Madame Catfish
...Fascinating...
I wouldn't exactly call it an obsession of mine, but I've always been fascinated with old ghost stories. Modern ones don't interest me much, but a folk ghost story can reveal so much about a culture, its values, and perception of life and death. Where I come from there are many, most are of mixed Mexican and Tejano origin that gradually become "anglicanised"- it is fun to see different versions of the same story and chart how the tales change through time to suit the interests of new generations. It is also very fun to see how some old ghost tales branch out into several different ones (like La Llorona, the weeping woman of southern Texas and northern Mexico, who has two basic versions of the same story, then branches out into a handful of very different ones, including appearing with the head and/or feet of a burro)
To me, the supernatural doesn't exist. It's supernatural. We humans cannot explain much- we hardly are capable of explaining anything at all. Just because something can not be explained by a human does not mean that it is impossible- if it were impossible it would not happen. If ghosts and demons and that sort of thing exist, they would have to act according to the laws of the universe just like anything else, albeit in strange ways that appear inexplicable to a human.
I personally don't believe in ghosts, but do not deny them either. I have never encountered first-hand evidence of their existence, but so many people swear up and down that they have seen phantasms that one must at least consider the possibility. I would very much like to see one, but have never had the opportunity.
We own a ranch that many people in town claim to have a ghost, but I have never seen him. On our place near this old well we have a grave of an 11 year old boy named J Seeton that died in 1871. The gravestone fell face forward ages ago so it is pretty well preserved. Story in town (our family doesn't necessarily uphold the story) is that the boy Joshua Seeton was hiding up in a tree at dusk when coming back from fishing at the Leon. He was climbing over the branches in the dark and making a lot of noise and trying to scare his sisters and he ended up getting accidentally shot by his father, who had mistook him for a wild animal. He apparently died from some infection caused by it a week later (the gravestone actually has it as a couple of days after his birthday). Ironically, there is a cemetery not far up the road named "Seeton" after him, even though he was never buried there. Some people say that you can see him sitting in a nearby patch of oaks playing or crying during the autumn, but as said before, I've never got a glimpse of him, though those oaks have always smelled a bit funny to me. Literally. They don't smell like proper oaks.
To me, the supernatural doesn't exist. It's supernatural. We humans cannot explain much- we hardly are capable of explaining anything at all. Just because something can not be explained by a human does not mean that it is impossible- if it were impossible it would not happen. If ghosts and demons and that sort of thing exist, they would have to act according to the laws of the universe just like anything else, albeit in strange ways that appear inexplicable to a human.
I personally don't believe in ghosts, but do not deny them either. I have never encountered first-hand evidence of their existence, but so many people swear up and down that they have seen phantasms that one must at least consider the possibility. I would very much like to see one, but have never had the opportunity.
We own a ranch that many people in town claim to have a ghost, but I have never seen him. On our place near this old well we have a grave of an 11 year old boy named J Seeton that died in 1871. The gravestone fell face forward ages ago so it is pretty well preserved. Story in town (our family doesn't necessarily uphold the story) is that the boy Joshua Seeton was hiding up in a tree at dusk when coming back from fishing at the Leon. He was climbing over the branches in the dark and making a lot of noise and trying to scare his sisters and he ended up getting accidentally shot by his father, who had mistook him for a wild animal. He apparently died from some infection caused by it a week later (the gravestone actually has it as a couple of days after his birthday). Ironically, there is a cemetery not far up the road named "Seeton" after him, even though he was never buried there. Some people say that you can see him sitting in a nearby patch of oaks playing or crying during the autumn, but as said before, I've never got a glimpse of him, though those oaks have always smelled a bit funny to me. Literally. They don't smell like proper oaks.
