My old Neighbor’s Shed Story

  I’d like to recount a story told to me by one of my old neighbors, a story that stuck with me and I feel that I have to share. You can skip ahead to the story but I’d like to pay my respects to the man as he was a great friend. When we moved out here, a rugged hilly area in Texas, he and his wife made us feel welcome. I still remember the day after that storm came through he helped my dad with a big tree limb that fell on the house, as well as all the times he brought over his brisket. We miss you old coot, take it easy.

  He’d asked me to come over once and help him with taking down an old fence. We’d started late and only took off the old wire still needing to put the new stuff up. As the sun sank our shadows got longer. I tell you he couldn’t spend a minute working without saying something. Mostly humorous stories about him and his brothers, comments about how we needed more rain before you could burn a brush pile, but nothing this peculiar.

  “I ever tell you about the man who I found in my tool shed?” he asked.

  “No I don’t think so.”

  He pointed in the direction of the shed, even though the juniper and cedar trees blocked view of it.

  “It was late at night and I was putting my ratchet set back when I opened the shed door and there he was standing there. Was a well dressed bugger I’d say, his hands in his pockets, just facing the back wall, looking around at nothing in particular. I asked ‘What that hell you doing?’ And he turned and shrugged.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “I’d say I was about 30 something, 40 years ago maybe.”

  He turned back to the fence, untwisting the old wire that held the barbed wire to the post.

  “What else happened? He leave?” I asked while doing the same on another post.

  “I cussed at him, told him I’d shoot him if he didn’t leave, you know. ‘Any good fishing here?’ he asked me. I told him I’d use him for fish bait if he didn’t leave. He shrugged again, ‘Just close the door then’ and I slammed it, pissed off as I was. I swung it back open.” he raised his voice “How’s that dumbass?” He widened his eyes and spoke softer, “And he was gone.”

  He shook his head and chuckled. I knew he was a pretty levelheaded person, not a big drinker, never did any drugs until his doctor said so about five years ago.

  “You bullshitting me?” I asked with a chuckle.

  “No sir.” He shook his head, “I know’d it was real, would’ve sworn it on my pappy. It was like he was an angel or a ghost. I closed and opened the door again but he didn’t come back.”

  “What do you think it was all about?”

  He took off the last wire tie and pulled the barbed wire away from the fence, “Can you roll this up?”

  “Sure.” 

  He stood up and stretched, looking at the hills contrasting the purple-orange sky, “I think he was an angel. I guess I scarred him off. Reminded me a Bible verse, something about entertaining strangers cause they could be an angel.” 

  I finished rolling up the wire and set it with the rest of trash wire in a pile. He patted me on the shoulder brought me inside for dinner.

  That was a few years ago, he passed recently and it brought to mind that story. I don’t know what it was all about, I don’t know if he really did either but I found it memorable.

  Anyway, thanks for taking the time to read this, watch out for shed men, and have a good one.