Hang 'Em High
Jun 25 '04
The Bottom Line Join jps246's great ghost-story write-off: http://www.epinions.com/content_3960184964
I saw it as clear as day, while I lay semi-comatose in the guest bedroom of my Bahamian host's lovely colorful home. Actually, I was still suffering the effects of too many sweet Bahama Mamas, potent Pina Coladas with those little umbrella decorations and a couple of hastily drunk rum punches. It was hard at first to discern what it was that I was seeing.
Two weeks earlier, my happy friends had invited me to the island, that's Paradise Island, to you and me. I hopped at the chance and packed my bags. I had never even ventured outside of New York City at that time. This trip would be the great escape from the daily hustle and bustle of my life, and I could hardly wait to touch down on Grand Bahama Island!
I vividly recall tall, tanned and very good looking Tom describing his childhood adventures growing up in the dazzling Bahama islands. He boasted of tons of fun in the hot summer sun; crystal blue waters and pink litter-free beaches. He and his mom and dad, along with his five gorgeous sisters were quite the popular family on the islands. And, here I was, a welcomed guest in his mansion of a home.
On the first day, just after the plane landed, my adventure began. We were invited guests of the governor's son; Tom's childhood buddy. Imagine that! I thought that I was dreaming as we toured the governor's palacial digs. I kept asking myself just what I had done to deserve this fantastic trip, gratis.
After the delicious dinner of chonch soup, chonch fritters and deep friend jumbo chonch in the dining hall, the gay troupe and I headed down to the beach for an early evening swim. As amazing as the scenery was and although tranquility abounded, I continuously had an ominous feeling. The hairs refused to lay down on my arms, and my arms are practically hairless! Yeah, my gut told me that this trip would be an unforgettable one.
That first day on the beach would be my last! I had often told my sweet buddies that I did not swim. They always laughed and joked, "You will when we get on the island! Ha ha ha."
Everyone threw off their clothes exposing their beautiful muscular bodies. The girls and I sat quietly just checking out the other hard bodies of the Bahamian natives. We giggled as we spread the blankets and organized the beach outing.
Kim, my new best friend, shared her own stories of previous visits to Tom's Island. She stopped short of telling me about Tom's dad, as the guys approached us to join them in the warm, calm water. Kim and the other girl traveling with us, rushed with Tom, Andre and Bruce toward the ocean. I hung back near the shoreline when suddenly, the ice cold bottle of St. Paulie Girl beer that I was guzzling dropped from my hand as Tom and Andre pulled me, against my will, into the ocean!
I screamed, I protested and I cried, all to no avail. I recovered from my near drowning experience and feigned insolence as we finally headed to Tom's place.
We were assigned sleeping quarters and treated with the utmost respect by Tom's mother and two of his sisters. I was physically exhausted and wanted to lay down for a nap before we headed to The Scene for some dancing and socializing. As I fell fast into a deep sleep, Tom and Andre caught up with the happenings on the island with Tom's beautiful widowed mother.
"Man, oh man", is all I kept thinking as we headed back to our limo, sweat pouring off of us, the night air feeling mighty divine after three hours of non-stop body bouncing inside of the hottest club in the Bahamas. I couldn't get enough, but, once again, too much drink and lots of fun took it's toll on this girl. I needed a bed and I needed one badly.
Tom bribed the limo driver into letting him drive us to his home, staing that the place was far and often difficult to find. As Tom made his way around the winding mountainous roads, I felt a chill run down my spine, or was it running up? Hmmmm....note to self, 'drink less, and you may remember the highlights of this trip!'
After a cocktail with "mom" we all headed off to bed. Everyone fell fast asleep, but this time, sleep was not happening for me. There was something wrong in this bedroom, I just couldn't put my finger on it.
Perhaps it was the pitch blackness of the huge house that frightened me, keeping me on edge and unable to fall asleep? I had never slept in total darkness before and I didn't like that the last person who went to bed had the audacity to shut off every single light source in the village! Tom's obnoxious drunken snoring in the next room certainly wasn't helping matters, either. But, in order to keep up with my crew the next day I needed my sleep. I shut my eyes, one at a time, like that made a huge difference!
That's when it happened and I screamed! A spine tingling, deep gutteral scream that woke up everyone in that g'ddamn dark house!!
They all flocked to me, eyes a-rubbing, snores in mid snore! Mom was the first to ask what was wrong, in her fine Bahamian accent. AS usual, I was crying and stammering, whining and not making much sense. It wasn't until Tom asked me point blank to, "stop that sniffling, won't you, and tell us what's wrong?"
"There's.... there's...oh, my God!...OH, my GAAAAAWWWDDD!!!!...There are black shadows in this room! I saw them, I heard them!!", was all I could get out of my mouth before the screams violently took over and nearly cracked every window, every mirror and all of those precious liquor bottles!
I was assured that everything would be ok if I calmed down. Andre gently stroked my shoulders then shook them, telling me to "..go the f*ck back to sleep!" They gave me a stiff drink, 150 proof Rum, off the rocks..Hahhahaha.
It did the trick and I was out cold in five minutes flat. In fact, I nearly missed breakfast. When I staggered into the dining hall, hours after everyone else had been up, they all stared at me, then told me to take a seat because they had something to share with me. The hairs stood up on my hairless arms, again.
It was Tom who spoke, quietly at first then in a more excited tone as his story progressed.
Apparently, some years earlier, Tom's dad, dejected over losing his job committed suicide in the very room where I slept the night before!! Suicide by hanging himself from the center of the room on the ceiling fan with his thick leather belt!
When we arrived back in New York City, I fell to my knees and kissed the ground! The next day, I quit drinking.
Bottom Line: This was a true story...Brrrrrrrr.
Thanks jps246!!
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Member: Miriam Jacobs
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My Name is Not Monkey Girl!
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