My grandmother was thirty years old then. It was just after the war, during the cold, winter night when she and her husband – my grandfather Walenty – where coming home by dray cart. Basia where driving.
They where riding through the graveyard. The moon was bright so there where shadows between the trees. Suddenly there appeared some posture. My grandparents where riding further, nearer and nearer, but the phenomenon didn’t disappear. Clearly between the trees there was standing white, slightly transparent phantom. Walenty began to scream, and if he where Basia, he would certainly drive horses. But a driver was my grandmother. She was slowly stopping the dray cart and began to peer to the flickering phenomenon. Grandad was whispering “That is a ghost, please go!”. But Baśka told him, that there are no ghosts, and if he, the eleven years older administrator of the PGR, wouldn’t go to find out what it was, she would check by herself. Didn’t thinking a lot, she got off the vehicle chased by a silent swearword of the husband.
Then Basia was telling, that she had her heart in the throat wading through frozen snow of fresh graveyard, that she wasn’t certain that it was a ghost. She was walking and walking, but a posture was standing among the trees and it didn’t appear less real at all. But my grandmother went between the graves digged this day and discovered the origin of pale emanation. It turned out, that gravediggers strew fresh graves with calcium and that was exactly those strange mist.
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