‘D’ was watching the old ‘1977 Panasonic’, colour no less, 22 year old television from the comfort of his three seat Chesterfield couch; roughly around midday. It was a Saturday incidentally, and Mrs. ‘D’ had all of the curtains and windows throughout the house open; being a beautiful day, why wouldn’t she? D, however, thought her to be a complete pain in the rump, as one particularly ‘flappy’ curtain was giving him the irrit’s.
After staring in anger at the offending adornment, he returned his gaze back toward the television, focusing on the final round of the football finals, preceding the grand final. He had been looking forward to the game for the better part of the week, as such, his sheep yard covered work boots were parked next to the back door, and the beer in front of him bought him a small inner joy.
An add after a goal exploded onto the screen, giving D the opportunity to lean forward from his seat, and fill his glass from the now near empty bottle. Once filled, he settled himself once more, focussing again on the TV; and then he didn’t.
In the space of seconds, the head, torso, and arms of a man wearing a green striped shirt, whom he recognised and knew well, appeared beside, and slightly behind and to the left of the television. The apparition didn’t move, remaining fixed in its gaze, staring blankly just passed D, now blinking slowly, the noise of the game on the TV completely forgotten. After thirty long seconds, the D’s friend disappeared.
Puzzled, and second guessing himself, D stood, and wandered into the kitchen, searching for, and finding, Mrs. D washing dishes. He proceeded to tell her of what and who he had just seen, Mrs. D, the brains of the operation, walked him over to the kitchen table, where he promptly sat with a thud; turning, she returned to the kitchen once more, put the kettle on, and went back into discuss the event again with him. Not once did she disbelieve him, turning her scholarly mind to the incident, and the obscurity of it.
The following day, the phone, bolted to the wall above the kitchen bench, and next to the glass sliding door, rang. Yelling of “I’ll get it!” filled the house, and Mrs. D answered it. After a brief moment of pleasantries, her happy face turned quickly into a frown; placing the phone down on the kitchen bench, she slid open the sliding door, stuck her head out, and yelled “D, phone, its important! Hurry up…….” which he did. Picking up the phone he quickly plonked down onto the wooden chair beside it, listening. What he was hearing was the news of the death of a friend. His friend. The friend he had seen the day before as an apparition beside to tele.
D, not a believer in coincidence, stoically passed on his condolences, even though he was in WA, he offered any and all help, regardless of the fact that the phone call had come from rural Victoria, at the place where his mate had died. Keeping his sighting of her husband to himself, D quietly hung the phone back up.
Some weeks later, D, rang the wife of his deceased mate, enquiring as to how she and the kids were getting on. The conversation wandered, and purely as a matter of interest, he asked if her husband had ever had a particular ‘green striped shirt’, she replied that he did, and that it was the shirt he had passed away in. Jaw now on the floor, he responded to her question as to ‘why?’, and openly and honestly told her. The fact that he was able to accurately describe what her husband had been wearing was more than enough to convince her that what D had said was true.
Incredible, and exactly as it happened.
There you go. Click the small picture above, there is something hidden within.
To the left, I will be a Kumquot Mae’s every Friday up until school holidays fro 1pm to 3pm. Come in, and bring your yarn with you, OR, just come in for a yarn, and I will tell you a few that I have heard.
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