Home Sweet Home - Round Two of Stories

The Whistler:

Now, our house isn't just haunted by one specter. Oh no, it could never be that simple! In fact, our entire road is full of ghost stories, but we'll just concentrate on the ones that have directly affected those in my own home.

The first person that I know of to ever encounter the man known as "The Whistler" was my mother. As she tells it, I was still in diapers and they hadn't been living in the white house for long. It was cold weather and Dad was out with the boys doing a little coon huntin'. Mom was left alone with wee baby me and she had decided to go on to bed. Before she tucked us in for the night she wanted to gather up some wood for the stove and the wood pile was across the road in the shed.

Not thinking anything of it, she put on her housecoat and went across the road to gather wood. While she was gathering she heard someone walking down the road towards her and whistling a little song as they walked. Our road was still gravel back then and she could hear whomever it was kicking up the gravel as he/she walked. Thinking it might be my Dad coming home and knowing he had a gun and wouldn't be able to tell it was her, she shined her flashlight his way and yelled "Ed! Its me! I'm getting some wood!" She could see his boots and the bottoms of this legs and he stopped walking when she yelled.

She went on gathering her wood when she realized that the whistling had stopped and Daddy still hadn't come over to help her gather the wood up. She shined her light back up the road. No one was there. She's a smart lady, so she dropped the wood and ran back into the house and locked the door.

Turns out, the next day when Daddy really did come home Mom found out that it obviously wasn't him she saw. In fact, it wasn't anyone. It was "The Whistler".

That's not the last time he showed up either, although that was the last time when he visibly showed himself. I had a slumber party while in high school and all the girls stayed with me out in a little camper in the front yard. As the night wore on we started hearing whistling. It would come from out the road, walk around the camper, and then go back the way it came. It did that throughout the night. When the sun rose, The Whistler finally stopped making his rounds.

Since then, I've heard The Whistler many times. Never while I'm outside thank goodness. I've heard him while getting ready for work or school. I've heard him while sitting in the living room. You just never know when you'll get to hear him whistling his little song.