Weird Tales/Volume 36/Issue 2/It Happened to Me

by Sigmond Miller

It Happened to Me

WEIRD TALES will pay ten dollars apiece for true psychic experiences. Have you ever slept in a haunted house, or been chased by a ghost? Have you ever dreamed a dream that came true? Has your life been saved by a vision? Let the other readers of WEIRD TALES know about your weird experience. Your story mast be briefly told, in not more than a thousand words; the shorter the better. It must be true, interesting, and must deal with the supernatural. Write it down today and send it to WEIRD TALES, "It Happened to Me" department, 9 Rockefeller Plaza, New York, N. Y. We will pay ten dollars for every one used.

THE GUARDIAN ANGEL

By SIGMOND MILLER

It's a long stretch between Jackson City and Logan, every bit of three hundred miles. The fast trains that come through here, if they're behind time, can easily build up a good speed and make the schedule, for it's a straight run. No need to slow down; no difficult bends and very few cross roads.

On this spring night the fog was unusually heavy. Engineer Timson pulled out his big watch. "On time," he said laconically.

I wiped my brow; I'm the fireman. "Kinda heavy fog t'night."

Timson grunted and busied himself at the controls. The huge panting locomotive got under way. Soon the click-clack of the wheels beat rhythmically and the crack Western Limited moved along at high speed.

For an hour neither of us said anything, but attended to our duties. We were making good time despite the fog. Suddenly Timson shouted out in a strange voice. "My eyes must be goin' back on me. Do yuh see what I see?"

I looked out of the cab and saw directly ahead and above what seemed to be nothing else but a silhouette of a black Angel. The wings were wide and black and the apparition rode the sky with the same speed as the train. "Almighty God!" I said in an awed whisper. "What is that!"

"Yuh see it too, don't yuh?"

I nodded.

"It looks like the Angel of Death," said Timson, his voice packed with fear.

"It's a warning!" I shouted, quite frightened. "Put on the brakes!"

The engineer needed no urging. The locomotive came to a quick halt.

Both of us got off. The apparition remained stationary in the sky. It moved or seemed to beckon. "It's trying to warn us. Maybe something wrong with the engine," I said.

We walked around the huge boiler tube examining the eccentric crank, the reversing links, the connecting rods, but found nothing wrong.

The figure in the sky remained where it was.

"Well, I'll be hanged!" I said with great relief.

"What yuh find?" asked the engineer walking over to me.

"It's just a moth stuck on the headlight Just threw a shadow in the sky like a movin' picture." I handed Timson the fluttering moth.

"Yuh certainly scared the daylights outa me," said Timson, looking fascinatedly at the insect.

"Sure is one on us. Wait'll the boys hear this one."

"Let's get goin'. We're losin' time," said Timson, himself again.

"Wait a minute. Hear somethin'?"

Timson listened. "That surely sounds like water. That must be Chapman's Creek."

"Kinda loud for a little creek. Let's go see what it is."

"Short ten minutes a'ready. But we can take a quick look."

We followed the tracks down a hundred feet or so and suddenly the tracks disappeared into an expanse of water. The trestle over Chapman's Creek was gone. What was once a small stream was now a raging, roaring river, flooded by the heavy spring rains.

For a long time we stared down at it unbelievingly, then turned and looked at each other's pale faces. Silently, we walked back to the panting engine.