Music To My Fears

I woke up fifteen minutes before the alarm went off. Then I laid there in bed about another five minutes.

Finally I got up and washed up, put on my uniform, and gathered my stuff. Travel vest. EMF detector. Camera. I grabbed the CCGS cemetery book that covered the north end of the county. 

Then I walked downstairs to have some coffee and check my e-mails.

An hour after getting up, I was climbing into the van with the SPI team and Millie to do a paranormal investigation.

Worth it.

"Ole Bull State Park," I said,"Was named for a famous musician. He came to this area in the mid-1800s, and wanted to set up a series of communities that looked like his native Norway. But the guy who was selling him the land didn't actually own it, in the sense that he'd paid for it or let the actual owners know, and Ole Bull lost money on it. He was building a castle on top of the hill, and he played his violin there for a while, then, according to the legend, threw it off and wandered into the woods."

"Is the castle still there?" asked Tim from the back of the van.

"The ruins. Basically a foundation. It's a short but very steep hike. People say you can still hear Ole Bull's violin playing sometimes, on a dark night."

 "Where's this other place you wanted to stop by?" Vince asked, driving.

"It's in Leidy Township. Back in 1950---Seventy-five years ago, this summer---Two local reporters went up and interviewed Hiram Cranmer, the postmaster. He told them about a headless ghost roaming in the area. They went up and staked it out---It's a cemetery very near a bridge across Kettle Creek---And came back with a photo of a white, smoky shape. Humanoid with no head. It ran on the front page the next day. I've written about this a bunch of times."
"I've seen those articles," said Tim. "Our historian finds some pretty good places to stop."

"Your historian has a tendency to overplan," I said.

"Looks like Ole Bull is right up ahead," said Vince.

"Pull up to the main office," I said. "I want to score a few maps."

We pulled up at the parking area. I walked over to the main office and grabbed a couple of Ole Bull maps, and checked around to see what else they had. I found some maps of Kettle Creek, and I picked those up, too. 

I walked back to the van.

"They have Bigfoot stickers for sale in there, if anyone's interested," I said.

We started unloading. I pulled on my vest---Not the bulletproof tactical, but a lighter one that was easier to pack---And I loaded it up with my equipment. Devaughn and Tim unloaded a power wheelchair for Millie. Millie, my partner investigator for almost twenty years, was getting older, and I wasn't entirely on board with the idea.

"Oh, you brought some walkies," commented Tim. I was taking them out of my bag and putting one in my pocket.

"Yeah, I got three in case we get separated."

"We brought ours, too." He opened a long case containing several comlinks. I looked them over; they were nice models.

"Those will communicate through a mile of concrete," Vince told me. "I put them together out of some spare parts I found for a couple of bucks."

I like hanging with Vince. He's my best chance of getting a functioning teleporter eventually.

"Hell, then, let's use yours." I dropped mine back into my bag.

"Excuse me." There was a man riding by on a bike with his son. "Do you mind if I ask what you're doing? I noticed the outfits."

We do often look a little unusual. My outfit consists of a black vest with extra pockets and a bandanna around my right ankle. Tim's is similar but a little more formal, with a polo shirt with the logos on it and suspenders. And Devaughn's is a marvel---Camouflage, almost a military look, but covered in all sorts of paranormal patches showing cryptids, ghosts, and aliens.

"Oh, we're Swartz Paranormal," Tim explained. "We're here to look into stories of Ole Bull haunting the place. Our historian turned that up."

"Oh, now, that's interesting," the man said. "Do you guys have some sort of website or page that you'll be putting up any findings?"

"You can check us on Facebook," Tim said. I handed him one of the LHPS business cards.

'Which way do we want to go?" Tim asked me.

"The bridge is right over there," I said. "Right across is the monument to Ole Bull. From there, it's a short but very steep hike up to the castle ruins."

"Would the monument be a good place to get a group picture for the Facebook page?" he asked.

"It would," I said.

We walked across the park and over the bridge. I could see the Ole Bull monument from the distance as we approached. It had been a couple of years since I'd been up with my family, but everything was where  remembered it.

We stopped and had a camper take our photo gathered by the monument. Then I said,"The castle is up this way," and we started up.

"Which way?" Millie stopped the power chair at the fork in the trail.

"Either," I said. "It loops, and leads to the castle."

She chose the right path, which looked slightly less steep. The others followed along, helping her in the chair. I  turned left, and walked up the hill, and ended up at Ole Bull's castle ruins.

It was mostly a foundation now, with a sign up describing what it had once been. Standing high on top of the mountain, I looked over everything. I love those moments---Getting to stand where the historic people stood, seeing where things happened over a century ago. Feeling those ripples from history, knowing you're part of it now.

The others came up the path. Devaughn began walking around the trail, looking at the perimeter, while Tim and I started checking for EMFs. Vince got out the spirit box and set it up on a bench, and turned it on.

"Anything?" Tim asked me.

I shook my head. "Not yet. Clearly no power lines or anything up here, but I'm not reading any ghosts, either. Temperature is consistent at about sixty."

The spirit box suddenly blared to life, sounding out several musical notes. They were loud chords, deep and haunting, and they sounded out through the valley below.

Tim turned to look at me.

"Did you hear that?" he asked.

"It was rather hard to miss."

"There shouldn't be any radio signals up here."

"And Ole Bull's ghost is said to play music," I said. "I think we have something."

I felt a raindrop. I looked up. The wind was blowing the clouds in over the mountain, and it was beginning to rain.

"Damn it," I said,"It wasn't supposed to rain today."

"You never do know," commented Millie. "It's been pretty wet lately."

"We should get the equipment out of the rain," said Vince.

I nodded.

"Let's get everything packed up."

"Sorry this one as a bust," said Vince as he packed up the equipment in the van.

Tim glanced at him. "Seriously?"

"What the hell gives you that idea?" I asked. "We got some music notes over the spirit box. This was a great investigation!"

"So, if we have time and everyone agrees," I said,"We can stop in Leidy Township on the way home."

We'd found a restaurant along Route 6 and stopped to eat. I was having a shrimp basket, sitting next to Millie, much like we usually did.

"Back in August of 1950," I said,"Two staffers from the local newspaper staked out the area and spotted a headless ghost. It was said to be the ghost of a man beheaded by the Native Americans after trying to steal some of their treasure. They got a photo of it, in fact, which was a pretty good piece of evidence. I'd like to stop by and check it out."

"And you know the place?" Tim asked.

I nodded. "The article said it was in Leidy Township. It mentioned a cemetery and a bridge, right over Kettle Creek. I've checked the locations of all the cemeteries in the township, and there's only one that matches the description. Truth is, I've always wanted to visit all the cemeteries in Clinton County, and this is a chance to check this one off my list."

"Well," said Vince,"If it's along 144, we can take that down to the Renovo Road, which takes us right past Millie's on the way home. It's basically on our way."

"You gonna eat those chips?" I asked Millie.

"Right here. Right here," I said excitedly. "The bridge."

Vince made the turn onto the bridge, and I said,"Right there is the cemetery."

"Where can I park?"

"I guess here on the grass, by the road."

He pulled up. I climbed out of the van and looked at the cemetery, and the others followed. I walked through, looking at the graves. 

"Which one is the oldest in the cemetery?" Tim asked me.

I checked the cemetery book I'd brought along. "I have one from 1907....That one seems to have been moved from Maple Grove, when they built the Kettle Creek Dam. A lot of cemeteries ended up underwater during that project. If we don't count that one, I have one from 1922. I'm seeing some Summersons in here....David Summerson died and is said to be riding a phantom horse in the area."

"Cool."

"The reporters sat up here in their car for a while, probably about where we parked, and then walked down to the bridge. It was there that they saw the ghost. it was described as a headless, smoky sort of white shape. It moved toward them, and they ran back to the car and went for a whiskey."

"Up in Cross Fork?"

"I think down to Renovo, but I'm not sure. Over the drinks, they decided that they needed a photo, so they went back. This time, they saw it again and got a photo, and ran back to the newspaper to develop it and write up the story."

Tim grinned.

"Shall we?"

We walked down the road to the bridge, Tim, Devaughn and me. We looked at the bridge going over Kettle Creek, and I stopped for a moment, looking out over the creek, the same place two other reporters had seen a ghost so many years ago.

The ghost was spotted right down there. And, seventy-five years later, here I am. Tracing the footsteps, looking at the same place. Learning about it, and becoming. A part of history.

When they dropped me off back at my place, Paul and the girls next door were playing in the backyard. I carried my bags around to go inside.

"Hi, Dad!" Paul called, not pausing in his bouncing on the trampoline.

"Hey, kiddo."

"Hi, Lou!" said Love, also bouncing. "Where have you been?"

"Been up north, hunting ghosts."

"Cool! Tell us some stories?"

I smiled.

"Sure. Let me get unpacked, and then I'll tell you all about it."

Cloudy With A Chance Of Hauntings

Every once in a while, Tif and I tried to have breakfast together, almost like we were normal people. It was a pleasant Friday morning. We sat at McDonald's, eating our breakfast and chatting before work.

"Been at kind of loose ends lately, adventure-wise," I said, drinking my coffee. "I had all sorts of fun running around Lancaster and New Castle, but now that that's over with, I don't know what else to do. It's been slow."

"Oh, god," said Tif.

"What?"

"You get into some of the craziest ones when you get bored. When you have nothing to do for a while, out come the maps and Shoemaker books, and you get into something insane."

"I mean, I hope. I could use something like that right now. I thought I was going to get to investigate a haunted tobacco store, but that turned out to be nothing."

"Nothing on the horizon?"

"Couple of potential adventures scheduled in June. Nothing too exciting planned right now. I don't always do wild stuff when I get bored."

"Remember that time you had Biz and me put a rain spell on the whole city? What was that, about fifteen years ago?"

"Something like that. 2007 sounds about right."

"That was interesting. Something like that, maybe?"
"Right now, just about anything would do."

Tuesday night. Michelle and Paul were out taking Biz grocery shopping, and I had the house to myself. Sort of. Rosie and Butters were around, and Cookie the hamster, and Ida was around someplace. You're never really alone in my house.

I heard the wind outside, kicking up. A storm was coming. I stepped out onto the back porch to watch.

I love storms. They're like a free firework show with a somewhat slow-paced but exciting movie. I stood on the porch for a while, watching as it built.

Thunder and lightning. I love that. The wind was pounding everything; I watched our tree blow back and forth violently. I could hear the garbage cans get knocked over on the northwest side of the house. I stopped just out of range of the rain and watched for a while.

"What's for dinner?" Michelle asked as she came into the house.

"Sausage, corn, and baked potatoes," I said. "After dinner, I need to run up to Highland Cemetery to get some photos."

"Okay."

"There was some tree damage from the storm. I've sold the idea of an article to my editors, so I need some photos to send with it." I put the sausage in the oven. "I wonder if that stirs up the ghosts."

I turned the oven on. Then I stopped to think about that.

Then I sat down at my computer and sent a message to the team.

"So....Highland?" said Tif.

This time, we were sitting on the sidewalk on Main Street, in front of the Texas Restaurant. We were having Growlers, a specialized chili dog. It's the closest thing you can get to a Lock Haven cuisine. 

I nodded. "We have some trees down up there. A lot of the time, damage can cause more activity, similar to the way home repairs do. It seems to rile them up. So I'm taking the team up to check it out."

"When you going?"

"Saturday evening seems to be the best time. I checked with Dave, the cemetery manager. He wants to join us."

"Think you'll find anything?"

"We'll see. The potential is definitely there."

"At least it'll keep you busy."

"Which is probably best for society anyway."

"Lou?" Tom called back. "Two guys are here asking for you."

"Thanks, Tom." I walked up to the front office, expecting some sort of history question, and instead found Tim an Devaughn standing by the counter. I grinned.

"Hi, guys! What's up?"

"Well, we stopped by to check and see what equipment we need for Saturday," said Tim.

"I'd say the basic stuff. We don't need anything too complicated; just what you can carry. We'll meet up at the top of the cemetery---Drive up the hill and look for Soldiers' Circle."
"We also wanted to order some stickers and business cards," said Tim. "And we need a logo designed for the team."

"My friend Emily can help you with that," I said. "Emily?"

Emily stood up from her desk and brought over an invoice. "Sure, I can help with that. When do you need it by?"

"June seventh would be good if you can," said Tim. "If not, that's okay too."

"I think that's plenty of time," said Emily. 

"LHPS has a logo, I think SPI needs one, too," said Tim. "LHPS is a ghost. For ours, maybe a haunted house or something?"

"I can come up with something," agreed Emily.

"Just run it past Lou when you get it," said Tim. "I trust him."

"I trust Emily," I said. "She's really good."

"Dad, can you walk me down to Juliet's?" Paul asked.

I looked at my watch. I had plenty of time, and it was a nice day out. "Sure," I said. "Come on, let's go."

We walked down to his friend's house, a block and a half away. When Paul tapped at her door, Juliet appeared, and Paul handed her a popsicle.

"Hey, kiddo," I said,"Is your mom home?"

"Sure," said Juliet. She ran upstairs. A moment later, her mother appeared.

"Hi, Amanda," I said. "Sorry to bug you."

"Oh, it's no problem," she said. "What's up?"

"We're going to investigate Highland Cemetery tonight," I said. "About seven to nine-ish. Would it be okay with you if I invited Juliet along?"

"Sure, she'd love that."

Paul ran to grab Juliet, and said,"Juliet! Do you want to come and investigate a cemetery with---"

"Yes," said Juliet.

I smiled. "We'll pick her up and drop her off."

It was seven when we stopped at Highland and got out. Me, Tim, Devaughn, Vince, and Petey, plus Paul and Juliet. I was wearing my usual outfit---The LHPS uniform, black jeans, black bandanna, boots with skulls on them, fingerless gloves, and the tactical vest. 

"Storm damage is over here," I said. "Looks like they've started cleaning some of it up. We had a few trees down up here along the top, mostly right around this area."

Tim's outfit was a lot like mine, but more official-looking somehow. He had a polo shirt with symbols on the sleeves, a vest and equipment belt, and heavy fingerless gloves. Devaughn had a more military-style outfit with cargo pants, an equipment belt, and a camouflage jacket with paranormal patches all over it.

"You want your vest right now?" I asked Paul.

He  shook his head. He was still in his soccer uniform from that morning, which he took some pride in. "Not right now, Dad."

"I'll wear it," volunteered Juliet.

I put it on her. It fit better than I thought it would; she's pretty tiny, but it worked well enough.

"This is Soldiers' Circle," I said. "The first black soldier to fight with a white unit in World War I is here. Over there is a guy who was an honor guard at Lincoln's funeral. John Sloan, the famous artist, is over there. That statue down there---That's Peter Meitzler. He was built with a beer glass in his hand, but during Prohibition, some temperance ladies came along and smashed it off."

"Really?" Paul asked. "Where?"
"I'll show you. My suggestion tonight is we set up shop near the Kistler Mausoleum; we've had activity there before."

"We have some new 3D printed stands for the EMF detectors," said Tim. "Wait until you see."

"Do you have any more equipment, Dad?" Paul asked.

"Yeah, kid, it's all in the black bag."

We began unpacking. Vince and Tim got out their EMF detectors, and set them up on stands around the mausoleum. I took some photos and checked things out with my all-in-one. Juliet followed along, fascinated by it all.

Paul and I walked down the path to the Meitzler statue, overlooking the city. I said,"See? You can see where his fingers are all broken off, where he was holding the glass."

"I see it," agreed Paul. "They should put it back."

"That idea has been proposed," I admitted.

We walked back toward Soldiers' Circle, where Tim and Devaughn were exploring. I said,"Henry Shoemaker's grave is right over there."

"Well, I gotta see this," said Tim.

We walked over to Shoemaker's grave. I'd been there a million times before; Shoemaker was one of my big heroes. Tim said,"I love this. Get my picture, Devaughn."

I took a walk around the top of the cemetery. All of the historic people up here....Former mayors, business owners, writers. It had been slow since returning from Lancaster, but this was exciting. I'd always loved Highland Cemetery; to me it represented the best of Lock Haven's past. I always came out of it knowing I was going to end up here myself one day....And thinking, Well, that's okay.

I rejoined the others. We walked around the loop at the top of the hill, taking reading and looking at the historic graves. Then we returned to the Kistler Mausoleum.

"The EMF detectors are lighting up," Devaughn pointed out.

The detectors we'd set up around the mausoleum were spiking from green to yellow. I walked around to the north side. "Over here, too. And there's no reason for it---There's no lights, no power lines up here at all."

"No," agreed Tim. "Didn't you say you'd gotten some activity like this before?"

I nodded. "Several years ago, I was up here with Millie and Charlie. We got a lot of similar activity, without any explanations, right here in this same mausoleum. It's probably Gertrude Kistler, who drowned on a family vacation when she was twelve, in 1920---Her grandparents are here."

"Still going," said Vince.

I looked over the flashing lights.

"We got activity, guys. We got this."

 It was a nice night. After, Paul and Juliet were hanging out on the trampoline in the backyard. I brought out some reheated hot dogs for them.

"Here you go, guys. Eat up." Paul had claimed to be hungry after the investigation, which wasn't surprising. For some reason, I often come home from investigations hungry myself, and he's always hungry these days.

The two of them ate their hot dogs. I said,"You guys learn anything tonight?"
Juliet nodded with some enthusiasm. "Yeah!"

I asked,"You have a good time?"

"Bet," said Paul.

"Yeah!" said Juliet. "And it kept me busy all night!"

I smiled.

"Me too."