Cheney Free Press -


Now you see them, now you don't - two tales relived

Of Cabbages and Kings


The following stories are true. Verification is available.


Once upon a time there was a young lady who turned her car easily into its place at her home, gathered the things she had bought and took two steps toward her house. She stopped. Right there before her, leaning casually on her garage door, was a young girl about 10 years of age. She had blonde hair, wore a white dress that looked like it was made of cotton, with sleeves covering her arms and a flounce swaying softly around her ankles. She had no shoes on.

Our young lady, being of a quiet disposition, was about to say, “Hello, what’s your name?” as she turned and reached for a paper she had left in the car. Her quick mind began to say to itself, “Reminds me of the 1800s. Something’s kind of … weird.”

She looked directly into the young girl’s eyes and began to say, “Can I help—?” Suddenly, as she stood there, in the blink of an eye, the girl disappeared.

Our young lady called out, “Hello, hello, where are you?” She set down her parcels on the porch steps of her house and hurried here and there searching for the girl. All the while, her mind kept repeating, “1800s.” She reminds me of the 1800s.” How did the girl disappear like that? What do they call it, a visitation? Is that what happened? Why did they choose me?

She did not panic, nor did she scream. She asked her neighbors, “Have you seen a young girl dressed like that, standing in your yard?” The neighbors shook their heads, said, “No” and walked away.

Days turned into weeks, then months. Our young lady often thought of the girl. She hoped to see her again, to talk with her. Now, two years have gone by. Where is the girl? Was this really a visitation from long ago? Will our young lady ever know?

Man on a rock

Once upon another time, a woman was walking her dog along a country road. They rounded a corner and came to a place where the pine trees grew densely into a forest. Weeds of several descriptions and colors held the woman’s attention. Her gaze then shifted to the trees. She found herself staring at the face of a man sitting on a rock. He, in turn, was staring at her.

The man wore a brown outfit straining at the seams of the waist and arms. The woman thought, “I’m getting out of here.” She called her dog, turned on her heel and walked toward home. She wanted to run, but kept a steady pace, often glancing behind her.

The woman knew the man who owned the property where this man sat and wondered if he had asked permission to be there. Finally at home, the woman locked all the doors and fastened all the windows.

The next morning, the woman, safe in her car, drove past where the man had sat. He was gone. No, wait! Where he had been sitting, the tree branches quivered. A covey of quail took flight. Then all was quiet.

The man had disappeared. She whispered, “I’ll remember you and I’ll find out why you’re hanging around here.” She shook her finger toward where he might be and went on her way.

Now you see them, now you don’t.

Luella Dow is a Cheney-area author. She can be reached at


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