One Blog at a Time

February 13, 2020 Ghost Story

5 DAY TRUTH or FICTION BLOGGING CHALLENGE
Blog Prompt for Day 4 ▼

- Given that we've all had a ghostly encounter, convince your fellow bloggers that your ghost story is true. (even if it isn't)

I'm not a true believer in ghosts or hauntings and have never experienced what I thought might be one. But I've had moments when a wisp of "what if" has climbed my spine and fogged my brain.

One incident stands out clear and chilling in my mind. Many years ago I had the opportunity to visit Dachau, a German concentration camp, preserved as a memorial and reminder of the holocaust.

My trip to Germany was a reward from my company for insurance sales. I was traveling with my husband and colleagues and their spouses who had also earned the reward. It was a first-class, luxurious experience, all expenses paid, well most. The side trip to Dachau was on us. We had been having a great time, enjoying the sights of Munich and the surrounding area.

A group of us decided we wanted to visit Dachau which is not too far from Munich and the trip to get there was an adventure. We used the public transportation system, changing from trolly, to train, to bus, nervously hoping we were going to get where we wanted to go. We were joking and laughing and engaging the locals around us, trying out our terrible German and being shamed by responses in perfect English. Ah, the ugly American.

Anyway, there was a lot of banter and laughter and a sense of adventure in our little band until we finally arrived. When we entered the gates it all stopped, the air suddenly felt heavy and the gay mood was instantly extinguished. Each of us making our own way onto the grounds going in different directions, the camaraderie forgotten in the silence of the place. I can still hear the crunch of gravel under my feet. There were several other tourists there but it seemed to be the same for all of us. There was no tour guide. It was as if each of us had been selected to be shown something unique, taken by the arm by some invisible source to be told their story. I could almost feel a cold hand on my underarm, guiding me, teaching me.

Do I believe the spirits of those who died there, linger? Absolutely, they were tangible.

No one spoke on the somber way back to the hotel. We didn't just see photos and logs of names, watch a Nazi propaganda video, look inside one preserved barracks, step inside the gas chamber and finally walk by ovens that reduced human beings to ashes, we each in our own way, guided by our invisible host, lived it.

ghostly mist
engulfs and embraces me
with icy arms
                   ~~ jvg