Good evening, my friends, and welcome to “Spooky
True Saturdays”. Since I am still recooperating from an illness that awoke me yesterday morning,
tonight’s tale shall be a short one. Therefore, let us begin the tale of “Unexplained
Anvil”: I’ve mentioned many a time that I grew up
on a farm that had been in my Papaw’s (my grandfather’s) family for generations. With
few exceptions — such as yours truly — the same family stayed and lived on or near that
farm for their entire lives. While my mother was growing up, both her father
and grandfather owned various livestock. This included several horses and ponies over the
years. Now, anyone who has been caretaker to the equine knows that they have to have
their hooves tended to fairly often. They must be inspected for cracks, have the mud
cleaned out, and — most importantly — make sure they are well shoed.
As Papaw’s father had a bit of blacksmith in him (as many old farmer folks did), he
often could be found making and adjusting horseshoes and horseshoe nails at this old
anvil of his. Because of the way the landscape was around those parts, sound carried very
far, so a single peel of an anvil could be heard even a couple miles away. My mother
loved her grandfather and horses, so there was many a time she spent watching the man
work. When he died, the anvil was passed on to my
Papaw. Of course, after my mother’s last equine friend passed from old age, Papaw seldom had
a reason to use the anvil. It remained at the barn near his house for times in which
he needed it, but it mostly became something for squirrels and barn cats to play on.
Now, I should mention that, by the time this story came along, no one else for several
miles around did any sort of blacksmithing work. Those of you that have know that bashing
metal agasint an anvil makes a particular sound. In addition, since I had lived in that
area most of my life, I could with ease tell what a sound was coming from.
Early one morning after my mother’s house was built, just as dawn was slowly starting
to peek over the trees, I saw my mother was standing out on the porch, staring off at
something. Since my mother has never been one to just space out or really stop and smell
the roses, I knew she had to have been watching something. As we had coyotes coming in close,
I figured it was that, and stepped outside to get a look at them and see if I could help
run them off. Instead, for once in my life, I catch my mother
gazing off wistfully toward the trees that head toward my grandparents’ house. I ask
her what was going on. Now, my mother has a flair for the dramatic
and has long been quite the troubled person, but she’s not usually one to make up something
about the supernatural. It’s one of those lines that most people don’t cross back there
— at least when they’re relaying something serious. And she would never put her beloved
grandparents in a light that would make them look bad or could make anyone judge them in
any way. That being said, here is what she told me:
After reminding me how her grandfather used to care for the horses and how he used the
anvil, she told me that she missed hearing the anvil sing after he died.
However, not long after he died, there were times my mother had been in the woods or fields
up from where her house now stood and could hear a phantom anvil ring out. It usually
happened around dawn or dusk, and anybody that possibly could have been using the anvil
was always accounted for. After a few months, the anvil noise died away, and she seldom
heard it again. But around the time we moved into the mostly-finished
house, she had begun hearing it again. I thought she might have had one too many
hard lemonades…when I heard it, too. Now, just because there wasn’t much reason
for Papaw to use it didn’t mean I had never heard it before. But it always was a constant,
adamant hammering where he was trying to fix something — usually a bent tool. Not this
strange ping-ping-PING noise. I heard it multiple times ring out, go quite
for several moments, and then go again. In order to see if there was any sort of explanation,
I called my Granny and asked her if Papaw was around. As it turned out, Papaw wasn’t
even on the property at the time, having left early to go help on one of his friends’ farms.
I asked her to step outside and see if she could see if he had come back, so she did.
Papaw was still gone…but the anvil noise still rang out.
There was no mistaking this sound. When you were in the vicinity when my Papaw used this
anvil, the sound could be defeaning and make you plug your ears. I knew that sound and
there was no way Granny should have missed it.
But not only was Papaw gone, but she couldn’t hear a sound outside.
And there is no logical reason why my Granny should not have been able to hear such a loud
sound. I finally told her what was going on. She
looked down at the barn and saw the anvil, but no one was touching it. Yet my mother
and I still heard the phantom noise. This continued on and off for about thirty
minutes before quitting. To this day, I’m still not sure what my mother
and I were hearing and why we could hear it when Granny could not. My mother seemed to
think it was her grandfather expressing his pride in the hard work she put into making
her new house. Whatever it was, it caused my mother to chill
out and actually look happy for once — a feat far more supernatural a concept than
any haunted anvil… Well, my friends, I hope you all enjoyed this
story. Leave your theories about what made the noise in the comments below. Like, Share,
Sub and all that fun stuff, and I’ll see you all “real” soon…