Читать книгу Colorado Ghost Stories - Antonio Boone's Garcez - Страница 13

Rita and her best friend, Jeanette, were seated in Rita’s living room as I conducted the interview. Rita shared photos and personal stories unrelated to ghosts, regarding her husband and their life together. Jeanette was very interested in the subject of ghosts, and would occasionally interject with her own personal opinions. It was obvious to me that these elderly ladies were the best of friends, and at one time during my visit, Jeanette informed me that she had even once dated Rita’s husband, Bruce, when they both had attended high school, so many years ago.

That being said, Jeanette remained quiet once Rita began her personal story. Rita’s story offers insight into the spiritual mysteries that many Native Americans know exist, to this day, within the wild and rarely traveled areas of North America. Rita and her husband were witnesses to such an example of this, and as you’ll read, were never the same after their experience.

—Antonio

“Both my husband, Bruce, and I were born and raised in Montrose. Bruce died six years ago at the age of 75. The story I’ll be telling you took place when we went camping one week into the park. We were both in our early fifties, and still very active and physically fit.

The national park is a birdwatchers wonderland. Both Bruce and I were avid birders and even helped the park with counting migratory and non-migratory birds that nested, and yearly visited the park. My favorites were the raptors, such as hawks and eagles. Bruce enjoyed the park’s resident birds such as the American dippers, ravens, and jays.

Well, after hiking into the backwoods for several hours, and after having finished setting up our camp for the week to come, we decided to take a short walk into the woods. If you know the park, our camp was located off the North Rim Road, not far from Grizzly Gulch. Isolated, and yet very nicely situated for our data gathering needs.

Bruce and I went for a short hike and eventually came upon a meadow. It was midday. When we entered the meadow, I began to have a strange feeling come over me. I knew something was about to happen. It was a sunny day, and I had no health problems, but I suddenly began to feel weak and an oppressive heaviness began to affect my breathing. I was gasping for air. Bruce took hold of me and lay me down on the grass. I began taking shallow breaths as he shook me and spoke, “Rita, talk to me, talk to me!” Soon, I came to and began to sob like a little girl. I don’t know what it was that had affected me so severely, but whatever it was came and quickly left my body. I composed myself and told Bruce, “That was the strangest thing I have ever experienced. I’ve never felt so sad and depressed.”

There was no reason I could think of, no allergic reaction, or anything that would have caused me to have such an unusual attack of that degree. We held on to each other for a few minutes until I felt well enough to continue. But I did notice that once we walked out of that meadow, I felt as if a large boulder had been lifted off my chest. Somehow, I felt that there was something on the level of the mystical, or spiritual, that dwelt in that area, and that I should never go back into it. Just minutes afterward, I totally recovered and felt very good. As we continued on our hike, I remained confused and perplexed as to the reason for having experienced such a reaction for the remainder of that day.

Later, after we had finished our campfire dinner, I decided to write in my journal. I entered our tent and lay on top of my sleeping bag, and began to jot down my thoughts. Bruce stayed outside. The night was a bit windy, with large, dark clouds that at times past in front of the crescent moon. After about an hour, we went for a short walk to a mound of boulders, climbed the largest of these, and drank a cup of wine from a bottle I had brought along. We gazed up at the night sky, and Bruce pointed out several constellations from the blanket of stars that stood out in the darkness.

I was not in the least thinking about ghosts, or anything spiritual. But from the corner of my eye, I noticed the movement of someone’s outline, or shadow, walking about the trees—just about twenty feet from where we were sitting. I turned my head and spotted a short man about four feet tall looking in my direction. He was clearly standing there, just staring at me. His left arm was bent at the elbow, with his left hand on his waist. His right hand was holding something small, resembling a bag.

I softly spoke to Bruce to look in the direction I was staring at, “Do you see that man over there, by the trees, look, over by that tree with the broken branch that’s touching the ground?” He said no, there was no one there he could see. Thinking my imagination was playing tricks on me, I said, “Bruce, I think this wine is stronger than I imagined. I’ve had enough for tonight. I’m starting to see things. Here, you can finish the rest of mine, I’m going to turn in early.” Bruce remained on the boulder while I walked back to the tent and went to bed.

After just a few minutes, I heard what I thought was Bruce walking the short distance north of our camp. I called to him, but he did not answer. I got up, stepped out of the tent and heard footsteps coming from nearby pine trees. I grabbed my flashlight and walked over to the trees. Again, I called to Bruce and this time I heard his voice answer, but it came from the opposite side of our camp.

“Bruce,” I called, “I’m over here, over here!” I waved the flashlight attempting to get his attention. I was unable to see him, but I could tell by the distant sound of his voice that he was quite a distance away from where I was.

Just at that moment, I heard a noise coming from behind me. I looked up toward the top of the trees and that’s when I saw the same figure of the small man I had spotted earlier. I noticed what I could only describe as a very weak amber colored light, and within this light was the short man, standing on one of the limbs, or appearing to hover, somehow suspended in midair! I was terrified! As I turned to run, I tripped and fell to the ground. But as I fell to the ground, I hit the trunk of a tree and received a nasty gash across the top of my left eye and upper lip. I turned over on my back and placed my hand to my head. As I sat there for a few seconds, I felt the blood running down my neck and shoulder. Then I looked up and in the darkness, I saw a hand reach down to take hold of my right arm. The strength this person had was obvious when, with just one pull, I was on my feet.

I looked at my arm and saw the hand and arm of the ghostly being still holding on to me. A wave of fear surged over me, as I took a couple of steps back and gazed directly at the face of the spirit. All I remember was its unnaturally large eyes, and the smile that was filled with two rows of cream-colored teeth, outlined in dark shadowy lines!

Terrified of the apparition, I screamed, and it immediately disappeared! I quickly turned around, and ran in the darkness toward my tent. I had not taken more than a few feet when once again, I tripped over something, and fell to the ground. I lay on my side stunned. I somehow managed to turn over on all fours, and began to crawl my way back towards camp. Yelling Bruce’s name, he soon located me then lifted me up. I was a mess, covered in wet earth mixed with blood. It took me a few seconds to gather my composure, but when I did, I quickly told Bruce about what I had experienced.

Confused and unsure of what to believe, Bruce helped me to our tent and helped dress my wounds. Because it was so dark and the weather unstable, we decided to spend the night in camp, and in the morning we’d leave for town. We both spent the night huddled together.

I kept explaining to Bruce that what I had seen was not in my imagination, but something real, and definitely not anything close to a living and breathing human at all! Eventually, I fell asleep and in the morning, I looked in the mirror and saw how swollen my face really was. After seeing a doctor in Montrose, I was given sedatives and had my two small cuts stitched up.

The drive home was interesting in that, Bruce confided in me that he had stayed up most of the night, worried about me and oddly enough, confided to me that he had kept hearing the strange sound of what he thought sounded like a cross between a singing bird and a person’s laughter. It caught him off guard, and really frightened him. Bruce was not a man to frighten easily, but this unearthly sound really did frighten him.

In the few months following my ghostly incident in the park, I’ve mentioned what I experienced to a few people, but everyone, without exception, stated that they felt compassion for what we went through but could not believe that it was anything that had to do with a ghost. I once attended a forestry workshop and met a Ute man. I mentioned my ghostly experience to him and he answered, “Sounds like something the Crow Indians of Montana would be experts in. They have a mythology within their tribe about the little people that inhabit the outlying hills surrounding their reservation. Their stories about the small spirits that live in those hills go back generations, and they tell about the discovery of a few, small, fully developed skeletons of human-like beings that have been found in shallow rock caves. I’d keep away from that area of the park. Something in your spiritual makeup is attractive to them. It’s a “medicine” that they might want to tap into. You might want to talk to a person of the Crow tribe, but I don’t think they would offer you much information because they do not talk openly about their traditions to outsiders. It’s rare for them to even hint at this subject at all.”

Since that time, I have not ventured onto the north side of the canyon. I tend to stay within other areas of the park, but even then, not without a bit of trepidation. I know what I saw was real and not spiritually positive. I’ll keep the pleasant thoughts and memories I have regarding the good times I spent in the canyon with my husband. The others, I hope, one day will fade away with time.”