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The Farmer in the Field - A Childhood Encounter


In 1995, when I was 13 years old, my two younger brothers and I had a chilling encounter that left an indelible mark on my memory. We lived on Lambert St. NW in Salem, Oregon, in a neighborhood built on former wheat fields. Our house sat near the end of a dead-end road, with a vast field stretching beyond the property line of our elderly neighbors.

We often ventured into the field, particularly to a muddy corner where we hoped to catch frogs. One evening, armed with a large flashlight, we embarked on our usual trek. As we neared our destination, we were stopped dead in our tracks by a startling sight. Standing before us was the unmistakable figure of an elderly man, seemingly dressed in old-fashioned farmer's clothing. He appeared as a detailed, almost solid mass of fog, illuminated by my flashlight. I called out, "Hello?" but received no response. The three of us, gripped by terror, bolted back to our house.

I pleaded with my father to come outside and see the apparition, but he initially dismissed it, recalling a previous instance where I had fabricated a similar sighting. However, the fear in my voice and the horrified expressions on our faces eventually convinced him to investigate. Of course, by then, the figure had vanished.

The experience remains vivid in my mind, even to this day. I can still clearly picture the ghostly farmer, the shock and fear I felt palpable. Years later, in 2021, my late-night job took me through the same area, now developed with houses. A few times, I stopped at the exact spot where we saw the entity, now a house's side yard with a tree marking the location. A friendly cat would often greet me, rubbing against my leg as I stood there, a small comfort in the face of the unsettling memory.

Looking back, it seems almost too incredible to be true. I feel privileged to have witnessed such a life-altering event. I believe children possess a heightened sensitivity to the paranormal, a sense that often fades as we grow older. If given the chance to relive the experience, I suspect my reaction would be the same: sheer terror.

Perhaps this encounter is even responsible for my prematurely gray hair? That, of course, is a joke, but the memory of the farmer in the field remains a powerful reminder of the mysteries that lie just beyond our understanding.

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