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Etta and Aunt Molly's Ghost

Story ID:6822
Written by:Charles Dishno (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:Story
Location:Dillon Montana USA
Year:2011
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This is another story about my dear Grandmother, Etta.

Etta & Aunt Molly’s Ghost

We lived in the small logging town of Bly, Oregon in the late 30’s to the early 50’s. My Grandmother came for a visit in about 1940 and stayed for 25 years. This was just fine with my Dad as he loved his mother-in-law and she had her own room. Etta was a piano teacher and had many students, in fact, she taught just about every one of the students of Bly School at one time or other. She also played the piano for the Methodist church which was just down the road from my house. Bly wasn’t very big and had only one church that changed denominations every so often. On occasion, they would even hold Catholic services there. It didn’t matter, Etta played for all.

As it was the only church, even funerals were held there when it was a local person and they had a gravesite in the local cemetery. Most of the time, though, the services were held in Klamath Falls as the cemeteries there were kept up much better and eventually the Bly cemetery was abandoned and all graves were moved to Klamath Falls.

The incident I am writing about was when an old lady who every one called “Aunt Molly” died and had no relatives but was so loved by all that the service was held in the Methodist church with the preacher coming from Klamath Falls. The church was packed for the afternoon service and Grandma played the piano for her friend, Aunt Molly.

Later that evening, my Grandma looked out her bedroom window and saw that the lights were left on in the church. Being the frugal person that she was it bothered her that all that electricity was going to waste, so she put on her bathrobe and slippers and took a flashlight then walked over to the church. This was about 10 PM and it was dark outside. Earlier in the evening we had sat around listening to “Inner Sanctum” on the radio. This didn’t seem to bother Etta though as she was made of tough stuff. When she got to the church she had to go through the front doors and all the way to the back where the light switches were. She turned off the lights and started back down the aisle with her trusty flashlight. It was then she began to think about poor Aunt Molly who had lain there in front of the alter just a few hours before. About this time, a gust of wind came up and the old building creaked and groaned. Etta let out a scream we could hear from our house and she took off running down the aisle. When she reached the double doors they had blown shut and she burst through but something grabbed her and jerked her back. She broke away though and ran all the way home at a very fast pace screaming all the way. My Mom met her at the front door to see what was the matter but all she could get out of her was something about Aunt Molly’s ghost.

The next morning, my Mom went over to the church to make sure the door was locked and found Grandma’s bathrobe tie hanging on the door knob. She told her about this and it provided many laughs over the years.

Etta lived to be 84 years old and I hope she “caught up” with Aunt Molly in Heaven and told her the story about her ghost.