Ricochet is the best place on the internet to discuss the issues of the day, either through commenting on posts or writing your own for our active and dynamic community in a fully moderated environment. In addition, the Ricochet Audio Network offers over 50 original podcasts with new episodes released every day.
Beyond the Veil: Ghost Stories and Contacts from Beyond
Once in the long ago, there was a place on the internet much like Ricochet’s PIT. It had started out as the comment section for an odd news story, but it continued on with hundreds of thousands of comments long after that particular story was no longer accessible. Because of the initial story, it attracted an odd and quirky bunch who were soon camping out on the thread. One of these internet squatters was “Tor.”
Tor was hilariously funny. Over time, some of his history emerged. He had been a minor Olympian for his European nation. At one point, he had been in his country’s military and had participated in Desert Storm in the 1990s. Much later I found out he had also been in the forces involved in trying to protect civilians in the break-up of Yugoslavia. There was a lot of pain behind the funny.
When a bunch of yahoos decided to fly jumbo jets into buildings, Tor re-enlisted in his nation’s military. He was in his country’s special forces. He was sent somewhere, I was never certain where, although I had clues. The one thing I know is that wherever he was sent, his country was not officially there or participating. Remember when a photo in the news media outed the fact that some Polish forces were participating in, was it Iraq? Well, he wasn’t Polish, but he was in a similar situation. His nation’s government was fulfilling obligations, but did not want to admit it to the public. He was always cagey as to what was happening due to concerns over operational security.
Whatever place he was in, there was a bomb. One of what later became known as Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs) took out a bus near where he and others happened to be standing. It blew him back hard, and he landed on his shoulder. He had minor injuries from shrapnel and scraping along a hard surface. He also had fibers from his flak jacket embedded in his shoulder. But, he got up and walked away from it, which was more than many were able to say from the incident. Three days later, he fell down dead. It was renal, liver, and heart failure.
Officially, since his country was not participating where the injury occurred, he had been injured in a training accident in his own country. Yes, governments lie.
Luckily for Tor, he was close to medical facilities, and he was quickly revived. The IED had had some chemical weapon included. It had taken a few days for the trace amount to which he had been exposed to shut down his systems. He was evacuated to a military hospital in Germany where he spent the next several months. The doctors were able to deal with the after-effects of the chemical weapon, but there were other complications from the initial injuries. He lost a few fingers to gangrene. But the thing that caused the most trouble for months on end were those fibers from his flak jacket that had been embedded in his shoulder. The area would not heal, and it became infected. The doctors finally determined that the arm and shoulder would have to come off.
In the months he had spent in the hospital, someone had suggested a new place on the internet for him to go, a place where wounded warriors used poetry as a form of therapy. As he knew I was a poet, he had brought me over there as well. We had spent time together through that site and communicated nearly daily. The site was a bit more private than the place we had initially met had been.
On the day he was to have surgery, I did not go on the internet at all.
I was doing dishes after dinner when I heard someone behind and above me laugh with the thought, “How domestic!” I immediately knew it was Tor coming to say goodbye. I dried my hands and went back to my office to turn on my computer and log in. There on the poetry therapy site was a fresh announcement from Tor’s brother. Tor had just passed a few minutes before. He had been too weak to survive the amputation surgery after months in the hospital.
My friends, I know that many of you have had contacts from those who have passed. What are your stories?
Published in General
If it’s got horns… :twisted:
I worked with a guy who was 7 feet tall, with a Mohawk, who wore nothing but black leather, including a duster that came down almost to the ground.
First thing I ever said to him was, “That’s a whole lot of cow”.
Oh, man, don’t get me started…
Not that I can say much:
If you know my wife and I then you know that we are pet people. We’ve been married 35 years and only been “petless” for three of them, and they weren’t three consecutive years. We normally have two dogs: hers is always a Miniature Schnauzer and mine is a Weimaraner.
I was never much of a cat person. Didn’t get raised around them, never had them in the house so I never developed much of an affinity for them. Well, my wife changed that not long after we got married. She was picking up one of our dogs at the vet when she was presented with a small kitten that was “abandoned” by its mom. So of course she did the next natural thing: she had my son who was 3 years old at the time call me and ask me if he could bring the kitten home (yes, she plays dirty pool sometimes). So I welcomed a grey tabby into the family, we called her Gypsy.
Gypsy grew up to be a large cat, by large I mean overweight. But she won my heart over. I had someone visit the house one time and tell me that my cat looked like grey watermelon with a head on it. He was never invited back to my house again.
Gypsy would sleep on our bed and normally would come to bed with us late at night, after we had already gone to bed. Being a heavy animal, when she jumped up on our bed it was like having a sack of potatoes dropped on the foot of the bed. And you could feel her walk to her spot midway between my wife and I to curl up and go to sleep.
She grew to age 9 and then got cancer which took her down quickly. We had to put her to sleep.
About a week after she was put to sleep I felt her jump on our bed and then walk to her spot. I didn’t say anything to anyone about it. This happened twice more and all three times my wife was in bed with me.
It happened a fourth time. I thought my wife was asleep but she wasn’t. Lying in bed beside me she asked “Have you been feeling Gypsy get in bed with us at night?”. I said “Yes I have”.
This continued off and on for a few more months and then it stopped. My wife and I think that she went too quickly and wasn’t ready to say goodbye.
She was my first cat and a damn good one.
I thought this was members only. I will be deleting comments now. If anyone quoted mine, please delete. Sorry
My wife and I often talk about our “third cat.” There certainly seems to be another presence about. Doesn’t eat much, though.
Sorry you didn’t catch that. Mine are seldom marked that way. Of course, with my poetry threads, they’re never demoted to the Main Feed anyway. I have deleted all quoted comments of yours that you deleted.
Thanks. I didn’t even check! I assumed people would be more encouraged to tell personal stories if it were Members Only. Duh. My own fault. Why do we always assume everyone else is just like us haha.
I love this story! Maybe she was at her 9th life.
I think that’s a “knight” in white satin….
In a puffy shirt? I think not!
Troubadour, then? Bard, perhaps?
A kuhniggit has to wear something in his off hours. That armor chafes after a day in the saddle.
There is also a difference between a rural knight off on his farm and a knight at court.
Silk? Who do you think you are, Lancelot?
I treasure the puffy shirt picture as much as the one of Skip in pigtails
Not some jumped up pig farmer, like some knights I could mention.
That’s a whole lot of silkworm…