It was an evening with slight chill and I was returning from a short trip to my friend. The bus, I was in, was not comfortable but it was the only means I could use. On the way, it stopped suddenly as a girl waved it to stop. She, aged about 15 years, entered the bus and sat in the seat behind me. She was carrying some books and surprisingly one umbrella. Surprisingly, because in those days of November, rain was not expected. After traveling some 8-10 kms., she asked for stop and got down from the bus. I saw her getting down and going away in the field. Suddenly, I noticed that umbrella on her seat. She forgot it. I decided to give it to her as the bus was still there, its driver and conductor having tea at the roadside dhaba. I immediately got down and just went in her direction. Now she was some distance away from me and was entering a house after crossing the fields. I had to move fast. When I reached there she had entered the house. So I knocked on the door. After some seconds, an old man opened the door and looked at me and then at the umbrella.

“Your daughter forgot this in the bus” I did not know whether she was his daughter.

“Please come. Have some tea”

“No, thanks. My bus is there waiting for me” saying this I turned around to find that the bus had moved. So I did not have any choice but to accept the invitation. I was not to worry as I had not any luggage in the bus and my destination was not far away. So why not have some tea? I entered the room with the old man and sat on a chair. The old man went inside and after some 4-5 minutes, returned with two cups of tea. Meanwhile, I was wondering where the girl had gone. She did not appeared even once. Probably busy in her studies or something else. Atleast she should have said thank you.

“Your tea, sir.”

When I was sipping the tea, the old man opened the almirah in front of me and put the umbrella in it. To my utter surprise, there were so many umbrellas in that almirah already.

“You have so many umbrellas” I was puzzled as in this desert area of Rajasthan, rain was rare.

The old man smiled. “It sometimes happens that a gentleman like you comes to my house and gives me an umbrella saying that my daughter forgot it. So, one after another, this almirah is becoming full of them.”

“But why your daughter does this. I mean she should be careful”

“She was careful. In fact, she is no more. She died three years ago.”

The cup in my hand trembled. So what I saw was not real. And than I became more frightened. Well, the girl was not real but what about this old man. He may also be a ghost. I immediately stood and said thanks to him. He was still smiling. I came out and ran through the fields as fast as I could to reach the road.

In a way, it reminds me of the ghost story of, "The Lady at White Rock Lake" in Dallas, Texas.
Are you a writer?

Sounds like any typical urban legend.

I agree. You sure it happened to you, and not someone else . Anyway, I dont really believe it happened, just a scary story that a town spreads.

Seems to be one of two scenerios

1) you are a pretty good ghost writer
2) the old man is telling a good story himself to attract attention . Maybe its his way of getting people to visit

Something just doesn't seem real about the story.

yea I agree too many exact details. And the format of the whole thing just makes it seem like a story.

Have to say that it was too well written , unless of course antarix is an aspiring writer and is trying the read out on us But it was a good story, nevertheless....Oh and welcome to UM

Umm, antarix, is your avatar supposed to be the Nazi symbol?

Its the peace symbol, homie! I worship it daily and hope it will one day spread across the globe.

"After traveling some 8-10 kms., she asked for stop and got down from the bus. I saw her getting down and going away in the field. Suddenly, I noticed that umbrella on her seat. She forgot it. I decided to give it to her as the bus was still there, its driver and conductor having tea at the roadside dhaba. I immediately got down and just went in her direction. Now she was some distance away from me and was entering a house after crossing the fields."

Wait, so the bus just stopped in the middle of these big fields, and while there were still passengers on it the driver got out and left it and had some tea... what... where... whonow? And it was going to be there for long enough for you to have tea?

Please, if you're going to post something so narrative, say if it happened to you or if it's just a story, in which case it does not belong here.

I would agree. Sounds almost like a made up story, but hey, you might just be a great writer and it comes natural

Dont know about the veracity of the story but i think the last 2 criticisms missed something.

This was in Rajasthan. Bus schedules/timetables and stops are probably a lot more arbitrary there, and a bus could easily stop to let off a person at her doorstep. I also get the impresssion that the normal english narrative style is not the authors first language/style. It does sound too formalised for a western writer but a lot like the style non native english speakers use when story telling.
I checked antarix profile and there is no indication of his geographic location, nor is there enough written by him to say other than that he is a good writer but with a formal style slightly different to say an Australian writer educated in an australian school..
Interesting sidebar. My mother and her sister, as young girls, met the ghost of a farmer who had drowned when his horsesbolted in a thunderstorm and dragged the cart and driver into a deep billabong.

They also thought the horse, cart, and driver were real, as they approached down a long dusty road in the middle of summer. However, two things became frighteningly clear as they approached each other.

There was no sound from horse or cart, and they were all dripping water (the driver was wearing a long dryzabone type coat and australian style hat, also soaking wet) and yet this was on a hot summer's afternoon in a dry landscape.

Horse, cart and man, all disappeared as they passed the young girls, who went racing down the rest of the dirt track to their farm house. When they got older they found that other people had seen the same apparition, but their mother convinced them at the time that it was just an imagining brought on by the hot summers day.

Didnt want the story to finish......i was enoying it lol

yeah, way to interesting to stop, please...keep going

Well that was mighty interesting. The stories people make up nowadays.

Ever heard the song "Laurie - Strange Things Happen" by Dickey Lee? Same exact story except the guy met her at a dance and she forgot to give him back his sweater.
Here are the lyrics:

Last night at the dance I met Laurie,
So lovely and warm, an angel of a girl.
Last night I fell in love with Laurie -
Strange things happen in this world.

As I walked her home,
She said it was her birthday.
I pulled her close and said
"Will I see you anymore?"
Then suddenly she asked for my sweater
And said that she was very, very cold.

I kissed her goodnight
At her door and started home,
Then thought about my sweater
And went right back instead.
I knocked at her door and a man appeared.
I told why I'd come, then he said:

"You're wrong, son.
You weren't with my daughter.
How can you be so cruel
To come to me this way?
My Laurie left this world on her birthday -
She died a year ago today."

A strange force drew me to the graveyard.
I stood in the dark,
I saw the shadows wave,
And then I looked and saw my sweater
Lyin' there upon her grave.

Strange things happen in this world.

Link: www.lyrics007.com

It's a jain svastika.

I was not in touch with this forum for some time so I could not reply. So let me start one by one answering your comments.

1. Madeline said that I was a writer. I am not. Actually this incident which is true, happened to a friend of my father some 24 years ago. I just wrote it to be published in a newspaper. Don’t think from the style of writing that it is just a story.
2. TRPS says that the old man wanted to attract attention. 24 years ago, what do you think he would have achieved by this.

3. Nickynick says “And the format of the whole thing just makes it seem like a story”. Well, as I told you earlier, this incident was converted into the shape of a story for its publication in newspaper/magazine.

4. Datboy - I am from India and this is not Nazi symbol. It is called Swastika in Sanskrit language and is widely used as a symbol of peace and prosperity.

5. Wraithgod - Wait, so the bus just stopped in the middle of these big fields, and while there were still passengers on it the driver got out and left it and had some tea... what... where... whonow? And it was going to be there for long enough for you to have tea?

Please, if you're going to post something so narrative, say if it happened to you or if it's just a story, in which case it does not belong here.

In Rajasthan, a province in India, it still happens. Driver can stop bus anywhere on the roadside to have a cup of tea, if he wants so. Particularly in winter times and more so if the bus is traveling on a road less frequented.

6. Walker - This was in Rajasthan. Bus schedules/timetables and stops are probably a lot more arbitrary there, and a bus could easily stop to let off a person at her doorstep. I also get the impresssion that the normal english narrative style is not the authors first language/style. It does sound too formalised for a western writer but a lot like the style non native english speakers use when story telling.
I checked antarix profile and there is no indication of his geographic location, nor is there enough written by him to say other than that he is a good writer but with a formal style slightly different to say an Australian writer educated in an australian school..

Very good guess. Even now, travel by these buses is without schedules and you can stop a bus anywhere to board or deboard it.

As I earlier told I am from India.


7. In the end, thanks for appreciating my writing.

By the way you write, I'm not sure if this is really an 'experience' or not.

However, it was a pleasant story.

Fictional or not i like things that are well written and besides i like suspending my belief for a short period even if it makes me seem flighty, while it's a lot like a well known urban legends. Those legends must have a basis somewhere perhaps this is an incident from which such stories are told *Shrugs* just a couple of cents from me and my first post here

good story but u should give the names associated with this story. and this is not ur 'own' experiance. but well writtn.

Needed to start with the words "Once upon a time" .....

I've read similar accounts of things like this heppneing, but not to the point of having a room full of the things. Strange.

So basically this guy told you a ghost story he'd heard as a little joke, tricking you it to be true.
It happens all the time, my father told me stories like this too!

Sounds like a really un likely thing to take place, and doesn't seem to be too logical and does not make sense in many ways, i mean seriously who reading this can actually say they would find themselves in this situation it sounds like something that would happen in the 40's to me.

Maybe the guy told him his daughter was dead, to make the guy get scared and leave.

Thats a way to keep guys away from your daughter.

A very common legend that I have heard in at least two versions. One happening in South Texas and one in the Deep South. This would be the first time I heard of this story being circulated outside the United States.

this sounds made up

Lame, I've read better things in bathroom stalls.