by Lora Kay Alexander

Created on: February 13, 2011   Last Updated: May 31, 2012

My Dad was not a believer in ghosts. He was not afraid of anything or anybody.
He was a real cowboy and prided himself for being one of the toughest men
alive.  He was a believer in Principles of the Bible, and not that I think it was a
good idea, but I have seen him fight over his beliefs. They were black and white.

As the story goes, straight from the horses mouth, it was on a Fall night about

midnight, when he got a call from his brother Rob. "Dewey, I think we need to
go down to the lower corn field and check on the mules. I think they got out
of the barn somehow and we need to round them up." He did not tell my Dad
there were ghost roaming the corn field under the big ole Harvest Moon. He
probably thought Dad would not believe him if  he told the truth.

Dad, as he normally would, grabbed his shotgun from the wall and headed
out to round up the mules. I've often wondered if Daddy didn't suspicion that
something more was going on-he was a most observant person. He drove
up to the corn field and from the best I remember Uncle Rob and another
guy (maybe a friend) was standing, frozen in their tracks, also accompanied
by their rifles. Daddy just stood there, he said, knowing something weird
was happening in their midst.

Nobody said one word. Daddy said he saw two ghosts coming toward
him, gliding with ease just above the tall corn. One was white and one
was black." They looked like soft material," he said, and about the size
of an adult human being, without arms or legs or a head. They were making
a low moaning noise that rang out continuously. Everyone was fully armed
and loaded for bear but no one moved a muscle or breathed a word. They
just watched in amazement, totally frozen in their tracks.

The ghosts came from one end of the corn field and disappeared  at
another end just as they had appeared. I am not sure what the guys
did after that, but I know  they were impressed that they had seen
ghosts. As time went on there were other accounts of people seeing
the same beings in the corn field, but it always left everyone who saw
them, speechless.

I have heard my Dad tell that story a hundred times, and each time he
told it, he told it with the same conviction of a believer of ghosts. He
had no idea from where they came or where they went, but they left
him with a story and a memory that he would never forget. Dad went
to be with Jesus a few years ago, and I find myself carrying on his
legacy.

So, when you go walking in the corn field at midnight, beneath
the bright light of the Harvest Moon, pay close attention, you never  
know what you might see.

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