I'll end our brief excursion into Tennessee ghostlore with one of the most unnerving "Black Aggie" stories that I've ever heard.

A Black Aggie is the apparition of a very evil person - usually a witch - who frequents graveyards in the dead of night. Nearly every town cemetery has at least one Aggie. The Aggie is instantly recognizable as a black ghost that looks like a floating shroud. It doesn't make a sound, and no features are usually discernible except the eyes.

A Black Aggie can be either a man or a woman, and it is usually up to no good. Seldom is one found whose mission in life is not to scare the daylights out of curious children. But there are exceptions as we will soon seen.

The following tale is from Dyersburg.

The ghost called "Darkman" has been around for as long as anyone an remember. Even very old people remember hearing about Darkman from their parents. Some have even claimed to have seen him.

So we can safely assume Darkman has haunted this particular graveyard since before the turn of the twentieth century.

Those who have seen it in action all tell the same basic story. Darkman drifts out of the trees on moonlit nights and moves in silence to a certain tombstone on the south side of the cemetery. There he pauses, his hand poised over the grave. Then, without a sound, he turns and drifts back from whence he came. Darkman seems unaware of any observer who may be watching.

In life, Darkman was said to have been an evil miser who starved his wife and children while he stashed all of his money in a secret hiding place.

His family lived in a two-room shack, his children ran around in tatters, and his wife found herself fishing around the garbage to find enough for her family to eat. One time, according to the story, the youngest child had to be fed by a neighbor or it would have starved to death.

When the children were old enough, they left home. Soon afterward the miser's wife died - some say of neglect. The old man then became a total recluse, seldom venturing out into public. Neighbors said that he spent the rest of his days sitting in his shack and counting his money - over and over again.

When he died, no one - not even his children - attended the funeral. In fact, the authorities were hard-pressed to find even a clergyman willing to officiate. Finally, the sheriff, himself, had to say words over the grave, which was dug in the furthermost corner of the cemetery.

After the miser's death a concerted effort was made to find his stash of money. The rude shack he lived in was literally torn apart, and the ground surrounding it was dug up - but nothing was ever found, not even a cent.

As the years passed, Darkman's shade was seen more and more, silently gliding over the cemetery. It became quite a sport for town youngsters to hide behind a stone wall that surrounded part of the graveyard and watch for Darkman. They were almost never disappointed.

But something about Darkman's activities puzzled them, however. Why did he always do the same thing every night, and who was buried in the grave that he always visited?

One young fellow inspected the tombstone and found the writing on it almost obliterated. When he asked around town, no one had any idea who was buried there. It had been so long ago.

The fellow became so obsessed with Darkman and his activities that he determined to wait in the graveyard one night and see him for himself.

About ten o'clock a full moon rose over the trees and, sure enough, a black apparition emerged from the woods and began drifting over the cemetery. The young fellow held his breath. He had never seen Darkman before, and the first sight of him raised chill bumps all over his body.

The figure slowly sailed over the well-kept graves, stopping at one of the tombstones. The hand of the apparition raised. It seemed to be grasping something.

The young fellow thought that he saw something drop to the top of the monument.

Darkman slowly turned, floated back into the woods, and disappeared among the trees.

The fellow walked cautiously to the grave, all the while glancing uneasily toward the woods, lest the apparition return suddenly and surprise him.

When he reached the tombstone, he saw something glowing white, lying on top of the stone, which he recognized immediately. It was a large loaf of bread.

Then, as he watched, the loaf of bread slowly disappeared - just like it was sinking into the granite. In a short while it was gone.

The reality of what the young fellow had seen suddenly dawned on him. Darkman was a condemned soul. He had been so greedy and miserly in life that he was condemned to spend eternity doing good.

But who was he feeding with the bread? Certainly not the bones lying under the tombstone. Or was he?

Then the fellow realized the horrifying truth of what he had just seen. He was standing on the grave of Darkman's neglected wife!