I was homesick; we had been living in Louisville, Kentucky for a little over three years and I was  missing Tennessee. Sometimes when I’m feeling like that I’ll put on Don Williams and imagine I’m back in Daddy’s truck on the way to a rodeo. Other times I will watch Ken Burn’s Civil War documentary and the slow drawl of Shelby Foote will make me feel like I’m sitting with my long lost Great Uncles hearing another story from them. 

This particular day though, it being close to Halloween and all, I decided I would find a good podcast about The Bell Witch and relish in an old ghost story from back home. I had spent the better part of the day listening in great detail to a story I knew like the back of my hand, and despite its haunting nature, it felt like a warm hug from a lost friend. 

Until I got in my wife’s van to go grab my family dinner. 

For a split second, I could have sworn The Bell Witch was in the backseat of my wifes van, and I was John Bell about to meet my end. 

The podcast was playing in my earbuds as I turned on the ignition, and right as I put the van in reverse, I heard the most awful high pitched voices directly behind my head. My life flashed before my eyes; every time I had mocked the idea of ghosts and witches ran through my head and I just knew that it was all over for Jacob Hatcher.

I slammed the van into park and jumped out there like it was on fire and my pants were made of gasoline. As the electronic backdoor slowly rolled open, the witch finally revealed itself. 

My wife had borrowed a DVD player for an upcoming road trip, and much to my surprise, that thing started playing as soon as it got power. My witch wasn’t a witch after all. It was merely an episode of Paw Patrol. Though I must confess that even before then I was a little scared of Mayor Goodway and her weird little bird.