Ghost Stories

The Summer of 1994

I'm not sure if this falls in Story or Talk forum. It's not a ghost story, but equally as odd and personally disturbing. I'm changing names in it. Starts out like this...

In the summer of '94 I was 13, I had two very good friends; Jeff and Chris, both lived across the street from me. Chris's father worked at a company that had expanded to Barbados, so in the summer time, he would fly to Barbados for 8 days, come home for a couple, and fly back to set up offices. He was a good man, always looking out for us, and making us the best damn spanish pizza I've ever had in my life!!!

Jeff and I were asked by Chris's father to look out for him while he was away, which we gladly did. Also, Chris's cousin Ty came down from New York for the summer, and the four of us formed a tight bond that still lasts today. We did everything that bored 13 y/o's would do, playing baseball and basketball, manhunt at night, or sitting in my den talking to all hours of the night.

It was an Early August night, about 11:30 PM. Chris's mom went to Newark Intl. Airport to pick up his father. Chris and Ty had to be in before they got back, so they were in their house. Jeff and I were sitting infront of my house ready to go in when Chris' mothers car pulled into the driveway with his father in the passanger seat. We were watching them talk, laugh, and be happy to be around each other. They then kissed each other and embraced. Jeff muttered "Awwww, that's nice." But I didn't have a good feeling from it. All I kept muttering was "Wrong, something is right with this." I started feeling a terrible feeling of pain and anguish. The next sentence I said haunts me until today.. I turned to Jeff and said, "When Chris's dad goes back to Barbados, he's not coming home." My friend looked at me horrified and said "Dude, WTF! How can you say that???" I just kept asking my friend if he got that terrible feeling also, which he didn't. I made my friend at ease when I said "It's late, I'm just talking crazy. Sorry." We left it at that and went in for the night.

As always, Chris's father went back to Barbados. I had written off what I had said to just being tired. A few days after he left, we were playing basketball in Chris's backyard having a normal good time. Chris's mom was yelling at Chris to eat something when the phone rang. Of course, no one paid it anymind, so we continued to play on. I Then heard Chris's mom saying into the phone "Yes.. is he ok... where is he... what happe... OH MY GOD, NO!!!!" She started screaming and wailing at the top of her lungs, and that feeling came over me again. Chrus and Ty ran in the house to see what had happened. Though they were in there for only a few minutes, it seemed like an eternity. Ty emerged from the house crying. All he could say was "He;s gone, Chris's dad is gone."

His father had gotten sick while flying down to Barbados and let it go for a day. He couldn't take it anymore so he went to the doctor and was perscribed penecillin. There's was a problem, he was allergic to it. The doctor's there didn't know it, and apparently, he didn't know it was perscribed to him. He had an allergic reaction to it, and the hospital workers down there couldn't save him. He was 34, leaving behind a wife and a 13 y/o son.

Many years later, Jeff and I were talking about that night. All Jeff wanted to know was, "Damian, how did you know? We sat there seeing them happy in the car, and you said 'He's not coming home'. How did you know that?" I wish I could have given him an answer, and I still can't to this day. Chris's father never did come home, he was buried in Barbados. I've never told Chris or Ty the feeling that I had that night, and I never will. I've also never spoken of it to anyone other than Jeff or my girlfriend untill today.