Ghosts of the Southern Mountains and Appalachia

Laura

Laura Campbellsville, Kentucky The afternoon was gray and misty, not the kind that Larry Huff would usually choose for a motorcycle ride. But he had just traded in his old motorcycle for a new Honda-bought himself a new jacket-and the temptation to take off was irresistible . When he sped down Highway 55 out of Campbellsville , Kentucky, and headed south toward Columbia, he had no premonition of what lay in store for him. It was a great ride, with the cool, moist air blowing in his face as he swooped around the curves. There were almost no cars on the road. In fact, he must have gone five miles before he met one. In some places the fog made it difficult to see for any distance ahead but there were often foggy places along this road and Larry didn't really mind. It gave 75 76 Ghosts of the Southern Mountains and Appalachia him a feeling of being in another world-a world of fluffy whiteness and, above all, quiet. He liked that, for in the small house where he lived with his parents and four brothers and sisters, there was often so much noise that there was no chance to think. He wasn't sure just what it was that he wanted to be alone to think about, but sometimes he grew angry inside when the clamor of voices made his thoughts sojerky that he couldn't make sense out of whatever was gnawing on him at the moment. He could put things together when he rode alone like this. Instead of the weather clearing, a slow, drizzling rain began to fall, but Larry still did not want to turn back. As he rounded one of the curves, a small, single tree near a clump of trees on his right appeared to move. But when he approached, he saw it was a thin-looking girl wearing a cloak walking beside the road. He stopped to ask if there was anything he could do for her, she looked so cold and forlorn, her hair clinging wetly about her cheeks, her dress long and bedraggled. At first he thought she was not going to answer, but she replied, "Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to have a ride down the road a piece to my house." By now the drizzle had changed to a light rain and Larry offered her his new jacket. She put it on gratefully and climbed up behind him on the motorcycle, winding her arms about his waist. He was conscious of the cold from her hands penetrating even through his shirt. The ride was not a comfortable one as her grip gradually grew tighter, and his back felt cold as ice. Laura 77 They were near Cane Valley when she spoke up and pointed to a house set back from the highway . "That's where I live," she said and Larry turned up the road toward it. It was an old farm- 78 Ghosts of the Southern Mountains and Appalachia house and the girl muttered a quick, "Thank you," ran up the front steps and in the door, closing it behind her. Larry was so glad not to have her holding on with those cold hands around his waist that he hurriedly took off. It was not until he was part way home that he remembered his new jacket, but by then it was getting quite dark and he had no desire to return to the farmhouse at night. Next morning he headed back down Highway 55 toward Cane Valley and when he reached the Laura 79 girl's house he went up and knocked on the front door, thinking she might answer it. A woman came to the door instead, so he described the girl and said he had lent her his jacket. The woman's eyes filled with tears. "I don't know how you've done it. You've describedjust how my girl, Laura, looked, but she's been dead seven years." Larry stared at her in disbelief. "Ma'am, I just can't believe it. She was as real as can be and I could even feel how wet and cold she was." "Wait a minute. I'd like for you to go with me," said the woman. She went into the house and...