My mother, like many other West Virginians, was raised in a small two-bedroom coal camp house during the depression. It was located in Long Branch, WV. I know many readers will be able to picture this from their own childhood homes. My mother slept in the back bedroom, which you entered from her parent’s bedroom. Each night her parents would tuck her in and close the bedroom door, which was warped, so it stuck and made a loud noise when you opened or closed it.
Each night she would be awakened by a man in miner’s clothing gently rocking the edge of her bed with his two fists, but when she looked up to see his face there was no visible head. She, of course, would scream loudly and he would vanish. Her parents would run in to see nothing there and would tell her it was just a bad dream. This went on for several nights when finally she asked her parents, “If it was a dream, then why was my door already open when you came in, and why didn’t you hear it open?” From then on, she slept on the couch and never saw him again. In addition, as soon as another company house became available, her family moved!