When I was 15, I lived on my parents' horse farm in Social Circle, Georgia. Across the street from our farm was a huge piece of property (about 500 acres) owned by a judge from Atlanta. The land was mostly pasture leased out to farmers but there were also a few buildings including two very old clap-board houses in extreme need of repair (or a bulldozer). Anyway, every morning at about 7:50, I would stand out at the end of my driveway waiting for my ride to school. It was one foggy morning when I saw what was either a ghost or my imagination. The two old houses I mentioned before were about 20 yards down the road. I looked in that direction and noticed an old black man dressed in a dark jumpsuit crossing the road towards the two houses. He was walking very slowly with a slight limp. I remember thinking he better move his ass before a car came. I turned away for just a couple of seconds and when I turned back, he was gone. There was no way, as slow as he was walking, that he could have left my view. I wasn't particularly afraid because I thought it was just my imagination but as I thought about it later in the day, I remembered him looking very real. I stood out there many mornings after but I never saw him again.