Free Ghosts along the Texas Coast by Docia Schultz Williams Page B

She and her husband live on a farm a short distance from the town where she serves as the elementary school’s librarian. One summer night about a year and a half ago, she woke with a start, from a sound sleep. The room in which she and her husband slept was not very dark, as there is a giant security light mounted outside the bedroom window. Usually the Chambers kept the drapes drawn to darken the room, but tonight they were open and the room was well illuminated. Betty glanced to her right, and there, standing beside the bed, was the figure of a little boy. He looked to be no more than 7 or 8 years old. He had very fair skin that had an almost translucent look to it, big blue eyes with dark circles beneath them, and blond hair. Although he appeared real, Betty said he also looked to be of another era. He wore a collarless buttoned-up white shirt, dark knicker trousers, and had long socks tucked up into the knickers. He looked to be wearing old-fashioned high-buttoned boots. His attire was that of the early 1900s. Betty said she was very startled to see the youngster standing there, staring at her, and yet she was not particularly frightened by the figure. She called out, “Who are you . . . what do you want?” When she spoke, the figure disappeared! Her husband, Bill, awoke and asked her what she had said. Betty told him that she had seen a little boy standing by the bed, and her husband said, “You must be having a bad dream. Go back to sleep.” And with that, he rolled over and it was only a few minutes before his deep, even breathing told her that he was fast asleep.
    Betty didn’t mention seeing the youngster again, but she certainly did not forget the incident, and she thought of the strange nocturnal visitor many times over the rest of the summer.
    When school started in late August, Betty was in her library with a group of first-graders clustered about, when the first-grade teacher came to the door with a little boy. She called Betty to come over and meet the youngster, who had been late in enrolling. As she bent down to say hello and take his hand, she said the child looked up at her and she knew. There was no doubt. The same fair skin and blond hair, the same deep-set blue eyes, with the same dark circles beneath them. And unlike the other blue-jean clad little boys, his clothes seemed “different” too, sort of old-fashioned, Betty said.
    Betty said she must have had a totally stunned expression on her face, because the first-grade teacher said, “Are you all right?” Betty said she just managed an “uh-huh.” The teacher told her the little boy was named Geoffrey, and she introduced him to Betty. Betty asked him, “Are you new here in town?” The youngster replied in a very strange manner for a first-grader. He looked up at her and said, “Yes and no. I know you. I’ve always known you.” Betty said it gave her the cold chills as she recalled seeing that very same little white face, those same dark-circled blue eyes, in her bedroom on that summer night visit.
    Betty went on to tell me that all year little Geoffrey would try to sit as close to her chair as he could. He didn’t seem to want to mix with the other children, and she would catch him just staring at her. Sometimes he would lean over and say to her . . . “You know, I’ve always known you.”
    The books the youngster seemed to like most were old-fashioned books, with illustrations from the late 1800s and early 1900s. He showed no interest in Ninja Turtles and space adventures like the other children.
    This year the youngster is again at school, and he still comes to the library story sessions. Betty says he is beginning to mix more with the other children, but there is still something very strange, very disturbing, and rather sad, about the little boy. And he still continues to tell her . . . “Don’t you know? I’ve always