I was driving back from Lexington one foggy night after getting my prescription refilled, when I had a flat tire on US 68 between Paris and Millersburg near the Tarr road. I pulled onto the shoulder of the road and got a spare tire from up under the bed when I thought I heard a faint sound of music coming towards me from the west in the direction of Paris.  I stood up and peered through the darkness, but couldn’t see anything but pavement. The sound got closer and closer and I could make out a shadowy image of two large elephants with their legs bound together in heavy chains led by a man in a dark suit. The sounds of their chains rattled as it scraped the pavement. Ahead of the parade was a hobo clown playing a sad waltz on his violin. There were horses pulling covered wagons with old fashioned writing painted on the sides. It was sombre, shadowy circus. The parade moved past me in a slow steady march unaware of my being there. As I watched the figures, they morphed and faded. The elephants became two long rows of black men bound ankle to ankle in chains and their hands were tied behind their backs. Three men on horseback rode aside this sad march carrying whips. Two old black men with their hands in chains played a chilling tune on violins. Following up the rear were nearly 30 black women crying as they were led away and faded into the night air.

I sat down in the dust beside the road wondering what I had just witnessed. It gave me chills. I had seen this image once before on the night I passed out in the woods. It had been eerily broadcast on my TV for some odd reason.

I finished changing the tire and drove home in silence. I didn’t feel comfortable telling anyone what I had seen, but I believe I was seeing ghosts.