When I was 5 years old, my family moved to a farm outside of a bustling college town in our state. Coming from a family of farmers, this was my Father's first chance to own a farm of his own and had the experience since childhood to be successful to do so, with of course, the help of both my Father's family and Mothers who were also farmers with farms of their own.
It was an exciting time for me and my young parents, but as anyone with a farming background knows, it's very hard backbreaking work and the rising and setting of the Sun is your work clock. My Father's stature and strength was very typical of that of a farmer. It was in his blood, and still is in mine, as those were the happiest years for all of us. At that time, I was the only child, so I was pretty much spoiled rotten but alone. I had chickens and ducks in my little kingdom, who were also my friends which each one having names of their own. Being rural farmers, our neighbors were approximately one mile apart and were older with no small children so animals became my dear friends.
An older farmer had a litter of Collies and approached my Father asking if he wanted one for me as a new friend. My Father was reluctant at first, but throwing a teary-eyed tantrum always worked on both my Mother and Father.
This is where unexplained oddities began...
I named my new best friend Rex, and he grew quickly, fed well on fresh meat and drinking fresh cow's milk daily. He quickly herded the chickens back to their coops, the ducks to their enclosures, and our livestock into their corrals at just 6 months old. He was gentle yet demanding as a farm dog and insisted on sleeping with me at night. He was my protector, and all of my other animal friends knew it.
A few weeks after my 6th birthday, I met two friends about my age, named Mary and Connor. Rex and I would play for hours with them while my Mother did house chores, and as my Father worked the fields and took care of the other animals on the farm. Mary had long flowing blazing red curly hair with pale skin, and Conner about 8, also had curly red hair and freckles around his nose and cheeks. They spoke with an accent that I was not accustomed to but quickly learned what they spoke about and meant.
I never questioned where they lived, or who their parents were because at six, who cares right?
We had the best of times, sneaking under the fence to sit by the irrigation ditch, picking flowers and chasing butterflies while Rex who kept us from getting too close to the deep trench of the ditch...
The odd thing is that no one else ever saw them other than me, Rex, and a few of our animals, especially Robbie the Rooster, who hated everyone and went insane when he saw them.
My Mother and Father always said they were my "imaginary friends."
They were real to me, and to my animal friends and that is what frustrated me. One night during dinner, my parents began interrogating me. Asking questions like where they came from, who their parents were, and where they lived... I simply said, I didn't know.
The next day, my Father spent the morning going to farmhouse after farmhouse asking the farmers if they knew of any children matching my description of them... They all said no.
This alarmed my parents, and they demanded that I ask Mary and Conner about their concerns. I did, and Mary began to cry and ran into the cornfield with Conner chasing after her. It was then that I began to realize that they never came from the road, and always left around 4 p.m. through a trail, long covered in weeds and debris.
They were always dressed the same, as Mary wore the same blue & white dress with an apron and strange boot-like shoes always carrying a rag doll with a porcelain head with scary blue eyes, and Conner wore knicker type pants, white shirt, and ankle high boots.
I was so saddened that they never returned again, and Rex was always looking for them, whimpering at night by my bed looking out my bedroom window. I too would cry at night sometimes longing for my friends to come back. But they never did....
30 years later, I was doing a Psychic party along with another clairvoyant friend of mine at a local eatery that was across from the city museum. Back then, it was popular to have Psychics at parties to do readings for their guests, and the pay and tips were very lucrative. It was an afternoon party, and it concluded before the museum closed, so I had a few hours to spare at the museum browsing through the many historical and fascinating articles and artifacts there about the city.
In a corner of the museum were pictures and stories about the many immigrants who trekked the trails from the eastern seaboard reaching our state along our magnificent Rockies in the 1880's either heading here, or to California. Their painful struggles, carrying all their belongings in a series of wagon trains. By then, there were no Indian attacks on the travelers, as there were wagon posts everywhere and treaties were signed.
There in a corner, was a story about the McLeary family that for some reason, broke from the wagon train. They were coming from New York. When the wagon train reached the outpost, it was then discovered that the McLeary family was missing. After months of calvary soldiers looking for them, their wagon nor remains were ever found.
That trail they were on ran through our property and another farmhouse close by.
There at the museum in a faded photograph, was the last picture taken of the McLeary family. Standing next to their wagon, were Finlay McLeary, his wife Cara, and their two children Connor and Mary. — My friends...
Who were Irish immigrants looking for a better life out west.
I stood there motionless but shaking as tears ran down my cheek. The memory of them has never faded, and I can honestly say that I am emotional now writing about it as tears well in my eyes. What happened to them? For many years following my discovery, I attempted to reach out to them through meditation and regression energy presence. I have attended many seances by leading and trusted clairvoyant/medium friends of mine attempting the same but nothing.
I truly believe that before I take my last breath, Conner and Mary will once again appear to me telling me their story, and why they left me and Rex. I now know they have a reason. I know thay have been with me during my most trying of times, because I have felt their presence and the familiar smell of their clothing.
They will always be my most trusted friends, and yes, even as an older man, I miss them so...