Dirty Dancer

This occurrence took place in February 2017. In order for it to make sense to anyone reading it, I have to explain how I came to be where it happened.

About 2 years ago my mother moved in to a cottage/cabin out on a "farm". It's more a of a plot of land really, with a main house built by the owners ex-husband (now deceased), 3 cottages (1 occupied by my mother - Cottage 1, the second occupied by the owners mother - Cottage 2 - and one that was occupied by an elderly guy that was friends with the owner - Cottage 3) and several greenhouses used for growing indigenous herbs and plants used for holistic healing. The layout of the property is as follows. When driving in, on the left is cottage 3, about 50meters from the driveway, on the right is a workshop with a greenhouse just behind it. Just after that on the left is cottage 2, roughly 10 meters from the driveway. Continuing straight, it opens up to a parking area and to the right of that is cottage 1. The main house is behind the parking area. All the dwellings are roughly 50 to 100 meters away from each other with tall pine trees lining the road, parking area and all but my mother's cottage. The pine trees act as wind and sound breaks and provide privacy.

The occurrence relates to the elderly guy that lived in cottage number 3. Up until my mother moved in, he had been staying in cottage number 1. He then bought a pre-constructed cottage which became Cottage 3. He was a nice guy (if a little dirty minded), loved to dance, played practical jokes, found the funny side of almost every situation and loved to chase women. His main "hunting ground" was an elderly disco that was put together by an old age home in the nearby town. Every second Saturday he would get dressed up and head off to, as he put it, "Grab a Goose" at the disco.

The last disco he went to was sadly the last he would ever go to. Apparently he had been dancing for some time and had to sit down as he was getting short of breath. While taking that break, his heart gave out and he passed away right where he sat. That is all the detail I have about his passing, but everyone has said that his Saturday nights were the highlight of his months. He loved women and he loved dancing, so at least he passed doing and chasing what he loved. His children had come to the cottage and cleared out almost all of his belongings, but left a few things that they said the new occupant, should they get one, could have.

Not long after his passing, I was visiting my mother one Saturday evening. We were sitting on her porch just chatting about life in general and how short it all seems and, it being such a recent occurrence, the passing of the elderly guy. As we were talking, the faint sound of music could be heard coming through the trees. There was a faint breeze and the pine trees were rustling. It made it difficult to tell where the music was coming from and as the other dwellings aren't that far from her cottage, we both just thought someone was playing music. Shortly after we noticed it, the music stopped.

We decided to take a walk around the property as my mom wanted to show me her progress in one of the greenhouses. We circled the property, checked the greenhouses and were making our way back to her cottage when again we heard music. We were quite close to his old cottage and it definitely sounded as if the music was coming from there.

They have had a few people "scout" the farm and found evidence of attempted break-ins so I immediately thought that maybe someone had broken in and was making themselves at home. I told my mom to go to the main house and get the owner, just in case, while I stay and watch should someone exit the cottage. She ran off, stopping at cottage 2 to warn the old woman that stays there to lock herself in her cottage, and soon came back with the owner of the farm. The three of us walked around the cottage and saw no windows open but a light was on inside and the music was still playing quite loud. We went to the front and checked the padlock. The owner unlocked the padlock while I stood ready with a big stick and my mom stood behind me with her Taser. She pushed the door open and jumped to the side. Nothing jumped out at us.

As I was the only male on the farm, they both looked to me to check inside. I took my mom's Taser and entered, calling to anyone there that I was armed. The cottage was an "L-shape" and when entering, you walk through the kitchen area which then leads to the living room. The "L" is the bedroom (where the music was coming from) and bathroom. I cautiously walked through the kitchen into the living room. Suddenly the music stopped. I called out again that I was armed and if there was anyone in there, they should come out. Nothing.

I walked into the bedroom and suddenly the light went out and the radio blared. In my frantic attempt to back pedal out of the now pitch black room I accidentally tasered myself in the leg. I screamed out and dropped to the floor, my mother screamed, the owner screamed. Whimpering from the shock of being, well, shocked, I began pulling myself along the floor as my leg was now lifeless. I managed to make it to the door where my mother and the owner were both peering into the darkness, in their words, "Too scared to run in and help me, but too concerned to run away." As they helped me to stand, the radio turned off. The owner quickly closed and locked the door and together with my mother half carried me to the main house.

Eventually we all came to the conclusion that the old guy was probably wetting himself with laughter.

Every now and then, they say that they can hear music coming from his cottage. My mother will go over and "chat" to him from time to time but he doesn't talk back. They think it best to just leave him be.