Drone For The Holidays: The 2024 Christmas Special

It's interesting to party with Human Resources. They don't care about any of the rules. My wife's company Christmas party was an annual event, and I was sitting at a table with the HR staff, on my fourth beer.

"What do I do with these?" her boss asked, holding up a string of tickets he'd been given.

"They're raffle tickets," said Michelle. "You put your name on them and drop them in the boxes over there. I'm hoping to win a deep fryer."
"Anyone have a pen?" he asked.

I handed mine over. "I'm a writer. Of course I have a pen."

"Are you really a writer?" asked the accounting person.

I nodded. "I really am. Freelance. I write for the Clinton County Record, PA Wilds, NCPA, a couple of other places."

"I stumbled on one of your articles a while ago," said Michelle's friend April. "I was like,'Hey, I know that guy!'"

"What do you write?" the accountant asked.

"Local history and paranormal stuff," I said. "It's about the only honest way you can make money as a paranormal investigator."

"Oh, that has to be interesting."

I thought back. Over the past couple of months, I'd already investigated my family's farm, my workplace, a hotel in the next county, and looked for Bigfoot in a forest.

"Sometimes," I said.

The weather outside was frightful. But inside, we had a team of people who weren't going to be scared off by anything---Me, Tim, Ashlin, and Millie sat around the table at our monthly meeting of the Lock Haven Paranormal Seekers.

We had snacks on the table, and drinks. Gifts from one another. After the chaotic year I'd had, this was everything a holiday should be about.

"Tim, I got you something special," I said. I handed him a historic 1894 book about the railroads. "Bound it myself at work."

He grinned. "Thank you! I actually wanted this. I had plans to go and buy it. Got you something, too."

He passed over a little bag, and inside was a coffee mug from his team, Swartz Paranormal. I said,"Thank you! I can always use a mug."

"I considered ordering pizza," said Millie,"But I wanted to wait and make sure everyone was going to make it."

"This is fine, Millie," I assured her. "I love the snacks. But I wasn't going to miss out on this."

"I didn't care if I had to drive through the storm," agreed Ashlin. "I was going to make this meeting."

"I got you all something else," I said. I got in my bag and pulled out a shrink-wrapped pack of LHPS calendars, and handed them out. They had our little ghost symbol on top, with the year 2025 waiting underneath.

"I'm going to hang mine in my office at work," said Ashlin.

"I was debating what to get everyone, and then I remembered I work in a print shop," I said. "I had my friend Emily, who is brilliant and doesn't realize it, come up with the design for me."

"This is great," said Millie.

I smiled. "Happy holidays, you guys."

Paul and Tif made it a point to get together for dinner about once a week. This week, I'd been invited along, and we sat at McDonald's eating our food. I said,"You see the newspaper reported on the national drone sightings?"

"I've seen a little of that, but I haven't been following it much," said Tif. "What's going on with that?"

"People have been reporting drones, huge clusters of them. They've been spotted in New Jersey, New York, Virginia, and Pennsylvania. All the conspiracy theorists have been going nuts over it."

Tif nodded. "And what's your theory? Assuming you have an interest in this; it's a little outside your usual line."

"Well, drones get reported as UFOs a lot, so I pay attention. All sorts of things get reported as UFOs. Including, once, a goddamn gender reveal party. You remember back in 2016 when everyone was reporting clowns attacking them?"

Tif nodded. "Yeah, I remember."

"I think it's going to be like that. When you really dig into it, only the first clown sighting was actually real, and that probably was a couple of drunks screwing around. Everything after that was third-hand information, or people claiming they heard a noise and it was probably a clown, or something. There were no real hard sightings after the first one. Hell, the Bermuda Triangle pretty much is the same concept---No actual documented disappearances there, either."

"And these drones haven't been photographed?"

"One politician posted a photo. Republican, of course. He had a photo of lights in the sky, and demanded the government do something about them. But they were clearly the constellation Orion, so he was demanding that the government do something about the stars."

Tif  laughed. "Yeah, Republican, allright."

It was cold, but not snowing anymore. Paul and I walked along our street on the way home, singing choruses of "Silver Bells" together.

I stopped and frowned, looking at the sky to the northeast. "What the hell is that?"

Paul stopped and looked. "That bright light?"

"Yeah."

"Looks weird."

"It does," I agreed. "Too bright to be a star."

"No, that's not a star."

It was a very bright light, hanging in the sky. I said,"Helicopter?"

"That doesn't look like a helicopter. Is it a tower on the mountain?"

"Too high up."

"Santa?"

"Too early."

"I think it's a drone," commented Paul.

The light moved, rising and coming toward us, flying in roughly a southwest direction. As it came overhead, I could see a little better.

"It's triangle-shaped," I said. "We have an actual triangle-shaped UFO."
It disappeared over the horizon, and we reached our house and came in. Rosie and Butters, as they always do, ran to greet me at the door.

I sat down at the table and turned on my laptop. I scrolled through Facebook for a moment.

"Hey, kiddo," I said.

Paul looked up.

"My friend Charlie, from LHPS. She saw a whole bunch of drones over her place."

Paul grinned.

"We have a mystery," I said.

"Lawyer business cards," I announced, bringing the finished box out and setting it on the shelf. Emily pulled that post-it off her bulletin board and threw it away. I'd been at the new job for three months, and little by little, I was getting much better at it.

"By the way, Lou," said Emily,"I got you something for Christmas, but I'm not sure it'll be delivered by the actual day. But just so you know, you have a present coming."

I smiled. I'd come to like all my new co-workers, but Emily was fast becoming a contender for Best Work Pal.

"Thank you, Emily," I said. "That's sweet of you. I'm not picky about when my presents arrive---If I get it after the holiday, that's okay, too."

She smiled. "I'm the same way."

"Hey. You'll like this. Paul and I saw a UFO last night."

"You did?"

"Yeah. Probably a drone, but I'm going to look into it. It was behaving a little weirdly, and it may have been illegally modified. So I'm going to investigate. I'm designating this one LH-24."

"Lock Haven...."

'Right, we saw it in Lock Haven in 2024. It's my own system, but it's an easy way to keep track of them. The one I investigated a couple of years ago, in Renovo borough in 1975, was RB-75."

"So how do you investigate this one?"

"Think I'll start with a stakeout."

I started going out and checking at night. Hell, it was right down the street. In my black puffy vest, I walked down and checked at about seven PM every night, looking to see if the UFO made a reappearance. Except for one night when it was pouring rain, or one night when Paul had dance class all night. Hell, aliens rarely invade during dance class anyway.

I took my night vision binoculars. They shined a green laser light that illuminated everything I looked at, so I could see clear across town and into the mountains. No drones or UFOs, though. But at least it was down the street from my house.

During the day, I made a few phone calls. I checked with the airport and local drone clubs to see if there had been anything flying that night. I called the hospital and the military base to ask---Neither one will tell you anything, but you have to cover your bases. 

On the winter solstice, temperatures dropped down into the teens. 

"Okay, you know how to use this?" I asked Paul, handing him the comlink.

He looked it over. "Yes. No. Um....You better show me."

"You press the button on the side to talk."

"Big one or little one?"

"Big one. Hold it in while you talk. Let it go to let me talk. If you need to signal me, hit the call button." I pressed mine, and his comlink bleeped and vibrated in his hand. He grinned. "I'll only be a block or two away, so the reception should hold out fine. And it's freezing out, so I won't be long."

"Okay."

I pulled on my puffy vest, my coat, and my fleece hood, and slipped the night vision binoculars in my pocket. I told Paul,"Heading out now."
"Okay," said Paul.

I walked outside---It was eighteen degrees out. I walked down the sidewalk to the clear area by our neighbor's house. From the sidewalk, you can see clear down to the courthouse. I hit the button.

"Paul, I'm down at Bonnie's place. You read me?"

"Yeah. See anything?"

"No, nothing yet."

I pulled out the binoculars and scanned the horizon. Everything was dark. Then I spotted the blinking light, just hovering there.

"I see it, kid. Just like the other night; it's just hovering there."

"Yay!"
"I'm going down to the corner to get a better view."
I moved down to the corner at Linden. I could see the light there in the distance, hovering still.

"Yeah....It's a drone allright. Just hanging there....Wait. It's on the move."

"Like the other night?"
"Yeah, getting closer. I'm going to try to distract it; be going silent for a few minutes."

I pocketed the comlink and aimed the binoculars at the drone. I'd been studying drones a little---I didn't have the equipment or knowledge to set up a jammer, but I'd learned that I could interfere to some extent with a laser. And I had access to lasers.

I clicked on the green laser light, shining it at the drone. I kept it aimed as the drone bobbed a bit, hitting the camera on the drone dead center as much as I could.

The laser can block the view that the camera is getting. And even the best drone pilot....Has to see to fly it.

I watched as the drone tried to weave away from the laser, but I kept the laser on the camera lens.

There we go. Having some fun now.

It tried to drop out of the way, but I kept on it. The drone slewed wildly to the side, and I saw it crash into a tree and drop, somewhere in the vicinity of Hoberman Park.

My garage was down the alley. I shoved the binoculars in my pocket, ran and got my bike, and rode down in the direction I'd seen the drone fall.

I got down to Hoberman Park, and waited. I couldn't find the drone in the dark, but I didn't need to. A minute or two later, a car pulled up, and a young woman got out with a flashlight.
"Oh, now I get it," I said. "It's you. CT-19."

She looked up at me. She was young, with long brown hair. She said,"Oh god. You."
"Mmmhm. I remember you. About five years ago, you faked a UFO sighting in Castanea Township with a drone to get my attention. You wanted to partner with me."

"You turned me down for some reason."

"Because you faked a UFO sighting."

"So what are you doing out here now?" she asked.

"Following up on the drone sightings," I said. "I assume you saw the news reports, and decided to get involved."
She nodded. "Drones have been attacking places all over the east coast. I thought I'd stir up some excitement here, too."

"Yeah, that sounds about right," I said.

"Don't suppose you've reconsidered?"
"No, I'm still not working with you," I said. "But when you find your drone, go ahead and have your fun. I won't interfere; I just wanted to figure out what was going on. Merry Christmas."

Six AM. I saw the crack of light as Paul opened the door and came in. "It's Christmas! Can we wake up now?"

"Why the hell can't you do this on school days?" I said. "How about you lay down here with us for a while?"

He shook his head. "I think there's presents downstairs!"

"Okay, give me a minute."

I dragged myself out of bed and we want downstairs. I started the coffee and Michelle sat down on the couch as Paul started pulling presents out from under the tree.

"A pizza blanket! A Melanie Martinez coloring book! A Bigfoot backpack! A puffy vest just like Dad's! This is the best Christmas ever!"

Four Calling Thunderbirds: The 2023 Christmas Special

Outside on Bellefonte Avenue, the streetlights were all decorated for Christmas. I could see it all from where I sat inside the coffee shop. I was sitting with Chris and his wife at the same table we always sat at, as if we were sitcom characters.

"Merry Christmas," I said to Chris. "I got you something."

I slid the small package across the table. He slid a pen out, and said,"Hey, pretty cool!"

"It's a multitool pen," I said. "This thing has a level, two rulers, and two screwdrivers in it. I take them on a lot of ghost hunts."

"I can work on the house with this!" he said. "Got you something, too."

I took a sip of coffee as he handed me a package. Wrapped in my column. I unwrapped it, and smiled.

"Henry Shoemaker's Black Forest Souvenirs! Thanks, man!" I paged through. "Cursed woods, healing springs....I think this book contains my next big mistake!"

Chris's wife, Kate, grinned. "He knew you'd like that."

"He was right. It's been a little slow lately; I can use something to keep me busy. I want the Minnesota Iceman for Christmas. I'm a size ten in UFO sightings."

It was raining when I took the kids down to the bus stop. Paul and I walked down with the neighbor kids, his little friends, whom I'd organized into a little group we called the Ghost Gang. It was the usual; insane kids running around, screaming at each other until the bus arrived. Nobody on Jones Street sets an alarm in the morning.

I was whistling and didn't realize it until Love looked up at me and asked,"Are you whistling?"

"Oh. Yeah. Didn't really notice. Christmas songs, you know?" I sang softly,"Oh, I....don't want a lot for Christmas...."

"Hey!" said Serina. "I know this one!"

I grinned at her, and she started singing, too. "....There is just one thing I need...."

Love smiled, and then joined in, and Sekiyah and Paul started, too. It was beginning to flurry.

I don't want a lot for Christmas,

There is just one thing I need....

And I don't care about the presents

Underneath the Christmas tree....

I just want you for my own

More than you could ever know....

Make my wish come true....

Baby, all I want for Christmas

Is you.

The kids started dancing on the sidewalk, and we all sang together. Good times with the kids.

I don't want a lot for Christmas,

There is just one thing I need...

And I don't care about the presents

Underneath the Christmas tree

I don't need to hang my stocking there upon the fireplace,

Santa Claus won't make me happy with a toy on Christmas Day....

I just want you for my own

More than you could ever know....

Make my wish come true....

All I want for Christmas

Is you.

I took a shower and threw on my Loch Ness Monster sweatshirt, sat down and wrote an article based on the book Chris had given me. I ordered some Christmas gifts for the family---A rolling pin for Michelle, a shirt for Tif with a pattern composed of words from her favorite book, and a Julius Caesar pencil holder for Biz. It had seven holes in the back to stick pencils, and it screamed Biz. I got Paul just about everything Amazon sells, which was what he'd asked for. Then I checked my e-mail.

An e-mail had come in on my PA Wilds address from one of my editors, Britt. In response to one of my articles, a witness to a thunderbird sighting had come forward. He'd provided a detailed description of the cryptid and the location, which I was familiar with.

It had gotten considerably colder by that afternoon, when I went to get the kids from the bus stop, I said,"Hey, guys, you'll like this. I got a thunderbird sighting this morning."

"What's a thunderbird?" asked Serina.

"Big giant bird, the size of a car," said Paul.

"That's right," I said.

"Can I see it?" Sekiyah asked.

"What? No, I....I don't have the actual bird. It was just a report from someone who saw one. It was an e-mail."

"Where?" asked Paul.

"Up in Cameron County. You've been there; we stopped by after investigating those vampires and South Bay Bessie a few years ago. I'm going to have to investigate this one. Last year, it was a Wendigo. This year, a thunderbird."

"Can I come?" asked Sekiyah.

"I'll see what I can do."

I was wearing my X-Mas alien shirt, and Millie had a bright red sweater. We all had some sort of festive outfit on as we sat around the table at our LHPS meeting: Me, Millie, Heather, Ashlin, Tami, and the new kid, Tami's kid, Juno.

"Well, first off, congratulations to Tami for winning her race for city council," I said. "This is the first time a paranormal investigator has been on city council. Does this make LHPS a government agency?"

"God, no," said Tami. "I have way too many of those already."

I laughed. "Tami, you said you're having some activity at your place?"
"Yeah, we've had things happening."

"Good. We need to train new people anyway. I propose that our next meeting be at your house, and we do an investigation. We'll train the new members, and keep ourselves busy."

"That works for me."

"Anyone want a glass of wine?" Millie asked. "I have some in the kitchen."
"Sure, I'll have a glass," I said.

Millie came back from the kitchen with the bottle. "I need you to help me get it open."

I popped the top off the wine, and she poured it. I took a sip. "Yeah, that's good. Now, we have our gift exchange!"

We'd started the gift exchange in our first year, sixteen years ago. At the time, the field leader had tried doing that stealing and swapping thing that people do for some reason, but everyone had always been satisfied with their gifts and never wanted to swap. So by the time I'd wound up as the leader, everyone just enjoyed what they'd gotten.

Juno got my present, a Lock Haven drink coaster. I ended up with Millie's, a sort of wand-shaped electronic lighter. I turned it over, and said,"Oh, Paul's going to love this. He likes burning things. We'll take this camping."

"I thought you might like that," said Millie.

"I got everyone something," I said, and handed them out. "Little multitools." Each one was a flat, wallet-sized piece. "There are about eleven different tools on these."

Heather looked hers over. "Nice."

"I mean, how many times have we been on an investigation and needed some sort of tool? I have one of these inserted in all my tac vests."

"You have more than one of those vests?" asked Tami.

Heather handed me a bag. "I got you something. Had to get it for you."

I pulled out a stuffed, knitted Bigfoot. I smiled. "I love it!"

"A friend of mine makes those. I thought it was perfect for you."

"You thought right," I said. "Looks like I do get to find a cryptid this holiday, after all."

At work, I had programs to plan and books to process. So I decided to say fuck it and  go investigate a cryptid instead.

I walked to the lobby and picked up one of the local maps from the tourist rack. Back at my desk, I did an online search for thunderbird sightings. One of my own articles was the first one that came up. It's interesting when that happens, but tells me nothing new. I marked the Cameron County sighting, then one I'd checked out a couple of years ago on the north side of the Susquehanna. There was one before that in Swissdale that Chris and I had investigated when we'd first met.

The Boss walked past my desk. "What are you working on?" she asked.

"Charting out our historic service distribution by township."

"Carry on."

I got a highlighter and made an orange mark on each sighting. There were some up around Kettle Creek, always the trendsetter in this regard. One in Jersey Shore, next county over. I ended up with a string of orange dots across my map.

"Hunh," I said.

I walked to the PA Room and grabbed Amazing Indeed by Robert Lyman. I knew it had a chapter on thunderbirds; there was even one depicted on the cover. I read through it and found a mention of the Native Americans reporting thunderbirds attacking whales for food.

Surprisingly, that actually checked out. Lyman described the area that thunderbirds were most seen in, and it was clustered in a comparatively tight area of north central Pennsylvania. 

With Lock Haven basically in the middle.

It was late. Paul and I were in the kitchen. Michelle had brought home two free hams from her company, and we had an extra from the local grocery store's points program. We also had a new oven with a "dehydrate" feature. I'd figured out that we could probably make ham jerky, but I'd found remarkably little instruction on how to actually accomplish this. So I was kind of winging it. Meanwhile Rosie and Butters sat on the floor, hoping for some of the ham to fall. Merry Christmas.

"I've been working on the thunderbird thing," I told Paul. "Called in my friend Kevin to do a little digging, too. You know what I found out?"

"What?"
"All of the sightings took place very near water---The Susquehanna River or its tributaries. So what does this tell us?"

"Thunderbirds need water."

"And what else?"
Paul thought it over for a moment. "Food!" he said.

"Right, food. And I found a mention in an old book about thunderbirds attacking whales, which makes sense---They'd eat fish from the river. So maybe if we wanted to see one, we'd have to go where there's fish."

"Maybe this summer!"

"Yeah, we can go looking for thunderbirds this summer. My witness sent me some pictures he created of the bird he saw, and it looks remarkably like an extinct bird called a teratorn. You never know---Maybe this summer, we can catch an ancient bird."

"Cool!" said Paul.

I laid out the ham strips on the tray, and looked them over. Then I slid them in the oven.

"Okay, let's see how long this takes. Hey. Got you something. This isn't exactly a Christmas present, so I guess you can have it early."

I handed him a package. He opened it and pulled out a sweatshirt---Black, with his name and the Ghost Hang logo on it. He smiled.

"Just like I wanted! Thanks, Dad!"

"Merry Christmas, little man."

Merry Cryptid: The 2022 Christmas Special

The puppy bounced around in the grass while I strapped the trees on the car. He was a tiny Mini-Goldendoodle, a couple of months old. My brother sat on the grass, watching with some amusement.

"He's funny as hell," commented Jon.

Paul, holding the puppy's leash, said,"We just got him. Rosie wanted a friend. His name is Butters."

"Good name." Jon glanced at me getting the second tree strapped down. "Two trees this year."

"I've been working with a local charity. For some reason they elected me vice-president a while back. I promised them a tree for their building."

"That's cool," he said. It was our annual Christmas trip to the farm. Paul always enjoyed going to visit, and Butters seemed to be having a good time with it, too. I was having a bit of a slower time since Resurrection Casey had graduated and left, but it was good to see the farm.

"Butters likes this," said Paul.

Jon nodded. "You want to bring him out here in the summer? You guys can work for me."

"Yeah!" said Paul. "How much?"

My teammates Tami and her wife Bre were having an ugly sweater party, and my family was invited. I have an ugly Christmas sweater that puts all the other sweaters to shame. It shows a blinged-out Santa in sunglasses carrying presents, and has a front pocket that perfectly fits a can of beer, if you want one on Christmas morning. I was wearing it as we walked into the house.

I gave Tami a hug. "Make the Yuletide gay," I said.

"Thanks for coming."

'Thanks for inviting us. Michelle made buffalo dip."

"Want a drink?" Bre offered.

"I'd hate myself if I didn't try one of your Grinch drinks," I said. "Let's go with that."

"We had the sound of the exterior door opening and closing the other morning," said Tami. "I thought it was the kid leaving for work, but as it turns out, they were still here."

I grinned. "We'll have to investigate. I just treated myself to a new thermal imager for Christmas, and I've been looking for an excuse to try it out."

"Oh, cool! What does that do?"

"It shows heat sources, sort of like infrared. I'll bring it to the next meeting and show you. It's really pretty cool, and I think it can be used for all sorts of applications---Ghosts, UFOs, cryptids."

"All the cool stuff."

"It can be used to check the insulation in your house, too," added Bre.

Tammy and I looked at each other. It's hard to be married to a non-investigator. "I mean, if you want to be all practical about it," I admitted. "But I'm not gonna pretend that's why I bought it."

I used to hate being in classes, and as an adult, I've been kind of glad those days are behind me. Then technology came along and fucked that all up, too. I was sitting in the kitchen, taking a required class on my laptop, when Paul and his little friend Serena came in, followed by Rosie and Butters.

Serena is in Paul's grade, but is tiny by comparison. She'd moved in next door in October, and ever since it had been a near-constant run on playdates and sleepovers. Both were in their pajamas tonight.

"Serena wants to know if we can teach her to ghost hunt," said Paul.

I smiled. "You're into that?"

Serena nodded. "I think that's really cool."
"Why not?" I said. "Let me get my stuff."

I pulled my tactical vest out of my office and put it on. Paul got into his. Serena said,"You guys really wear those?"

"When we're hunting ghosts, yeah. They're good for keeping all my stuff in the pockets. This is the laser thermometer, and this is the EMF detector. What we do is to find different readings, and then check to make sure it's nothing explainable."

"You guys have a ghost here, don't you?"

I nodded. "Ida Yost. She was seventeen when she died on our back porch."

"That's so cool. I wish my house was haunted."

"Okay, Paul," I said,"You want to show Serena how to do an EMF session?"

So there I was, eating lunch in a closet.

Lately I'd been doing that kind of thing. Not really in the mood to risk doing something extreme like socializing with my co-workers, I'd been slipping off on my lunch break to some of the most remote and unfindable places in the building. I knew them all---Hidden staircases, crawl spaces, and unused offices. Today I'd chosen the second-floor closet in the old part of the building, which I was also using to stash some of my program materials. So I sat among the art supplies, yarn, and a stuffed lion I'd saved for some reason, eating my sandwich and pickle, reading Salem's Lot.

When I was done and went back downstairs, a message was waiting on my computer. A woman who'd been on one of my tours a couple of years ago. I read it, and then considered.

When Chris came in a few minutes later, I was up to my elbows in old maps and cemetery books.

"Don't let me interrupt," he said.

"You know how it goes," I said. "Got a possible Wendigo sighting."

"Wendigo....Refresh me."

"The Wendigos were believed to be cryptids, more or less, by the Native American tribes of the north. They were thought to be created by very cold winters, when someone had to commit cannibalism to survive."

"Really cheerful career you got there."

"Well, it's one of those things where they were seeing something, cryptid or not, but their interpretation was colored by their fears. Like the Jersey Devil. These legends come from Maine, Michigan, Wisconsin, where even in the good winters you were at risk of having to eat somebody."

"And somebody saw one of these locally?"

"A couple saw one while they were staying in a cabin at Pine Creek."

"And you're not concerned you might get eaten?"

"My bloodstream is basically coffee. I can't imagine I'm part of a healthy diet. Thing is, Wendigo or not, they saw something. I gotta figure out what."

"You ever deal with a Wendigo before?"

"A few years ago, in Chicago, I got a bit of a crash course, but I wound up investigating ghosts and stuff instead. I've known about Wendigos, but never had an investigation. I've always wanted one."

"It's a Christmas miracle," said Chris.

It was a rainy Wednesday afternoon when the phone rang. It was Tif.

"Hey, Dad, the staff down here wants to know if they should cut the bottom off the tree stump before they put it up."

"Yeah, at this point they probably should," I said. "About half an inch will do; doesn't have to be too much."

"I'll tell them. Thanks."

Five minutes later, the phone rang again. 

"Dad, the staff can't find a saw. They want to know if you can cut it for them."

"Tell them I'll be down in ten minutes."

A little while later, I pulled up in front of the building with my bow saw. I buzzed in, and Lacey led me to the backyard, where the tree was propped. She said,"Sorry to bring you all the way down here in the rain."

"It was a pretty slow day anyway, until this. You know you guys don't have to make my daughter call me; any of you can ask me for help."

Lacey grinned. "We figured she knew the number."

I took a few minutes and got a pretty good cut in the stump, then carried the tree into the building. "Where do you want this?"

"Up front," she said. "Let's put it in the office. You want to stick around for our potluck lunch?"

"I don't want to take your food, but I'll hang out with you guys for a while," I said. "I'll tell you all about my Wendigo investigation."

It was twenty-one degrees when I put the kids on the school bus, and not warming up much. I had my heaviest coat on, the one I kept around in case of a Yeti attack. Paul nd I had been taking Serena down to the bus stop since she'd moved in, saving her mother a step each morning. Serena's mom was just coming out her door as I walked past on the sidewalk.

"Hi," I said.

"Oh, hi," she said. "Hey, since you're here, I wanted to ask you something. Are you guys going to the Santa shopping at the school tonight?"
"Oh, yeah, I was just talking to my wife about that. We're taking Paul."

"Could Serena ride along with you? I want her to have the opportunity to buy presents, but I can't take the two little ones out that time of night."

"Oh, sure, I don't see why not," I said. "While we're at it, would you mind if we took a little ride afterward? I want to go over to Pine Creek."

"Oh, sure."

"This next part is where it gets weird....I'm investigating a cryptid sighting."

"Cryptid....?"

"Like Bigfoot or something."
"Oh, she'd love that. What time are you leaving?"

"About five-thirty."

"I'll have her ready."

"Guys, we've had a Wendigo sighting out this way," I said. "The Wendigo is a creature the Native Americans believed in, with big horns and glowing eyes. Someone out here thinks they saw one, so we're gonna check it out." I figured it was probably best if I left out the cannibalism details around the eight-year-olds.

The back of the car was filled with purchased Christmas gifts and two excited kids. There wasn't a lot more space in the front, where I had my backpack and my cryptozoology kit. I was wearing my gray ghost sweatshirt and my black adventure jacket.

"It's dark out here," observed Serena. "Do you always do this in the dark?"

"Not always," said Paul.

"We've hunted Bigfoot at high noon," I added.

"But sometimes in the dark?" she asked.

"Sometimes."

"Do you ever get hurt?"

"Well....It happens," I said, at the same time Paul said,"Yeah." I concluded,"But we try to avoid that."

Michelle turned and pulled into the foresty area off 44. She said,"You guys go. I'll wait in the car."

"Okay, guys," I said. I opened my car door and slung my crypto kit over my shoulder. "Take the night vision binoculars and the thermal imager, and check around the edges of the field."

The kids and I spread out across the snowy field. I'd taught them how to use the equipment, so I let them at it while I took some photos. Paul said,"Here's footprints!"

I knelt down and looked at them. "You know what these are? A rabbit."
"Really?"

"Yeah. You can see where he hopped around with his back and front feet. Good eye, though---I'd have missed them."

"There's different prints over here," said Serena.

I looked. "Now these, I can't identify. I'm going to take a photo to check them out later." I got out my pocketknife and laid it down beside the print. "See, what you do is to put something common, like my knife, down beside the print. That way you have a good sense of the size in the photo."

"Ah, I see," said Serena, interested.

"Allright, guys, we've checked enough, and it's cold," I said. "Let's get in the car."
"No!" Paul protested. "A few more minutes!"

"Okay," I said. "Since you're having fun. Few more minutes."

I walked over and leaned against the car.

Michelle rolled down the window. "Find any Wendigos?"
"In a manner of speaking," I said. "Work with me here. This was territory of the Seneca and the Susquehannocks, an Algonquin offshoot. They're the ones who believed in the Wendigo. Now, like the Thunderbird, they were likely seeing something. Whether it was an actual cryptid, or an animal that they mistook for one, they had reports of this thing. Now it's not impossible for some animal to follow Pine Creek down from the north. We have rabbit prints, and where there's prey, there's predators. So it's pretty likely my client saw something that's not supposed to be here---A large, unfamiliar animal, or an actual Wendigo."

Christmas dinner.

I sat at the table with Paul, Michelle, Tif, and Biz, while Butters and Rosie ran around on the floor, hoping something might drop. We'd exchanged presents---I'd gotten a couple of pairs of thermal socks, a bar of Bigfoot soap, and a new canteen. Good year.

"Got everything I wanted," I said. "Including a Wendigo investigation."

"Generally when people see a Wendigo, they don't see another one," said Biz. "Or much of anything else, either. Ever."

I grinned. "Well, you never know. There was a couple who saw something out there."

"But Bigfoot still eludes you," said Tif.

"Well," I said,"The new year's coming."

All I Want For Christmas Is Lou: The 2021 Christmas Special

The coffee table was covered with candles, the Christmas tree was decorated, and and the snacks were out. Millie had really gone all out for the holidays.

The last time LHPS had gathered for our Christmas event, it was pre-pandemic and had ended up with two members quitting the team. We were hoping for a better time this year.

"Guys, this is Heather," I said. "I invited her along because I think she'll be a good member of the team. I know it's the Christmas meeting, but we're so desperate for people, I didn't want to delay it."

"Hi, Heather," said Millie. "We really need new members. Welcome."

Heather, a middle-aged mom with blue hair, smiled at us. "I'm excited," she said. "My sister-in-law is jealous I got invited. She's really into stuff like this."

"This year, I made a record-setting amount of money on the tours," I said. "I've been asked to do a slightly different round for Christmas, so I came up with a program involving a tour of the library, a lesson on paranormal investigation, and then an actual investigation of the library. If I can get seventeen people to attend, I'll have broken a thousand dollars in fundraising for the year. You guys are welcome to come if you'd like."

"I'd love to," said SaraLee. "I didn't get a chance to make your October tours this year."

"I know; I kind of missed you."

"I'd like to be there," said Heather. "I can bring my son."

"I'll reserve you two spots. I'm training my kid to investigate."

"Great."

"Now, I believe we have a gift exchange?" I dug into my bag. "By the way, I got all of you something---I had to guess at the sizes." I handed them small, black rings.

"Nice rings," SaraLee said, trying hers on.

"They take your temperature," I explained.

Millie turned hers over. "Really?" She sounded fairly impressed.

"Well, only in the metric system, but still. You'll see it start around twenty-seven and then creep up until it hits about thirty-six."

"Neat," said Heather, looking at hers.

"I thought we could use them on investigations," I said.

"Where there's a cold spot," said SaraLee. "I like it."

A couple of years ago, the Boss moved my desk so that people knew where to find me. I have never entirely forgiven her for that.

"You're the history expert, aren't you?" the woman asked, approaching my desk. "I have a question. I did my genealogy on a software that's not in use anymore. How can I upgrade it to something new so I can view it?"

"This is why I do all my research on paper," I said. "Been around thousands of years, and it still works."

"Well, I wanted to put it on something digital that works with my new computer," she said. "How can I do that? Do I call the Mormon church? Don't they do genealogy?"

"Well, yes, they do genealogy, but this is more of a tech question than a history question. I'd take it to the techology place downtown and see if they can upgrade it for you."

"You don't think the Mormons would help?"

"Well, they've never helped me any."

As she left, Tammy called out of her office to me. "How's the ghost tours coming?"

"Got three people signed up. Fourteen more, and I've broken a thousand dollars in fundraising for the year."

"Lou," Zach called from the desk. "Phone for you. Your wife."
I was in the middle of processing books. "Thanks, Zach," I called, and picked up the phone. "What's up?"
"We have to pick up Tif," said Michelle. "She's in the Altoona train station. She left on vacation this morning, but there was an accident with her eye and she's losing her vision. Do you want us to pick you up?"
"Yes. Wait, no. I'll meet you at the house."

"We're on our way."

I hung up and stepped into Tammy's office. "Tammy, my daughter had a medical emergency. I'm sorry, but I gotta go."

"Okay. Go. Oh, are you on desk?"

"Yes, at three."

"Go," called Zach. "I got this."

"Thanks, man," I said, and ran for my bike.

Altoona is somewhat over an hour away. I walked into the emergency room a little after six, and it was insane---COVID overflow had pushed some patients into the halls. I found Tif with some difficulty, lying on a gurney outside an office.

"Daddy!" she said.

"Hi, hon," I said. I sat down on a chair. "Talk to me."

"They have to send me to Pittsburgh," she said. "They need a specialist and they can't do the surgery here. They're calling an ambulance to take me."

"Okay. What do you need?"
'Could use a hug."

I hugged her.

"Thanks for coming all this way, Daddy. I'm sorry."

"You haven't done anything wrong. We'll have to get you from Pittsburgh once this is done---We have to go home tonight and take care of Rosie."

"Yeah, I know. I'll call."

"Update us with what's going on. Let us know where we can find you."
"Any chance you can get me something to eat? I'm starved."

"Maybe I can find a vending machine someplace."

There was an old guy with a beard on the next gurney back. He said,"There's a little cafeteria down the hall past the elevators."

"Thanks," I said. "I'll bring you a sandwich or something, hon."

"You know what I like."
"Hey," I said. "It's gonna be okay."

We got the call at 6:48 the next morning. I rolled out of bed to answer the phone, and half an hour later we were on the road, heading to get Tif in Pittsburgh.

"I hope it snows for Christmas," Paul said.

"It might," I said. "We'll see."

"The weather says it'll be hot."

"Oh." I'd had no idea he knew how to check the weather report. "Well, you never know, kid."

"Is Santa real?" Paul asked from the back of the car.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I've been wondering if Santa is real or not," Paul said. "We look for aliens and Yetis and stuff that's maybe real, and I was wondering about Santa."

"Hmm. Well, what do you think?"

"I want to know what you think."

I considered it. My parents had spilled their guts about Santa when I was about six, the very first time I'd ever questioned it. I'd been prepared to do the same thing with Paul, more or less.

But is this really how I want it to happen for him? When he looks back on this in the future, is this what I want him to remember? Finding out just before Christmas, on the way to pick up his sister from a traumatic injury?

"I think he's probably real," I said.

Paul nodded. 

"Me too."

Paul and I brought Tif into her apartment as her cat meowed at her arrival. She sat down in her recliner.

"I'll run and get you some groceries," I said. 
"Can I stay here until you come back?" Paul asked.

"That's actually a pretty good idea," I admitted. "You help your sister. I'll be right back with some food."

"Dad?" Tif said.

I stopped at the door and turned around.

"Thanks for coming to get me," she said.

"Hey," I said. "It's family."

Back to work. When my predecessor had trained me, she'd told me that the first thing she did every day was check her e-mail. I have yet to have a day that organized, but I usually got around to it sometime within the first hour or so. After the e-mail, I went back to see if Tracey had anything for me.

"How's the fundraiser coming?" she asked.

"I have space for thirty people," I said. "If I get seventeen, at ten dollars each, I break a thousand dollars for the year."
"Why is it you can only do math when you're talking about ghosts?"

"So seventeen people is my goal."

"How many do you have signed up?"

"Six. But I just got a couple of e-mails---People deciding on the spur of the moment to come without registering."

"So people aren't bothering to read the ads. But you're making money."

"I know," I said. "It's a Christmas miracle."

I walked down the stairs and to the main desk area. Jim and Mel were finishing closing down.

"Everything locked on the third floor?" Mel asked.

"It was a couple of hours ago when I was up there," I said. "I haven't been up in a while."

"Oh. I'll check. I thought you were up there."

"Nope, did our lesson in the Sloan Room, and then investigated the old bedroom upstairs. We got some evidence---Some sounds and a ten-degree temperature drop."

"Ten degrees is a lot," commented Jim.

"Yep. Not a bad opening night."

"....So that's the basics of ghost hunting," I said, standing in the Sloan Room in front of five people. "Does anyone have any questions?"

Heather's son raised his hand. "How come you're wearing those gloves?"

I glanced down at the fingerless gloves with skulls on them, which I'd put on along with my black ghost sweatshirt. "Well, they protect my hands but I can still use my equipment. I used to wear a whole tactical vest and everything for investigations, but I realized it looked an awful lot like those terrorists on January sixth. Anything else?"

I looked around the table. "Okay, then, We're going to move down the hall and investigate, using the techniques I've taught you. I'd also like to introduce my new teammate, Heather, who is in training tonight."

Heather smiled.

We walked down the hall to the old bedroom. I said,"Everyone thought to be haunting the Ross Library has lived in this room. It was the bedroom of Annie Halenbake Ross, Mary Elizabeth Crocker, Robert Bridgens, and Isabel Welch. I'm going to start taking photos---You guys get some readings with the thermometers and EMF detectors."

We spread out through the room---It had been the boss's old office before she'd moved downstairs. In the old days, it had been the bedroom in the old house. I got photos from several angles while the others checked the readings on their equipment.

"I have a temperature drop over here," reported Heather.

"I'm getting a reading here, in the corner," said Heather's son. "It went up to yellow."

"Okay. Check that. I'm getting photos. Guys, get a temperature baseline over here. I'll start the recording." I turned on my digital recorder. "Recording. December twenty-second, seven sixteen PM, second floor bedroom of the Ross Library. Is there anyone here?"

We moved through the room, getting readings. Then we settled into some of the chairs to do some recording. I sat by the fireplace, monitoring the digital recorder.

"Can you tell us your name?....Did you live in this house?"

"Where do you get all this stuff from?" Heather asked.

"Mostly Amazon," I said. "I shouldn't be allowed to own a credit card and an Amazon account."

"Can you send me links?" she asked.

"Sure. I'd recommend just buying it all at once. You're gonna wind up owning it all anyway; you might as well get it over with."

"Lou," said one woman,"What do you think of other creatures? Didn't you write an article on werewolves a while ago?"

"Over in Northumberland County? Yeah, I did that one. I have some plans to go investigate them this summer, actually. Did a piece on the grave of a vampire up in Erie once, too."

"We got a spike on the electricity," announced Heather's son. "As soon as you mentioned vampires."

"Are you afraid of vampires?" Heather asked the room at large.

"You know, Annie Halenbake Ross was a fan of classic literature," I said. "It's a fair bet she read Dracula at some point."

"That's true," commented Heather.

"Thank you all for donating to the Ross Library," I said. "I appreciate your being here. We're getting a lot of activity tonight."

I walked Heather down to the lobby. "Gotta close up soon," I said. "Thanks for coming."

She smiled. "It was great," she said. "Thanks for inviting me."

"Welcome to LHPS," I said. "Merry Christmas, Heather."

Afterward, I walked through the dark library, hands in my pockets. I did this every once in a while, walked through this place that had become home, looking at it as if it were the first time.

For too long, we've been letting the inconsiderate and cruel people dictate the terms. We've worn masks and been vaccinated while they refuse. My child has been out of school while others spread the virus.

And I've changed my outfit to a less professional, less convenient one to avoid being seen as one of them.

For a year and a half, I haven't been myself. I've been letting the bad guys call the shots. But I've run out of patience for that.

I looked at my reflection in the window.

It's time to take my look back.

Outside, in the alley, it has started to snow. It was about an inch deep already.

I smiled.

Well, how about that.

The next night was Christmas Eve. Paul had been running around all day, tailed by Rosie, getting things ready for Santa. We'd shuffled him off to Tif's place to watch a movie earlier, for the purpose of getting all his gifts wrapped. He was now in the living room, watching a Christmas movie while he wrote another note to Santa.

"Hey, kiddo," I said. "Got your Christmas Eve present. Here."

"No," he said breathlessly. "It can't be." He opened the little box, and slid out a new pocketknife. Bright red, like mine, but smaller. "I don't believe it!"

He hugged me. I said,"Be careful with it, little man, but it's time we upgraded you."

"Thank you, Daddy," he said.

I smiled at my son.

"Merry Christmas, little man."

A Socially Distanced Christmas: The 2020 Christmas Special

"Thank you for helping me find that obituary," the woman said. "He was killed in a car accident twenty years ago, and I never knew the details before."

"It's a Christmas miracle," I said.

"What do I owe for the copies?" she asked.

"Nothing," I said. "During COVID, copies are free. Our way of giving back to the community."

As she left, I walked over to my graphic novel section for the purpose of staring blankly at Black Panther. Zach was at the desk. He said,"Did you check your e-mail?"

"Not in the last hour. What's up?"

"So much for Christmas decorations," said Zach. "We've got a meeting scheduled Wednesday. We're going back into lockdown mode as of December."

It was cold outside, but my family and I were in the house. We were gathered in the living room, gathered around and decorating the Christmas ladder. You know, typical holiday stuff.

"So why a ladder?" Biz asked.

"It's the first time in almost thirty years I can't go back to the Christmas tree farm where I grew up," I said. "I could buy a tree locally, but that seems wrong, somehow. So Michelle looked up some ideas online, probably Pinterest...."

"It wasn't Pinterest," said Michelle.

"She came up with the idea of using a ladder. Paul and I took the old ladder that came with the house and painted it green. It'll do, for this year."

"Yeah, 2020 sucks," said Tif.

"Dinner's almost done," I said. "We have turkey corn chowder, mostly with stuff left over from Thanksgiving."

"After dinner can we go on alien patrol?" asked Paul.

"Maybe just a little bit," I said. "It's pretty cold out. Maybe just down to the paper company."

""You know, I was in a book about the paper company," mused Biz.

"Hmm?" Suddenly, she had my attention. "Which book?"

"I don't remember, my old parents told me about it. It was some sort of anniversary book for the paper company."

"I probably have a copy around here someplace," I said.

"I'd love to see it," said Biz. "I was little at the time. I was in some sort of group photo or something. If you can find that, I'd love to take a look."

"I'll look around," I said. "Meanwhile, we have chowder to eat."

The book I thought Biz was referring to was the centennial anniversary book. It was a huge thing stored not far from my desk. I took it with me and paged through it while I worked my lobby shift---With the library locking down again, we needed a door dragon. I didn't see any photos that could have matched in the book; it was all black and white older stuff.

Zach took over the lobby after an hour. I went back to my desk and reshelved the book. There was another paper company book shelved right behind my desk. I like the feeling that I'm right in the middle of all the history. But this one didn't have any photos at all.

I did what I usually do when I can't find something, and went to Tracey.

"Hey, Tracey," I said,"I'm looking for a book on the paper company. I don't know which book; I'm looking for a specific picture."

"Did you try the anniversary---"

"Yeah, I tried that one."

"There was another one behind----"

"Yeah, tried that too."

Tracey considered it. "I can't recall, offhand, if there are more, but check around the Piper stuff. If there's anything much on Lock Haven's industry, it'll be there."

"That's a good idea. Thanks."

The Piper books were shelved in a corner of the old part of the library. I looked past them---I had most of them memorized anyway---And then I found it, another, newer book on the paper company. I took it off the shelf. 

Published in 2002. That was plausible. Biz would have been about fourteen in 2002, just before I'd taken her in. I pulled it off the shelf and looked through it. There were some modern photos, color ones taken not, comparatively, that long ago. I carried it back to my desk; it was probably the right book.

I sat and paged through it, looking at the photos one at a time. There were several that might have been Biz as a little girl. I realized that I'd never seen a picture of her before I'd met her. I marked the pages.

It was cold and cloudy on Main Street as I walked down on my lunch break. I was wearing my sweatshirt with Santa and aliens that said I want to believe Santa is out there. I looked up at the window as I passed the thrift store, and I saw them: Blue pajamas with Yetis on them, hanging in the window.

I hadn't been in a thrift store in months. I put my mask on and walked in,

"Hi, Lou," said the cashier. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"Been pretty busy," I said. "How much are the Yeti pajamas in the window? I can't see a price."

"Ten ninety-nine," she said. 

"Deal," I said.

Two minutes later, I left with a bag under my arm. My new Yeti pajamas. Merry Christmas to me.

"Got new Yeti pajamas," I said to Tif as we sat in the living room. Paul was on the floor, playing with Gwen the pug. I was paging through the newspaper, looking over the obits.

"Are those the ones I saw hanging in the window downtown?" she asked.

"Those are the ones. I had to have them."

"Of course."

'Of course. Have you ever seen a childhood photo of Biz?"

Tif thought it over. "Now that you mention it, no. The oldest photos I can remember are her as a teenager. I've given you some photos from when I was a little girl...."

"Yeah, I know what you looked like. I have them in a frame on my desk."

"You know what I looked like," commented Paul.

"Yes, you were fourteen hours old when we met. But I don't think I've ever seen a very old photo of Biz."

"It's like she just popped into existence as a teenager one day," mused Tif.

"That would explain a lot, actually," I agreed. "I may have tracked down the book she was in."

"Oh, that's nice."

"The library has it. Now I need to see if I can find her a copy for Christmas."

When I got in to work, the annual round of holiday exchanges was beginning. There were cards and gifts in my mailbox---A small decoration from the Boss, a mask with the Ross Library logo from Barb. I said,"I love this! You have them made up?"

"I did," said Barb. "I thought it would be pretty cool."

"You thought right," I said, and headed back to my desk to look through the paper mill book.

The book was a limited-edition thing. I couldn't just order it on Amazon. I had to find someone who'd had a copy, and was willing to part with it. Part of the book was a collection of photos of employees---I began paging through.

I saw one guy whose name sounded familiar. Matthew Horn. Where had I seen that recently? Zach came around to pick up the garbage.

"Doing some research on the paper mill, Lou?" he asked.

"You could say that," I said. "Did you know it was founded by the family of a cult leader? Peter Armstrong founded a town called Celestia in Sullivan County because he thought Jesus was coming back and needed a place to stay. His son and grandson moved here and created the paper mill."

"I think you told me that once."

"They don't mention that part in most of the promotional materials," I said. Matthew Horn. Where the hell had I encountered that name?

It occurred to me after a moment.

"Zach, did yesterday's paper come in? Would it still be in quarantine?"

"It should be. You need it?"

"Well, I need a look."

I pulled on rubber gloves and walked back to the gallery. In the Before Times, we'd held art shows there. Now, it was the roped-off quarantine area for anything coming into the library. I looked at the bins---The newspapers were sitting right on top.

I picked up the Express from yesterday, and flipped to the obits. There he was, the paper mill employee I'd noticed in the book. Matthew Horn had just died, and I'd spotted his obit in the paper.

And there it was, down at the bottom of the obit.

Donations may be made to the Ross Library.

I found Barb back in the back office, at her desk. 

"Hey, Barb."

"What's wrong with the schedule?" she asked.

"What? No. What? Not that. I have a question about donations. Have we gotten anything from the Matthew Horn estate?"

"Let me check." Barb flipped through one of her files, and said,"Yes. We got a box of books."

"What happened to it?"

"We sent it into the garage for next year's book sale."

"That's what I needed. Thanks."

"Did you get that request for the obit I left on your desk?"

"Yeah, got that. An inquiry into an old photo of East Main Street, too."

I walked out to the garage. Books were boxed up, piled along the walls. The library van was parked in there, too, which made it a tight fit for me to move around. I looked at the boxes, checking for any labels that might help.

None of them were labeled. I dug through a few, and didn't see anything that looked right. Mostly romance paperbacks. I found a Dave Barry book I didn't have already. There was a wooden ladder attached to one wall, and it led up to a small loft. I'd noticed it years ago, and never really thought much about it after that. I climbed to the top.

Ladders. My goddamn holiday was revolving around ladders for some reason.

There were a few more boxes in the loft. I lifted the lid from one, and saw one of the other paper company books. That looked promising. With one hand, still dangling from the ladder, I reached over and began shoving things out of the way. 

I spotted them almost immediately---Two copies of the book I needed.

I smiled.

Merry Christmas, Biz.

We pulled up outside her place, and Biz got in the car. Michelle pulled out, and we drove through Lock Haven.

"Where are we looking at Christmas lights?" Michelle asked.

"I thought we'd go to Woolrich and McElhattan," I said. "I'm told they've got some good ones out there. We can drive on out and see."

"Nice," said Biz. "Look, guys, this year I won't be able to spend much on presents, but I can bring groceries to Christmas. What do you need?"

"Biz, don't worry about it," I said. "Bring a side dish or something if you like, but you don't have to get us anything. We're just glad to have you come for Christmas."

"Well, I wanted  to bring something."

"Bring soda," said Michelle.

"Speaking of Christmas gifts," I said. I dug into my packet. "I got you one, Biz."

I pulled out the book and passed it to her in the back seat. "I'm about eighty percent sure this is the book you're in. There are a couple of photos in there that fit the description. You can keep that."

"Thanks!" Biz took it and paged through. "I'm gonna have to give that a look later, and see if I can find it."

"Merry Christmas, hon," I said.

Wight Christmas: The 2019 Christmas Special

"Got a Christmas card from Jimmy Carter," I told my wife.
She frowned. "What the hell kind of mailing lists are you on?"
We were at Wendy's, on Bellefonte Avenue, because they had a fundraiser going for my son's Cub Scout group. The Cubs always gave me the urge to drink heavily, unlike when I'd actually been one, but I could spare the money. Our son Paul was sitting with us, playing with his kids' meal toy.
"It's happened before," I said. "I got one from him a couple of years ago. It's actually not all that big a stretch. Carter helped establish a church here in Lock Haven in 1968; I've written about that. He's always been very open about the fact that he loves Lock Haven---Once called it his favorite place in the world. It's not a huge stretch to imagine he might keep up occasionally with the biggest local historian."
"Well, that's pretty cool," said Michelle. "What are you going to do with it?"
"My scrapbook, I think," I said. "Can we stop by the grocery on the way home? I need a nine-volt battery and some scratch pads."
When we walked into the house afterward, I started unpacking the groceries. "Got an experiment to do about Yetis," I told Michelle. "If you smell smoke, don't get all excited. I got it under control."
"I think I won't ask."
"Probably that's good."
I set the steel wool and the battery down on the table. "Hey, Paul, you wanna see something cool?"
"Yeah! What?"
"I gotta test this before I show Teen Paranormal," I said. "It's a trick for staying warm when you're Yeti hunting. Now, these are both common household things. Never try this without Daddy, never." Paul is usually pretty good about those warnings. I pulled at the steel wool, thinning it out a bit. Then I touched it to the battery terminals, and it flared up with some very satisfying sparks.
Paul gasped, impressed. "Whoa! Can you do that again?"
I brushed the terminals with the steel wool again, and it flared up more. I'd done this before, but not as much since I'd been a kid---Adulthood held sadly few opportunities for starting fires, I'd found. This still worked the way I remembered it.
"One more time,": begged Paul.
I burned a segment of the steel wool, and he smiled. I said,"Maybe we'll try that out at Kettle Creek sometime."
"Yeah!" agreed Paul.

So I was sitting among the decorations when my phone buzzed. Zach had been in a frenzy, as he is every year at this time, decking the halls. And the shelves. And the desks, and everything else. I picked up the phone.
"Lou? It's Barb, from the Renovo branch. You're going to think I'm crazy."
I laughed. "Oh, I doubt that."
"Well, some weird stuff was going on. I didn't know who else to call."
"I get that a lot."
"It's always at night. Just last night, four balls fell off our Christmas tree---All in a row, like someone planned it. In line, they all rolled to one of our patrons. She's terrified now. She's in the medical field; it's not like she's not credible. We hear voices, and something that sounds like a baby crying. Always at night. This is crazy."
"I've heard worse."
"Really? Those Christmas balls were really weird...."
"Let me look into it a little. I'll do some digging, and then get back to you. Maybe I can get up there, do a little looking around."
"That would be great," she said. "Thanks."

I started doing what I do.
Usually you start with a title search. But I couldn't run clear down to the courthouse, and there were workarounds. Someone had written a series of thick books on the history of Renovo, where they'd listed every building and every incident---Great work. I cracked open the first one.
In a little while, I had a list of the pertinent people, and a timeline. The Renovo Library had been founded in 1968. It's thought that ghosts can haunt a place where they had a lot of fond memories; they don't necessarily have to be haunting the spot where they died. I considered all the people who might have fond memories of the local library, and abandoned that line of thinking immediately.
Previous to being a library, it had been a series of garages and car dealerships, all evidently on the same complex. I compiled a list of the owners, two of whom were named Jones and Baker. Fuck. I checked the card index without finding much of anything there. Two others were named Barlock and DeShong, and I had better luck.
I took a moment to check my e-mail. I had a newsletter in there reporting a Bigfoot sighting in Montgomery County. I forwarded that one to Resurrection Casey with instructions. Merry Christmas, Casey.
I checked obits against the cemetery index. In 1922, Barlock had lost a nephew at birth, and in 1941, the six-month-old baby of DeShong had died of pneumonia. I pulled both obits, though I thought DeShong was the better bet. From memory, it occurred to me that that Renovo Library was along the river, which put it right on the Sinnemahoning Path that the Native Americans had used.
Possibilities.
I walked upstairs to Children's. Jim, our new County Librarian, was covering.
"When do you usually go up to Renovo?" I asked.
"Van's in the shop, won't be until Thursday morning," he said. "Why? You got something you want to send up?"
"Yeah. Me. I got something to look into up there, and I may want to ride along if that's okay."
"Sure. I usually leave in the morning."
"We ride at dawn!"
"I don't leave until nine-thirty."
"We ride after dawn. I'll bring the coffee."

 "So, I hear the Wayne Township book is out," said Dave, the Highland Cemetery manager, sitting in the Pennsylvania Room.
"Finally," I agreed. "I got done with the drafts of that years ago. Finally, seven years after I was asked to write it, they're getting around to publishing it out there. Honestly I thought it would never happen."
Behind me, from the shelf, I heard an odd noise: Ping! Ping! Ping! Something metal, starting at the top of the room and traveling down.
Dave frowned. "What was that?"
It happened again, the dropping pinging noise. I said,"Dave, I'm gonna ask you to vacate the room calmly."
He stood up, and we walked out. I walked to the back room, and asked Mel,"Seen Zach?"
"I think he's up on three."
"We need him," I said. "Tell him to bring caution tape. We got another shelf about to collapse in the Pennsylvania Room."
Ten minutes later, we had the doors roped off and blocked with chairs. Zach said,"How did you know the shelf was about to collapse?"
"Recognized the sound," I said. "I been through this once before, about two years ago. I could hear the bolts pulling loose from the wall."
Dave looked at the tattered orange cloth Zach had tied across the door, and patted me on the shoulder. "Those come off your ankle?"
I laughed. "I actually have a couple like that, assuming Paul hasn't taken them. The bad news is, now I need a cemetery index out of that room."
My old friend Chris walked in. Looking over the barricades, he said,"Whoa. What the hell is going on here?"
"I'm going in," I said. "Cover me."
"What the---"
I low-crawled in, beside the chair and under the orange ribbon. Carefully, the shelf swaying on my left. I rolled and reached up, grabbing the Chapman Township Cemetery Index. I tossed it up, over the barricade, and Chris caught it outside the PA Room. I crawled carefully back out and took the book from Chris.
"Thanks."
"What's wrong in the Pennsylvania Room?"
"Got a shelf that's not quite as upright as it should ideally be."
I sat down at my desk and looked in the cemetery index. Little Paul DeShong's obit listed him as buried in Hyner, but there was no mention of him in the cemeteries anywhere in Chapman Township. Which meant that the baby was buried in an unmarked grave.
I found Tracey in the stacks.
"Hey, Tracey," I said,"Got a question."
She smiled. "Of course."
"If I wanted to donate a book in memory of someone, specifically for Renovo, would I take that to Barb up there? Or would it go through you first?'
"Bring it to me," she said. "Fill out the form and specify that you want it in Renovo."
"That's what I needed," I said. "Thanks."

The weather outside was frightful. And not in a good way.
I biked downtown to Subway and got a sandwich, and bought some Christmas cards at the dollar store. On my way back, I stopped in Triangle Park.
Triangle Park, creatively named after the triangle shape it formed, was fifty years old. It was basically the center of Lock Haven, and at the moment, it sported a Christmas tree, Santa's hut, and colorful lights. Recently, there was also a little free library in there, too---A wooden hut full of books that anyone could take.
I looked through the children's books and selected one called The Little Knight. It was a cute little book, involving a dragon that was sad because everyone was afraid of it, and it turned out everyone realized he wasn't so scary after all.
Perfect.
I tucked it into my coat and rode back to the library.

I rode up with Jim in the library van, armed with my bag of ghost-hunting stuff, my pocketknife, and my "Yeti For Action" sweatshirt. We got there about ten AM, and I walked into the building to find Renovo Barb and her assistant in the small main office.
"Thanks for coming," said Barb. "I know it all sounds so crazy...."
"Oh, I've heard way worse than this," I said. "About ten years ago, right here in Renovo, there was this guy who was clearly on crack." I set down my bag and began strapping my leg rig on. "Besides, I got a few photos of Red Hill on the way up. I'm hoping to get an article out of that for the Pennsylvania Wilds. Is there a hot spot, someplace where a lot of activity happens?"
"Over in Children's," said Barb. "Right by the wall."
"Let me go take a look," I said. "I'm going to set up a recorder and let it run a while."
A woman came in to return books. She looked at me and said,"I loved that article you did on the haunted places up in Bitumen."
"Oh, thank you. I appreciate that."
I went to the shelves in the Children's Library and turned on my recorder. "Renovo Library, December twelfth, ten-ten AM. Lou." I set it down and let it run, which is not the usual EVP but the best I could do under the circumstances. I got out my camera---The good one---And turned it on.
And it immediately went dead.
"Hunh," I said. "That's unusual." I walked back into the office. "It's thought that a lot of the time, ghosts suck batteries. I'm a little surprised; my batteries just went dead."
"We probably have some here," said Barb.
"I'll just go to the backup camera," I said. "That's good enough."
I got out the smaller camera and took some photos. Walking through the library---Which was nice, but not as big as ours---I clicked a lot of angles. Then I got out the EMF detector and the laser thermometer, and did some tests around the building.
I love this kind of thing; it makes for great conversation at the holiday table. How's your job going, Lou? Oh, just great, Aunt Catherine, I checked an old building for a dead baby last week. Pass the potatoes.
The EMFs held remarkably steady for an old building; the electricity was all staying in the places it was needed. The temperature was not paranormal, but was interesting---I found about a ten-degree shift between the floor and the ceiling, where usually that's only three to five degrees.
"I know you write for the Record," said Barb. "My husband was wondering if he could do an article on this for the Express."
"Oh, sure," I said. "I do some work for the Express, too. That'd be no problem." I got a folder out of my pack. "Brought you some stuff. Here's a copy of my research on the building. It was built about 1900, and started as an ice house. Then about 1923, it was bought and changed into a garage. During that time, one of the owners lost his son---Little Paul Maynard DeShong, six months old. I feel he's the most likely to be your ghost."
"Oh, that's sad," said Barb.
"According to the obits, he's buried in Hyner Cemetery, but doesn't have a marker. I don't know for sure if he ever did. But sometimes, the lack of recognition can cause a ghost to act up. So I brought you something. Merry Christmas." I got out the book and gave it to her. "I donated this book to you guys, in memory of Paul DeShong. Tracey already has it in the system, and there's a label in the cover with his name on it. Hopefully this helps."
"Thanks," said Barb. "I'll keep you updated."
"Definitely," I said. "And otherwise, I'd suggest you basically adopt the kid. Make him your mascot. Talk to him, leave a few toys out overnight occasionally. Ghosts want attention too."
Barb grinned. "We can do that."
"I'll come up again sometime, when I can," I said. "Happy holidays."

"Guys, I got you all Christmas presents." I handed out small survival bracelets to the Teen Paranormal kids, who sat around the table in the Sloan Room. Kayla, Krystianna, Austin, Olivia, Koti and her mom Barenda, and the new kid Devon all took the colorful bracelets and slipped them on.
"I'm gonna wear this forever," said Kayla, looking at the compass on it.
"I love these things," said Krystianna. "At home I have one of the ones with the little blade on it."
"Lou doesn't trust us with those," Kayla said, elbowing her.
"Tonight we're learning about Yetis, drawing from the lesson on Bigfoot last time," I said. "Yetis tend to be spotted in cold areas, so obviously you're going to need to learn some outdoor survival, as well."
"Once when we were looking for a Piper plane crash, my dad and I got lost and built a shelter," Krystianna said. "He said it was a learning experience."
"I like that," I said. "In the cold, obviously you're going to need to start a fire. Now, don't try this at home, okay? But this is one method you can try."
I set the nine-volt on the table and shredded the steel wool a bit. Then I touched the steel wool to the leads, and it flared up with some pretty impressive sparks. The kids all gasped.
I grinned.
"Who wants to try it?"

Visions Of Sugar Valley: The 2018 Christmas Special

Once a month, I get together with the other ghost hunters. It's my only social life. LHPS had gathered at Millie's house for our annual Christmas meeting, and I was exchanging gifts with Millie, Ashlin, Kara, Kris, Charlie, and Theresa.
"Thank you, Ashlin." Ashlin's gift to me was a six-pack of various beers, which the local grocery store had recently begun to sell. "These look great." Instead of my uniform, I was wearing my new sweatshirt with Santa and aliens on it. It said I want to believe.
"Can anyone re-cork the wine?" Kara asked. I stood up and picked up the cork.
I tired to force it back into the mouth of the bottle, and struggled a bit. Charlie asked,"Having some trouble there, Lou?"
"Can't seem to get it in."
Everyone laughed, and Kara said,"Is that a problem you have often?"
"Yeah, I heard it when I said it. You guys know this is sexual harassment, right?"
"Oh, I feel so sorry for you," said Theresa.
I laughed. "Sure. Shame the victim."
"And look at this!" Charlie picked up the present I'd brought. "You wrapped this with newspaper!"
"It's my column!" I said. "See? You even get a photo of me!"
"So what else have you been working on?" asked Kara.
I shrugged. "Nothing too special. Research on a home moved from Sugar Valley. Also in Sugar Valley, a Bigfoot sighting and a UFO sighting, both of which look likely to be hoaxes. I don't know, been a little slow lately. I'm waiting for something interesting."
Kara smiled. "Something will turn up."

"Merry Christmas!"
The publisher of the local newspaper gestured at the food table, and everyone gathered around. As a freelancer, I'd been pleasantly surprised to have been invited to the annual Christmas party.
I got a plate and sat down at one of the tables. I was joined by a few others---A photographer, a circulation guy, another freelancer. I felt like I was at the Freelancer's Table.
"So, Lou, any haunted Christmas stories?" someone asked.
I get this a lot. It's what happens when you've made your career as the local history paranormal writer guy. Not that anyone else would know that.
"Matter of fact, Henry Shoemaker wrote a couple," I said. "My personal favorite is from down in Sugar Valley; he called the town Black Snake Mills in the story, but it was really a thinly disguised Eastville. There were said to be some magical mannequins that would come to life on Christmas Eve, walk to the nearest church, and pray for their owner."
The publisher grinned. "You gonna write about that?"
"Already sent it in. I've always wanted to find out who the owner was, though---The guy who owned the empty store in Eastville and had the walking mannequins. That would be kind of cool."
"Might be worth another column sometime," he agreed.
I walked around and chatted, had some food, discussed upcoming articles with Editorial. And then, as the party wound down, I did what you'd expect from a paranormal investigator.
I ghosted.

It was the next day when the meat came in the mail.
I was at the desk, trying to figure out a way to get out of a conversation---A woman was explaining to me, in great detail, how the government was murdering people to conceal evidence of phoenix sightings in Renovo. The delivery guy carried three boxes into the library. One was a shipment of books, one was the cardboard shipping boxes for the Record we were expecting, and one was a box from a frozen steak company, addressed to me.
"What the hell....I didn't order anything," I said.
The delivery guy looked it over. "Lucky you," he said, and left.
I set it on the desk. Sue and Tracey gathered, and I said,"Someone sent me a box of steaks. Who the hell...."
"Is there a card?" Sue asked.
I found the card, tucked in under the label at the top of the box. "It's from my research clients. They hired me a while ago to find the history of a home they'd had moved from Sugar Valley out to Indiana. I traced back the deeds, and figured out it was built in 1840." I looked it over. "What the hell am I going to do with this? I've never been paid in meat before."
"It's on dry ice," commented Sue. "It should last for a while."
"I'll ask my wife to run me down later," I said. "Otherwise I have a crate of steak sitting here thawing by my desk all Christmas vacation."

I walked in the back door, across the kitchen, and began pulling things out of the freezer. Paul ran into the room. "Daddy!"
"Hi, little man. How you doing? Where's Sissy?"
"I'm here," said my daughter, Tif, walking into the room with her crutch. "What're you doing?"
"Gotta clear some space out of this freezer," I said. "You remember last week when I had to run down to the new courthouse building and do a title search on a property? I thought they were just gonna send a check or something. They sent me a box of steaks."
"Wow. It's gotta be nice doing research for rich people."
"I've never actually gotten steaks in the mail before. It's actually out of proportion to anything I really did; it was just a basic title search. I been spending a lot of time researching Sugar Valley lately."
"How come?"
"I might look into the walking mannequins story. You remember that one? An old Henry Shoemaker piece. An old shopkeeper closed up his store in protest to the lumbering industry, but he left his mannequins on display in the window. They loved the shopkeeper so much that every Christmas Eve, they came to life and walked from the store to the church, and prayed for the owner. Every Christmas, the people of Sugar Valley would see the mannequin footprints in the snow. There was a man who was driving through, and his car broke down, and he spotted the mannequins."
"Wow."
"Yeah, Shoemaker's stuff didn't invariably make a ton of sense. You want some frozen vegetables?"
"Sure."
I put them in a bag for her. "So I thought I'd look into it a little; see who the shopkeeper was from the story."
"How are you going to figure that out?"
"Years ago, Chris and I ran down to Sugar Valley and scouted the place out. Typically for Shoemaker, the story is geographically accurate---Store, church, everything. The story takes place about 1910, so if I can trace back the deeds maybe, I can figure out who owned the store around that time."
"How do you know it takes places in 1910?"
"Shoemaker lists the car as a 1905 model. So it had to happen after that, and long enough after for the car to break down. I'm estimating, but given what I know, 1910 might be about right."
"And then what? Why bother with any of this?"
"It's good to keep in practice. Beside, I may get an article out of it for the Pennsylvania Wilds." I looked at the now-empty freezer. "That oughta hold a box full of steaks. We can cook up some for Christmas."

"Glad you're here, Lou," said Adam when I walked into the library. "There's a package for you, and the microfilm machine is having problems."
"I'll take a look," I said. "Got some time before my program up on three, and I need to do some stuff with the microfilm anyway."
"What're you working on?" asked Tracey.
"Trying to track down a guy from one of the old legends," I said. "I just came from the new courthouse annex. I did the title search on the building there, and I found a James Frank who owned it at about the right time. Now I need to dig through the obits here, and see if the details check out."
Tracey shook her head. "I don't know why I even ask."
I got the package out of my mailbox and retreated to my desk. It turned out to be a Christmas gift from Resurrection Casey---A little multi-tool with a knife and even a small electronic scale on it. That plus the mailing must have been a significant cash outlay for Casey, who was generally broke, so I sent her an e-mail thanking her, with instructions on how to find UFOs, and a promise to send some bus money soon.
Then I got to work. I checked out the microfilm machine, and it wasn't any big deal---A lens had been inserted wrong and was blocking the light. I got it back into place, and then went to the index to look up James Frank.
I found obits listed for both him and his wife. I got both the reels, and took them both back to the machines.
Frank had died in 1952. His wife in 1921. I found their obits---The wife had died of cancer. I tapped my pen against my teeth for a minute and did a little mental math---Frank had been fifty-two at the time, old enough to have become the lonely old man of the story.
Frank's obit listed the church of his services as the Sugar Valley Church of the Brethren. Which struck me as an improbably long name, but not the point. I went back to my desk and checked the map.
It was the same church from the story, the one right beside his store.
1921, not 1910.
I walked up to the third floor, into the bowels of the Ross Library. Generally, "the bowels" of some building would be downward, more basement-wise, but at the library, it's up. Once you pass the meeting rooms, there are furnace rooms, rooms that control the air and the elevator, hidden spots that the public never gets to see.
Bill, our maintenance guy, was at his desk.
"Got a question for you," I said.
He looked up. "Your sink need repair again?"
"No, not this time. This time it's cars. Old ones. Back about a century ago, how long would a car have lasted before it began to break down?"
"Back then? Decades. They were made to last."
"So it's not implausible that a car made in 1905 would suddenly start breaking down in the early 1920s?"
"No, that's about right," said Bill. "Sounds right to me."
I nodded. "Thanks, Bill. Merry Christmas."
"You learn what you needed?"
"Yeah." I said. "I think I did."
When I got back to my desk, there was a gift on it. Kara.
I opened it up and smiled. Two T-shirts. One was Green Lantern, and the other one was Bigfoot.

"Almost done with Christmas dinner, everyone," I said, standing over the stove. "You guys like yours well-done, right?"
"Medium," commented Tif.
"I like mine the way you and Michelle do," said Biz.
"Barely dead. Coming right up." I flipped the steaks. Biz was playing with the indestructible pink pen I'd given her, and I was wearing the Bigfoot pin Tif had given me. Paul, dressed as Harry Potter, was sitting on the floor playing with a huge selection of new toys.
"How do you cook those?" asked Biz.
"Well, first I pulled an assessment record. Then I went to the Register and Recorder, and---"
"Never mind."
"So I figured out who the old man was who owned the mannequins."
"From the legend? Who?" Tif asked.
"His name was James Frank, and he owned a shop in Sugar Valley. I'd been thinking about it as way too early. He was widowed in 1921, and that's sometime around when the story took place. He's buried down there; he died over fifty years ago."
"So. You got what you wanted?"
I looked around the room at my family.
"Yeah, I really did," I said. "Who's ready for steaks?"

Ghost of Christmas Presents: The 2017 Christmas Special

Santa Claus was in Wayne Township.
"I want a Leah doll," said Paul. "And I want LOL dolls, and I want new tools. And I want candy!"
Santa smiled. "Is that all?"
"Ummm....Yeah!"
The Wayne Township Nature Park was hosting a nice Christmas walk. They had the path decorated, a representations of Christmas stories all along it. Santa was at the very end, taking requests from children. He gave my son a candy cane, and Paul immediately began eating it.
As we walked to the car, I said,"While we're out here, let's stop by Linnwood Cemetery."
"I have no idea which one that is," said my wife.
"It's by the railroad tracks. The one with the Capitol column in it," I said. "We had a photo donated to the library recently, and it's a soldier named Milford Krape. He's buried out there, but the cemetery record lists him as 'Millard Krape.' This is in contrast to his marriage record and his obit, and I told the director I'd get a look at what's on the actual gravestone."
"You'll have to tell me where it is."
"It's on Linnwood Drive, by the....Never mind. I'll direct you."
She pulled the Prius up by the church, and I got out and walked across the cemetery. I unfolded my map as I walked---I'd learned the hard way to always bring the paperwork along. I found the grave in the corner on the far side of the cemetery.
I pushed down the plants concealing the name.
Milford.
Okay, so it went down in the cemetery index wrong. Easy enough to correct, and this was a simple one to handle. 
Merry Christmas to me.

I've always loved Christmas. I grew up on a Christmas tree farm, which of course helped---Christmas put me through college. To this day, we get a free tree from the farm when we go visit.
I always put up our family nativity scene. A few years ago, we'd been given a used nativity scene that was missing some of the pieces, and I'm not real religious, so I'd filled in with stuff I had around the house. This had become a tradition, and these days, the yearly nativity scene consisted of Mary and Joseph, one shepherd, Captain America, Bigfoot, a sheep, two small dogs, Green Lantern, and Yoda.
When I was a kid, my parents had this beautiful wooden nativity scene that had been hand-carved in Germany or something. It had a small compartment above the manger where they'd put the baby Jesus until Christmas morning, leaving Mary and Joseph essentially staring at the floor. When they put the presents out overnight, they'd move Jesus down below, the significance being that he'd been born. So that was what Christmas meant to me, as a child: It was the day when Santa came, and let Baby Jesus out of the attic.

We had a tendency to meet in haunted places. After all, we are ghost hunters.
This time, it was Millie's house. I sat around the table with the rest of the Lock Haven Paranormal Seekers, holding our annual Christmas meeting. Theresa, Millie, Charlie, Ashlin, and Kara....And me. We had our snacks, and we had the table piled full of presents.
"Before we start, I brought something for everyone," said Theresa. She handed out window stickers, each one saying Paranormal Investigator. "I thought these would look good on our cars."
"I'm gonna have to find an alternate solution," I said.
"You need to get a windshield on your bike."
"I brought something for everyone, too," I said. I handed out little survival tools, each one about an inch long and containing a fire starter, whistle, blade, and compass. "I thought we could use these. Some of the situations we get into....These things give us a little survival kit. They can be clipped on a keychain, a zipper, carried in a pocket, whatever."
Kara looked hers over. "Hey, these are really nice. Where'd you get them?"
"Amazon. It's like having a magical genie. I shouldn't be allowed to have both a credit card and an Amazon account."
"I've got something to announce," said Charlie. "I haven't been as available lately, because I've been taking some classes and working to be an LPN. Over the next couple of years, I may have to miss some meetings and investigations, because of my class schedule. You guys can decide to drop me from the team, if you want."
"I think we'll make some allowances there," said Theresa.
"We can afford to cut you some slack, Charlie," I said. "Hell, if anyone on this team is likely to need a nurse, it's gonna be me."

There was an alien sitting on my desk when I got to work.
This was only sightly more odd than usual. My son had been enjoying a local program called "Haven Rockz," in which people hid brightly-painted rocks around town for other people to find. He'd been so visibly enjoying the rocks that library patrons had begun bringing me painted rocks for him specifically. Someone had left a big rock, painted to look like an alien, waiting on my desk when I got back from the radio show.
My name is Lou. My office is at the public library. As for what I do there....It's a little hard to explain, but the aliens do have something to do with it.
I was wearing my shirt that showed Bigfoot riding on the Loch Ness Monster, which helps sum things up. I investigate the paranormal and local history, write about it, and promote the library. It's a living, and I'm actually kind of surprised I'm the first one to have thought of this career.
I left a note for the director, detailing what I'd found in Linnwood Cemetery, and then got to work. I sat down and lost myself writing an article about Henry Wharton Shoemaker and his legend of the magic serpent in Sugar Valley, an exploration that was on my list to get to sooner or later.
My phone line beeped. "It's for you," Barb said.
"Okay, thanks." I switched to line one. "Hello, can I help you?"
"Dad, it's me." My daughter Tif, currently at home with Paul. "What's mom's number at work?"
"Should be on the fridge. Why?"
"Paul dropped Shimmer in the street, and she got run over before we could get her back."
"Oh, no." Shimmer is one of my son's favorite dolls, a cartoon genie with pink hair. The cartoon seems to mostly consist of Shimmer and Shine, the genies, spending the second half of the show trying to fix the stuff they screwed up during the first half.
"He's brokenhearted," said Tif. "He's been crying. I was hoping Mom could bring home another Shimmer, and we'll tell him Shimmer went to the hospital."
"Let me see what I can do," I said. "I'll call you back."

I walked through the Dollar Store, looking at the shelves. I wasn't finding a Shimmer doll, though they had a lot of toys on the shelves. One of the employees asked,"Are you finding everything you need? Can I help you with anything?"
"My son's Shimmer doll got destroyed, and he's really upset about it," I said. "I think he got it here originally. Do you have any more?"
"I'll check in the back," said another employee.
I turned to the manager. "Weird question....Have you or the other employees experienced anything....unusual....in here?"
"Oh, sure," she said. "There's ghosts. You see things out of the corner of your eye, the carts roll around on their own. There's noises. We have stuff happen all the time."
It continually amazes me how casually people take this stuff. I always feel a little hesitant to ask, and then people act like it's just giving directions.
"Have you ever looked into it?"
"I think it's my grandfather....He used to run this place back when the building was a Woolworth's. You remember that?"
"I wasn't living in Lock Haven then. But I've done some learning about it."
"I'd heard the place is haunted," I said. "Here." I got out an article I'd found before leaving the library, and handed it to her. "I got this out of the Express. Have you ever seen this one?"
"No! I didn't realize we'd made the paper."
"Well, it was around ten years ago. But I thought you'd like that."
The other employee came out of the back. "I called over to Dunnstown, and they're running a Shimmer over. "
"Thank you so much," I said. "If you guys would ever like a discreet investigation, feel free to ask."

When I walked in the door of my own haunted house after work, Paul immediately said,"Daddy! You get Shimmer at the hospital?"
"I did," I said. "I stopped by the hospital and picked her up." I pulled the new Shimmer out of my jacket pocket, wrapped in a white cloth, and handed it to him. "She's all better."
"Shimmer!" Paul grabbed the doll and hugged her. "You all better now! Daddy, I am so glad you bringed Shimmer home!"
"I think we'll get you a backpack, like mine," I said. "That way, you can put your toys in it, and you won't drop them anymore."
"Okay, Daddy," said Paul. "Shimmer! I so glad you okay! I love you!"
I smiled.
"Merry Christmas, Little Man," I said. "I love you, too."