100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2021 #44

44

Rain like this comes only once in a great while.

No one would typically know the difference because, to most of us, rain is rain. It's the kind of rain that casts a particular gray color over the atmosphere. It's the kind of rain that inspires poetry and music. Many years ago, on a day like this, I sat on the highest rocks on the coastline in Maui, simply enjoying a moment of repose and quiet, when from my peripheral I noticed someone a hundred yards away, walking toward the edge. I couldnʻt tell if the person was male or female because of the heavy clothing this person wore. Whoever it was, was dressed like a beekeeper. I thought it was strange, but in Hawai'i, bees have made a home of the most unusual and unlikely locations. So I returned to trying to emptying my mind by becoming one with my surroundings. That's when the gray clouds formed rather quickly. Then the rain came immediately after. It felt like a light mist from a spray bottle. One which you might use to water your delicate potted plant in your home. The sensation caught my attention for some reason and made me lose my original train of thought.

I looked off to my right again, and that person dressed in the bee-keeper outfit stood right at the edge. The weather took a turn for the worst. The winds whipped up the ocean so furiously that the waves mercilessly pounded the cliffs with such power that it sounded like cannon fire. The water splashed high above the bee-keeper, making itself appear as a mighty titan, dwarfing a tiny human soul. The beekeeper jumped off the edge. The churning seawater took the beekeeper under, never to be seen again. How long would it be before someone noticed that the beekeeper hadn't returned home for a while? How long before the call to the authorities was made and the search party organized? How long before everyone finally figured out that it was useless and that the body would never be found? Some closure could be had if I came forward and told everyone that I was there that day when the beekeeper stepped off the edge. But that was impossible.

My mother was at home folding clothes in the living room that day while lunch was boiling in a pot on the stove. Coupled with the school my younger brother attended, I can only imagine what receiving the news of my death must have been like?  'Your son was found bled out on the reef near Awalau gulch.' This is why I couldn't help the beekeeper even if I wanted to. I was already dead myself. Besides, who would believe a ghost?

Rain like this comes only once in a great while. Especially when disembodied spirits like myself are present.

Photo Credit: Syl65's Blog