During one of our longer stays in one place (they were few and far in between I assure you,) I often visited a park that was a short walk from the back of the property we lived on. The park had been designed by a brilliant landscape artist who had a passion for water and had thus created a walking area filled with the music of falls and slow moving streams.

My first visit to this place was with my parents, we often took strolls around the neighborhoods of our new homes before they would each disappear into their busy lives. I suppose you could say it had become a ritual, a way of blessing and enjoying our temporary residence while taking in the new sights around us.

On that first day we arrived at the park at just about twilight and I ran ahead as I so often did to admire one of the streams that cleverly fell into a small pond below. The sound of it will to this day be one of my favorites in the world and I think I might have stayed there mesmerized forever had I not heard someone humming close by.

I stood up, for I had been kneeling close to the bank, and looked about expecting to see my parents approaching. I did spot them, but they were far off on the other side of the park. As I continued to look around me I finally noticed a woman, very slight and unearthly looking, tracing the water in the pond with her bare feet. She was across the way from where I was and fairly well hidden by the taller grasses that ran wild back from the paths.

I had not expected to encounter any ghost activity that day, but I suppose in a way I was always ready for it. After enough paranormal experiences it takes a great deal to truly surprise you, although I’m not sure you ever completely get over the slightly startled feeling.

I waved at her, still not certain that she wasn’t a living person…but knowing that she didn’t look quite right.

The woman smiled and waved back at me without breaking her soft humming. She then drew a water lily from the pocket of her dress and set it a float on the water. It moved right to me and I plucked it out before it reached the bank.

It was a beautiful flower, not crushed at all from its previous owner, but full and bright and soft to the touch.

When I looked up again the woman was surrounded by them and had moved into the water. She was only about calf deep when she suddenly laughed and sank all the way under. The fading light made it difficult to see, but the floor of the pond beneath was clearly visible…she was gone.

I waited for a few moments watching the lilies, but she did not return.

A few days later I went back to that spot, on my own this time. There were few people about the park and after a short time even they left leaving me to myself.

I waited for some time, enjoying the sounds and feeling of the cool rushing water, but nothing happened that day. Or the next, or the next.

It was a friend of my father’s that gave me the help I needed. I overheard them discussing that my parents might want to warn me against swimming in any of the shallow pools for a woman had drowned there and she quite the swimmer.

It was the flora at the bottom that had grabbed her, tangled her up and prevented her from otherwise easily finding her breath.

The event had taken place sometime ago and rumors of her haunting the park that had once been well known were by then all but forgotten, but my father’s friend did mention that people spoke of it when he was young and especially of the tune she would hum during these encounters..

Once I had the name of the song I asked my mother for a copy. She purchased the album for me and I learned it by heart. I even learned to play it on the piano, though not terribly well, as always.

Armed with my knowledge of her favorite song and a name, Anne, I returned to the park and the very spot where I had first seen her. I hummed my heart out and sang and whistled hoping to gain the interest of the musical ghost and perhaps even speak with her.

After a little while of this I noticed a lily in the water, then two and then many. Again, the light was fading, but was still plentiful enough to see that the small pond had been filled with them. I hummed louder.

Eventually my ears picked up on not one voice but two, humming in unison. It lasted for maybe twenty minutes or so and then I was alone, with a dry throat that begged for relief from my unusual new practice.

I returned to that park many times over years, even after we had moved away. The woman’s descendants still live in the nearby town, but they were reluctant to discuss the connection or the subject at all. I have found that this is often more true than not and though I can’t completely understand it I try to respect the wishes of those who would rather not know.

I never saw the woman again, but even visiting a couple of decades later I would still see the water lilies and be able to enjoy a chorus of humming. I have even brought along a few choice friends to witness it, adoring the expressions on their faces when they begin to see and hear the stories I’ve told them come to life.

I have heard people speak of ghosts who continue to haunt as if something were wrong with them and in some cases that might be true. As for Anne, I never felt that she was unhappy or lost, simply acting on an impulse that I had myself on that first visit: to stay forever near the sound of the tiny falls.

Goodbye for now, another end.
Until a time we meet again.

-Seline