“Uncle Sal was his name,” my friend, Jess, told me one morning at school. “Last night as I was doing my homework, I heard a noise and I looked up and standing in the corner of my room was my Uncle Sal.”
“Didn't you tell me that one of your uncles died a month ago? What was his name 'cause I thought you said your Uncle Sal died?” I interrupted her.
“Yes, my Uncle Sal did die, but there he was, standing in the corner of my room last night! I was too frightened to say a word at first but when I finally found my voice I screamed for my mother. Uncle Sal just disappeared after that.”
I thought Jess had made up the whole thing but later that week, she came to me excitedly and said, “Guess what happened! Uncle Sal came back!”
“What?” I had almost forgotten the whole thing.
“You know how I told you about my Uncle Sal visited me last week?”
“Oh, yes,” I remembered, “So, what happened? Did he come back to see you again?”
“No, not exactly. My mother was in the laundry room and she was talking to herself. She was sort of saying that she has not gone to visit Uncle Sal's grave yet and she think she should go soon,” Jessica narrated the story. “Then, out of no where, she heard a voice talking back to her, 'Yes, why haven't you visited my grave yet? I went to Jessica's room a few days ago but she was scared seeing me.'”
“Geez, you mom must have freaked out,” I said.
“My mother was so scared she ran to my room and pulled me into the car. She drove to the cemetery immediately and as we were paying our respects to Uncle Sal, I could feel him standing really close by. Then, a voice in the wind whispered thank you. We could easily recognise that it was Uncle Sal's voice.”
By Lauren of Ohio