Revision 1

The hopper gas station

It a quarter until 5 and business is slow as usual and there hasn’t been a customer in about an hour. My name is Richard Carr and I work here. By myself. Alone. Anyway it’s a breezy day in October and like I said business is slow and I have been fighting myself on whether I should sleep for a while or watch some television. I think I will rest my eyes because Irene was up late last night sick with the yella fever. And I’m quite tired and based on the pace of today I think resting my eyes won’t hurt anything. As I’m drifting off…..slowly……..un..t….il……the slam of a pickup truck, I jump up and go outside because part of my job is to help pump the gas and as I ran out there, there was a man with overalls and a clean cut haircut with old boots that have walked a thousand miles. I shout “Hello Sir may I help you?” he swung around and looked me dead in the eyes and said “I think I’ve got it!” with a grizzly, scratchy voice. So I head back in behind the register and start bringing the charge up which rang up to 55 cents and as usual he headed inside with a beer in hand and so I rang him up saying “Do you live around here?” he explained how he owned some land 30 miles away and has had that land from generation to generation. So after a few minutes of steady small talk I discover his name. His name was Herbert herbertson and then he left on his way. I yet again does off with the background hum of the small desk fan I have located to my right. After about an hour another customer comes in and this person is a female and she was kind of softly crying and I asked her what was wrong and she said and I quote “ today the bank is taking my families land and keeping it on the anniversary of my father’s death!” “How could they?” I answered well I’m so sorry to hear that and I really sorry about your father he’s probably a good man. She looked at me and said “He was, his name was Herbert Herbertson and he died almost 14 years ago today” my faced turned white as I remembered his face, his touch, his voice and I said “By any chance did he where old worn out overalls and old boots?” she looked up with her beautiful, soft face “yes, yes he did how do you know?” I just guessed, scared out of my mind I just realized that I saw a ghost the hour prior. I could never forget that day for the 65 more years I lived. Although I told everyone, no one believed me and to the grave I took that story hoping that I would see that man again. It haunts me everyday and I've been puzzled by this everyday of my life because of one reason....i continue to see this man all of the time and he doesn't try and hurt me he just stands there and just stares into me like i wasn't even there and i think he needs help passing over and I've contacted a psychic and she said to help I need to try and talk to him so I did and he told me he doesnt want to go back and it scares me and i try and run away but he follows me and im tired so i've learned to accept it.