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Mr Man

June 6, 2011

We lived in a 1797 farmhouse for 15 years, and have a bunch of stories. One of them began in the first months after we moved in with our 3 year old son.

One day he was in his bedroom talking to someone. When we asked who he said, “Mr Man”; we smiled and forgot it, his imaginary friend.

Over a few weeks he started talking more about “Mr Man”, and we asked about him. Mr Man was described as being short, red-headed, dirty hands, and walking with a limp. He always wore ‘pants like mine’ (big overalls), and dirty boots. Mr Man told the kid he used to live in the house. He also told him not to drop toys in the water like his own children had done – WTF, there was no water around.

Mr Man was his ‘friend’ for a couple of years, then quit coming around.

Doing research on the house a few years later, we discovered the place was once owned by a Civil War veteran, who had been wounded and walked with a noticable limp. He was a blacksmith and farmer, who stayed in the place until 1903 (dirty hands, muddy boots, overalls?). We even found a picture of him in the country archieves; he was a very short man. He had also been known in the community as ‘red’ (for his hair color?).

A few years later we tore down an outbuilding and discoverd a cistren under it. I pumped it dry to cap it for safety and found a marbles, dolls, and other toys in the bottom.

There are other stories from that house which are not as ‘friendy’.

We had a door that wouldn’t stay shut. It had a heavy forged latch on it that had to come up about 3/4″ to open it. No matter what it would be open in the morning. One night my wife was joking and said, ‘Quit opening my damned door’. The door stayed closed for two weeks.

One room we never used also had a door to the porch. That door had a deadbolt lock, a sliding bolt, and childproof latch at the top. The wife went into that room one evening for some reason and found muddy footprints leading from the door to the main part of the house.

Back at the kitchen table she said she guessed whoever was opening the kitchen door was coming in that way now. Laughing, she said, ‘You can use whatever door you like’, and within 3 seconds the clasp on the kitchen door clicked and the door opened.

– Posted by Eat More Possum; Fark

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One comment

  1. to be honest, the name of this reminds me of a imaginary freind(S) i had till i was about 13.
    the first one’s name was shade. at first i made him up because i was lonely, and he truly became real overtime.
    he would comfort me when i was sad or just got yelled at, and especially if i was being suicidal.
    shade’s appearance wasn’t clear to me, but i always saw him wearing dark colors, with spiky hair, like the kind guys have in anime. he looked sad, but he would have nice conversations with me through my mind (as i wouldn’t speak out loud, for fear i would sound crazy). he was with me for a while, but then suddenly stopped seeing me.
    after that, i found a new friend who was a girl, with long hair and a friendly smile. i named her “sunshine”. i actually only talked to her a few times, and it was always brief like a “hello, nice to see you again!”, but she never could replace shade.

    to this day, i still think of shade as begin my depression (like i said before, i used to be suicidal, and self harmed), and sunshine coming along when i became happy again. (i went to a therapist and i got better).

    i know i should be glad, if that is the truth, that he is gone, but i feel that he was my best friend. it’s like i lost a part of me, and it really sucks.



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