Today’s prompt is, “Share or describe your perfect haunted spring afternoon.”
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It is cool and foggy. I am walking in the woods, wearing a diaphanous dress, stepping around the spring flowers popping up through the leaves.
I notice a dark figure in the fog ahead of me. There are no details. It is a shape. Broad shouldered and tall, it is faced toward me. If it had eyes, it would be looking at me. It beckons with one hand and turns. I follow.
I have a difficulty keeping up. The figure glides on ahead, while I trip over twigs and stumble on brambles. I lose it as it fades in and out of the fog. Finally, it disappears altogether. As I look around I notice at my feet a grave marker. It’s an old family burial plot!
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I have this fantasy of finding a family graveyard on our land. We have weird limestone pillars in our retaining wall, and our borders are a triangle. It’s an odd little parcel, but probably was never a graveyard.
I found a map online that showed who owned the land in 1850. It was a Mennonite family named Eshelman. I also found while doing ancestry research that a great great great great uncle died in the county I live in — Johann Diel Vance. I would love to find his grave.
I found records of Johann’s father, also Johann Diel (Handel) Vance (Wentz), emigrating from Germany. They were a Mennonite family. I am descended from one of Johann’s other sons, William, who tried to get out of serving in the Revolutionary War because it was against his religion. He ended up serving anyway. I suspect Johann Junior ended up here because many Revolutionary War soldiers received land in this area for their service. William and descendants (my ancestors) moved on to Kentucky.
There’s a Vance Road nearby, and someday I will drive it to see if I can find a graveyard. I found on Find a Grave a gravestone of another Handel Vance, a photographer born in my county. Probably Johann Junior’s son, though I have no direct link.
I find it interesting that I ended up here, and how this place feels like home. My family is from the foothills of the Ozarks in Oklahoma, and now I’m in the foothills of the Appalachians in Ohio. I’m a turtle, following the earth’s gentle magnetism back home to lay my eggs.