The Ghost of Sophronia Hodgett

Once upon a time, a family of City Slickers (OK, my family... play along), moved to an ancient farmhouse, far, far away. This house stood tall and brave amidst a swirling sea of wheat, yet small and timid at the feet of the blue mountains that it was nestled against.

While the City Slickers realized that they had not technically moved into the middle of nowhere, they definitely were somewhere on the outskirts of nowhere, and aside from the thrill of watching the combine steadily pace back and forth across the fields like a worried parent, it soon became obvious that entertaining themselves would require some creativity.

Propping itself up awkwardly in an unsure manner, was a chicken coop in the brambly pasture adjacent to the house. City Slicker Mom, having no interest whatsoever in the foul business of... foul, helped City Slicker Kids, instead, outfit the structure with a disco ball, a rickety wagon wheel table & chairs found abandoned in the garage and a karaoke machine. City Slicker Mom is pretty sure she saw Combine Guy shaking his head, weary with disgust.

Keeping a watchful eye on City Slicker family from the hill just above ancient farmhouse, was the town cemetery. City Slicker family had just barely recovered from the excitement of driving 10 miles to watch a grass fire smolder (I told you they had to be creative) when they decided to make their way up to this cemetery and check it out.

Approaching the entrance, City Slicker Family was immediately intrigued by the look and feel of the place. Grave markers and obelisks jutted up from the ground at all angles like crooked teeth and melancholy angel statues gazed lovingly down as they stood watch over the dearly departed. As the kids flitted from one faded, crumbling marker to another, trying to find the oldest among them (1878 BTW), the Mom couldn't help but fixate on a section fenced off with ornate, black wrought iron, where 6 children lie buried together having died within weeks of each other, over 90 years ago and try to imagine how this came to be, and how a mother could muster the strength to go on after such tragedy.

While the mom solemnly and intently walked up and down the rows, giving each marker it's due respect, the kids excitedly scrambled from one to another, often calling out to the others, "look at this one, he died in 1895", or "look at this one, it is so pretty", and eldest City Slicker Girl sadly noted one child, who died on her own birthday decades earlier.

Suddenly... as City Slicker Baby(4years old) brushed past a dark, imposing obelisk, City Slicker Mom heard a scream and turned to see the crumbling masonry fall from it's pedestal toward her youngest child. Fortunately, the angels standing guard that day, were in no mood for another charge and the monument merely bruised and scraped City Slicker Baby on it's way down where it landed with a resounding thud against the moist grass.

As the mother quickly scooped up her child and willed her own heart to resume beating, she noticed the inscription on the stone and read it out loud, "Sophronia Hodgett, 1842-1897." City Slicker Boy, now certain that they were all cursed and therefore also doomed (DOOMED, I tell you... DOOMED!)frantically motioned toward the car, exclaiming, "I vote we leave, NOW!!" "Curse you Sophronia Hodgett... Curse You!" Proclaimed Eldest City Slicker Girl with a defiantly upraised fist, which she shook in the general direction of the fallen marker as City Slicker Family scampered quickly back to their car and peeled out of the parking lot back to their ancient farmhouse.

For the entire year that City Slicker Family resided amongst the swirling wheat field, nestled against the blue mountains under the watchful eye of the cemetary, they were aware that they were never alone... amongst the angels and sentinals on the hill above them, was Sophronia Hodgett, patiently biding her time...