EIGHTY AND LOVING IT #13

Everyone thinks thirteen is an unlucky number, that is everyone but me. I am not superstitious at all. I do not believe in ghosts and goblins, nor do I go all out for Halloween, but I do have a story about a strange experience.

My daughter, Diane Turpin, and I have a thing about lighthouses. We love them. Our favorite lighthouse is the one on St. Simons Island, Georgia. We have walked up it and been to the lighthouse several times. The story of the original lighthouse is interesting. It was octagon shaped and made of wood. You can read more about it in a book called The Lighthouse by Eugenia Price. Ms Price lived on St. Simons and when she died, she requested to be buried at Christ\’s Church on the island. During the Civil War, the Confederates burned the lighthouse down. It was rebuilt after the Civil War because of its significance to Atlantic Coast.

Now, to the story.

Diane and I bought our tickets and proceeded up the spiral staircase to the top of the lighthouse. I knew the view would be beautiful even though the wind was blowing hard. Each time we took a step on the metal stairs, we heard a noise like someone climbing the steps. I looked down and up and saw no one. \”If I believed in ghosts, I\’d say one was in here,\” I said as we climbed higher.

When we reached the top, a man lay on the steps going to the light with a rubber mallet in his hand, and he beat one step with the mallet. He was not in the uniform of the park rangers, but in blue pants and a white shirt. His clothes were not pressed and starched like the park ranger\’s uniforms. He never looked up when we stood on the landing.

We walked outside and looked at the ocean and came back in. We were gone two or three minutes before we came back inside. The wind was worse on top of the lighthouse.

The man on the steps had disappeared. He was not in the light room or on the steps. There was no noise on the steps. The only way he could have gotten down quietly and swiftly was to slide down on the handrail.

This was so strange until I heard there was a ghost at St. Simons Lighthouse. His name is Freddy. He was the assistant lighthouse keeper and had an affair with the lighthouse keeper\’s wife. The lighthouse keeper killed him. Shot dead.

I still don\’t believe in ghosts. I can\’t explain what happened, but I still don\’t believe in ghosts. This is a true story. It really happened. Diane and I both saw it, but we can\’t explain it.

Happy Halloween!

Kathy Cretsinger

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