This is so very strange. This is the third time I'm trying to post this story. Maybe I'm just not see it on the message board? Either i'm right where lame is now or perhaps I should reconsider how I end this tale.  Jay 
 
As a child I was a bit mischievous and I carried that into my adulthood. So to be walking about America's oldest seaport in Glouchester Mass. with cameras in hand would mean if the opportunity were there I would grab it. Being an amateur photographer I had spent most of the afternoon feasting on great photo opportunities. Now towards the end of the day a bit of mischief might be the perfect finish. At the statue dedicated to the women of Glouchester who lost men at see there is a small circular cement bench with high back that encircles it. From one of the entrance ways I caught the sight of an artist's hand and her sketch pad on her knee. The rest of the woman was hidden from view by the back of the bench but I could see strands of black with a tint of gray curls of longish looking hair covered by what appeared to be a sheer scarf. She could not see me as I was around the corner and hidden by a pillar at the entrance way - ah! stealth mode. I thought to myself, I can capture this artist's sketch before it even hits the market. Who knows might even be a famous artist. I brought my digital camera up and prepared to fire. Through the view finder I awaited the moment she would pause and bring her hand down from the sketch giving me a clean shot. Only the hand never stopped. It appeared to go faster and faster almost as if to leave a blur from the speed at which it was moving. Only when I brought my face from the view finder to look directly at what was going on did I notice her hand come down. Holding the camera in position with auto focus on and no longer looking through the camera I squeezed the shutter button and prayed the photo would be mine. Walking a short way down the walkway I was soon joined by my wife and two daughters. Knowing they were a short distance behind me and traveling in the same direction I asked if they had noticed the artist sketching the statue and joked about her enchanting hand that moved so fast. All three said what artist? And one of my daughter said there was no one there having walked directly through the bench area surrounding the statue. I said "Why you had to miss her she is hidden by the wall". Upon returning to see for myself there was no one. Now if you are familiar with this area or you have read or seen the movie 'The Perfect Storm' then you are aware that this area is overshadowed by what is know as the Widow Towers. They are the highest points on a ridge of windowed towers buildings that look out over the ocean where women use to watch to see if their men would come back from the sea and many did not. These were areas of great pain, suffering and sorrow and loss. And now as I looked up the towers dominated my vision and I imagined I heard the womens wails and crys coming from them which raised the hairs on my arm and I was overcome with a feeling of great shame and hanging my head I muttered in a low tone to the others that it was late and we should be leaving this area. Well after several days vacation was over and when I arrive home I go over my photos and gather the ones that I wish to share and at the top of the list was the Enchanted Hand photo. In fact it was my desire to get to the Internet and make that one of my first posts. Having arrived home late I thought it best to do this the next morning. That night I had one of the most chilling nightmares I have ever had, and I'm the kind of guy that enjoys nightmares. Beat the hell out of cable T.V. The next day I hold off on any posts and again that night I have the same tormenting dream of dead women in the Widow Towers trying to lure me in and eventually winding up in the towers with all these goulish dead women. They don't want the photo posted. I thought about this the next day and thought well I don't have to post that photo. But what the hell I want to. On the third night the same dream occurs again but this night we have a special guest. The artist has joined us and her silk head covering has blown off as the woman's face is transformed in to a crackly old witch. She is saying they will come for me if I post the photo. It's getting tough to work on little sleep and after three days of haunting dreams and sweating bullets that day at work I verbally yell out "I won't post it". That night I sleep like a baby. Now here I am two years later and I still have the photo around here somewhere. It was just a bad dreams right. Would anyone like to see a photo?