Eerie Tales from an East Coast Walmart

"I am quite certain," said the blogger, "That half the fright of a spooky story lies in the telling."

And of course, I think it must be true. After all, all those childhood urban legends (see "On Scary Stories) and frightful tales should not give us half so many goosebumps if they were told in a dull and lifeless manner.

So what has that got to do with a Walmart? 

(Disclaimer: I've nothing against Walmart. It's a terribly convenient place with a good produce section. Except on Christmas Eve when all the late shoppers come, and the place turns into Walmargeddon.)

Well you see, a few weeks ago while grocery shopping, I had a rather odd encounter. I realized that, if given the proper verbal framework, it had the potential to be a creepy little tale. Told otherwise, it might be taken as more humorous. 

Allow me to demonstrate. 

Vanisher:

About two weeks ago, I went grocery shopping at the local Walmart.  I decided to stop by the book section to see what they had.

     On my way there, I passed a young mother pushing a cart with a baby boy staring at a box he'd grabbed. Running ahead of the cart was a little girl no older than four, with a pink sundress and long brown curls. 

" Wait, sweetie, not so fast!" The mother said placidly. 

I passed all three of them and settled into the book aisle. I had just picked up a brightly colored fantasy book and was flipping through the illustrations when the same little girl darted past me.

     Once more, I heard her mother call her, but the giggling preschooler skipped around the corner. 

Then the giggling stopped.

So did the sound of little sandals. 

The mother and baby brother came into the aisle at a sedate pace, seemingly unconcerned, but I was curious: what was the little girl up to around the corner?  I put down the book, stood up,  and walked around the corner. 

There was no one there.

Mind you, it's a very small book section, shaped vaguely like a "E". She might've run out the other branch. Still, it was just small enough that I feel I should have heard or seen her leave.

She had only run around the corner about three full seconds before I went to check. Somehow, the little girl had completely vanished. 

As the mother did not look worried,  I said nothing and went back to my shopping. Still, I couldn't quite get it out of my mind.  What had happened? How had she left the book section without me seeing? 

I later saw her checking out with her mother and brother,  which was rather reassuring.  All the same,  I can't help but wonder: how did the girl vanish?  And where did she vanish to? 

(Insert X-Files theme)

See? The once semi comical story becomes a little creepy! 

The Footprints in the Hall

Every now and then, I'll have a story to tell,  which has no explanation. 

Nevermind the clichés, but it truly was a dark and stormy night, sometime in the late winter or early spring. It was pouring down rain outside, and everyone was inside. I believe we were watching a movie when my grandmother came in from the front porch. 

" Okay, who left muddy footprints in the front hall? " she asked. 

None of us had been outside after the storm had started, and I went to investigate. I thought perhaps it had been one of our two cats that had left the tracks.

I was wrong.

A line of tiny, human-shaped footprints went from the doorway to the middle of the hall, about three feet, and then stopped. I took out a small camera and filmed the trail, though I think I later deleted the footage, because while no one in the house had especially large feet, the tracks were only about half the size of the smallest feet in the house.

Meaning that they couldn't have been made by the feet of anyone in the house. Now, they could have used their hands, but everyone was surprised and confused by the tracks, making a prank somewhat unlikely. 

My only guess was that one of the multiple kindergarteners living in the neighborhood had slipped into the house looking for one of us. 

But how would they have gotten in without someone remembering? 

To this day we don't know who made the footprints in the hall.

Just a story for a stormy night.