10/24/2019
I thought a little ghost story for the season might be in order. We've had a ton of them in our lives, but this memory came to mind this morning as I passed by a huge mirror I inherited from my grandmother.
In 2008, my uncle passed from a sudden heart attack. Since he was my grandmother's primary care provider, I had to step up and move in with Gramma for several months to take care of her. I stayed in my uncle's room while I was there, and I packed, cleaned and sorted through their trailer. Since they had lived there, my uncle always complained about never being able to sleep but I always chalked it up to his bad back and the neuropathy in his legs. That wasn't it at all. One night, after I had put Gramma to bed, I climbed gratefully into my uncle's bed, switched out the lights, and closed my eyes. I had been sorting his closet that day, which was directly at the foot of the bed, and I had several plastic grocery sacks full of assorted things stacked in front of the closet door. I started to hear those plastic bags rustle and my skin started to crawl with goose bumps. My eyes flew open, but I laid very still, straining to hear. To be honest, if I wouldn't have had goosebumps prickling over every inch of my body, I would have thought it was a mouse or something, but that really didn't even cross my mind. The bags started rustling around roughly and I raised up just in time to see what I can only describe as a duende bolt from the foot of the bed, out the door and into Gramma's room. It was about 18" tall, very thin, with a long, hooked nose and was all stooped over like a really old man. He never looked at me and, God help me, I didn't follow him into Gramma's room, either. I didn't sleep at all that night, and the next day I brought one of my cats over to stay with us. I've heard that duende don't like cats and won't stick around where cats live, so I thought that was a good option. I never saw it again, but I've often wondered if that's why my uncle didn't sleep very well...