Today is Sunday, My husband had to work, it is not at all usual for him to be working today, but, there it is. When you fire someone, you have to take over for them. Nuff said. So, unlike a usual Sunday,I had time to think about something that had been rolling in my cluttered brain for almost exactly a year.
My sister passed away in October of last year. She was a year older than me. We are both November babies. She was my protector, my teacher, and I felt her and I had a soul connection. Ying and Yang. She was an alcoholic and a drug addict. She also had many other things she battled because of those two things. It is a long sad story, and it is not the point.
When she died, actually moments maybe before she did, I was hundreds of miles away, In Texas. She was in California. She lay in almost comatose form, my mother and aunt,my nephew and his child and wife, nearby.
I lay in bed, and a pounding,rumbling rang in my ears. It was loud and becoming louder. Cowboy boots walking down a dusty deserted street in an old cowboy movie, was what came to focus in my brain. He was walking. Dressed in black with his long duster flowing about him. His hair long & black, shielded his face. A cowboy hat sat upon his head.
The sound of him coming at me, coming closer was almost deafening. But he still came until he was upon me. Then a louder sound, he grabbed something bright, and then he turned and walked back the way he came, the sound becoming less and less until he disappeared. I thought it was odd, but I was very stressed out, and my mind was in pieces. It was not more than an hour later, that I got the call that my sister was dead.
I wrote down what he looked like, thinking it would make an interesting beginning to a book, then started looking for images to help piece what he looked like. Maybe a tortured soul. I found that other people had seen him, or the likeness of him all surrounding death. Like he was the Grim Reaper. And I ask, was it?
Did I witness my sisters soul being taken into the depths of hell? I let it go, but honestly, I had never seen or heard any of those stories before it happened to me.
Some people call them The Shadow People. Some people call him The Hat Man. The point is, I am not the only one who had seen him, and that freaks me out.
It was a few weeks later that my mother and I had dreams of my sister. The kind where they tell you how happy they are. In the dreams, Andria was always helping a young girl, keeping watch of her. I don’t know what that means, or if it means anything, but I do know, she always had to get back into the water after she talked for a moment. It was some kind of pool. Granted, my sister always loved water, but a pool? We were River and Ocean kids.
Then I read about the Helliquin in a book, a story of redemption. And they mentioned a pool of sorrows or something like it. It makes me think about the others I have spoken to in dreams. Carl, he was in a park sitting on a hill. He was not exactly a saint, and he told me he was very happy and content.
Is there a some truth to this oddity, and isn’t it strange that others have seen this creature? Or was it just my perception of the reaper? Did the devil steal my sisters soul from under my nose?
Now I have a headache. Deep thoughts are a buzzkill.
- I pulled all these images off the internet. Looking for my man in the hat. I was more than a little surprised when I found that others had also encountered this person. What I am telling you is no joke, or any tale. I am being honest in this blog. It is nice to put it on paper. I did write a little story about it, but it ended up being more of a romance between a tortured soul of the hat man and a young girl who could see him. It is called “Blood” and it sits with my other unpublished works.