We were told as children to stay away from the Overstreet Place, it was said to be haunted. Back in the early fifties, people still believed in ghosts and spirits from the underworld. Electric lights had come to the dark woods and fields of southern Emanuel County, but we still sat on the front porch of our little bungalow, intently listening to dad tell horrific ghost stories of blood, gore, and headless creatures who lingered in unseen dark shadows at midnight.
The Overstreet Place was ageless, open, and inviting during sunny, daylight hours while at sundown, it took on an air of mystery, gloom and doom, as the full moon became visible as it peeked from behind dark storm clouds toward midnight. On warm summer days, there were some wild, sweet plums that grew on the same road that the Overstreet house was on. I was sure I could get those heavenly, sweet delights and be back at ho me before sundown. Temptation over-ruled common sense and off I went to my “Garden of Eden”.
I took a container to carry some plums back home but the sweet juice ran down my chin and onto my belly and all the plums went into my mouth and not a single one went into the container. The more I ate, the longer I lingered, until I realized it was approaching sundown. Where had the time gone?
I scrambled over the barb wire fence and headed home. As I neared the old Overstreet Place, evening shadows had begun to fall and all the terrible stories I had heard about the Overstreet Place had come to life for me. The blood had suddenly frozen in my feet, and the sand had lost its warm, summer heat; I was afraid. Suddenly, soft notes of sweet music drifted from the old weather-beaten barn that was opposite from the farmhouse. The music was not current but surely had come from a distant bygone era of which I was not familiar.
Darkness was falling fast across the old Overstreet Place, bringing unexpected dark shadows and a strange sound of a lonely whippoorwill somewhere nearby.
Quietly, the old farmhouse door opened and a young woman dressed in dark clothing, supposedly from another century, floated onto the front porch carrying a lighted lantern. She seemed sad and lonely. She must be the same lady daddy had spoken about in his ghost stories, and she must be still looking for her long-lost love that never came back from the war.
