He Followed Me Home

He Follwed Me Home

"There ain't no grave can hold my body down. There ain't no grave can hold my body down. When I hear that trumpet sound, I'm gonna rise right out of the ground. Ain't no grave can hold my body down." Johnny Cash 'Ain't No Grave'

Summer 1995

Wyatt lay on the grass covered hill and stared up at the sun. The breeze was blowing through the long grasses and the surrounding trees. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough he could almost remember what the heat of the sun felt like... He could faintly recall the feel of the wind against his skin.

It had been around one hundred and thirty-two years since he had ever felt things like wind and sunshine. One hundred and thirty-two years since a confederate soldier had fired the shot that had ended his life in Vicksburg, Mississippi on the banks of the mighty Mississippi River.

What was he? Hell he wasn't sure. A ghost? Maybe. Phantom? It was possible. An angel? Hell no, not with the way he had lived his life. All he knew for sure was that his everyday seemed to be the same. No one could see him. No one could hear him. He could appear and disappear as he wished and walk through walls. He could touch objects, lift them, move them, throw them at unsuspecting tourists.... But he couldn't actually feel any of them.

Wyatt heard the bus pull up and smiled faintly as the driver turned off the engine and he heard children's voices fill the air. Another school group coming to see what was left of the historical landmarks of one of the biggest battles and sieges in Civil War history. Wyatt liked kids. Especially young kids. They were sweet and innocent and made him think of his little sisters that he had left behind in Kansas when he had joined the union army.

He stood up and walked down the hill to where the bus was parked beside the park entrance. Strange that people had decided to turn this place into a park. The place where he had died... The place where so many had died. Oh well. He'd learned a long time ago that God was great, beer was good and people were crazy. Of course he wasn't sure anymore that there was a God but the last two parts of that statement were still true.

Wyatt walked among the group of children. They appeared to be around ten years of age. It amazed him how much people had changed in the time since his death. They rode in loud things called automobiles. There were many different kinds of automobiles but he was partial to the ones they called pickup trucks. He figured that those were very useful and he could see how they would have helped make life on his families wheat farm so much easier.

People dressed and spoke much differently too. They used words that Wyatt didn't understand and they wore bright colors, oftentimes the children had colorful drawings on their shirts of things called 'cartoon characters'. Wyatt wasn't sure what a cartoon was but he knew they were off of something called a television. He didn't know what one of those was either.

It amazed him to watch people. To see white children running and playing with black children, oriental children and Mexicans. That was one thing that made being dead a little easier to stand. At least his side had won the war that had taken his life.

He shook his head. Today was not a good day to dwell on things. He saved dwelling for rainy days when the park was empty. Wyatt walked with the children... They couldn't see him of course. He was careful to keep from bumping into any of them. They wouldn't feel it if he had but he hated the sensation he felt when he passed through another human.

He listened to the children talking excitedly amongst themselves. Most of them couldn't care less about the Civil War or anything that had happened here, they were just happy for a day out of their school house. Wyatt just followed the tour for a while but he couldn't let the guide get in a complete tour without making his presence known. The older guides were used to him and a lot of the new ones didn't last once they learned about him. This guide had been there about ten years and knew all about the ghost of Vicksburg.