Just off the northeast corner of the house, our house here in Bertram is a huge wind chime. It has a pleasant melodious quality about it when there is a light breeze blowing. As the wind picks up, it turns to a haunting sound. So much so, that I have a bungee cord that I wrap around it, as to make it immobile when the wind blowing too strongly. You see it’s just outside my bedroom window.

A while back we had a house guest, a special young lady that is really into Medieval Times. She has a vast knowledge of that era, to the point of being obsessed with that time period.

When she first saw and heard the wind chime she named it Octavius. She spent a lot of time sitting on the porch swing which is just adjacent to Octavius.

That afternoon Madeline took her for a ride around the pasture in our Kubota RTV. As they drove down toward a couple of stock tanks that are behind the house, she had Madeline stop. As they looked over them she told Madeline that Octavius had told her that a boy drowned in one of those ponds.

Madeline was telling me about the new name the wind chime had been given and what our guest had told her about the boy drowning. When she was telling me that I remembered being told about a drowning that happened on this place a good many years ago. In the 1950’s I think it was.

The way I heard the story it was at the end of the school year and a bunch of boys had left school to go take a swim in the pond, which was often used for that purpose. It was only a couple of blocks from the school. One boy went under and never resurfaced.

The incident of the drowning didn’t happen at either of those stock tanks below our house, but at one on the the east edge of our property. After the drowning the earthen dam was removed so it would never happen again.

Our guest is not from around here, so it’s not like she had heard the story before.

Maybe it’s just one big coincidence that she told that story, but perhaps not.

This story may seem familiar. I wrote it some time back and posted it here on The Angora Chronicles. I was sitting here on the porch swing listening to Octavius this afternoon with my grandson Nathan. I asked him if he had ever heard the story about Octavius and the boy. He hadn’t so I did a search and found the story to forward to him. Then the next thing I knew the story went poof and was gone from Facebook. Was it just something that happened or did Octavius not want that story told? I don’t know, but I am taking a chance and re-posting it. If it goes away again, I may not be brave enough to write it a third time.

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