Piedmont Porchlight Stories — Mrs. Delphine’s Dixie Boarding House

Percy DuBar wasn’t the oldest man in Piedmont…
But he felt the oldest,
and that counted for twice as much.

He sat every morning on the same bench across the street from the post office,
back straight as a stovepipe,
hat pulled down,
eyes sharp enough to peel paint from a passing pickup.

Folks said Percy could remember the weather for any day back to 1941,
and the sins of every man in town back to 1932.

He’d worked the Seaboard rails for most of his life,
switch operator, lantern man, brakeman, part-time philosopher,
and claimed to have seen ghosts “long before they had the courtesy to appear proper.”

So, when word reached him
through three gossip chains, two barber shops, and one overheard biscuit discussion,
that Mrs. Delphine had found rails in her cellar,
Percy muttered:

“Well, I’ll be switched.”

He stood.
Cracked his back (sounding like a two-by-four splitting).
And marched toward Center Avenue.

Percy Arrives at the Dixie Boarding House

He didn’t knock.
Percy DuBar never knocked.
He simply entered spaces like God had given him master keys.

“Delphine!” he barked.
“You got a ghost problem or a memory problem?”

She appeared from the parlor, apron dusted with flour.

“Percy, what in the wide world are you hollerin’ about?”

“Where’s the cellar?”

She narrowed her eyes.
“You keep your shoes on, your opinions brief, and I’ll show you.”

Percy obeyed exactly one of those instructions.

Down in the Cellar

The moment Percy reached the bottom stair,
his whole body stilled.

His breath hitched.
His cane clattered to the floor,
falling like a dropped verdict.

“Sweet mother of mercy…” he whispered.

His eyes locked on the rails
rusted, buried, half-forgotten,
yet humming with that faint ghostly resonance.

“I knew it,” he said, knees trembling.
“I knew that boy wasn’t done.”

Mrs. Delphine’s heart jolted.

“Boy?” she repeated.
“Percy… what boy?”

Percy wiped his face with a shaking hand.

“Child, I knew him.
I worked with him.
I watched him run that lantern line like he was born holdin’ brass.”

Mrs. Delphine stepped closer.

“Percy,” she said softly, “tell me the name.”

He didn’t answer.

Not yet.

He knelt painfully beside the rails.

Laid one trembling hand on the cold metal
as though touchin’ the shoulder of an old friend.

“You listen here,” he whispered to nobody and somebody at once,
“I told you back then, you was the best of us.
If anyone deserved to finish his run, it was you.”

Mrs. Delphine felt the hair rise on her arms.

“Percy… who was he?”

Percy DuBar lifted his head,
eyes bright, damp, and burning with fifty years of memory.

“He was a conductor-in-training,” he said.
“Sharp. Kind. Honest as the day is long.
Had hands steady enough to thread a needle on a moving caboose.”

He took a breath that rattled clear through his ribs.

“And he had a name.”

The cellar hushed with a stillness that felt sacred.

Percy whispered:

“Samuel T. Norwood.”

Mrs. Delphine froze.

“Norwood…” she whispered. “S.T.N.”

Percy nodded slowly.

“That boy died tryin’ to save a trainload of people.
Warned ‘em too late.
‘Tweren’t his fault.
Never his fault.”

He closed his eyes.

“And I reckon he stayed behind to finish what he started.”

The Ghost Appears

A cold whisper slid through the cellar.

The faint glow rose.

A silhouette formed;
tall, steady, hat in hand.

Percy exhaled a soft, broken laugh.

“I told you, Samuel,” he said,
voice trembling,
“you ain’t done.”

The ghost’s form sharpened
just for a moment
long enough for Percy to see the face of the boy he once knew.

Percy DuBar started crying.

Mrs. Delphine covered her mouth.

The ghost stepped forward.

Not haunting.
Not apologizing.

Just… standing beside the rails.
Beside Percy.
Beside the past.

Beside the truth.

The Message Becomes Clearer

The lantern flickered.
Bright.
Blue.
Bold.

The initials glowed faintly on the cellar wall:

STN
Samuel T. Norwood
Conductor Trainee
1934

Percy wiped his tears.

“Samuel,” he whispered,
“tell us what you need, son.
We’re here.”

The ghost bowed his head.

Then pointed to the rails.

Then the lantern.

Then the stairs leading up.

Up…
and out.

Mrs. Delphine inhaled sharply.

“Oh, sweet Lord,” she murmured.

Percy nodded,
pained, knowing, ready.

“He’s ready for his next station,” he said.

“But he can’t reach it alone.”

*****

New Yesterdays can be found at: Books-A-Million, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon, as well as your favorite bookshops. The Audiobook is available from Libro.fm, as well as Amazon.