Generally Weird

    Sir Francis begrudgingly parted from his reveries of pork pies, turtle soup and port wine and faced the reality that such delights no longer played a role in the course of his existence. In fact, he hadn't tasted such delicacies in nearly two hundred and fifty years. With a low wistful sigh that even yet contained a glimmer of hope, he quietly pushed aside the bright plastic blue tarp that had been covering him. He blinked his eyes rapidly to assess his surroundings of the utility shed in the dim morning autumn light . He was beyond requiring the necessities that plagued the existence of mortal men. Happily, he managed quite nicely without food, shelter, warmth, light or even sleep. However, these pleasures gave him a sense of comfort and order. These gossamer threads served to remind him of his connections to the living. When he rose to his feet, he adjusted his white powder wig and smoothed out his red military jacket. He looked down on his soul mate-General Simon Fraser- who had his eyes closed and was as snug as a bug in a rug in his pink fluffy blanket. He was kneading his fingers into its softness like a cat would. The military men weren't soul mates in a romantic sense. They were forever bound because of their deaths during the second Battle of Saratoga-October 7,1777. That damned rebel marksman, Timothy Murphy, had shot them both. They were buried in adjacent graves on a scenic bluff overlooking the meandering Hudson River. "Oh, to have my final resting spot have been on British soil where I could be mourned properly, especially by beautiful females !", he lamented. These reveries were interrupted by the sudden movements of his superior throwing off his bedding and rising to his feet. 

         Sir Francis snapped to attention and gave a salute, knocking over a rake in his haste to show proper respect. " Sim - I mean Sir " , stammered Francis as he swiftly returned his right arm to his side. He thought to himself but would never dare to say outright that surely enough time had passed that they could coexist as equals. It would be ever so much nicer if they could call each other Francis and Simon. They could forget rank and the military nonsense that got them into this boat in the first place. Hadn't they both paid the ultimate price in duty to the Crown? "Well, maybe give it another hundred years ", thought Francis silently. 

       " Captain Clerke, have you completed a scouting review of the weather, surroundings and likely human incursions into the territory as of yet?", inquired General Fraser. He too adjusted his wig and inspected his uniform. His voice had a commanding tone and his arresting dark eyes demanded respect. He continued his inquisition by asking, "Has Gray Ghost gotten his breakfast ?"

       Ghost seemed to answer the question on his own by an impatient whinney and stomp of his foot on the concrete pavement outside. He was General Fraser's pride and joy. He too had fallen victim to Timothy Murphy's sniper rifle on that fateful day. Unlike his ghostly companions who didn't eat, he enjoyed an occasional small offering of clover, grass or wild carrots. Ghost seemed to garner almost as much respect as his owner . He was an impressive seventeen hands tall with a shimmery dapple gray coat and silky mane and tail that caught the light. Fraser's men begged him not to mount him on the day of battle-he would stick out like a sore thumb. Fraser paid them no mind saying, "Gentleman respect the rules of war and do not target generals." Fraser rode amongst his men, encouraging and rallying them during the heat of the skirmish on Barber's Wheatfield. American legend and folk hero Murphy, perched in a tree, fatally shot Ghost and mortally wounded Fraser in the intestines. He managed to pick off Sir Francis as well, who was carrying orders from his superior-General "Gentleman Johnny " Burgoyne. So much for sportsmanlike conduct. 

       Sir Francis replied to Fraser's questioning with a tone that was both somewhat guilty and defensive ," I stirred only moments before you roused, Sir." To the captain's relief, Fraser merely nodded and grabbed the small offering of wild carrots from the seat of the riding lawn tractor. Sir Francis walked a respectful distance behind Fraser as they passed through the mower and then the overhead door. Fraser was humming a joyful tune as he patted Ghost and held his hand flat as the magnificent creature nuzzled his hand for his treat. Francis marveled that Fraser seemed in such a good mood these days, and was becoming more convinced as to the cause. When you hang out with someone over the course of four or five lifespans, you get to know them fairly well. His theory was further supported when Fraser asked, "Have you seen her lately?" When Francis nodded in the affirmative, a slight smile formed on Fraser's lips. Sir Francis gave Fraser a boost onto Ghost's back and the two set out for the site of the British fortifications and their burial grounds. The shed that functioned as both a storage unit for lawn maintenance equipment and their headquarters was located on the site of the American lines. 

       As they made their way across enemy lines to the more familiar territory of the British encampments, Fraser often surveyed their surroundings with the pair of binoculars sporting a camouflage pattern that hung around his neck. He lost his prized spyglass during the chaotic battle of long ago. Sir Francis provided him with this far superior optical instrument recently, along with the fluffy blanket. Unbeknownst to Fraser, Sir Francis lifted both items from an inattentive tourist. Fraser had made mention of missing the glass and a warm coverlet over the years. Sir Francis took advantage of an opportune moment and eased his guilty conscience by telling himself these were the spoils of war. A couple of early morning bicyclists and a deer sailed right through them, not skipping a beat. Fraser rode over to the marker that noted that this was the precise site where he fell. He patted the memorial and said for the umpteenth time, " The Rebels are wrong, the spot is a few rods away."

       They wound their way around the Park road and checked out the tourist stops of the British encampments. Sir Francis played his favorite game of chicken with a passing motorist. He narrowly dodged out of the way of the car driven by an old woman accompanied by her pit bull. Fraser was in good spirits and yelled, "She would have nailed you if she was going a little faster !" Ghost nodded his head and snorted in agreement. 

       They continued on their journey, noting various points of interest, admiring marvelous views of the Hudson River and Vermont Mountains. They shared remembrances of old yet again. They reached the last tourist stop of the Park and made the descent down the trail to their final resting places. Their mood became a little more somber, as it usually did. They bowed their heads and took turns uttering prayers over the graves, still unsure after these years if they had arrived at their final destination or were in a state of limbo. Sir Francis broke the silence and said, "I'm so glad you directed Baroness Frederika to have us buried at such a scenic overlook. " General Fraser nodded, saluted the marker, and the trio walked away. 

       They were aware of their new makeovers that stormy night following the afternoon of their burials. Their more transparent forms rose up from their "soon to be rotting " flesh and bones, traveled up through the soggy soil and arrived simultaneously above the ground over their newly-dug graves. They let out loud screams when they spotted one another, each being the instigator and victim of their first haunting. When the shock started to wear off, it started in full force again when Ghost snuck up on the pair and nudged Fraser from behind. They were unanimous in their feelings that under no circumstances did they feel an urge to crawl back through the dirt, worms and bugs to make the return to their bodies. In fact, they admitted they felt uncomfortable remaining long on the site- that they could be forcibly sucked back into the cold earth.

        Fraser gave the first order of the new reality and said, "Captain Francis, we"ll make our way to camp to rejoin our men." Sir Francis nodded and fell behind Simon and Ghost. When they arrived back at base on that stormy night, the British regiments were in full retreat. There were two abandoned tents remaining and a few stragglers. They attempted to make themselves known to these downtrodden men by yelling, jumping in front of them and even slapping them in the face-to no avail. Fraser commanded, "We'll follow the path of their retreat." When they reached a spot one mile north of their burial sites, an invisible barrier impeded their progress. They began to feel nauseous and their relative transparency became greater. They hastily turned around and agreed to go no further. Over the years, they explored every inch of this hallowed place and came to know the permitted perimeters of their stomping grounds. Though British and Rebel bodies alike lay on the ground after the October battle, none of the soldiers took on another life form as they had done. The trio made their way back to one of the abandoned tents to discuss their situation and outline future plans. 

        Fraser said,"The last thing I remember on the Battlefield was saying ,"My duty prevents me from flying from danger ", and then being shot through the intestines. Ghost fell down and my men carried me off the field to the house of the Baroness. I had a clear image of that cowardly rebel targeting me from the safety of a tree. Fraser patted his war wound, which was still in evidence. "My dying words were Oh, blind ambition! My poor Margareta-I leave everything to her!", Fraser said. He continued this painful remembrance and said,"Even in my agony, I was impressed by the kindness and beauty of the Baroness. Oh, that red hair and heavenly figure! If only I wasn't married, and she wasn't married and I hadn't suffered that mortal wound-those minor trivialities- it would have been such a good match!"

       Sir Francis looked at Fraser incredulously but nodded in agreement. He said, "I remember trying to make my way over to you, carrying the order from General Burgoyne to retreat. I recall thinking that I would so much rather be at one of his delightful parties with excellent food and bevy of beauties than this infernal hellhole. I had a clear vision of that same dastardly sharpshooter in the tree and then knew no more. I found myself standing over our burial sites. " 

      Fraser said,"I don't know what deviltry contributed to our present state-neither dead nor living but existing on a different spiritual level entirely. So far, there appears to be no others of our kind and we may risk great danger if we venture beyond the perimeters of these grounds. If any interlopers happen upon us and can ascertain our likenesses, we must proceed with utmost caution because they will likely be foes or looking to vanquish us. I propose that we shelter in the abandoned farm yonder. Although I feel no warmth or cold, it does seem more comforting to have shelter and a fire. We will scout the terrain on a daily basis looking for friend, foe or anything that could provide explanation or insight into our unique situation. I am sure my beloved Margareta will be heartbroken upon hearing the news of my death and will hurry to this place as soon as she's able. Do you concur with this tentative plan Sir Francis?"

       Sir Francis said, "It sounds like an excellent plan indeed, General Fraser. I do hope we also can find some amusements to make the time pass pleasantly. "

        General Fraser looked at the handsome young officer who was struck down a week before his 29th birthday, sporting a chest wound that ended his life in service to his country. "Yes, Sir Francis , that would be very agreeable. " They set off for their first dwelling of their spiritual journey. 

       As the days and years passed, they gained greater knowledge of their situation and settled into a familiar pattern of existence. It was quickly discovered that they had no need for basic human requirements. These burdens being lifted was very freeing. However, the emotional comfort of shelter and fire was a practice they continued. Ghost grazed every now and then, out of habit. They learned precisely the exact boundaries of the space they were allowed to occupy without venturing into the vast unknown. They dutifully scouted the perimeter of the Battlefield, including their gravesites. Fraser's hopes were dashed on a daily basis because Margareta never made an appearance. They keep fit by exercise, drills and battling with wooden swords Sir Francis had whittled. Evenings became their favorite time of day. Many hours passed with games of cards, checkers and chess with pieces that were fashioned by Sir Francis. They played duets with wooden recorders made by the inventive Captain. Deep discussions and an occasional heated argument flared up when the pair delved into every topic under the sun-religion, philosophy, politics, war strategy, personal stories and especially the subject of women. Fraser seemed to get hung up on the question of marriage. Many a time he asked Francis, "What do you think the meaning of 'till death do us part ' entails?" The Captain thought the best strategy was to remain silent, especially since he was single. 

       They spent many years only seeing an occasional passer-by, nearby farmer or river traveler. Nobody seemed to detect their presence. The farmhouse was abandoned when a family took up residence. The soldiers' comfortable routine was interrupted and the habits of the new occupants were annoying. They moved to any edifice as needed, to maintain a peaceful existence free of any Rebel presence. They caught snatches of world and local events by eavesdropping on those who crossed their path. 

       In 1837, fifty years after the battle, Fraser and Francis got ambushed. They noticed an elderly man approaching their position but had gotten accustomed to the idea they couldn't be seen. The interloper suddenly pulled out a knife from a sheath on his hip and attempted, in vain, to strike Sir Francis. The trio wrestled for about five minutes, neither party gaining the upper hand. The old man finally yielded out of exhaustion and yelled, "I give, I give! "

       The situation was tense at first, but then everyone settled down. Roger explained he had been a member of Rebel Daniel Morgan's company and participated in the Battle of Barber's Wheatfield. He also was in a tree near Timothy Murphy and saw the men struck down. He saw Fraser and Francis when he visited the site ten years later, was shocked by what he saw and high-tailed it out of there. This encounter haunted him for years, and he finally got up his nerve to revisit the site. The former enemies warmed up to one another and chatted for hours, exchanging war stories. Roger could offer no insight why he could see Fraser and Francis while others couldn't. He returned to visit once more, bringing books of history, poetry and blank notebooks for Sir Francis to write tales about Johnny Burgoyne. They were saddened when Roger never returned. 

       Over the next ninety years, more people moved into the area and technology brought about many changes. River traffic increased, roads were expanded, and automobiles and planes were introduced. Fraser was fascinated by these monumental developments and tried to glean as much information as he could about their workings. In 1927, the Saratoga Battlefield became a National Park and 160000 visitors attended a three hour ceremony for its 150 year anniversary of the battles. Fraser and Francis hated the massive throngs of people but ran into Vincent, who was able to see them both. He didn't make much sense because he was very intoxicated, so he was of little use. 

       In May of 2020, an attractive red-haired middle-aged woman visited the graveside and left a bouquet of wildflowers. She was dressed in Revolutionary-Era clothing and sported a flower tattoo on her left hand. Fraser was very touched and found her extremely fascinating. He remarked that Margareta had never paid him such a tribute and started peppering Francis again with his opinion about marriage vows. He kicked himself that he didn't approach her on that first visit to ascertain whether she could see him. His mood improved but he seemed flustered and anxious. 

     Fraser was overjoyed a month later when his obsession returned to his graveside. She delighted him even more when she looked at him directly and she said, "Hello, General Simon Fraser. My name is Melinda. " She explained to him that she was a re-enactor who portrayed the daily existence of a British camp follower. She spotted him and Ghost a few years back and immediately knew who it was. She was in a relationship at the time but was free now and was working on a book about the Baroness, since she lost her job during the pandemic. Fraser and Francis eagerly awaited her arrival every day. She brought them cellphones and they were naturals. Sir Francis requested her assistance in posting his profile on a dating app, hoping that a few attractive women could see his photograph. They provided her with invaluable insight about the war and Simon provided notes for a racy book about Gentleman Johnny . 

       Just before their first kiss, Fraser asked Melinda what attracted her to him. She said, "That's a no-brainer. You're a Gemini and I'm Aquarius. I'm also a sucker for a British 

accent !"