoops skirts and lace. There were even a few

parasols in the crowd and a few attendant children in suspenders to boot.                That

was when I noticed the lovely thing off to the side. She was standing under a

tree looking over those gathered with a look of bewilderment and amusement;

both expressions simultaneously. I knew how she felt. This was supposed to be a

solemn place, not a rave party. Since I had some time before we began, I

decided to walk over and strike up a conversation. I mean, what did I have to

lose?                I put

on my best persona of my great great grandfather and walked towards her with an

air of assurance. In real life I wasn't this bold, but a costume helped me immensely

in those regards.  I sauntered over to

the young lady, wondering who she was supposed to be, if anyone. Her dress was

impeccable, and her hair was exquisite. I was surprised she wasn't wearing any

makeup. That was a nice touch. A lot of people tended to overdo the re-enacting

bit and add things that weren't period correct.                I

cleared my throat. "Excuse me ma'am."                She

turned to stare at me. "Hello colonel. A fine day we're having, isn't it?"                I

tipped my Union Blue hat. "That it is. Might I ask the name of so lovely a lady

as yourself?"                She

blushed. "Why colonel, you say the sweetest things. My name is Miss Mary

Humphreys. "                I made

a little bow. "And I am Colonel Garrett T. Richardson ma'am, at your service!"                She

fluttered her eyelashes at me. "So colonel, what are you doing here on this

fine day?"                "I'm

here to orate my dear. And you?"                She

looked perplexed. "Orate? I am no orator sir. But I have ears, so I can listen."                I

extended my arm and she slipped hers in without question. We walked to the

chairs, and I led her to the front row and asked her to take a seat. She was

one of the better dressed people there, and I wondered that she would spend so

much money on an outfit that must rarely get worn.  It took all kinds of folks to make the world

go round.                The

presentation ran into a snag when two of the guys, who were riding together, ran

into car trouble on the way here.  After

a brief discussion we were going to simply shorten up the program when one of

the other ladies asked me who my friend was.                 'Friend?"                "The

young lady there in the front row. Who is she supposed to be?"                Now

that I was asked, I wasn't sure if the young lady was here as herself or representing

someone from the past. "I don't really know who she is. She said her name was

Mary Humphreys. I just met her here for the first time."                "Really?

How daring of her. Can you ask her if she knows enough to give a talk? I think

it would be fascinating!"                 Daring?

I had no idea who this Humphreys lady was, but if she declined to talk, then I

would have to press her later for the details. I liked military history, and a

lot of the local stuff just sort of passed under my radar. Hardly an excuse for

ignorance, but the minutia tended to escape me.                I

stepped down to her and told her the problem.                 "You

want me to talk about myself? I suppose I can do that. No one has ever

expressed an interest before." She fluttered her fan fetchingly. I'll say this;

she had the Gone with the Wind act

down pat.                Boy was

I going to be all ears for her speech, maybe as much as she seemed interested in

mine. But there was little time to worry about it. The first speaker was rising

to the podium, and off we went into our historical diatribes and ramblings.

I'll say this for my fellow speakers; they were an enthusiastic lot and I had

some stiff completion if I was going to give a believable performance.                I was

nervous when I stood up to give my talk, but it seemed to melt away with the smile

I received from the front row. I felt rather heroic all of the sudden, and I

spilled my great great grandfather's story like it was from my very own

experiences. By the time I was done, I got a rousing ovation from the crowd. I

could feel my cheeks flush from all the adulation.                 Then it

was her turn, so this lovely little lass hiked her skirts and ascended the

podium, looking around the crowd with a genuine smile and a princess wave.

"Hello to you good people," she started. "My name is Mary Humphreys, and this

is my story. I hope that I will not bore you with these seemingly insignificant

details of my life, but I have been assured that there exists some interest in

my story."                I'll

not tell you her whole presentation. It used to exist on video, but all that's

gone now, except for my copy. I don't every play it lest I manage to ruin the

old VHS tape. But her voice was that of a nightingale, and she literally beamed

with pride in being able to tell the story. If I thought I had received an

ovation, hers was thunderous.                But I'm

getting ahead of myself. She told about how the town was back in the 1890s; how

busy the streets were (and they were dirt back then), and the various famous

people who came through town (even the President of the United States!). She

spoke of her mother and her father, and of her neighbors; her dog Roger (a

mutt, but lovable nonetheless) and of going to church picnics and socials.                The

entire time her voice held a joyous note to it. But she became subdued a little

while later. "Then there was my fiancé Lawrence. He was a handsome man. But as

I found out, he was also a very controlling, jealous man. I found that out too

late."                She

told us about how they were engaged to be married when she was nineteen. "I was

so happy the day he proposed. I thought that life was going to be a dream from

that day onward. But it was not to happen. The problem erupted when my cousin

Percival came into town from Chicago. He had moved there a few years before to

work for the Chicago Sun. From all accounts he was doing well. I met him at the

train station and was all atwitter with news of the big city."                "While

he was a few years older than I was, we had played together as children and it

had been with a heavy heart that I had seen him off when he had left us for the

big city. Now it was laughs and smiles as we walked back into town. We were arm

in arm, which was often how we could be seen in our younger days. I was telling

him about my engagement and he was telling me about working for the newspaper

when Lawrence came out from a side alley."                "You two seem awfully chummy, he said in

a rather dark voice. I told him that this was my cousin recently returned from

Chicago. It became obvious he didn't believe me. With the fancy suit and

assurance derived from living in the big city, he must have mistook him for a

suitor and assumed I was two timing him. Nothing could have been farther from

the truth."                "I

tried to explain to him about whom he was, but Lawrence had never met him, and

for some reason I had never mentioned him or his correspondence, so it ended up

a fruitless endeavor. Nothing in the world was going to convince him. I saw the

rage building in his eyes and simply wanted to get us all home where we could

work it all out. I never had a chance."                "Lawrence

pulled out a pistol from his coat pocket and gunned us both down. With my dying

eyes I watched him flee the street. And then I was never more."                She had

a little tear in her eye as she stepped down from the podium. The one lady from

the historical society stepped up quickly to finish the story. "Thank you Miss

Humphreys. I'm sure a lot of you know the story she has told us. Lawrence

Westburn was caught on the train heading to California and brought back for his

trial for murder. He was hung on the grounds of the court house and his body

buried in an unmarked grave."                There

were a few more speakers, and then it was over, but none had the emotional

impact of her story.  I had remained with

the other scheduled speakers, but when it was over, I stepped up to this lady

and extended my arm. "Might I escort you into town for something to eat?"                "Why

colonel, how forward of you!" She apparently was going to remain in persona, so

I figured I would too.                "Yes

ma'am, I suppose I am, But a man doesn't win battles by retreating."                Her

smiled was like sunshine after rain. "A true gentleman, through and through.

I'll take you up on your offer sir."                As we

walked hand in hand, a few people thought we made an excellent study for their

cameras, and we had to stop several times to get our photographs taken. She was

bemused by all of the attention, leastwise she made as if she was. I certainly

was, but then I was probably in a hundred photo albums around d the country

from all of the re-enactments I had been in.                We got

down to the bed and breakfast and ordered a light lunch. She looked around her

and smiled. "I've never been here before. A very lovely place."                "I

thought so too. I got a room here for the night. I'll be leaving in the

morning."                "You

have a room here. How very wonderful! I didn't know you could." Then her

countenance turned sad. "Yes, I will be leaving by morning as well. And then we

will never see each other again colonel."                I had a

feeling she was married. I had a few girlfriends who didn't get the whole

re-enacting thing. They didn't understand the whole fascination in dressing up

in a suit and pretending to be someone you weren't. It was fun and this girl

was into as much as I was. I had been planning on getting her phone number, but

for now, I was going to play the game. There was no ring, so I might be wrong.                "It doesn't

have to be goodbye you know."                She

smiled and took my hand. "No, I suppose not. What say you to taking a girl on a

stroll after we eat? I'd love to find out more about you."                "I'd

say that was a wonderful idea."                We had

a wonderful meal and later tea with our dessert, and from there we went out to

walk around the town. This neighborhood in particular was all old homes, and

always a joy to amble through and view the majestic facades and slate roofs. We

walked, and we talked, and never once did the conversation stray from the

script. I was the colonel and she was the lovely young lady.                I would

have lost patience with such bluster, except that as evening approached and my

feet were killing me (my shoes weren't meant for walking) she suggested that

perhaps we should go back to the house where I was staying. It sounded a lot

like an offer, because I noticed her grip on my arm was a little more intense

than before. Still, she kept turning her head to stare back from where we had

been.                I

looked back too, but I failed to see anything out of the ordinary. The yards

were filled with pumpkins and corn stalks, jack-o'-lanterns and scarecrows;

even a gallows with a dummy hanging by the neck. Some people really got into

the spirit of the holiday.                Apparently

she wasn't one of them. So we went back to the B&B and went up to my room.

It was large, as only these old houses could have, and the bed and furniture

was period. My own regular clothes were in the armoire, leaving only my vintage

stuff out and about. She looked around before choosing a seat in the wingback

chair in the corner, by the window.                "Colonel..."

she started. I was finding this game to be getting old, but I was a practiced veteran

of acting out the role.                 "Call

me Garrett."                "Thank

you. Garrett, I think we were followed."                "It's a

small town Mary, and there are a lot of people here for today's presentation. Why

would anyone follow us?"                "Maybe

you're right. It was more of a feeling. That lady mentioned Lawrence being

hung, and the house had a ghastly gallows in its front yard. Such poor taste!"                "I

suppose so ma'am, but I don't think they mean any harm in it."                She

looked up at me, and then cast down her eyes. "Speaking of harm. Might I ask a

favor of you?"                I

patted my gun and holsters. Both were authentic, having belonged to my predecessor.

"My guns are not for hire ma'am. They are only for the defense of the country!"                She

looked up and saw my grin and smiled too. "I know colonel. You are a gentleman

as I can see. But I was thinking of a different sort of gun. One you wear under

your belt, not on it."                I

stiffened; in more places than just my back. Here I was hoping to get her

number, and she had already gotten mine.                "Ma'am,

are you suggesting that I besmirch your fine name with an act of passion?' I

hardly got the words out with a straight face, they sounded so corny.                But she

seemed in all seriousness. "Garrett, it seems to me that you are a fine

gentleman and as such, worthy of attracting the attentions of a lady, even one

such as I. So I consider my offer to be in the spirit of mutual attraction. Or

am I mistaken in that you are attracted to me."                She did

have my number! "I am very much attracted to you Miss Humphreys, but I didn't

want to be ungentlemanly and force my affections on you."                "You

are gallant sir and an honor to your uniform!" She stood up and leaned in to

kiss me.                Things

went quickly from that point on. I made certain to lock the door and pull the

old iron skeleton key out of the lock and place it on the bedside table. I got

out of my Union Blues, but her dress proved to be much more difficult to

extract her from. The outer dress I was able to assist her in getting off, but

when it came down to it she removed her bloomers and left the petticoats and

such on.                I got

up on the bed and pulled her after me. She pulled her skirts up and straddled

me, leaning down and planting a solid kiss on my lips.  I could feel her arranging her hips as she

settled down. She rubbed herself up and down the length on my shaft a few

times, and her slipperiness and readiness were avidly displayed by her actions.                What I

didn't expect was when she went to slip over my cock. She got the head inside,

and then there was a momentary delay as she had to push harder. There was a

slight pop and then she was all the way over my meat. Her enthusiasm from that

point onward was incredible. I was shocked speechless which was good, for this wasn't

the time for words.Let's just say that the partial

costume was a real turn on. And while she wasn't noisy, she wasn't quiet

either.  She was into our tryst more than

a lot of my past girlfriends had been. But then it didn't surprise me either. A

lot of introverted people came out when they were in costume. There is

something to be said for hiding behind the façade of someone else's story. It

was easier for me to be a Civil War colonel than it was to be who I really was;

at least it was most of the time.The sun had been in the process of

dipping below the horizon when we started, so there was still a little light

peeking through the windows. The glowing orb had set by the time we finished

our first round. There was a little moonlight coming in the windows, and a

little illumination from the streetlights. Otherwise, it was dark in the room.

I could pretty much only see her as silhouetted against the far window.She got up, kissed my nose and took

the time to finish removing her petticoats. When she got back up on the bed,

she snuggled in close. My arm was under her as she laid her head on my shoulder.

"Garrett?""Mary?""Thank you so much for what you've

done. It was wonderful!"She was thanking me? "Likewise

ma'am," I said with a bit a drawl."We started up again a little while

later, and it was just as much fun as it was the first time around.  I was able to feel her breasts now, and they

were a perky pair sitting atop her slender form. They felt nearly perfect, and except

for a dimple here and there. Or they might have been moles. I really didn't

care enough at the time to ask. I was nerdy, but not that nerdy.The fact was, she was screwing me like

I had never had anyone ever do before. It was normally me up on top, getting

off while my mate of the day was patiently waiting underneath. I never thought

I was a bad lover, but such indifference can really kill your libido. Now, I

might as well have been the world's greatest lover. And again, she was on top,

making quite the fuss. Her passionate cries and the feeling of her nails as

they clawed me was about as exciting as my life had ever gotten.By the time we were done I was

pretty worn out.  We were lying together,

side by side, with no more noise now outside of the quiet rasp of our

breathing. Neither one of us were talking, having said everything we needed to

during our tryst. And that was spoken with our body language only, as I'm sure

you know.But there were noise coming from

outside the house; normal zooms and honks, people talking as they passed by,

and the winds rustling the multihued leaves. There was one odd sound outside,

which I was prepared to ignore. With it being so late at night, and so close to

Halloween, I figured it was kids TPing or smashing pumpkins, or some other mild

form of vandalism. But she was immediately alarmed. Without saying a world she

got up, pulling the sheet with her to cover her torso.  She tiptoed to the window and parted the lace

curtain. I heard her gasp and pull away."What is it?" I asked, no longer

feeling like the dashing young war hero I had been imitating."I think someone followed us."I got up and peered out the window.

The panes were a little dirty, but I could see a form in the yard, half in the

dark and half in the light. I had a feeling it was just a figure put up for the

holiday by the owners, but since it was on a side of the house I had not seen

from the outside, I couldn't tell for certain. The fact that it didn't move

lent credence to my hypothesis. "It's just a dummy. Come to bed and

we'll check it out come morning.""No, I think I'll just stay here

and kept an eye on it. I wouldn't want something bad to happen to you. By

morning I'm sure all will be right again."I was tired and no longer feeling

valiant. I would have preferred snuggling the rest of the night, but if she had

other ideas, who was I to argue? I knew enough about women to know that arguing

with them was generally pointless. Even f you won, you lost. So I kissed her

head and climbed back into bed, pulling up the blanket for lack of a sheet.I woke a few times during the

night, hoping she had come to bed, but each time I looked, I could see her

silhouette against the window, the curtain pulled slightly askew. I would sigh

and fall back asleep. Once, I dreamt of the story she had told, and how Mary

Humphreys had been gunned down in the streets. I could almost see it in my

dream, and I found myself trying to protect her from harm. I awoke from that in

a sweat. It had been all too real.The sun was just barely lifting its

face to shine down on the world. She was still there, peering out the window.

She had to be exhausted, because I was still dead tired from the night before.

Rather than startle her awake, I decide to pad across the room and kiss her

good morning. I figured my footfalls would be enough to disturb her slumber.I got to her and leaned down to

kiss her head. I stopped just shy of doing it. My eyes caught the form out in

the yard. It certainly looked like a dummy, but on closer inspection, it seemed

to be made to look like a zombie. It had on an old suit; a three piece tweed,

and old shoes and scraggly hair. It was standing there, probably supported by

rods stuck in the ground and running up its pants. It was an old trick. But I

had to admit it was spooky as hell.As I stared at it, an odor came to

my nose. It was earthy, and while not unpleasant, it wasn't quite right. It was

out of place. I looked down at my lady friend and was suddenly glad I had not

kissed her.My scream was more from surprise

than absolute fright, but it was loud enough for the owners of the B&B to

come running up. At first they apologized and went to remove the corpse-like thing

that was sitting there. I intercepted them. "Don't! You really, really don't

want to touch that. Just call the police, and the medical examiner."I won't bother with all the details

of what happened next. There is no point to it really. Needless to say the

entire town was in an uproar. I was told I couldn't leave until it was

straightened out, and since I promised and had a few people who vouched for me,

I spent my time where I was and not in a jail cell.I put my time to good use. I went

and looked up that lady from the historical society. I had been told to keep my

mouth shut pending the investigation, so I simply made as if this girl had left

town. But I was very interested in the story. The nice lady pulled open their

scrapbook and showed me page after page of articles from the original murder,

the court case and finally the hanging of her killer.I didn't bother reading them much.

I had found a cabinet card on the initial pages, with the name of one of the

old, local photographers at the bottom, and on that card was an image. It was

Mary Humphreys. And it was my girl, the one who had been as warm and vivacious as the one in the yellowed photograph.. Now perhaps you think I'm making

this up. I wish it were true. For you see, the coroner thought he only had one

body to deal with until the paramedics noticed that the one standing in the

yard wasn't a prop. It was a real corpse too. By the time they sorted the whole

thing out everyone was so confused they gave up and suppressed the entire damn

thing.As it turned out, Mary Humphreys was

murdered on October 24, 1906. That was the same day as the event in the

cemetery. And as I found out at the historical society, it wasn't the first

time something like this had happened. There were wild tales going back decades

of a ghostly young woman walking through the cemetery, but this was the first

time that there had ever been a case of her leaving the grounds. Of course, a

lot of people still thought the young lady of this day was a re-enactor, and

the local police approved of that story. The truth would be too hard to

swallow.As for the other body, well, that

belonged to Lawrence. Mary had been placed in a mausoleum, and when they went

to it, the door was open and her place empty. His body was harder to re-inter,

until a scared township trustee called the sheriff to report a grave robbery.

The problem was, it was an unmarked grave. It wasn't hard to put two and two

together.Let's just say that I was

questioned a hell of a lot, and so where all the people who had attended the

performance. Everyone saw a young, very much living woman with me, and she had

stood in front of them and told them all a wonderful story. As it turned out it

was her story, and she had told it like she had been there, because she had been.The coroner's report came back, and

of course the police chief handed it to me with a look of disgust in his eyes.

The body was found with two bullet holes in the chest; those were the unusual

marks I felt in the dark. The corpse also tested positive for semen, and they

should have know that because I told them the truth; this woman and I had been

shaking the bed frame and rattling our bones. Of course now that sounded kind

of creepy. I mean, I'm not one for necrophilia.In the end I was run out of town,

not because I had done anything wrong, but because they got so sick of the

entire thing they simply wanted to bury it...again. Mary's body was tucked away

inside her spot in the little limestone and marble building half buried in the

side of that hill where we gave our talks, and Lawrence; well they put him in a

concrete vault and buried him a little deeper than before.And me? Well, I still look forward

to every October 24. For you see, hell or high water Mary will make out for one

day of freedom. I don't know how and I don't care to know. But I'm there in the

cemetery at one minute after midnight, and I get her back before the twenty

four hours is up. It's weird, and it's kinky, but I don't think I'd have it any

other way.  And thankfully, Lawrence has

failed to make an appearance ever since that first day. I suppose he fumes and

claws at his casket, but in the end, he has to stay put. Good riddance I say.

He had his chance and he blew it away. Now it's my turn.