Around 1947 my father and mother built a two story frame house in the hollow of Grant County, known as Iman Hollow. Back then there was no electric running to the house, until several years later. Kerosene lamps, candles, and flashlights were the source of light after darkness fell.
I remember my Dad telling me about this when I was young, and later before his death in 1989, and his story stayed the same.
One fall night, dad woke up and couldn’t sleep, instead of waking my mother up; he got up and went into the living room, where he sat down at the table to smoke a cigarette, as he was smoking, he saw the dark figure of a man walk by the living room window. Being a moon lit night, Dad thought it might be one of his brother-in-laws, who had the reputation of having just a few to many pulls from a whiskey bottle., who sometimes when he was walking home in his unsteady condition, would stop at mom & dad’s and sleep it off until the next morning. But he would always holler, “Glenn, its Homer”, and he wouldn’t come into the house until Dad got up and let him in. Back then, due to the low crime rate and everyone knew everyone for miles around, no one ever locked their doors at night.
Dad said he got up and walked into the kitchen. He had a metal 5 cell flashlight and from the moon light shinning through the kitchen window unto the kitchen door, he was sure of what he saw later.
Dad was waiting for Homer to announce his presence, but no one called out his name.
Dad said from the moon light, he could see the door knob and he saw the door knob start turning, it turned about half way, but not enough to open the door. Dad then got behind the kitchen door, using the flashlight as a possible weapon, Dad knew it wasn’t Homer. The door knob then returned to its former position as if someone had started to open the door and then let go of it.
When this happened, Dad using the flashlight as a club opened the kitchen door. No one was there, he then checked all around the house, no one was there.
Dad told me that he was sure of what he saw of the figure and the turning of the door knob.
About a week later, my grandfather lived about two hollows over, known as Hinkle Hollow or Ours Road, because he lived at the upper end of the hollow. Granddad walked out on the porch of his house, took a brush of snuff and turned around to go back into his house. As he grasped the door knob, he had a massive heart attack and died instantly, the snuff dried stiff in his mouth.
Dad always believed it was a “Token” (as older people called stage signs or happenings) of his father’s death, his seeing the figure and the turning of the door knob, just like when my grandfather died.
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