Homecoming Story
Matthew Ryan Fischer
As the story goes, the ghost of Martin Wellington appeared once
every year on his former estate. One hundred and twenty-three years ago, Mr.
Wellington had walked into the woods near his estate on a cool September morning
and never walked out. After an extensive search, his remains had been discovered
at the bottom of a ravine, half eaten, ravaged by the weather and various
creatures. The cause of death wasn’t easy to determine, but it looked as if his
skull had been shattered against one of the stones in the ravine. They next
year Anna, Martin’s sister, swore she saw her brother out by the woods. By the
time she reached the forest no one was there and no evidence of anyone being
there was found. Everyone assumed she had been overwhelmed with grief on the
anniversary of his death.
Anna Wellington would have seizures and when she came out of them
she would speak of the darkness she saw. There were dark times ahead, she would
tell people. But there are always dark times ahead and stating the obvious
doesn’t make someone a great prognosticator. The seizures continued and her predictions
became increasingly bleak and desperate. Three years after the death of her
brother Martin, Anna threw herself from the second story window of their house.
No one had expected it, but it didn’t come as any great shock. Anna was never a
happy woman and after the death of her brother she became more brooding and
morose.
Years went by where the Wellington house stood empty. No one was
there on the anniversary of either of their deaths to record any unusual spectral
events. After the house sold, the stories began about the anniversary. Every
year without fail, someone reported the ghostly image of Martin Wellington, off
in the distance, standing near the woods.
Eli Ferguson bought the old Wellington home for a discounted price
because everyone else was afraid to live there. Eli was a rational man who had
no need for ghost stories. After a year in the house he wasn’t so sure. After
two years he seemed distraught whenever anyone would bring up the Wellington
ghost story. After three years he would no longer speak of the house or the
Wellingtons.
Eli survived in the Wellington house for forty-seven years. After
his death, a letter was discovered, addressed to the future owners or residents
of the home. In it, he told the story of how he had come to believe in the
ghost of Martin Wellington. He pleaded that the readers believe him. Eli
explained that he was getting older and was glad to be facing death soon. He
was a converted skeptic. On his second anniversary in the house he believed he
noticed someone strange. The third anniversary confirmed it. Martin Wellington
was getting further from the woods and coming closer to the house. Eli made
place markers across the estate and every passing year the patterns maintained.
Martin was coming home. Year by year, step after step, over forty-seven years,
Martin was making his way back to his house. Eli didn’t know what would happen
when Martin finally arrived, but he welcomed death and the fact that he would
never have to find out.
Some people didn’t believe the letter. They thought it was a dying
man’s prank. But there were place makers in the yard. And there were those that
believed his words and understood his fears. The markers indicated that Martin
was over two-thirds of the way back to his house. Eli was dead. He would never
know. The remaining townspeople had his letter and could do nothing but count
the days down on the calendar until the next anniversary and wonder just what it
was that Martin had in store for his eventual homecoming.
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