The Mysterious "Lady In Black".
(continued from Newsletter # 60)
Bob Davidson survived the lightning strike, but was comatose for several weeks. Once revived, his recovery was long and arduous. He reported to have had what he considered to be a visitation with his recently deceased father during the time he was unconscious. Bob had no memory of being struck by lightning or of the mysterious lady who came to his aid. Mr. Davidson made a miraculously full recovery form his very near death experience.
May 20, 1988
I was living on the East side of Indianapolis, in a small basement apartment near the corner of Linwood and Washington Streets. My building was about seven miles from the site where the described events surrounding the Lady in Black took place.
At the time, I had heard nothing about her or anything that I have just written about the incident. I had no knowledge of "The Lady" or of any of the history pertinent to her.
The Spring of '88 was a stressful time for me. I had just quit my job as a psychiatric attendant at Central State Hospital, and was doing part- time work for a "temp" agency. I had one friend who would spend almost all-day, every day with me. His name was Melvin. He lived just down the street and was even more unemployed than I was. So we had plenty of time to sit around and co-miserate; often getting on one another's nerves.
I had actually known Melvin for about four years. When I moved to that address, I was much more accessible to him than ever before. And like I said, we were at a point with each other where we were pushing the limits of our congenial friendship.
On that particular Friday, (5-20-88) Melvin paid one his daily visits. There was something wrong. He wasn't "Melvin". He began speaking of comfortable ways to end his life. I knew him well enough to know that he wasn't playing a joke with me. My psychiatric training (from over 15 years) cued me to be attentive to his words, and to take them seriously.
But to be perfectly honest, I just couldn't find the energy to react in any type of panic or urgency. It wasn't that I didn't care for him; there was just something "in the air" that caused me to deal with him in a very matter-of-fact "professional" way. That was quite out of character for me where Melvin was concerned. I might normally have yelled a little, joked a little, and left him with the words: "Don't worry about it, everything will be alright."
But not that day. I suppose I was unconsciously preparing myself for Melvin's suicide. As many "ups' and "downs" as we had weathered together over the years, I just didn't want to have to go too head-long into the final "down".
I drove him home about 3 PM, and then went back to my apartment. Of course, once I pulled away from his house, the weight of it all hit me.
I can so clearly remember stepping through my door, facing the Southeast; going to the middle of the dining room; lifting my hands to "Heaven" and saying, "Lord, send an angel to deal with Melvin."
And that's where I left it.
Melvin called me at around 8 PM the following evening (Saturday). He was sounding much better and even asked if I would want to take him and his cousin for a ride in the "country". He apologized for having been such a weight on my shoulders the day before, and hoped that a refreshing ride away from the city might do all of us a lot of good. It all sounded good me. I went to his house where he and his cousin were waiting. He asked if I would mind if he drove. I figured, "Anything to keep him smiling!", so away we went.
We went for fast food and then headed Southeast. We had nowhere to go and all night to get there.
Just past 10 PM, we were driving South in the 6600 block of South Franklin Road. The radio was going and sending "heavy metal" throughout the car.
The night was clear, cool, and damp. And in the 6600 Block of S. Franklin; very dark.
Melvin was driving when we all noticed the figure of a strangely dressed woman coming toward us on the right side of the road. The car's headlights were all that illuminated her. She had long black flowing hair. She had the high cheek bones of a Native American. Her eyes were oddly bright and strangely peaceful.
Her expression was both forceful and placid. She was garbed in what looked to us to have been a hand-woven, beaded serape. We passed her without any of us saying a word. Then we all said at once. "That was a woman!"
Why a woman would be taking a stroll so far away from anything stuck us as a sure sign that she was in trouble, so Melvin put the car in reverse with the hopes that the white reverse lights would show the woman's location as we backed up. We slowly drove in reverse but couldn't see her where she "should" have been. Melvin stopped the car and I hopped out to see if I could find her to offer assistance. I jogged for about 50 feet and came to the realization that she just wasn't there any more. I took note of the old brick "school house" before me to my left and walked back to the car.
I got in the car and closed the door. The car was running in "park". I said. "She's gone." You can only imagine the shouted expletives that filled the car as we all together / all at once; verbally reacted to the "ghost" who had just passed us in the night.
Melvin was very shaken by the event. And I do mean "shaken". He tried his best to stop the tremors that were shooting across his body, but even after 5 or 6 minutes of focused concentration, he was still shaking as he attempted to pull away from the spot.
"Ah Ha!", I shouted with delight, "I prayed yesterday and asked God to send an angel to you so you wouldn't hurt yourself !" I said to Melvin (with obvious satisfaction).
"Yeah?... Thanks.". he acknowledged back to me. And that was all he could say all the way back to his house.
A few days later, I learned from his cousin that Melvin had planned to take his life that same night by means of gas fumes once I had dropped them off back at his house.
The ghostly presence (who he said looked right into his eyes) made him re-think his plans.
Melvin is alive and doing very well today.
Someone had heard my prayers for Melvin's welfare and arranged to give him a glimpse of his would-be existence with a dose of "reality".
(More to follow in the next edition of Project X Newsletter)