Do you love a scary story? Ghost stories and legends are even better if there’s a kernel of truth to them, right?
Cozy up to the electronic campfire, my friends. The tale I’m about to tell actually happened (names changed to protect those involved).
Parker was the kind of guy you couldn’t help but notice. Big, burly, a shock of blond hair (usually with a ball cap smashed on top). He was a star athlete at our high school, and partied hard with the jocks. No one really knew much about his home life, except his dad was a real demanding “sport parent” type.
One night while cruising around the shopping center strip, Parker sat on the windowsill of his buddy’s car. Chugging a beer, he didn’t notice the oncoming car and was unprepared when his friend swerved. Parker took a header onto the blacktop.
Unconscious and minimally responsive, he was rushed to the hospital. Brain scans were inconclusive. We heard about it at school—Parker was in a coma. Holy crap. Days went by with no change. Then one day he woke up, was OK, and went home. But he wasn’t the hard-partying guy any more. More subdued. People figured being nearly dead must have been his wake-up call.
They were almost right. I worked at the local hospital, which is how I heard the rest of this story.
The day Parker woke up, he lay in bed, eyes closed, refusing to talk to anyone. When night came, the duty nurse noted that he was crying. She asked him what was wrong. Parker looked at her and said, “My mother came and visited me every day while I was out. Now that I’m awake she won’t come any more.”
The nurse patted his hand. She assured him his mother would come back to visit. But she was wrong.
You see, Parker’s mother had died four years earlier.