This story is true... at least I think it is.
My grandparents live on a beautiful old farm with a white farm house and four on site fields. Before their beautiful house was built, a small, one story house stood in it's place. In it lived an old man, Mr. Johnson, his wife, 1 cat, 3 dogs, and 6 kids. Mr. Johnson lived there around 1899 and had a fairly primitive farm. Old tractors, old barn and a hand dug well. The first well caved in, rendering the farm dry. Old man Johnson had begun to dig a new well in the ideal location - behind the carriage house. He had dug about 15 feet that day, making the well about 30 ft deep. He climbed up the ladder, removed it from the hole and carelessly forgot to cover it. Old Man Johnson walked to the house for dinner. It was just about 7:00 and it was dark. Stars lit up the sky brilliantly twinkling. The Johnson's 3 old border collies lay at the door, waiting for action of any sort. Suddenly, the dogs let out a long, mournful howl and jumped at the door. The sheep in the pasture about 100 ft away were bleating in terror. Mr. Johnson ran out the door with his rifle in hand and his three dogs racing ahead of him to the pasture. The dogs zipped passed the uncovered hole, but Old Man Johnson wasn't so agile. He fell in. About and hour later, Mrs. Johnson went looking for her husband. She cautiously walked toward the pasture, the same fateful route Mr. Johnson had taken earlier. When she got to the well, she saw his cap lying by the hole. She feared the worst and peered into the well. Nothing. Nothing except the old man's rifle. There was no way out except up and there were no track leading anywhere except the dogs'. Now, near Halloween, you can see blurry figures pass you by the carriage house. The well is covered up now but some how Old Man Johnson always replays his death.