Showing posts with label Vermont. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vermont. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 26, 2013

Chapter 2 of Symbol of the Dead by James Paradie

For part 1, click here.



Chapter 2
Opening the Portal    
           
            Luke and Sam have enjoyed sharing their favorite ghost stories, from Ocean Born Mary to the Jersey Devil and local legends back in Luke's home state of New Hampshire. Luke is starting to think his sister isn't so much of a weirdo their parents think she is, but that she's just like him: misunderstood. She then shows Luke some pictures.
            "This one I took in Mexico. This one I took in Vermont."
            "This is wicked cool. I never knew my sister is a paranormal investigator."
            "Yeah, but I haven't been able to get a writing gig in about three months now."
            "Why?"
            "Too much competition. Everyone and their sister writes about the paranormal or is in a group now."
            "But you're a great writer and your photography is awesome. I mean, I look at websites that say 'This is a picture of a ghost' and it's just this little dot. I mean, you're getting faces, things that look like bodies. You're awesome."
            "Thank you."
            They sit in silence for a little bit. 
            "Luke, I think I’m going to take a nap. It's been a rough few days. Make yourself at home."  
            Sam goes to take a nap back downstairs and leaves Luke upstairs. She did say make himself at home, so Luke plans to do just that. He goes into her room, looking at the pictures on her mantel. One picture, which is older, mid 90's perhaps, shows Sam and their parents in front of a fireplace back at home. She looks so sad, hopeless, and alone. He couldn't help but feel like it must be a curse ... put on by their parents! He then looks at something on her bureau and picks it up. It’s a bra. Luke holds it against his chest and begins to talk like a snobby girl.
            "Look at you, you sexy thang. Rawr!" Luke rolls his eyes at his silliness and drops it.
            He sees a book right next to him on a table. It says, The Afterlife Codex. He picks it up and takes his reading glasses out of his pants pocket. He takes interest in the book right away.
The first page is inscribed. Luke reads it out loud,
 “’Dedicated to my love who I miss dreadfully. May you use the knowledge in this book and join me. Immediately on your arrival, destroy this book. For your protection, you must not be caught with it. The ritual herein violates the governing laws of the Afterlife and were we caught, would result in the ultimate destruction of our souls and we would cease to exist.”
Luke shakes his head in confusion. What laws? What “Afterlife”?
He flips through the book until he sees a weird symbol and stops.
            "The Symbol of the Dead," he reads out loud.
            Instantly, Luke is startled by the sound of thunder and lightning illuminating the window behind him.
            "Isn't that a bit cliché?" he wryly says to the window.
            He continues to read aloud.
            "The Symbol of the Dead: Once a person dies, a portal opens to the Afterlife. If the deceased in spirit does not want to move on, the power of his or her emotions allows that spirit to avoid the portal and remain as a ghost in the Earth’s dimension. But once through the portal into the Afterlife, it was generally accepted knowledge that one could not travel back to Earth. Furthermore, it was understood that a living person could not enter the Afterlife.
This is incorrect. The ritual explained here will show how to get into the Afterlife as a mortal being. Be warned, this is a violation of the governing laws of the Afterlife and mortals who attain presence in the Afterlife are hunted down. The consequences can be the loss of one’s eternal spirit."
 Luke thinks to himself, It's just a book, right? He continues to read out loud. “Drawing the Symbol of the Dead grants the living access to the Afterlife. However, the ritual demands a sacrifice of the blood of the person performing this rite.
            Luke looks over at the doorway.
            "Sam?" He yells, but she doesn’t answer. Must be still asleep, he thinks, before adding with a smile, Good.
            After studying the techniques, Luke etches the symbol into the wood floor using a pocket knife he has in his possession.
            "Sorry about the floor, Sam, but this is just too good to resist. Now for a little
blood donation."
             He raises his arm and puts the knife to his flesh. The idea of cutting himself was easier than doing it. He jabs lightly, but does not break the skin. He tries a slicing motion, but still cannot bring himself to cut.
Slightly disgusted with himself, he gives up. What the hell, he thinks, it’s just a book.
            "Oh, screw this!"      
            He picks up the book to toss it away, but the book slides out of his hands and pages slice his skin.
            “Damn,” he yelped.
            A thin line of blood etched the cut. Looking down, Luke watches the carved symbol shimmer in the floor. The blood thickens and drips off his hand onto the middle of the symbol. One drop, two.
Lightning flashes.
Luke instinctively turns his head toward the window. When he turns back, a white fog is arising from the symbol on the floor. Shock and delight makes him laugh. 
            "Hey, Sam!" he calls downstairs.
            "Yeah?" she answers, still half asleep, but curious about his excited call. 
            "Get up here. Quick!"
            She gets up quickly, thinking, What did he do to himself?
            "Something wrong?" she asks as she gets to the doorway. Then her expression darkens. "Luke, what did you do?"
            "I did it! I opened a portal to the afterlife. It's cool isn't it?" 
            "No!"
            "Come with me. We will check things out and …"
            And he's sucked through the portal, down a black hole. Sam runs up to the mist and with a cracking sound the portal disappears. She lands on top of the symbol as the etchings on the wooden floor begin to mend itself back to normal.
            "Damn it, Luke!"  she shouts.
            Luke doesn’t hear her. He hits the ground with an "OOF," gets us and sees that he is suddenly surrounded by countless numbers of other people. There are all sorts of different types: whites, blacks, Latinos, people with holes in their chest, tire marks all over them, deep gashes, missing body parts and deformed faces. It's just a normal day in the Afterlife waiting room. It may be mistaken for Purgatory, but it's the waiting room where dead people go to be assigned a place in the Afterlife. Some seem content and know they're dead. Others, however, are disoriented and afraid.
            Perched on top of iron gates are Gatekeepers, strange hybrids of owl and human. Luke sees green flashing more than red as he looks on in amazement.
He bumps into one lady who he sees has a nice backside, but she turns around to reveal a face bombarded with pimples and boils. Her throat is slit from ear to ear in an open gash. Still, she is cuffed and shackled. Two husky guards accompany her.
            "What are you looking at, kid?" she sneers at him.
            Luke had been appreciating her ass, but once she turned around, he was horrified.
“Nothing," he mumbles, looking away.   
            The line moves quickly and they are the next ones at the gate. The Gatekeeper peers down at the woman.
            "Name?" he asks.
            "Elizibella Troust," she growls.
            She's had to have done time, Luke thinks to himself. The Gatekeeper looks at a file, and after little search, he reaches a name. He doesn’t look happy.   
            "Oh, tsk, tsk. You robbed a bank, ran from the police, held a few people hostage, and escaped with the money. You then went back to your house and …" He almost chuckles, but then coughs instead. "Killed yourself shaving?"
            A few laughs from the crowd of people. Troust scowls.
            "Shut up, you damned beast."
            The Gatekeeper next to him gasps. "You going to take that?"
            The first Gatekeeper simply smiles and explains, "Why, yes, and I'll exchange it for ... one hundred years of total damnation!"
            He pulls a lever and a red light flashes with a terrible screech. A trap door drops open and Troust drops into a burning inferno. The trap door snaps shut. Suddenly, Luke doesn't think this was such a good idea.
            "Name?" The Gatekeeper routinely asks Luke, without any further comment or reaction. Business as usual.
            "Um..."
            Still looking and the trap door, thinking he can still hear Troust’s horrible screams, Luke can only stammer.
            "That's simply a diversion," the Gatekeeper says. "There's no Hell, fire, or brimstone down there. Just a whole lot of nothing really. To be honest, it just came with the place."
            "Ah."
            "Now son, all I need is your name. I realize that death is a shock to you, but just like everyone else...you need to tell me your name! Now go! Name?" 
            Luke answers automatically.
            "Luke Hawkins."
            The Gatekeeper looks, and looks, and looks a little more. After what seems like forever to Luke, the creature shakes his head.
            "No Luke Hawkins … " the Gatekeeper mumbled, “maybe somebody screwed up again.” 
            Shrugging he starts to pull at the lever, the bad one.
            Luke steps forward.  "Hawkins! Check again."
            Rechecking, the Gatekeeper say, "I have a LOUIS Hawkins."
            Luke quickly responds. "Luke, Lucas, Louis, I'm all...confused. Death isn’t an easy trip." He wants the adventure to continue.
            "Hmm, you don't look half bad for getting your skull caved in."
            "What?!"
            The Gatekeeper laughs. "Just kidding. You died of a heart attack."
            Luke nods, laughs nervously, and silently thanks the real Louis Hawkins for letting him steal his name. The Gatekeeper pulls on the good lever. As the gates open, a pleasant ding is heard. He walks through the gates and as soon as he does the scene around him changes from a cluttered, airport-size waiting room to a street. Luke almost gets run over by a passing rickety old bus before someone pulls him to safety. Luke looks back and sees a man hunched over with a bent back, only one eyeball and rotten teeth.
            "Thanks, man." 
            "No problem," the man says, walking away. 
            As Luke walks the streets, there are all sorts of dead people around him. They are all pretty nice, saying "Hello, good day," and some speak other languages that really don't make sense to him, but he says "Hi" regardless.
            The buildings look odd to Luke: old stone buildings, some looking like cathedrals. Other buildings, definitely newer than the stone but still old, are wooden, rickety and tilt at funny angles with age. There are weird creatures in the sky, ghosts flying, and other odd creatures running around that look like they belong in a mythology book. Out of all the places he's seen, he hadn’t yet seen a restaurant. He does feel hungry and as if by some magic, a restaurant is right across the street. He crosses the street and goes into the restaurant, where he is met with a cloud of smoke ... cigarette smoke. He coughs and wheezes a little.
            "Buck up,boy, or get out of here."
            He peers through the smoke and barely sees a bartender running a dry cloth in a mug.
            "I just wanted a drink or something to eat."
            The bartender slides him a mug as Luke gets up onto a bar stool. He looks at the drink and grimaces.
            "What's this?" he asks disgustedly.
            "Well, I forget its real name, but we call it Moldy Oldie."
            "I'll just have a soda."
            "Oh, attention everyone, we got a real heavyweight here. Boy wants a
soda."  He throws Luke a can of soda. "So, how'd you kick it, young one?"
            "Excuse me?" Luke says, snatching the can and opening it.
            "Died! Kicked the bucket! Put in your last request in the jukebox. Don't act stupid with me, fella."
            "Oh, I died of a heart attack."
            "You? Blimey, you aren't even old."
            "I know."
            "Don’t even look sick." 
            "Yeah."
            "You sure are ugly though."
            Luke stops mid-sip. "What?"
            The bartender shrugs. “I see what I see. Now bury that snout in your drink."
            Luke drinks as he looks at the clock. It's dead. He looks at his watch. Also dead.
            "Excuse me."
            The bartender grumbles a sigh. "What now?"
            "I just wanted to know what time it is."
            "Time? Time doesn't mean much in here, boy. I'm sure you just realized your watch is dead too." Luke nods. "It's something to do with this dimension or some stupid thing. Get used to being dead, because you’re in it for the long haul." Luke bites his lip and nods again. The bartender is reminded how young the kid is and finds a bit of kindness. "Hey look,” he says, “if there's anything you need, let me know."
            "Where's the bathroom?"
            "Now, you're just taking advantage!" the bartender snaps back in a sharp shift.
            Luke freezes and decides to look for the bathroom on his own. He finds it in the back and it's a dingy bathroom, as dark as a cave. There is a urinal though, so the place is not a total antique. As he does his business, he sees something written on the wall.    "Need help adjusting to the Afterlife?” he reads aloud. “Come see the man who knows his way around a graveyard or two. Hell, my name even has to do with death!"
            Luke returns to the main bar room, apprehensive about asking the bartender a question, but he wants to know about what he just read.
            "I was just reading your wall and was wondering who wrote that message about adjusting to the afterlife?"
            The bartender's ever-present cranky expression melts away. He then looks around and motions Luke to come in closer so only they can hear each other.
            "Now do yourself a favor there, lad. Stay away from him. That guy is nothing but a con artist. You wanna learn? There's a school called Poltergeist Academy. They’ll teach you everything you need to know about being dead. They'll even give you a purpose to live out for the rest of your existence."
            I don’t need anyone to tell me what my purpose is, Luke thinks to himself. And I’ve had all the school I ever want, life or afterlife.
            "What's his name though? It didn't say," Luke persists.
            "It's best you leave here not knowing. Now scat!" Luke grimaces at him, but leaves as the bartender shouts, "Best of luck to you. You're going to need it."

            Meanwhile, back in Sam's apartment, she is etching another symbol of the dead into the wooden floor. It is more artistic than Luke's. Will it work the same? She hopes so. She takes Luke’s knife and holds out her arm above the middle of the symbol. She runs the knife across her skin, cutting a small gash. As her blood drips, the symbol turns deep red, pales to white, then turns into ash as the floor caves in and she falls down another portal hole. She hits the ground, gets up, and realizes she is not in the Big Apple anymore.
            "Where am I?" She asks out loud as she looks into the deep, dark woods in front of her.
            There's a fog on the ground reminding her of a morning frost back home, not New York home, but New Hampshire home. Cool air blows at her face gently, pleasantly. She feels relaxed, like nothing in this world could harm her. Walking to the forest’s edge, she finds a trail. A rustling sound comes from the trees. She stops, holds her breath, but nothing appears. After a few moments she begins to walk the trail again, hoping she'll reach whatever awaits her soon.

Thursday, March 14, 2013

Reader Sent: Old Village School

Recieved an email from a reader who said she's had experiences at the Old Village School in Wells River, Vermont. NEPI, along with myself, investigated the former school and got some interesting results. Click here for the article.
 
Note that this email has not been tampred with and appears as it did when she emailed me.

When I lived at the school house it was also a radio station and an Evangilist Church on the other side of my wall. The radio station was below me. The church would come in every Sun am and pm and on Wed nights. They would play tamberines and speak in tongues. LOL. My boyfriend at the time and I would hear things all the time. We had a balloon for my birthday. It would float around the apartment by itself with no breeze. Sometimes in the kitchen and then make its way into other rooms. Our friend that was a DJ at the station said the same types of things about balloons. We’d always get really creepy feelings where you could sense someone there. One night as we had just gotten into bed, the lights were off and we were on the 3rd floor. We could hear a rhythmic banging above us. There was just the roof above us and NO way for anyone to get up there except from the room next to our apartment that just WE had access to. It would “BANG” 4 seconds, “BANG” 4 seconds” over and over again to the point where we were both almost crying and holding each other’s hands. I was so scared my legs were numb and we were literally shaking. We never found out what it was. I’d wake up in the middle of the night during the week when he wasn’t there (he lived in MA during the week) and I would be terrified. I would sleep with the tv and lights on so that I never heard any scary sounds. I’ve never been as frightened any place else in my life and there was “nothing” to technically be afraid of. I think it was just that I could really sense something. At the same time, it was one of my favorite places. I really loved living there. I loved the character of the place. There was a neighbor on the very bottom floor in the back. Her name was Janet Parks. She passed away around 93 or 94ish. I don't know if it was in the house or not so if you do ever get to go back, that may be something to focus on. She was an aide at BMU school. I have so many great memories of that place.:)

To all the readers: remember, if you have a story, please feel free to share it with me! I love hearing of other peoples experiences, so please don't be shy.

If anyone else has had an experience at the Old Village School, feel free to comment below.

Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Haunted Lakes of Vermont

Haunted Lakes of Vermont:
The Tavern Ghosts of Lake BomoseenBomoseen, VT 
Lake Bomoseen is no stranger to fame as it is Vermont's largest lake, but it's also home to a Vermont ghost legend. One night, long ago when Irish settlers called the place home, three men decided to go to their favorite tavern for a little nightcap. They had to take a rowboat in order to get across to lake to get to the tavern, but that was the last time they ever seen, because when there boat was found, they weren't in it and no bodies were ever recovered.

The lake grew around them: spawning a campground here and there, hiking, boating, fishing, and in 1960 it became a state park. But even though it grew from an Irish settlement where they would work at the local slate quarries to a state park, sometimes when the moon is lit right, a phantom row boat can still be seen going across the lake before disappearing without a trace.

Sources for this Article:

VTStateParks.com - Information on the lake can be found here.

GhostsofNewEngland.blogspot.com - Information on the ghost legend was found here.

The Phantom Steamboat of Lake MoreyFairlee, VT

Bitterness can make us do funny things that if not controlled can go to a new extreme. Such an event happened, when it all started back in 1807, when Robert Fulton's Clermont steamboat first launched onto the Hudson River. He's noted as the creator of the first steam engine boat, but those facts just don't add up to some people. The fact that does is that Fulton's steam boat was the first to be commercially successful, not the first ever though.

The first operational steam boat was a tiny one that was invented by Vermont's very own, Captain Samuel Morey as early as 1793. According to historical documents, it didn't even hold Morey, but it was still the FIRST steam boat. Whatever the argument may be, the atomicity grew within Morey about how Fulton stole his idea.

Granted, some documents say that he was frustrated person in life, but that's only because he way ahead of his time in terms of a scientific mind. One such story is of the Aunt Sally, his own boat, a prototype that he sank in frustration of the whole case of Robert Fulton and his Clermont. After that, he abandoned steam boats and went to gasoline powered engine.

Samuel Morey died on April 17th, 1843 a respected contributor to science and perhaps he passed happy and is enjoying his eternal sleep. His prototype, however, has been reported to not rest so easily...even if it did sank two centuries ago. Aunt Sally can't seem to rot in peace after her inventor deliberately sank her all these years ago, because they say that every month the steam boat rises from the depths of Lake Morey and sails one last time before disappearing in a fog. Some witnesses have even reported seeing Morey himself at the helm.

Until next time, this has been another Scared Sheetless. Happy hauntings graveyard disciples.

Sources for this story:

Vermonter.com

Haunted Vermont: Ghosts and Strange Phenomena of the Green Mountain State by Charles A. Stansfield, Jr.