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A GHOST STORY
Written for the Welland Tribune
[Welland Tribune, 1 March 1895]
I was night operator on one of the large roads running out of Detroit, at a little station about 30 miles distant. Let me describe this little place and its surroundings. There is a junction here, and a little to the left of the station is a tower house, where a man is on duty as switchman. To the right of the station and very close is the freight shed.
I started in on to work on this eventful night at 6 o’clock. It was very clear and still and sound could be heard very distinctly. Everything went along as usual during the early part of the evening, and to while away the time, I read some ghost stories. It was just 12.20 and I had received orders for No. 5 going west when I heard some strange unaccountable sounds. During the arrival and departure of No 5 I forgot all about them, and as I had no more trains until 3.06, I decided to take a little nap. I had just got nicely settled in my chair when I heard these same sounds, as if someone were trying to break through a wall or a barred window; then, as if a struggle were going on, accompanied by groans and shrill shrieks. I began to get uneasy, and after I had got my hair pressed down to its original position, I decided to go over and see Burns, the tower man. I didn’t tell him I was frightened or anything, but I felt queer. We sat in the tower house talking and smoking for some time. At last I asked him to come over to the station as something special might be coming. We had just taken our chairs when the same weird sounds were heard.
Burns didn’t say anything for awhile, but the noise grew louder and it appeared as if a horrible struggle were going on somewhere. But where? I procured a lantern and we started to investigate. We looked all around the station, in the waiting room, and at length nothing but the freight shed remained unexplored. I unlocked the door and just then a horrible hoarse groan, as if someone were dying, greeted us. Well, now the question arose-Who shall go in first? The tower man, although a giant and very strong, absolutely refused to enter. I picked up a club, thrust the lantern through the door and looked in-horrible sight! In one corner of the shed, in a slatted box was- a pig, the cause of all our fright.
It had been brought by express to the station that afternoon, taken out of the car and left in the shed. It had become restless and tried to turn in its box, and our excited minds, aided by its grunts and squeaks, had imagined all manner of strange and supernatural things.
FRANK DELMAR
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