Randolph Giteau
It was a full moon, like tonight, except it was during Prohibition—Christ, can you imagine living under Republicans & not being allowed to drink?
Anyway, it was during a, according to the law, dry full moon that my great-granddad Randoph Giteau staggered into local legend.
Around midnight he was walking home. When my dad told the story, he never said from where, but had to be either the cathouse or his cousin Henry’s still.
This was before streetlights in these parts, but Great-grandpappy was lit, & not only in a lunar sort of way. He came to a crossroads by a pond—
near where the vape shop is now, but there was nothing there back then, & père Randolph rolled his own—
& floating in the pond he saw a man’s naked body. He felt a chill, because who wouldn’t? Also, it was October.
He stumbles off the road to the water’s edge to get a closer gawk, & when he gets there he thinks the corpus looks familiar,
but it’s face-down, & there ain’t that many butts he can identify by sight. A few by touch, but they’re all women’s, & he’s not touching this.
He searches around til he finds a tree branch & pokes at the body. He finally manages to roll it over,
& sees his own face. Then everything goes dark. Nothing. He’s blind.
His family found him there the next morning, moaning & shivering. They took him home & put him to bed,
& he never got out again. Died after a couple of days, but not before telling what happened.
Uncle Brit, the preacher, used to say this was a tale of genuine haunting that proves the spirit world is real.
I figure it was bad moonshine.
— Sturgis Giteau
10/6/25
Halloween Day 6