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An absolutely truthful account... (strangely, including the contest’s mandatory ’*’)

Twas something like nineteen seventy seven
I saw a guy on a bridge gazing at heaven...
I was sat fishing, set up for the night
The night that that fella would give me a fright

A full moon aglow in an ebony sky
Permitted the sight of that very strange guy
He wore a top hat, and I’m no historian  
But his wrist length cape seemed very Victorian

He had a short telescope held to his eye
And his head was turned up to that cloudless night sky
I could only think with his top hatted head
*He looked like he’d crept from the house of the dead*

What he was watching with hat and cape on
I’ll never know for soon he was gone
I didn’t see him come and I didn’t see him leave 
He was there, then he wasn’t, this I believe

I’m not a proclaimer of ghosts, ghouls and spirits
Or in the concept of afterlife visits
But I checked-out that bridge right through the night
Packed up and went home at very first light.

______


I was about eighteen, night fishing alone on a canal ten miles north of London. My favourite swim (fishing position) was about a hundred yards (ninety metres) from a footbridge over the canal. That bridge was peculiar in that no-one I knew, knew why it was there. It was at least two miles from a road or pavement/sidewalk and aside from crossing the canal... it went nowhere.
It was now dark and ‘something’ caused me to look toward the bridge. He was just there... perfect silhouette, wearing a cape and top hat and gazing skyward through a telescope. I became aware of my rod thumping round to the right... I should point out that, at eighteen, landing a big fish took precedence over watching some weirdo pretending to be a ghost (you might say I was not a believer) so I landed the fish (a smashing Tench), returned him and glanced back to the weirdo. The weirdo was gone and I spent the rest of the night alone, under my fishing umbrella, pondering his whereabouts. 

12 February 2021
Contest: Ghost
Sponsor: Julia Ward
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