I was on my way home at about three one morning, walking north on Broadway in Lorain. It was September of 1987, and still summery warm. I was passing a gas station right at the bend where Broadway meets Elyria Avenue when I decided to call a young lady friend, who'd generally be up. So, I sauntered over to the pay phone at the station, dropped in a quarter, and punched in Sandy's number. Sure enough, she was sitting up watching tv.
We'd been talking for several minutes when I noticed someone across the street, actually on Elyria Avenue, heading north; Elyria and Broadway Avenues both run north and south, and merge at Sixteenth Street, continuing from there as Broadway.
The figure was that of a woman, dressed in clothing from the late fifties... A red beret, capping short, curly black hair, a yellow angora sweater top, v-necked, a yellow and blue plaid wraparound skirt, to a bit below the knee, and red high-heeled sandals.
She, whoever she was, was walking slowly, haltingly, as if injured or exhausted, although I could see no blood. The form, and the outfit, seemed strangely familiar, and unnervingly strange.
I must have fallen silent, for I heard Sandy asking me if something was wrong...
I assured her that I was okay, and began to describe what I was seeing.
Suddenly, as if my vision had somehow become clearer, I saw something that chilled me to the core...
The woman had no face.
There was a gray void where her features should have been, as if they were shrouded in some way. As I was relating this to my friend, the figure vanished. As it vanished, I understood why it looked familiar. I looked down at my watch, at the date...
9 September. Twenty years before, in 1967, my favorite aunt, Mary-Ellen, had committed suicide by drowning herself. My memory flashed back to happier times, and the outfit my aunt liked to wear when she'd go out for the evening...
A red beret, atop her black, curly pageboy, her favorite yellow angora sweater, a wraparound plaid skirt, and red sandals that matched her beret.
I said "goodnight" to Sandy, and hung up the phone.
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