I Saw a Dead Man Everywhere I Turned

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I've never considered myself particularly psychic. Sure, weird things have happened. I knew the door usually left unlocked would require a key before I opened it. I felt that the baby inside of me would be a girl even though the sonogram tech said there was no way of assessing gender. But life is just full of coincidences, isn't it? Until it wasn't. Until the day I saw a dead man everywhere I turned.

I guess I should back up, huh?


I grew up in one of those big families with more cousins than I can count on two hands and plenty of aunts and uncles. Some I'm close to. Some I have known my whole life but more in that "oh, yeah, that's the father of my cousin" sense. Distance played more of a role in that than any sense of animosity. I saw them rarely and didn't know them well.

But we were looking for a parking spot when I saw him. My uncle, the man who had been married to my aunt since well before I was born, was walking through the parking lot of the big box home improvement store. I debated rolling my window down, but it was overcast and unseasonably chilly for a May day. I figured I'd say hi once we'd parked, but by the time I'd grabbed my purse and locked the doors, he was gone. 

I wrote it off as bad timing. What else would it be? Really. He probably got in his car and drove away. That's what people do in parking lots, isn't it?

But then I saw him again at the next store where I went. Once again, he was walking through the parking lot. Once again, I was in the passenger's seat, but figured I'd catch him out there. And yes, once again, he was gone. OK, so he likes to shop at the same places I do. Big friggin' deal. Although it was a little weird that he was dressed differently . . .

And so it went. Everywhere we went that day, I'd see my uncle. Or a man I thought was my uncle, anyway. Always in different clothes, and I never did get to see his face, not up close, although I must have seen that particularly crooked nose and tall, lanky frame five times that day. A record when you consider it had been a good two years since I'd last run into him -- quite by accident -- at my mother's office. But every time, he disappeared before I could get out of the car. 

I planned to tell my mother my funny story of how I almost but didn't quite run into her brother-in-law, but we got home late, and then . . . you know how time just gets away from you. In fact, I wouldn't talk to my mother until the phone rang the next morning.

"I don't know how to say this," came her voice. "Your Uncle J is dead."

He'd died that morning. Suddenly. And then I was the one who didn't know what to say. How could I tell that story when it was suddenly tinged with such forboding? It wasn't silly. It was immeasurably sad. And I feel a bit selfish in saying this, but it was a little bit scary.

If that's being psychic. I don't want to be.


Image via doortoriver/Flickr


Previous Scary Stories:

I Went to a Psychic & She Predicted My Future

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A Ghost Boy Appeared to Me in the Night

My Own Real-Life "Pet Sematary" Horror Story

My 5-Year-Old Daughter Is Psychic & It Freaks Me Out

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