Walk On The Child Side

"I need your help," the woman said. "I have to sue the people who sold me my house."
"Law books," I said. "You want Acquisitions. Just a second, I'll call her."
"No, I want to talk to you."
I looked across my desk at her. She sat, legs crossed, gazing at me. I said,"That's more of a legal question, miss. I'm not a lawyer, and I really can't give legal advice."
"Well, but this is your area. The house is haunted."
"Ah. I see. Where is the house, miss?"
"North Vesper Street."
"Well, if you'd like a free investigation, we're available." I slid my business card to her. It was my recently redesigned one, with a Bigfoot print and a ghost.
"No, I don't want that," she said. "I want the ghosts out of there. Now."
I cleared my throat. "Well, we're investigators, miss, not exterminators. We can check into it, of course, but...."
"I want to sue them," she said. "They didn't tell me the house was haunted. They legally have to tell you."
"No, they don't," I said. "That's a common misunderstanding."
She gave me a look. "What're you talking about? I thought you were the big ghost expert. Of course they have to tell you. Everyone knows that."
I sighed. "What you're referring to it Stambovsky v. Ackley. Look it up. It refers to a stigmatized property, which doesn't mean they have to disclose that the house is definitely haunted. It means they have to tell you if the house has been publicized as being haunted, which is a different story altogether. While hauntings have never been legally proven, nobody wants curious jerks trespassing and trying to break into their house. Your house hasn't been publicized, miss. I'd know---I'm the guy who publicizes them."
She stood up. "Well. Maybe I will talk to a lawyer."
"Of course," I said. "And if you decide to go with an investigation, I'm not going anywhere."

I get stuff like this.
My name is Lou. I work for the local library. Also as a freelance writer. And also, I'm a paranormal investigator. It's mostly in that last capacity that I tend to attract the nuts.
It's not always like that. There are some lunatics out there, and some people who don't really understand much of what they're talking about. But there's some interesting people out there, too, and some good stuff that happens.
I like it. I like it so much, I've been teaching a class on it.

"Guys, I'd like to welcome you to the first meeting of the year," I said, standing at the head of the room. "This year is special. As of tonight, it's an anniversary. It's been five years since Teen Paranormal was formed."
Kara sat at the table beside me. Around the table were my kids, the ones I taught. Some of them were new to the group, and some had been around a while. Aubree, Meridian and Seth, Alex, Catie, Skylar, and Olivia were all looking at their handouts.
"The purpose of the group," I continued,"Is to teach you how to be responsible paranormal investigators. We're going to learn how to find measurable, provable evidence of the paranormal. I'm an investigator myself, and I've been with the Lock Haven Paranormal Seekers for over a decade. I'm going to teach you."
"Are we going to go on an investigation?" asked Seth.
"Next meeting," I said,"I'm going to show you how to use the equipment, and we're going to investigate the attic. Right now, I'm going to show you how to do the historic research on a haunted house. Follow me."

Standing at my desk, I held out a cigar box. "Everybody take a name."
Each of the kids picked a folded piece of paper out of the box. Seth and Alex, my most enthusiastic, both took two. They unfolded their papers, each of which had a name.
"You guys each have someone to look up," I said. "These drawers are the indexes to our newspaper file, which goes back to 1813. We have obituaries and cemetery records for everyone who has ever died in the county. Each one of you should have a name on your paper. I want you to look them up, and tell me something interesting about that person."
Thw kids got to work. Alex began digging through the file in search of Mary Elizabeth Crocker. Aubree began to check for Wilson Kistler in the cemetery indexes. Kara leaned back against my desk, arms crossed.
"I always like when you do this," she said.
I smiled. "It's been a bit of a learning curve, these last five years. I've found the best way to teach the kids is to have something hands-on for them to investigate."
"Hey!" Olivia burst out. "I'm in here!"
I looked over her shoulder. "Mentioned in your grandfather's obit. Pretty cool." I turned and glanced into the PA Room, where Aubree was sitting. "How's our little social mutant doing over there?"
Aubree grinned. "I think I found Wilson Kistler. Is he in Highland Cemetery?"
"That's him. He's in a crypt up there." I turned to the others. "That's how you find the historic information. Next time, we'll be learning the actual investigation. Come on in."
We gathered around the table. I said,"We're gonna go up in the attic, and I'll teach you how to use the equipment. We'll investigate the place. We're getting some construction done on the building, too, which has been known to stir up ghosts. Wear something dark, that doesn't reflect---Dark blues and greens are good. See you guys at the next meeting."

"I'll schedule the investigation and post on the forum," Kara said as she pulled up by Taggart Park. "We'll see about finding the time to go in."
"Text me," said Lacey, jumping out of the car. "Go softball practice. See you guys later!"
She ran for the field, and Kara pulled out. She said,"So where are we going?"
"Oh hell, I got nowhere to be. Want to go look for the Ingleby Monster?"
"What's that?"
"Down around the Centre-Clinton line, near Sugar Valley, there are rumors. A creature that's been reported, though never seen---It's thought to be invisible. Said to have attacked and beheaded people, though that could be a myth."
"I don't want to get beheaded."
"You won't get beheaded."
"Tell me where to go."
"Narrows Road, Sugar Valley."
She turned onto Grove Street. I said,"That's John Sloan's house."
"That one? The artist John Sloan?"
"Yeah, that one right there with the plaque on the door. The famous artist is from here."
"Did he live here a little, or is he really from here?"
"No, he was born here. His family moved to Philadelphia when he was about seven. Sloan grew up to be a famous artist, and came back to Lock Haven once during his life. Rebecca Gross showed him where he was born, and Sloan didn't like it. It had no character, he said. So he chose a really terrible building on Church Street, and claimed that was the birthplace. His ashes are scattered in Highland Cemetery, near the Kistler crypt."
"No kidding."
"This makes me the only tour guide in the world who can show a famous artist's two birthplaces and final resting place."
We were passing Salona, heading south. We sat in companionable silence for a while.
"Are you going to do the psychic lesson for the kids this year?" asked Kara. "That's always fun."
"I usually get to that one in the winter," I said. "You know my feelings on psychics. They piss me off."
"That's why it's fun. Haven't you ever had a psychic experience? A dream that came true?"
"When I was a kid, I dreamed that my cousin Wendy was going to die."
"Did she die?"
"Twenty-two years later, yes."
"Where are we?"
I said,"Narrows Road. Turn here."
"This goes to Loganton?"
"Eventually."
"I don't want to get lost."
"If we find Loganton, we won't be lost."
We drove through what appeared to be a cloud. Kara wrinkled her nose. "Did you see that?"
"Seemed like smoke."
"Yeah, but wasn't that a little weird? Would it be that heavy if someone was burning something earlier?"
"No, and I didn't see any fire. It's strange."
"What do you think?"
"Ingleby monster," I said.

"Come here, let me show you this," the young woman said. "I did your star chart."
I looked up from my desk. "Huh?"
"Remember I was in here a couple of months ago, and I asked when you last had your astrological chart done?" she said. "I did one for you. Come over here."
I walked over, and sat down next to her at the computers. She had some sort of diagram on the screen, a circle divided into several segments, with odd symbols and red and blue lines.
"Now, you are very powerful," she said. "You're gifted. You may not admit it, but you can't hide it from me. You're very gifted with psychic abilities."
"Well, no, because that's not a thing," I said.
"You can deny it, but I see you. Look, right here," she said,"This means you're an empath. You can feel the emotions of others. You could totally be inside me if you wanted."
"Um...."
"Now, you're a Leo, right?" She pointed at another place on the chart. "Your Mercury is in Virgo. That means you're a fire sign. You're really hot."
"....And what's that mean?"
"You're a very intense person," she said.
I nodded. "I have been called intense."
"I'm a water sign. I'm wet."
Did she realize she was doing this? I said,"Um....."
"Now, let me show you this," she said. "We can take these signs, get their numerical values, and add them up. It's all math."
"No wonder I don't understand it."
"The value here is sixty-nine. You feel me? You're an empath, and very powerful, whether you admit it or not. We can even combine the charts to show how alike we are. Here, let's see what happens if we put you on top of me."
I closed my eyes.
She continued,"Now, let's take a look at Uranus---"
I stood up.
"I better get back to work."
I retreated to my desk and checked my messages. Kara had sent one; she couldn't make the Teen Paranormal meeting. I took a few minutes to send an e-mail to Resurrection Casey, with some instruction on how to look for ghosts. Then I stood up and paced a little; my family was still out of town, so I was feeling a little off.
I checked to see if there were any books to process. Nothing. No pending articles to be written, no new comments on the haunted stuff I'd written for the PA Wilds. I needed a quest. I have no life. Someone had to be more pathetic than this. There had to be someone out there with less of a life than me, and I was determined to find that person.
Halfway down the hall, it occurred to me that it might be the chick with the horoscopes, and I returned to my desk.
There was another message waiting for me. My old friend and former intern Chris was back in town, and he was asking if I was working.
I thought a moment, then got out my cell phone.
"Hey, Chris. You wanna come to a meeting?"

I stood in front of the kids, at the head of the table in the Sloan Room. Chris was sitting to my left, and Alex, Aubree, Caitie, Skylar, and Olivia sat around the table. My regulars.
"Guys, good to see you," I said. "Tonight we're gonna learn how to do a responsible investigation. I have my equipment with me." On the table in front of me, I had my camera, recorder, EMF detector, and laser thermometer. I was wearing my LHPS uniform, with the leg rig containing some of my stuff. "I'm going to teach you guys how to use this....And then we're gonna go upstairs, into the attic, and do an actual investigation."
Aubree grinned at me. "I got a recorder, too. I brought it along."
"Excellent," I said. "You guys might as well just go buy all this stuff immediately....You're gonna end up with it all anyway, so you might as well get it over with. Let me show you how this all works."

The Ross Library's attic was old. Like 1887 old. And it hadn't been upgraded too much during that time. The kids followed me up the stairs into the dusty five-room attic, and I opened the door to one of the storage rooms and walked in.
"First, get photos. Every conceivable angle. Get some EMF readings, and use the thermometer to get a baseline temperature. Check everything before we settle into the EVP session."
"I'm showing about seventy-eight," said Chris, who was handling my laser thermometer.
"That sounds about right," I said.
"Can I use your camera?" asked Alex.
"Sure, go ahead. Get photos all over the room." I handed it to him, and he headed off with Skylar, clicking pictures.
Aubree turned on her recorder. "I'm gonna get everything."
"Good. Good. Remember to tag all the intrusive noises from outside, and leave plenty of space for possible answers."
"Think we're gonna get any activity tonight?" asked Caitie.
"You never know," I said. "It's happened before. And they've been working on the windows lately---Construction can make the ghosts act up; sometimes they don't like it. So it's possible."
"Will we hear anything?"
"We have the recorders running right now," I said. "But remember, sometimes you don't hear anything until later. It's what they never show you on the TV shows---The review is important. You have to play this all back; a lot of the evidence comes from what you find after the actual investigation is over."
"I got a weird picture," Olivia said.
She held up her cell phone, and I looked it over. It showed one wall of the room with a weird streak of light.
"Get a temperature reading and some EMFs over here," I said. "Take more photos. Check this."
Aubree and Alex moved in, getting photos and checking with the EMF detector. Aubree said,"I'm getting a bit of a reading."
I nodded, and looked at my watch. "We're almost out of time tonight, guys. But we may have something here. You did good. I'm proud of you."

"Daddy!" The staff door at the library opened, and my son came running in. He was followed by my wife as he raced across the floor. "We're home!"
I picked him up and hugged him. "Welcome back, little man. I'm glad to see you."
"Did Sissy get me a surprise? What is it?"
"You'll see it when you get home. Also, I got you some more little gumball machine dogs for your collection. They're on the table."
"Thank you, Daddy!"
"So, did you have fun in Georgia?"
"Yes! But I misseded you, Daddy!"
I picked him up and hugged him again.
"I misseded you too, little guy."

A Room With A Boo

"Bye, Daddy." The little voice in my ear, as I lay on my bed. My son gave me a kiss.
I opened my eyes at six AM and hugged him. "Bye, little man. You and Mommy have fun in Georgia. You be good."
"I will," he said, and climbed off the bed. He left the room.
I lay there a while, with my eyes open, thinking about how my family was going to visit the in-laws for a week. I had the house to myself, which didn't actually feel like as much fun as it used to.
Fortunately, I had stuff to do.

I walked into the Genetti Hotel with the New Boss and the library's tech person. Looking around the lobby, the boss said,"I'll get us checked into the seminar. Coffee is over there."
"I need some," I said. "Who'd have thought there was a seven-fifteen in the morning, too?"
I was carrying my pack and the library's laptop. I dropped them at the table, and hung my jacket over the back of a chair. My shirt was the dark blue UFO one that said Believe.
I was sitting at the table with my coffee, trying to get the laptop to work, when one of the servers came around to pick up the empty mugs. She said,"Do you write for the Express? Are you Lou?"
I looked up. "Yes, that's me."
"I love your column!" she said. "I really liked the one about the Tiadaghton Elm. I actually wondered about that."
"Oh, thanks. I expected to get some hate mail over that one, but everyone seems to love it."
"Have you ever heard about the ghost in here?"
"Bits and pieces," I said. "Nothing too concrete."
"Over on the stairs, there's a photo of the ballroom," she said. "It has a little girl in it, sitting in a chair, but she's barely visible. She's all blurry. Some people think that's the architect's daughter. They think she died when she fell down a laundry chute as the hotel was being built."
"I've never heard that one before," I said. "What year was this place built?"
"1922," she said immediately. I liked that.
"Where's the picture?" I asked.
"At the bottom of the stairs, near the lobby."
"I'll check it out," I promised. "That's my lunch break today. Thanks."

On the way up to the conference room, I stopped and looked over the local brochures. I picked up one about the Avenue of the Arts---Fourth Street in Williamsport seems to be filled with murals and sculptures. I pocketed that one for later. Then I went up and got a seat in the seminar.
I plugged in my laptop---Low-budget public library machine; you can't depend on the batteries---And set out my notebook. I had the pen with the little multi-tools built in. It hadn't started yet, so I grabbed my camera and went off in search of the stairwell.
I found the photo after a short search. Framed photo, black and white, clearly old. The little girl was on the right side, and she was blurry as hell. Could be a ghost. Could be a fidgety kid. I got out my camera, turned off the flash, and got a picture for myself.

Back upstairs, I sat down with the laptop and a coffee. There were maybe twenty people in the room; New Boss was near the front. The instructor began talking about some of the library information systems we had available. I had the main page open. I also e-mailed LaKeshia in another window, asking if the Pennsylvania Wilds was interested in an article about the Avenue of the Arts.
I listened to the seminar for a little while, but to be fair, it got boring real fast. I opened another window and did a search for the Genetti Hotel.
Found it. Completed in 1922. The architect was William Lee Stoddart. Okay. that's a start, let's dig into him.
He was a fairly famous architect, responsible mostly for hotels. There was tons of information on his work, but very little on his family. I found one page that repeated the laundry chute story the hotel employee had told me, with no sourcing. It named the girl as Allison, but gave no other details. I looked up at the instructor and asked a question to prove I was paying attention, then went back to not paying attention.
Stoddart's biography detailed his two marriages. He'd been married once, divorced in 1909, and then remarried in 1923. I drank some coffee and did the math in my head. Making the safe assumption that he wasn't bringing illegitimate children to work with him, that would make the youngest possible age of his child about thirteen or fourteen while the hotel was in construction. A little old to be the little girl tumbling down a laundry chute like a moron.
LaKeshia e-mailed back, okaying the Avenue of the Arts piece. I tried Stoddart on findagrave. I hate findagrave; it's a clumsy way to handle cemetery research, but a county away from home in a seminar, it was all I had. I found him buried in New Jersey, and I checked for other family members. He had one daughter listed, who had died in 1998.
So, the story about the little girl had to be untrue.
I checked my watch, and slipped my camera out of my pack. Then I discreetly got out my portable ghost-hunting kit---I generally have a little basic equipment on me, just in case. You never know. I clipped the black packet to my belt.
"It's time to break for lunch," said the instructor. "We have a meal available to order, or you can go out for lunch. Whatever you choose."
Everyone stood up. Toward the back of the room, I spotted my old friend JA. She used to work at the library before accepting a director position somewhere else. She smiled at me.
"Hey, Lou! I wondered if you were going to be here. How's everything?"
"Good to see you, JA! I'm good. How about you?"
"Pretty good, pretty good." JA had always been a high-intensity sort of person; when she was speaking to you, you had her whole attention to the point her eyes practically burned lasers through you. "How's the little guy?"
"Oh, he's good. In Georgia with his mother right now. He's such a funny little guy." I got out the latest photo of Paul, and showed it to her. She smiled.
"He's a growing boy," she said. "He still believe in Santa? You can still play that card?"
"Right now, yes."
New Boss turned to me. "What did you want to do for lunch?"
"Hunt ghosts," I said.
"Your weirdness to work ratio is something like six to one."
"So you noted on my annual performance review."
"You really going to hunt ghosts?"
"Actually," I said,"I thought I'd just go for a walk."

I love this. I can't help it---I've always loved sneaking off on a little side quest while everyone thinks I'm doing something else. I've spent half my life doing that. Over lunch, my plan was to get photos and information for the Pennsylvania Wilds, and check out the haunting in the ballroom. It's amazing what you can accomplish over lunch hour if you move fast enough.
I walked out the front doors of the Genetti and onto Fourth Street, heading southwest. I put my lanyard with the PA Wilds ID on it around my neck. There is no real reason for this, other than it makes me feel like a low-budget Hemingway. I got photos of the Inspiration Mural and the Community Arts Center. The Long Island Medium was advertised to appear there in about a week, which pissed me off. I turned and walked back northeast, then turning onto Pine Street for more photos.
There was a wonderful bas relief of the lumbering era on the side of a building, and the corner of Third and Market was set up to be a baseball field, with statues of children playing ball. I took pictures of all of it.
I looked at my watch; I'd only managed to kill about twenty minutes. I could even grab some food, if I wanted. I passed Vinnie's Italian Eatery. Vinnie's! I'd forgotten about Vinnie's; it had been at least five years since I'd been there. Definitely before Paul was born.
Five minutes later, I was standing on the sidewalk by the Heart of Downtown sculpture, eating two huge slices of vegetable pizza.
"I love Williamsport," I said aloud.
When I finished the pizza, I walked half a block down to the visitor center. The woman at the desk looked up when I walked in. "Hi! Can I answer any questions for you?"
"I'm just browsing, at the moment."
"Okay, then," she said. "You browse, and let me know if you need anything."
I picked up a couple more pamphlets to add to the article, and then I saw the stack of PA Wilds T-shirts for sale. I picked out a tan shirt with a cross-cut of a log and the PA Wilds logo on it. Id' wanted one for a while, so I spent part of my recent PA Wilds paycheck on a PA Wilds shirt.
Then back to the Genetti, where I dropped off my new shirt and then slipped down the back stairs.
The ballroom was dark, but not locked. I checked to make sure nobody was watching, and then slipped in. This was going to be a quick one, not the usual heavy investigation I would do with LHPS.
Based on the photo, I worked out about where the girl in the picture was. The room contained pillars and little alcoves under the balcony, and she was pictured in the fourth one from the left. I sought it out and unzipped my pouch.
First I checked temperature with my laser thermometer. It was an even sixty-eight degrees, pretty much uniformly throughout the room. Hell, I've worked in museums that are less climate controlled than the Genetti. Then I checked with my EMF detector. Nothing. No signals.
So. Not only was the story untrue, it was likely that the hotel wasn't even haunted.
I put my equipment back into the pouch, and went back upstairs. I sat down and cleared my search history.
JA walked by.
"Hey, pal. Finding any ghosts?"
I grinned. "Well, not today."

I walked in my back door, dropped my pack in the usual place, and hung my jacket in the cellar door. Tif was inside, sitting in a chair in the living room.
"Hi, Dad. Thought I'd drop by and clean up Paul's toys while he's away. How was your day?"
"Pretty busy, for a seminar. I looked into a haunting and worked on an article."
"Weren't you supposed to be learning things?"
"In my defense, there were other options."
"You want to have dinner tonight? I could go for a Hot Mess down at Hangar Nine."
"Not tonight, hon. I'm exhausted. Tomorrow would be better. Let's meet up after work."
"Okay, Dad." Tif headed out the door.
I sat down at the table, picking up the newspaper. Usually I skim the local papers, looking for my name. Something brushed my ankle---Kasper, our Schnauzer.
I reached down and petted him.
"You and me, pal. I know. I miss the little guy, too."

Go Bigfoot Or Go Home

"Oh, by the way," I said,"I found Bigfoot."
My wife looked at me from her car seat. "Did you, now?"
"Yeah. You remember that Bigfoot T-shirt I lost a couple of weeks ago? I finally found it. It was in the drawer with the superhero shirts."
She looked out at Highway 309. "Should I be watching for Bigfoot right now?"
"Probably. There have been some sightings, not too far from Dad's place. When we get there, I'm gonna check into it a little. Someone reported Bigfoot in the general neighborhood. They heard some noises, found some oversized footprints in the mud. People are thinking that all the rain and flooding has driven Bigfoot out into areas he wouldn't ordinarily be seen."
"How do you know this?"
"I get the newsletter. There's some reports of a vanishing hitchhiker, too."
"A what?"
"A vanishing hitchhiker. Sometimes they call them Resurrection Marys. You know, someone who catches a ride and then disappears."
"Right here?"
"No," I said. "Along 873, between Dad's place and Schnecksville."
"So why should I be worried about it now?"
"I didn't say you should, I said....Nevermind. I just said it was interesting, that's all."
"Are we almost to Grandpa's?" my son asked from the back seat.
"Almost there, little guy," I said, the way I'd said it fifteen times over the course of this trip. "We'll be there soon."

The sign said PSYCHIC READINGS AND TAX ASSISTANCE. It was outside the building on the corner of Main and Walnut Streets. That was typical Slatington.
I grew up in Slatington, Pennsylvania. Though I now investigate the paranormal in Lock Haven, I still visit home. We drove in the back way, through the forests, instead of the main way through Slatington. In the valley, we passed a place where the guy had wooden Bigfoot cutouts beside his barn.
"Those are kind of creepy in the dark," commented Michelle. "Did you see their eyes?"
I nodded. "Looks like reflective paint."
We pulled into the driveway, where the family was waiting. My brother Jon, is wife Amy, and my dad. Plus Miles, the little beagle.
"Hi Miles! Hi, Grandpa!" Paul called as he ran over. "We're here!"
"Check out my new keychain," I said to my brother. I held it out.
He looked it over. "A multi-tool. Nice. Is that Bigfoot?"
"Yeah, I decided I needed to replace the Piper Comanche keychain since I left the museum. It's got small wrenches and a bottle opener on it. And I have a new pen, indestructible titanium with an emergency tool." I was also wearing my green waterproof jacket with the survival kit in the pocket and the small survival tool sewn into the liner. It's possible I've taken the whole preparation thing a little too far.
"Come on in, you guys," said Amy. "Have you eaten? We have your room ready for you."
"Thanks, Amy," I said. I picked up my backpack. "It's good to see you."

It was late. Fifty-six degrees. I walked out onto the porch and sat down on the swing.
I was alone. Practically everyone but me was an early sleeper. I lit a cigar. I wasn't smoking them nearly as much since Paul was born, but I still liked to have one sometimes. I sat quietly and smoked.
My family owned thirty acres. I could see a significant portion of it from the porch, looking mostly south. The moon was almost full. I had a pretty good view.
It was as good a place as any to stake out the property and look for Bigfoot.
I sat and waited. The cigar would keep me out here about half an hour. I could hear crickets and bugs, a few birds. I could hear Highway 873, and it was half a mile away.
My home. I'd lived here almost my entire childhood. I'd organized my cousins into a group I'd called the Ghost Gang. I'd searched the fields for a mythical creature called the Christmas Tree Goblin. I'd made a sea monster trap for the pond. You know. Kid stuff.
I heard something, somewhat southwest. A loud thump that echoed through the valley---Something heavy. Then another one, and then the sound of a branch cracking.
Something was out there in the forest. It could be a bear---The last time I'd heard something like that, I'd encountered a bear on the Mid-State Trail.
I sat and waited a while more, but there was nothing more. It seemed to be done for the night.
So was I. I went inside and read a Stephen King novel for a while, and then walked upstairs to the guest room. To my surprise, I found Paul Matthew on the floor in my sleeping bag, still very much awake.
"What're you doing, little man?" I asked softly.
"I'm too excited to sleep, Daddy," he said. "I want to go downstairs."
So Paul had been planning a side adventure on his own. "No, you're staying in here," I said. "But if you want to sleep in the sleeping bag, I'll lay down and sleep with you."
Paul nodded. "Okay."

I slipped out of the house without anyone noticing. A lot of paranormal investigation works like that. My wife was watching TV, everyone else was out working the farm, and Paul was playing with Miles on the porch. Paul and the beagle were largely unsupervised, which was okay. My family's farm was the only place I was really comfortable with that---It hadn't killed me as a kid, and I'd been actively trying.
I got my green jacket, and threw my crypto kit over my shoulder. It was a black shoulder bag that contained everything I needed for checking into land monsters, water monsters, or flying monsters. I walked due north up the hill first, and then turned and went down, off the path. After a few hundred yards, I stopped.
I was now as far from any houses as I could get. I was in the most remote spot on the property.
I looked around. I didn't see anything too outstanding. As I'd walked, I'd seen one of the new homes at the top of the hill---A few new people had moved in since I'd been a kid. He'd had a hunting stand and a target range, and if Bigfoot ever wandered up there, he'd almost certainly be shot immediately. There was a deer track on the ground, in the mud, that stretched for about eight inches---The deer had slipped in the wet ground.
I walked downhill, toward the creek. All living things need water. If you want to catch a land monster, stake out the water. It's what I teach the kids.
The creek was way up, due to all the rain and flooding. I looked it over. This particular creek originated at the pond near the road, and ran about a mile into the Lehigh River. Right now, it had three or four other creeks running into it that weren't usually there, due to all the rain. If Bigfoot wanted water, he wasn't going to have much of a problem finding some.
There was no point in testing the water. I knew it was drinkable. I looked around at the plant life, checking to see if anything had been torn, damaged, eaten. Most of it had, but in a forest filled with furry creatures, I couldn't reasonably blame it on Bigfoot. For all I knew, Miles had been down here chewing on plants.
I spotted a print---It was large, maybe a foot or so long, but it was in a grassy spot, smeared an indistinct. Could have been anything. Just to be thorough, I got my camera and tape measure out of my kit. Holding the tape measure beside the print for reference, I snapped three photos.
There was no point in making a plaster cast. The print could have been anything.
The forest was filled with water, but somehow, I was coming up dry.

We were sitting on the front porch. Michelle was on both the swing and her phone, and Paul had started out there, but was now chasing Miles around on the floor. Dad held a cigarette; my father had been smoking since he was fourteen, which I assume was back in the 1700s.
"So we have two options for dinner," Dad said to me. "I can go pick up subs, or I can go out and get hot dogs from Yocco's. You have a preference?"
"I could definitely eat either of those," I said. "Let's let Michelle be the deciding vote. Hey, Michelle! Subs, or Yocco's?"
My wife looked up. "Oooh, Yocco's!"
"There you have it," I said to Dad.
He nodded. "It's hunting season," he said. "After dinner, I might just go out and see about getting a deer with my crossbow."
"You have a crossbow now?"
"I'm getting a little too old for regular bow hunting. The crossbow is a lot easier."
"Well, let me know if you happen to see Bigfoot."
Dad laughed. "I'll call you."
"I saw a few deer tracks down in the woods today."
"Yeah, there's deer. Still a few bears running around. I see them occasionally. Saw one about a month ago. The dog tried to chase it."
"Jesus. Miles couldn't take down a bear."
"He'll never believe that. It paid him no attention; it just walked down into the woods, toward the creek."
"Left some prints in the mud?"
"Of course."
I nodded.
"Thanks, Dad," I said. "That answers a few things."

It was cool and breezy. I walked along the road near 873, wearing my jacket and smoking another cigar. I'd done this walk a million times as a teenager, sneaking out of the house by climbing out my bedroom window, crawling over the doghouse and onto a cement wall, and launching myself into the grass. It was how I slipped out without alerting my parents, who probably wouldn't have noticed if I'd never come back.
Up ahead, near the junction of 873 and Church Street, there was a girl.
She had light hair, and was wearing jeans and a plaid flannel shirt. She looked about nineteen. And, yes, she was hitchhiking. But she was very definitely alive.
She looked my way when I was about thirty feet away. "Don't suppose you're heading into town," she said.
I shook my head. "Sorry. I'm on foot, like you."
"Ah, damn. It's impossible to catch a ride this time of night."
"You do this often?"
"Mostly every night."
"You're my vanishing hitchhiker," I said.
Her eyes lit up. "Someone thought I was a Resurrection Mary? That's awesome!"
"You interested in the paranormal?"
"Hell, yes! I love the paranormal. I'm fascinated by it. Love your shirt! Bigfoot: World Hide And Seek Champion."
I smiled. "There's a convenience store right up the street. You want a cup of coffee?"

"So let me see if I got this straight," she said, sipping coffee. "You're a paranormal investigator. And a writer. You write about history and paranormal in the newspapers."
"And I work at a library," I said. "Part time."
We were sitting on the curb by 873, in the light of the convenience store, drinking our coffee.
"I wish I could get into something like that," she said. "I'm a journalism major at Lehigh Carbon Community College, in Schnecksville. I take some night classes, which is why I have to hitch back and forth. I usually ride into town and then jump out at a stoplight, which is where all the vanishing stories are coming from."
"I'm an LCCC graduate myself," I said. "My name is Lou, by the way."
"Casey."
We sat in companionable silence for a minute, drinking our coffee.
"So you're a journalism major," I said.
"Yeah."
"And you like the paranormal."
"Love it."
"Okay. First thing," I said,"Buy a bus pass, kid. You're gonna get yourself killed." I held out a twenty-dollar bill. "As I recall, this should keep you going for about a month. When that runs out, let me know, and I'll send you a check for more."
"Hey---No---I couldn't---"
"Yeah, you can," I said. "Consider this your first paycheck. Cause you're gonna work for me now."
She slowly reached out and took the money. "Doing what?"
"I live out in central Pennsylvania, but sometimes I need somebody on the ground here. I can't get back here as much as I'd like. If there's something that I need investigated in Slatington, I'll send you an e-mail, and you look into it. Get back to me with your conclusions. In return, I'll pay for your bus passes and help you get published in some good stuff around there---The Lehighton Times News, Morning Call, and maybe I can pull a few strings with the Lehigh Valley Tourism Region."
"That would be awesome."
I reached into my pocket, and gave her my survival kit. "This is yours now. You can add to it as you go; I'll get another one when I get home. This gives you everything you need to get out and do this kind of research. I'll train you by e-mail until you know what you're doing."
She looked it over. "This is cool. When can I start?"
"Right now. Your first assignment is to look into some of the Bigfoot sightings in the area," I said. "I'll send you the details. It looks like it's probably gonna be bears, but I want you to double-check me on that. I'm gonna be back for a visit in a month, and I'll sit down with you and talk it over then."
"Sounds great."
I held out my hand. "Partners?"
She shook it.
"Partners."

It was morning, the sun was shining, and my father was standing outside. He was watching my brother work on the roof of the new barn that he was building. Paul looked up hopefully at my dad.
"Grandpa? May I please have a tractor ride?"
Dad smiled. "Sure. Just let me get the keys."
A minute later, he was back with the big green John Deere. He started up the tractor, and I put Paul on his lap. I climbed up on the back of the tractor, hanging on, and Dad started to ride up the hill. Three generations riding on one tractor.
"Do you want to drive?" Dad asked.
Paul smiled. "Yeah!"
"Hold on....Put your hands here...."
It was like when I was a kid, and my grandfather had given us tractor rides. He'd had about fourteen grandchildren at the time, and had piled us all over his old Farmall---On the hood, the wheel covers, clinging everywhere. Safety wasn't invented, back in the seventies. It's amazing any of us lived.

We pulled out of the driveway and headed down the road. Paul was sitting in the back, already giving every indication that he was going to fall asleep. My wife glanced at me as I looked back at my childhood home.
"You find what you need?" she asked.
I nodded. "I've found enough."
As we made the turn onto Low Road, I was making some notes in my notebook. I turned the survival pen over in my hands and looked at it a little. I said,"Stop at the bottom of the hill, okay? I want to get photos of the Bigfoot cutouts."
She pulled to a stop at the bottom of the hill. I opened the door. Paul said,"What you doing, Daddy?"
"Just want to get a photo, little man."
I got out of the car and snapped a picture of the Bigfoot cutouts. The property owner was doing some yard work at his place across the street. He said,"I believe in that guy!"
"That's cool. I'm a fan," I said. "I wanted to get a picture."
"You go right ahead," he said. "Bigfoot hasn't come by yet, but I'm hoping to capture him."
As I was getting back in the car, I looked over my shoulder and smiled.
"I'm working on it."

From Bad To Curse

I was sitting alone in a dark hallway in Bellefonte, remaining very still and quiet while I waited.
My name is Lou. Among my other jobs, I'm a paranormal investigator. I was wearing my black uniform, identifying me as a member of the Lock Haven Paranormal Seekers. My equipment was in a packet strapped around my leg and hanging on my belt. A digital recorder sat on the floor by my side. My teammates were scattered throughout the house, doing the same thing---Recording and waiting for ghosts. The client, SaraLee, was in the living room.
I've had worse Saturday nights.
"Nine fifty-three." It was my partner Kara, sitting in the bedroom behind me.
"Got it." I picked up my comlink. "Guys, it's nine fifty-three. The client reports a noise almost every night between now and ten-five. It's zero hour. Let's stay tuned."
Ashlin's voice came back from downstairs. "Okay, Lou. We're on it."
I set down the comlink and waited.
We stayed quiet for nine minutes. Until you actually do it, you don't realize how hard it is to sit still and silent. At three minutes after ten, we heard it.
A loud thump, coming from the direction of the living room.
"Did you hear that?" Kara asked from the room behind me.
"I did. There it was."
"Guys, was that you?" Ashlin, from downstairs, coming over the comlink.
"Not us. Unexplained. I'm in motion."
I leaped up and ran down the hallway, looking at the living room. Nothing. I checked out the front door---There was nothing, no car doors slamming, no people walking, nothing all the way up and down the street. I went back down the hall with my laser thermometer, checking each bedroom in turn.
I hit the button on the comlink. "Nothing. Gather in the kitchen, guys."
Kara and I walked down to the kitchen. From the basement stairs, Ashlin came up with the two newest members, Kris and Lacey.
I looked them over.
"We got it on tape," I said. "Nice work, you guys."

"Henry Shoemaker," I said. "Anyone who reads any of my columns will come across the name of Henry Shoemaker."
Ashlin, in the back seat, grinned. "Yeah, pick up any three of Lou's columns, you'll see Shoemaker mentioned about ten times."
It was an exaggeration, but not much of one. Kara was driving in the dark on Interstate 80, heading back to Lock Haven. Rain pattered against the windshield. Ashlin and Lacy were in the back seat. As Lacy was new, we were educating her.
"Tell her about the Giantess," suggested Kara.
"That's my personal favorite," I said. "It happened in present-day McElhattan, back in the sixteen hundreds. A Native American prince, Pipsisseway, fell in love with a girl from another tribe, but she left him for a warrior out west. He had a statue carved to look like her, but it was cursed---When he had it put up on the mountain, crops died, the river flooded, animals swarmed, and finally his dad, King Ironwood, ordered the Giantess taken down and buried underneath McElhattan Run."
Everyone was quiet, listening in the dark.
"So time goes by. Pipsisseway married, had a son. Ironwood died, and Pipsisseway became the king. And one day when his wife and son were traveling, he had the statue brought up and put back on the mountain. Well, the curse kicked in again....And this time it killed him. He died in a successful attempt to save his family."
"Do we know where he's buried?" asked Kara.
"We think we do. I found a cairn out near Zindel Park a few years ago. The people buried him near the Giantess, and there's a hint that the flood of 1865 dug up the Giantess enough that the curse was responsible for the death of Lincoln. The story ends with this spooky note about what will happen the next time it comes up. Well, that was about ten years ago, and it was us."
"Wait, what?" said Lacy.
Kara grinned. I nodded. "Back in 2008, I found a stone humanoid figure underneath the water, in Zindel Park. You have to know where to look. We did some investigating out there, got photos. I've been keeping an eye on it ever since."
"Cool," said Ashlin.
"You ever consider bringing it up?" asked Lacy.
"It'd be expensive," said Kara.
"I've thought about it," I admitted. "But it would be problematic. It's on city property, and in a tough place. My approach has been to leave it alone, and not disturb the curse."

"So, tell me about the Giwoggle," the guy said.
I smiled, standing behind the desk at the library. "Oh, you know the Giwoggle?"
"Well, not really," he said. "My wife saw you giving a tour one night, wearing that shirt." He pointed at my shirt, which did have the Giwoggle on it. "We were wondering about it...."
"Oh, sure. I've written about the Giwoggle a lot. It's Clinton County's official monster. It was from the north end of the county, said to be created by a witch. It was a wolf with the hands of a bird and the feet of a horse. People still spot this thing, along back roads."
He grinned. "Pretty cool. Hey, thanks."
"No problem. Thank you for asking....This is a more pleasant conversation than I usually have on a Monday."
My name is Lou. My job...I don't have a clue in hell how to describe my job. I'm a paranormal investigator, and I work at the local library. I give tours, and I write columns for several publications. I'm never sure what to call this, especially since "Ghost writer" is already taken.
I walked back to my desk and sat down. I did a little work on an article for the PA Wilds. Answered a few e-mails. Then I walked back to the rack, picked up the local newspaper, and sat back down. My column wasn't in it today. Front page---Some school district stuff, some city hall stuff. Weather---Consistent rain, and getting worse. Comics---Doonesbury was pretty good.
I found the article on the front page, and grimaced. Sue, walking by my desk, said,"What's up, Lou?"
"Oh. Ancient curse."
"On the front page?"
"Sort of. In a manner of speaking." I folded up the newspaper. "Now it's a Monday."

"There." Kara pointed out the window of her vehicle. "That's where the witness saw the Jersey Devil. That same house where you say it appeared in 1909."
I looked out the window at the Grove Street house. "Back then, there was Jersey Devil panic on every corner. People were calling off work because of Jersey Devil attacks. It reached out here, this far, with sightings in the winter of 1909. The newspapers report the guy in this house woke up and claimed to see a creature on his roof. He propped a ladder up the next morning, and let his neighbors look at the hoof prints in the snow. What did this witness see?"
"He woke up, late at night, and said he heard hoof sounds. Two hooves, not four. He looked out the window and saw a big shadow, something moving past----"
"Which window?"
"That one there, on that side of the house. He said something near the window growled at him. He didn't go out and check. He sat inside with his rifle the rest of the night." Kara shrugged. "His girlfriend's a friend of mine, and she told me. I thought you'd be interested."
"You thought right. I'll look into it."
Kara started driving again.
"Remember the Giantess curse? We were talking about it the other night?"
"Of course," said Kara. "I was there when you found the thing ten years ago. What's up?"
"I'm a little concerned." This is my social life, driving around talking about monsters and curses. "The local paper reports a huge problem with invasive species out there, bugs and plants that are doing a lot of damage. The city is dealing with it, but I may want to look into it. Guess where it's all happening?"
"You're kidding me. Zindel Park?"
"You got it. And I've seen cases where curses turned out to be real things----One case that was thought to be a curse turned out the be radiation, for instance. Depending on what causes the invasive species, it's not too hard to imagine people a long time ago assuming it's a curse. Now we have the invasive species, plus the latest flood warnings due to all the rain. I want to check it out. I need to get out there."

I stood in my office, on the second floor of my haunted home. The door was closed---The back side of the door, where nobody would see it, was where I kept my ghost-hunting stuff.
I pulled my shirt on: Black, with the LHPS logo. My jeans were black. I pulled on my steel-toed black sneakers, and stood up.
I passed over my tactical vest: For a small apartment, I wouldn't need it. I selected my leg strap instead, clipping it on my belt and snapping the strap around my leg. It held a camera, recorder, laser thermometer, and EMF detector.
I turned, checking myself over.
Ready.

"A camera, where, here?" Kara asked, pointing to a corner of the bedroom. "Would you say this is one of the hot spots?"
"This whole room is," said the client. "We've all seen ghosts in here. We're afraid to go in here anymore."
I walked through the apartment on Main Street, looking things over during our paranormal investigation. Kara and Lacey were busy setting up tripods and recorders.
"The building was built in 1869," I said. "It was part of the old Opera House, which doesn't exist anymore---This section was closed off, but the rest was torn down in 2005. This apartment was once occupied by a pharmacist and his family, and then later, a business owner who buried toxic chemicals in the Hill Section. He committed suicide, but not here---It was in a later home in Dunnstown."
I glanced out the window. I could see the courthouse across the block. I ran my EMF detector along the wall, and got a reading.
"Guys, I'm gonna step outside for a minute," I said. "I want to get a feel for the exterior."
Kara nodded. "Hurry back," she said.
"You want to take the back exit?" asked the client.
I looked up. "There's a back exit?"
The fire escape was tall, thin, and barely attached to the building. I walked down with some enjoyment, and took a walk around the back of the building. It was wedged between two bars. As I walked around the exterior, taking photos from the sidewalk, a flock of drunk girls came out of the Riverside Saloon. One of them called to me,"Hey, could I buy a cigarette off you?"
"You could if I smoked," I said. "I haven't really since my son was born."
"Hey, that's great," she said. "Good for you. It's my friend's birthday."
"Well. Happy birthday."
"How come you're taking pictures out here?" asked the birthday girl.
"Paranormal investigation." Was a time, I felt stupid saying that to people. But that's long past.
"Oooh, cool! Is there a ghost in there?"
"Well, I don't know. We're still looking into it."
"Can I have your autograph?" asked the friend.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah! This is really cool!"
Five minutes later, I walked around the back in the alley. I glanced at the house on Grove Street for a moment---The ghost hunt was right across the alley from the house where the Jersey Devil had been sighted. I looked it over for a minute, then took out my EMF detector and walked across the alley, into the back lot.
It lit up immediately and went red. I walked through the lot, hearing the familiar brrrrrr that meant I was picking up electromagnetic fields. It didn't shut off, which was unusual---It kept consistently getting a reading throughout the entire lot. Power cables strung over my head, and tied into the east side of the building right above me.
I walked back upstairs.
"That took a while," commented Lacey.
"Snd autgrfs," I mumbled.
She wrinkled her nose. "What?"
I sighed. "A couple of drunk girls asked me for my autograph."
Lacey laughed. Kara said,"So, when you weren't performing for the paparazzi, did you learn anything?"
"Well, we're right near the Jersey Devil house," I said. "The back lot, behind the building? It's solid EMFs. Wall to wall readings. I've never seen EMFs so heavy outdoors before."
"Really?" Kara's eyebrows rose.
I held my EMF detector up to the window, which faced that lot. It immediately lit up.
"Wow."
I nodded. "I'd bet on like eighty percent of their problems being caused by the heavy EMFs. You know how some people are sensitive? I think we have our answer, right there."

"So, Dad," I said,"Electromagnetic fields."
My brother-in-law Michel laughed. "You just jump right into it, don't you?"
I was in Slatington, sitting on the front lawn of the house I'd grown up in. It was my brother's birthday, and his wife was throwing him a party. I sat with my food and my iced tea. My son was playing in the yard with his cousins, whom he'd always adored.
"What?" Paul shouted. "You guys are here? Are you very serious? Are you kidding me right now?"
Amy, my sister-in-law, walked past and gave a nod to my shirt. "Is that Bigfoot riding the Loch Ness Monster?"
I grinned at her. "You like it? It's new."
"What about electromagnetic fields?" Dad asked.
"We check for them when there's a haunting," I said. "I had a place on Main Street recently that was packed with them. The parking lot, out back, was wall to wall with them. My detector went off, and didn't stop."
Dad frowned. "That doesn't make any sense."
"I agree, but here we are."
"What's there? Overhead, next to?"
"Apartment building. The power lines come in on that side, connect to the meters. Regular lines, far as I can see. No fields on any of the other sides."
"It could be due to what's in or under the building. Can you check what's buried underneath?"
"I can find that out. How much interest would the power company have in this? Fixing, cutting down?"
Dad shook his head. "None, unless there's a problem. It doesn't hurt anyone."
"Was this at night?" asked Michel.
"Around midnight."
"I'd check during the day, or at dusk," he said. "Street lights could have affected it. A cable would be buried, and it would be off during the day."
"Moving right along, is there a chance that high electromagnetic fields could affect migration patterns in birds?"
"It's possible," Dad said. "That kind of thing can happen. I remember when we put in the high-power lines at Lake Wallenpaupack, and people were concerned about the birds."
I nodded.
"That tells me a lot of what I need to know. Thanks, Dad."

"So I was with my friend, and we found a brick from the Queen's Mansion!" the man said. "How much could we get for that?"
I stood in the Pennsylvania Room, among the history books. "Let me guess," I said. "You found a brick with a stamp on it, that says Queen's Run."
"Yeah! I knew Queen Anne had a mansion over in Farrandsville, and I found this brick! Now I can get rich!"
"I doubt it; they're everywhere," I said. "While it's true that Queen Maria Christina of Spain had a mansion in Farrandsville, the brick with the stamp wasn't part of it. That was manufactured by the Queen's Run Fire Brick Company---They made thousands of them. Queen's Run had nothing to do with the actual queen; it was a mispronunciation of Quinn's Run, named after Samuel Quinn. What you have is a regular, common brick, though an interesting artifact."
He looked at me. "So you're kind of a history guy around here?"
"I dabble."
I pulled out Linn's History, flipping to the part about Wayne Township. I checked for minerals in the area---It was listed in the second column.
I walked out to the main desk, where Joe had shut down most of the lights. "Closing time," he said. "You ready to get out of here?"
"I was beyond ready two hours ago."
I set the alarm, and we all moved out of the library through the back staircase. As we went out into the parking lot, Zach said,"I'll see you guys tomorrow. I have to make a stop at the grocery store on the way home, pick up some baking stuff."
"I have to make a stop, too," I commented. "Some ghost-hunting follow-up."
I climbed on my bike and rode across town down Jordan's Alley. It was dusk; I could see the sky turning pink. I pulled up in the parking lot behind the Main Street apartment, and got out my EMF detector.
"Hey, big guy," I said. "Sun's getting real low."
I pressed the button. It came on and....Nothing. No signal. I walked in circles for a moment, and nothing lit up. It was getting darker. Then the streetlights came on, and my EMF detector beeped.
I walked back and forth. It gave me a patchy, intermittent signal. Not as much as it had lit up the other night, at midnight, but it was finding EMFs. During the day, nothing. But it increased overnight.
Now I need to check the curse.

In the pouring rain, I ran down the path. I was wearing my waterproof jacket, the green one with all the survival equipment concealed in the pockets. I'd been along this path in McElhattan a thousand times, but it looked different. McElhattan Run was up, raging in the wood to my right, and the path was about half covered in water.
I dodged the puddles, trying to get in and out before the path was flooded out. I was going in alone---I couldn't ask Kara to do this. She'd have come.
Up ahead, the path was washed out by rising water. I took three steps and leaped, going over it like Green Lantern and coming down on the other side. I got to the end of the path, and turned left, over the stone bridge. And then I was there. The home of the Giantess.
Zindel Park.
Built in 1929, Zindel Park was a scenic portion of the city water system, coincidentally placed right where the Giantess story had happened. About ten years ago, I'd discovered the humanoid sculpture in the water, and chosen to not publicize it. I stepped up onto the concrete platform above the water, and looked down. The run was churning too much; I couldn't see the Giantess underneath.
Of course it's a flood. This thing was even said to have caused the flood of 1865.
I stepped back down onto the wet, mushy ground and knelt down.
I got my EMF detector out of my pocket, held it up, and turned it on.
Nothing.
Then I lowered it to the ground, and it lit up.
There was magnetism here. At ground level, the place was loaded with EMFs.
And that explains a lot. I looked around at the park. I have some idea what's going on now. Rest easy, Pipsisseway. I got this covered.

"So how was the Main Street investigation?" asked Millie.
It was the monthly LHPS meeting. I sat in the living room with my friends: Millie, Kara, and Theresa. "Went well," said Kara. "We didn't find much on video, and there was a lot of interference on the audio."
"I found a high amount of EMFs in the building and outside," I said. "I think that's their problem right there."
Kara nodded. "I agree."
"Overnight, when the street lights come on, the EMFs go up to incredible levels," I said. "In addition to causing the apartment to feel haunted, I think it caused a Jersey Devil sighting. The EMFs affected migration patterns, screwing up at least one bird. Kara, take your phone and look up 'Great Blue Heron'."
Kara brought a video up on the phone, and played it. It showed a large bird, making a loud, frightening groaning and growling.
"I think that's what the witness saw and heard," I said.
"I think this is crazy, Lou," said Kara. "He's a hunter. He'd recognize this. he said he heard hooves."
"When blue herons snap their beaks, it does make a sort of clopping sound, like hooves. I checked."
"It could have been a deer," said Kara.
"They have been known to come downtown, I'll admit," I said,"But the hunter wouldn't recognize a deer?"
"Enough with the sarcasm."
"I also checked out the Giantess sculpture, out in McElhattan," I said. "I think it's something similar, magnetic fields. The curse, in the story, is described as crops dying, birds blocking out the sun, stuff like that. Which could be caused by invasive species. That could be caused by birds getting off their migration patterns---Birds can carry seeds with them, which can grow and choke out the crops."
Millie nodded. "That makes some sense."
"The ground out there is loaded with iron," I said. "I looked it up. Moving it around, carving it, placing a stone heavily mixed with iron....That could have shifted the magnetic fields. Over time, they'd build up, and cause what the Native Americans would view as a curse. The good news is, once they start digging out there, it can break the field and calm everything down for a while."
"Could be," said Theresa.
"So anyway," I said,"Case closed on that one." I sat back. "Is there any more orange soda?"

The Voychek's In The Jail

"How fast can you get to the post office?" Sue asked me. "You think you're fast enough to deliver this before the staff meeting?"
I looked at the clock. I had ten minutes. "I'm on it," I said. "I have no ideas for a PA Wilds article anyway. Adam, can you put this book away for me? Will I need money?"
"Yeah. About five dollars should do it. You think you can make it?"
I held up a thumb. "Challenge accepted."
I grabbed the package and went outside to my bike. My name is Lou. I work at the local  public library in Lock Haven, Pennsylvania. I'm also a historian, paranormal investigator, museum curator, and days like this, I'm a bike messenger, too.
I raced down to the post office, sent out Sue's package, and raced back. I'd been gone three minutes. Adam said,"Wow. I didn't even have time to put the book away."
We all gathered in the reference room for the staff meeting. We hold them once a month. City founder Jeremiah Church probably had to sit through meetings. He probably hated it. But not having to attend any more meetings was probably one of the advantages of having died in 1874.
We discussed the new cash register and the window replacements. Sue said,"Oh, and somebody left a box of books out back again yesterday, right outside my window. I had Zach bring them in."
"Oh, that was me," said Joe. "I brought them back from one of my delivery stops."
"What happened to the bedbug books?" asked Bill, the maintenance guy.
"Those were the bedbug books," said Joe.
I started laughing. I couldn't help it. Sue turned to Joe. "So you put books with bedbugs outside, and we brought them in for the book sale? Why didn't you put a sign on them?"
"I told Bill. Why did you bring them in?"
"We always bring them in! People leave book donations outside three times a week!"
I could barely breathe. I couldn't stop laughing. New Boss said,"We have insurance, in case of things like bedbugs. Lou, how are your summer programs going?"
I took a deep breath and got myself under control.
"Pretty good. The band on the twenty-eighth had to cancel. Tour attendance is up---I think it might have been the TV show; gave us some free publicity. And I'm stuck for an idea for a PA Wilds article, so if anyone thinks of anything, let me know."
New Boss nodded. "Anything else from anyone? Okay. Meeting adjourned."
I walked out to my desk, right outside the reference room. I sat down and got online. I had half a dozen e-mails from various Piper committees, which I either dashed off replies or ignored for later. I did a quick search for "Clarion County, PA," and found the Wikipedia page, which is useless. With most of the county histories, they often are, and this is why we invented the back button.
The county government page, surprisingly, was better. They had a whole column full of random historic facts, and I read through. And there, I found my article.

"Vincent Voychek," I said. "He's said to be haunting the Clarion County jail. He's the only guy ever hung in Clarion County, just like Luther Shaffer is the only guy ever hung in Clinton. What do you think of onions in the salad?"
"No, not tonight," said my daughter. "So they're similar to us."
"Yes, but they're also unique. He was hung in 1911 for stabbing his landlord, Andrew Stupka."
"What was his story?" asked Tif.
"I want a hot dog, cooked," said my son Paul, playing with his toys at the table.
I stuck a hot dog in the microwave. "He didn't really have a story. He didn't speak English. He went to the gallows in 1911 still claiming he was innocent. He may actually have been; when I e-mailed the Clarion County Historical Society, the woman there sent me an article and told me that Stupka's grandson once had visited, saying he thought Voychek had been framed."
"Wait....The grandson of the victim thought he'd been framed?"
"Yeah. It kinda makes you...."
"Yeah, it makes you think about it," she said.
"So I'm gonna look into it." I gave Paul his hot dog. "Write it up for the PA Wilds, get out there and get photos."
"Working title?"
"Hang In There."
"Of course."
"I may even figure out who did it."
"Won't make any difference to him," said Tif.
"No, not as this all happened in 1911," I said. "But if he's haunting the jail, it might give his ghost some relief."
"If I was killed for a crime I didn't do, I'd haunt the jail," said Tif.
"You never know how these things work. You feel like ranch dressing?"
Paul began playing with his Legos, building a replica of the Susquehanna Seal. As nobody had ever really seen the thing enough to furnish a complete physical description, maybe his portrayal was accurate---Bright colors, corners, and all.
I sat down on the end of the table.
"I haven't announced it yet," I said,"But I'm going to step down from Piper."
It was the first time I'd said it aloud.
Tif looked at me with some surprise. "I'm amazed you chose the museum," she said.
"You knew?"
"I could tell you were considering dropping something. I really didn't expect it to be Piper."
"Well, the Highland Cemetery board doesn't ask for much---A meeting every three months, usually while I'm at the library anyway. I can't leave LHPS; my entire social life is there. The PA Wilds pays well, and I can handle that from home mostly. Times I need to travel for the PA Wilds, we can make it a family trip. I want to spend some more time with Paul, and it's the museum that takes up all my time."
"Well, good for you, Dad. If that's what it takes to make things easier for you....."
"Yeah, out of everything I do, lately I feel the least appreciated at Piper. I do love the place, but it's time to leave. I'll be giving it a little more time before I make the announcement; there's a few things I want to accomplish first."
Paul came over and climbed up into my lap.
"I don't like it when Daddy goes to the museum," he said. "I like it when you play with me."
"Pretty soon, little man," I said. "I'm going to stop going to the museum, so I can play with you lots and lots."

Sue watched me as I paced across the library. "You having a slow night, Lou?"
"More or less. It's been slow all day. No ghosts, no Bigfoot sightings, no UFOs."
"I hate when that happens."
"I'm gonna redecorate," I decided, and headed for the attic.
There was a painting up there---Ole Bull's castle, a big castle on a mountain that had been put there by a famous singer. He'd intended to make a series of towns to replicate his native Norway, but had been ripped off and lost the land. It was now a state park.
The painting had been donated to the library decades ago, by Henry Shoemaker. I picked it up and carried it downstairs.
I climbed up on a stepladder in front of my desk. My office had recently been moved about eight feet, and I'd wound up staring at the wall. I was right in front of the Henry Shoemaker books, and I'd decided to change around the art a little. Hell, I was the one who had to look at it.
I removed the old piece, and stored it. Then I hung up the Ole Bull painting. I sat down at my desk and looked it over for a while. I liked it.
Sitting at my desk, I brought up the website for Clarion County. It took me a few minutes, but I finally found an e-mail address for the webmaster. I wrote up an e-mail and sent it to him, asking about sources for the Voychek information on the site.
Five minutes later I got it back, undelivered, because that e-mail was outdated.
I looked around some more on the site. Finally I found the e-mail addresses for the three county commissioners and three courthouse administrators. Figuring that at least one of them had to be more organized than the webmaster, I copied and pasted my original question into a new e-mail, and sent it off to all six of them.
Half an hour later, I had a reply from a commissioner. He sent me some new information, along with an invitation to visit sometime and see the sights of Clarion County.
You can get away with quite a lot if people know you're going to give them good publicity.

I walked into the hangar of the museum. It was dark, after hours, when nobody else would be around. Slowly, I walked through the hangar, touching the airplanes. one at a time.
The yellow Cub. The Pennsylvania state plane. It's been an honor.
I touched the Tri-Pacer, the Grasshopper. The Comanche, the newest of our acquisitions and one of two I'd arranged. I am going to miss seeing new planes come in. 
I walked to the Aztec, my favorite, touching it, taking some comfort.
Gonna miss you most of all.
I walked upstairs to my office....No longer mine, I suppose. I gathered my personal items---A black jacket with my adventure equipment in the pockets, a couple of books, my coffee mug, my photos of my family. I slid them into my backpack.
Then I took my key off my key ring, set it on the desk, and walked back downstairs.
I walked through the hangar on my way out, taking one last look. Seeing everything as if it were the first time.
Or the last.

I went home. My family was asleep.
I think I did the right thing. My whole life, I've been fiercely loyal to the organizations I join, never leaving. This has generally led to me either getting thrown out eventually, or quitting in anger when I couldn't take it anymore. None of that is a healthy choice. It's time to break the pattern.
I got a beer, walked upstairs to my office, and dropped my stuff. I sat down and turned on the computer. Sitting in the dark, I used four hundred dollars worth of electronic equipment to view an old newspaper article from 1911.
It was the one sent to me by the Clarion County Historical Society. I'd skimmed it, but I hadn't studied it much. The article detailed a lot of the Voychek incident---The crime, the hanging. I read through it carefully, making notes in my PA Wilds notebook. I drank beer from the can while I worked. Did Henry Shoemaker drink beer while he did his research? Actually, he very likely did.
I found a line: "Later Stupka with a lantern in one hand and a poker in the other went to see if Voychek had left the premises. Mike Sidor accompanied him."
I took a sip of the beer.
"Well. A clue."
This is a complicated research technique known as "getting lucky."

"So....It seems like I know what happened."
I was sitting in the car, my wife driving. Tif, Biz, and Paul were in the back as we rode through Clarion County.
"So, what's that?" asked Tif from the back.
"It all started in a bar," I said. "Voychek was involved in a fight, but it broke up pretty quick. He went home and had dinner, and when the landlord, Stupka, arrived, the whole thing started up again. After an argument, Voychek left, and a few minutes later was followed by Stupka and another guy, Mike Sidor. When Sidor came running back saying Stupka was stabbed, Voychek was found carrying a bloody knife, and arrested."
"Wow. Sucks for him," said Biz.
"Yeah, but you look at the facts. There were three people present----Voychek, Stupka, and Sidor. One ended up dead, and the other said he didn't kill him. You do the math."
"The other guy. Sidor," said Tif. "But can you prove it?"
"Circumstantially, which is good enough for me," I said. "He was the only other person present. Seems immediately after the murder, Sidor bailed---He left Clarion, left Pennsylvania. I tracked him down eventually---He's buried in Canada."
"Canada," said Biz. "Well, he couldn't wait to get out of town, could he? It does sound suspicious."
"Park up here," I told Michelle.
There was a parking lot in the middle of Clarion, and we pulled in. We climbed out of the van, and I pointed at the elaborate, unusually-shaped building just down the alley. "There. The haunted jail."
We walked down to it. I was holding Paul's hand. Biz and I were in the lead. I stopped to get some photos, and got out my EMF detector.
"Anything?" asked Biz.
I shook my head. "Nothing from here. But this is the place. This is where an innocent man was hung."
Biz stopped to look up at the building. "Is this still a jail?"
"I'm not sure. I don't think so. I'm gonna have to spend some more time out in Clarion, do some research for the PA Wilds."
"But now you know what happened."
I nodded.
"Now I know."

"Daddy? Can we sit in the hallway and talk about ghosts?"
Paul was standing in the doorway to my office. I glanced over from my computer, where I was working on the Voychek article. Nice thing about the PA Wilds is that I can do it from home.
"You mean an EVP session? You want to investigate like Daddy does?"
"Yeah!"
"Okay. Why not?" I saved the article and stood up. My LHPS vest was hanging on the back of the door, and I fished my digital recorder out from the pocket. We walked out into the hallway and sat down.
"Okay, little man. Here's what we're gonna do. We'll record this, and then you and me say our names, and then we ask questions and listen for ghosts. Okay?"
"Okay!"
I turned on the recorder, and said,"We're in the upstairs hallway. Daddy."
"Paul."
I gave it a moment, and then asked,"Is there anyone here?"
He giggled. "Yes! Daddy and Paul!"
"No, I mean, that was a question for the ghosts, little man."
"Oh."
Outside, I heard a plane go over. I glanced out the window and saw the bright yellow airplane in the sky. I watched for a moment, and then turned back to my son.
"Tagging---Plane outside. Let's keep looking for ghosts, little guy."

Turtles All The Way Down

"Okay, the food is grilled. Everybody dig in."
I set down the trays of smoking food, and my family piled up their plates. My wife, two daughters, and my four-year-old son all sat around the table.
"Can't wait to go camping in Indiana for the family vacation," said Biz.
"It'll be good," I agreed. "Since you brought it up, here's the itinerary for the trip out. Full of ghosts, monsters, and weird sights." This is what passes for dinnertime conversation in our family. I got out my notebook. "If we make a few stops for photos, I can submit them to the PA Wilds and get paid for this. In Clearfield County, there's the highest point on I-80. Also a diner where they have a Bigfoot statue and a whole bunch of dinosaurs. In Jefferson County, there's a park where an insane person carved a whole bunch of bible verses on rocks."
"Oh, that's fun," said Tif.
"It'll be neat. Trust me. When we get to Clarion County, there's a giant cow statue. We'll get pictures."
"That's what I like about this family," commented Biz. "It's not all about how many miles we can put on. We actually stop and do stuff."
I fist-bumped her. "And then when we get there, you and me got an investigation. The campsite is real near where the Beast of Busco was sighted. It's a giant monster turtle that was seen in a pond in Indiana, but never captured. They call it Oscar. We're gonna look into it."
"Cool," said Biz.
"We are not bringing back a giant monster turtle," said my wife.
"The car's a rental," I pointed out.
"I'm not sharing the back seat with a big turtle," said Tif.
"Actually I'll settle for photos," I said.
"I want to share with a turtle," said Biz.

My name is Lou. I'm a paranormal investigator, librarian, writer, and explorer.
My family's summer vacation is usually in August. This year, we were going to Indiana. My little boy, Paul Matthew, is adopted. He has two younger brothers who are also adopted, and live elsewhere. We'd planned a camping trip midway, meeting up with both of them.
I'd also worked up an itinerary of interesting places to see on the way---Weird historic and paranormal spots. It's kind of my thing. And as a writer for the PA Wilds, I could use this trip to submit an article. I'm not above double-dipping that way.
And, in Indiana, I'd also discovered the story of the Beast of Busco, a mysterious cryptid turtle that had been seen for about a hundred years. On the far end of the trip, it would be worth looking into.
My family doesn't really do normal vacations.

"This is really cool," said Biz as we walked through the rocks. "I wouldn't mind coming back here."
"Neither would I," said Michelle. "We'll have to plan a day trip sometime."
"Me too!" cheered Paul.
I took a photo, then looked closer to examine the letters on one of the rocks. "In the early 1900s, an insane religious guy carved all of these Bible verses on the rocks. His wife died because he wouldn't get her medical treatment, and he spent the rest of his life carving these messages."
"He had no life," Michelle said.
"A fair point," I said. I clicked another photo, and then made a couple of notes in my notebook. "I can write this up for the PA Wilds. I just made like a hundred dollars."
"Cool," said Biz.
"So I guess we're doing okay this trip. We'd also go back and take another look at Bigfoot and the dinosaurs. We have some good stops out this way."
"Now I want to see my little bruvvers!" said Paul.
I nodded. "We'll go back to the car. Soon, we'll see your brothers."

It was late when we pulled into the campsite with the cabin. It was small, with one regular bed, a bunk bed, and a couch. I began unloading the luggage.
"I call couch," said Tif, dropping into it.
Biz turned on the sink, and then made a face. "The water has a really bad smell."
"That's sulfur. It was like this where I grew up," I said. "We'll get some bottled water; can't cost more than about $3.50."
"Can I go see my bruvver, Daddy?" Paul asked. "Can I?"
"Go ahead," I said. "Go knock on the door."
"You knock."
"Come on, little guy," I said.
We walked next door, and I knocked. One of the other families was already there, Nicole and Tony, who had adopted Paul's brother, two-year-old Sully. His baby brother, Oliver, slept in a nearby blanket. Paul and Sully squealed and hugged each other.
"House," said Sully. "House."
Nicole smiled. "He wants to show Paul the cabin."
Paul looked up at me. I nodded, and the two of them raced in and immediately climbed up the bunk bed. The adults joined on the porch.
"How was your trip?" asked Nicole.
"Not bad, except for the construction," I said. "We saw some neat stuff on the way, and once we got out of Pennsylvania, it was smooth sailing. We got backed up for hours because of construction. I despise PennDOT."
She nodded. "Isaac's family said they ran into construction, too."
"We'll be putting Sully to bed soon," said Tony. "You guys got any plans for breakfast? We can all get together up at the cafe."
"That sounds great," I said. "And then we'll see what else there is to do. There's a legend of a giant monster turtle in this area---The nearby town has a statue of it. I'd love to ride out and get photos of that."
"There's a monster turtle?" asked Nicole.
I nodded. "It was sighted in 1898, and again in the forties. The farmers tried to drain the pond and catch it, but they never did. It's thought to have escaped into the nearby swamps."
"Oh, cool."
"The interesting thing about this is how plausible it is. When you're dealing with water creatures, you run up against the population problem. When creatures are sighted in a lake for hundreds of years, clearly you're not talking about the same one. It would have to be a whole family, which raises the question of how many can fit in the lake, and why they aren't sighted more often under the circumstances. But turtles can be effectively immortal---They die from disease or accidents, but not really old age to speak of. Left alone, they can live for hundreds of years. So it's not too big a stretch to imagine a giant turtle living alone since 1898."
"And you're going to find it?" asked Nicole.
"I'll settle for a photo of the statue."
"Sounds great," said Tony. "We'll plan on that."

Paul, Sully, and Isaac---The three brothers---ran around with their little bubble-blowing guns, spreading bubbles all over the lawn. We'd shown up before the cafe opened, so we'd given them some toys to play with while they waited. I stood with the other adults, watching them all play.
Nicole nodded at my shirt. "Is that Bigfoot getting abducted by aliens?"
I grinned. "Yeah. I got a couple like this."
"I saw one online that said Bigfoot: Hide And Seek World Champion."
"I have that one, actually."
My wife came up beside me.
"We're going swimming after breakfast," she said. "The pool's right over there. You want to come?"
I considered it. "I'll meet up with you guys later. I'm not much of a swimmer. I think I'll take a walk, explore the camp a little."
"Okay," she said. "We'll be in the water."
I nodded as three little boys ran past me, shrieking and blasting bubbles at each other.

With everyone else at the pool, I walked to the cabin. I knelt down and pulled the black bag from underneath the bed.
It was filled with my travel adventure equipment. I selected the black shoulder bag---Cryptozoology. Yeah, I have my paranormal equipment sorted and packed in different bags for different situations. Are you that organized at your job?
I walked down the path, curving around to the beach. I could see Ridinger Lake; I walked down and took a look. There were signs of geese, and the water looked mossy and dirty---I was glad my family was up and swimming in the nice clean pool. I took a water sample in one of the small plastic cans I carry for that purpose.
I'd filched an extra map from the camp office when we'd checked in. Following the map, I walked up and around to the nearby fishing dam. The lake flowed down this way, over the dam, and off to the northwest. I found a small path going upstream past the fence, and followed it down to the creek.
There were ducks and frogs in the water. I dipped out a sample there, too, and then realized my sample jars looked exactly the same. I took a pen and labelled one "L" for lake, and the other "C" for creek, and put them into a side pocket on my bag.
I knelt by the edge. There were snails in the water---Huge snails, some three inches in diameter, clustered up along the edge. There had to be thirty or forty of them. I found an empty shell and dropped it into my bag, then took a photo of them. I'd never seen snails that size before.
So, I wasn't finding a monster turtle, but the snails were gigantic.

"It's Daddy! Hi, Daddy!" Paul called out as I approached the pool.
"Hey, little man! Having fun?"
"Yeah!" He was splashing around in the water with Biz.
"No giant turtle?" Michelle asked as I sat down in a chair beside her.
I shook my head. "No Oscar yet. But I did find some huge damn snails down by the dam. Oscar-got." I made it sound like escargot. "Killer snails. I've never seen any that big before." I showed her the shell.
Tif swam to the edge of the pool. "Hey, cool. Can you get me one of those?"
"Me, too!" added Paul.
"Sure," I said. "I was planning on going back down there anyway. If there's anywhere there's gonna be a giant turtle, that's it. Hey, little man, you want to help me with the color-changing paper later?"
"Yeah! I like color-changing paper!"
Tif gave me a look. "Color-changing paper?"
"Litmus paper. When checking for water monsters, you always test the water to see the acidity. I did it up at Kettle Creek last month."
"You gonna test the sulfur water, too?" asked Biz.
"I'm kind of afraid to."

Nicole grinned at me. "Cool shirt." It was the one that said I'd rather be ghost-hunting.
"Oh, thanks. I have a whole bunch of these at home."
We had a campfire going, and the kids were playing. Some of the parents were roasting marshmallows on it. Paul, Sully, and Isaac were eating S'mores, but not in their entirety---Paul was eating unheated marshmallows, Sully was eating chocolate, and Isaac kept grabbing graham crackers.
"Can we do the color-changing paper now, Daddy?" asked Paul.
"Sure, little man."  I set my bag down on the table, and got out the samples and the litmus paper. I opened the sample cans, which had blessedly not leaked, and set them on the table. "Go ahead, dip the paper in."
Paul dipped the paper into the water. Isaac sat next to him and watched this intently. In each case, it went from yellow to a deeper green.
"It's green!" Paul announced happily.
"What's that mean?" asked Biz.
"It's alkaline, but not enough to not support life," I said. "Things can live in it, but it's on the upper end of that."
"So you do this for a living?" Travis, Isaac's dad, was standing next to me and watching.
"I have no idea how to describe what I do for a living. I've been called the county historian. Mostly, I'm a librarian, but I do writing, I study local history, and I look for ghosts and monsters and buried treasures. There was never a word for this when I was in high school. I'm pretty sure I invented my own career."
"It helps to do something you love," he said.
"So how do you go about this?" asked Tony, Sully's father.
"Depends on the type of investigation, but I'm always looking for provable, measurable evidence," I said. "Ghosts, monsters---The bottom line is to prove it. I do tests, I measure what I can."
He nodded. "That's a good way to go about it. I looked up your Giwoggle online. I found a lot of your articles."
I grinned. "Yeah, most of what's online about the Giwoggle, I put there. It's Clinton County's official monster; I campaigned for that back in 2011. You can get Giwoggle T-shirts."
"And the turtle you're looking for....Beast of Busco?"
"That's the one. It was sighted not too far from here. They have a statue of it; I'd love to go and see it."
"Sounds great," said Travis. "Let's take a drive out tomorrow."

I walked back down to the creek in the dark and knelt by the water. I was smoking one of my cigars; I'd brought a few along. I smoked fewer of them since we'd adopted Paul. It wasn't a conscious decision, I just didn't have the time.
With my small flashlight, I looked at the water. The day before, there had been a huge group of monster snails clustered around. Now, there were still some live ones, but something had been at them. There were empty shells dropped along the creek; something had been there eating them.
I picked a couple up and examined them. I chose one for Tif and one for Paul, and dropped them into my bag. I looked at the water again. Bobbing in it was about half of a skeleton. Leaning closer, which I really didn't want to do, I was able to identify it as most of a frog.
I could hear things moving around out there, in the water. I tried taking a couple of photos, but it was too dark. One of those professional risks in paranormal investigation. So I waited a while, but nothing too exciting happened.
After a while I finished my cigar, and walked back to camp.

We had a fire going for our final night of camp. Some of the adults sat around it while the boys mostly ate the individual pieces of S'mores without assembling or heating them. I said,"This has been a good trip. And it's been great to spend time with all of you."
Tony grinned. "I ordered Nicole a Giwoggle T-shirt."
"Allright! Clinton County's official monster."
"Dad, can you cook me a hot dog?" asked Tif, sitting on the cabin steps with her book.
"Sure," I said. I walked to the picnic table and began spiking one on the long metal stake.
Biz sat down next to me. She was holding baby Oliver.
"So, how'd the quest for the turtle go?"
"Well, not bad. I didn't see the Beast of Busco, but I did find the statue. I found the killer snails. So now I know---A- The creek can support life, including oversize life. B- Something ate the snails, which means they have a predator there someplace. So, C- It's possible there's Oscar, the giant turtle living in the swamps here."
"Well, that works out better than some of your investigations."
"True enough. I'm happy with it. It's been a good weekend."
"Sorry you didn't solve the turtle mystery, though."
"You know what, Biz? Mystery is where you find it." I smiled, looking at the boys all eating at the picnic table together.

"Guys....It's been great."
Final morning. I stood in the yard between the cabins with the other families. We'd been up at about eight AM, packing and cleaning. I'd gotten everything into the car. Paul had been the last one up---He and Sully had worn themselves out.
"We'll have to keep the boys in touch," said Nicole. "We'll skype with Paul."
"That would be great," I said. "Paul? Come say goodbye to Sully."
Paul gave Sully a hug. "I miss you," he said.
"We'll be talking with him on the computer," I said. "Would you like that?"
"Yeah! Can we go to Old MacDonald's?"
I laughed. "We'll get breakfast on the way home."
We hugged each other and said goodbye, and got into our cars. Michelle strapped Paul into the car seat, and pulled out into the path.
"Home by tonight, guys," I said. "I have a couple of stops in Ohio planned. There's a graveyard in the parking lot of a movie theater, and a fifty foot statue of the Virgin Mary."

Seal of Approval

"What do zombies look like?" my son asked.
I was sitting on the bed getting dressed, so obviously, it was the appropriate time for questions like that. "Well, they're kind of like people. Except scary. And they kind of make a sound like Uuuurrrrr."
"I don't think they make a noise."
I pulled my Piper Cub shirt on. "Where did you learn about zombies?" I was pretty sure nobody had shown my four-year-old The Walking Dead.
"On a Shimmer and Shine cartoon. They eat people, but only people who fell down."
"Yeah, that's about right." I pulled on my sneakers. "You remember you were born in New Orleans? It's a city far away. There are zombies there."
"Are they friendly zombies?"
"Yeah. They're all drinking margaritas."
"In the cartoon, zombies do like this." Paul held his hands together and made a kind of dancing, wiggling motion.
I laughed. "Do they do that? Okay. I kind of like that."
"Why do zombies have red drips on their mouth?"
"Oh....That's their lipstick." I tied my yellow Piper bandanna around my ankle. "Zombies don't know how to put on lipstick right, so they get drips."
Paul rolled his eyes. "They don't know they are supposed to rub their lips together. Silly zombies."

"You seem a little down," said the woman. "When was the last time you had an astrological chart done?"
I glanced at her. "What have I ever written that would make you think I believe in astrology?"
"I didn't ask if you believed in it, I asked when you last had it done."
"Oh. That'd be never, then."
She leaned over the desk at the library and began sketching on a piece of paper, while nearby, my co-worker Barb looked on with some amusement. "Well, you were born in July, right? That would make you a Leo. What time were you born?"
"I don't know. I actually have different stories on my birth from each of my relatives. I've never been sure what's true, so years ago I just chose the one I like best, and went with that."
She frowned at me. "Well, which of your relatives do you trust the most?"
"You don't know my relatives."
"This is important."
"It may have been about three in the afternoon. And I'm pretty sure I was born in an elevator in Phoenixville."
She scribbled some more on the paper. "There, see, your sun and moon are in opposition. That could explain some of the conflict you're feeling. You should have a chart done about weekly."
"Ah. Well, thank you."
"You're welcome," she said, and walked out.
Barb glanced at me. "How do you....."
"Keep a straight face? It's not always easy."
The door opened, and someone in a uniform walked in. It was my friend Ian, a ranger with Kettle Creek State Park.
"Hi, Lou," he said. "I was just dropping by to see if you're available to do a talk for us up at Kettle Creek again this summer. The audiences like you."
"Sure," I said. "Got a topic in mind?"
"I was thinking about the Native Americans," he said. "There's a lot of that sort of history. Can you do that?"
"Oh, sure. Done that kind of thing before. When's good?"
"July seventh?"
"Works for me." I scribbled it down. "Ian, last year, when my son fell asleep in the back of the car on the way home, my wife and I were discussing getting a campsite and staying over next time around. Would that be possible? Could you guys arrange for a campsite overnight?"
"Oh, sure," said Ian. "Give a call in and book it with our scheduling person. That can be done."
"Great! Thanks."
Ian left, and Barb said,"That sounds like fun."
"More than you even know," I said. "There are legends of a water monster in the Kettle Creek area, the Susquehanna Seal. It was said to be very active overnight, and often seen by the Indians. If I investigate it, it fits right in."
Zach, walking past the desk, stopped to listen.
"Have you ever in your life," Barb asked,"Done something like this without some sort of paranormal side mission?"
"It's been a while," I admitted. "You know, if I get some photos while I'm up there, I can even get paid for this by writing it up for the PA Wilds."
"You're not bringing any monsters in here," commented Zach.
"Don't destroy my dreams, Zach," I said.
Paranormal phenomena to be investigated. Ancient mysteries to be solved. And just like that, another workday begins.

"I'm four years old!" my son proudly declared at the table. "It's my birthday today!"
"It is, little man," I said, and gave him a hug. "We love you."
"Can I open presents?"
"You'll have to wait until Aunt Biz gets here, and we have the cake," I said. "Be patient."
"I don't like to be patient."
"I am painfully aware. But you'll have to learn."
Paul reached for a box on the table. "Can I just open this one?"
"That one's from Aunt Paula," I said. "My old teacher. Yeah, you can open that."
I watched with my wife and daughter as Paul ripped open the box. He pulled out a pretty good package of stuff, a backpack loaded with items.
"New binoculars!" Paul held them up to his eyes and looked at his big sister through the wrong ends.
"That's backwards, little guy."
"I don't like close up. I like far away."
"Fair enough."
"What else is there?" Tif asked, looking at the pack. Paul pulled out more stuff: A mountain climbing set, comlinks, a wrist compass, a cap with a light on the brim. Not toy stuff; the real thing.
"Aunt Paula sends quality stuff," I commented. "You got better equipment than I do now. Here, you see these?"
I handed him one of the comlinks. It took me a minute to get the channels coordinated, but then I said,"See? You press this button to talk. Look." I pressed the button and said,"Hi, Paul."
He lit up as my voice came out of his comlink. He said,"I want to!" Pressing the button after a couple of tries, he said,"Hello, hello, hello."
"Now you can come have adventures with me. Find monsters and stuff."
"I want to find monsters," he said. "Can I stay at Kettle Creek by my own?"
"Not a good idea."
"Daddy, trust me," said my four-year-old. "I'm an expert."

We got to Kettle Creek State Park around three PM, five hours before my speech was scheduled. Paul had been ready to jet out the door since eight AM. It's about an hour from Lock Haven to Kettle Creek, and every five minutes, Paul was asking if we'd arrived yet.
We found our campsite and parked the car. I unloaded everything and put the tent up. Michelle and I had purchased the tent for about $3.50 seventeen years ago, before we were married. The package had said it was a Fast 'N' Simple E-Z Tent, and I'd been shocked to find out that it was actually fast, simple, and easy. So easy I could get the thing up in minutes, even with the help of a four-year-old. Best tent I've ever owned.
We were up at the overlook, exploring the rest of the park, when Ian got there, pulling over in his state-issued DCNR vehicle.
"Hi, Lou," said Ian.
I grinned. "Hey, Ian. Thanks for the site---We're having a great time. Little guy's thrilled."
"Good, good. You bring some artifacts to share tonight?"
"I did. Studied up on the Native Americans, got some good stories."
He nodded. "I saw a heron down past the dam, looking for fish. You might get a look at him."
"That'd be cool." I turned to Paul. "You hear that, little guy? There's a tall bird, and we might get to see it."
"Yeah! I want to see the tall bird!"
"We'll keep our eyes open, Ian," I said. "See you at the Nature Center in a couple of hours."

"Good speech, Daddy," said Paul as the Nature Center let out. I'd talked about the Susquehannocks, some of their battles and legends, and passed around a couple of Native American tools from a dig. It had been a bigger crowd than last year.
"Thanks, little guy."
"It was a good speech," said Michelle. "One of your better ones."
"I'm pleased. It went well."
Two guys came up, and shook my hand. One said,"I love that shirt! Where did you get it?"
It was the blue one with Bigfoot being abducted by aliens. "Oh. Amazon."
"Mind if I take a picture of it?"
"No, go ahead."
He snapped a photo with his cell phone. "Great talk, man. Loved it. You into Bigfoot?"
"Yeah, I do some looking sometimes."
He grinned. "Me too. Got some good photos out in Grove City last year."
"Daddy! Come on!" said Paul.
I smiled. "Gotta run. Bedtime."
We fed Paul some marshmallows, got him to agree to lay down in the sleeping bag about nine-thirty, and I clicked off the lantern. I gave the little guy a hug.
"See you in the morning, buddy."
"We did not see the tall bird."
"We'll go look for him tomorrow. Promise."
"This is a fun camping trip. I love you, Daddy."
"Love you, too, little man."
Taking the lantern, I crawled out of the tent and zipped it up. I walked over to the picnic table and sat down with a copy of Annihilation I'd grabbed from the library. On camping trips, it was important to bring the right book to read after dark. Stephen King is a bad choice. I'd learned this the hard way.
I lit a cigar and read for a while, until I was pretty sure Michelle and Paul were asleep. Then I dug into my pack, and got out some of my cryptozoology equipment.
I had a knife that was designed for it, which I strapped on my belt. I got a small sample jar and a monocular. My camera was in my pocket. I pulled on a dark green hoodie---It was cooling down.
I walked down the path in the dark. Some of the other families were settling down, going to sleep, and it was getting quieter. I got to the creek and took a water sample from the edge.
Back at the campsite, I sat down at the picnic table and did a litmus test on the sample. Yeah, I carry litmus paper in my pack---Don't give me that look. The water tested just slightly acidic, though it still would easily support life----Which, obviously, as we'd been seeing frogs, snakes, and fish all day, and had heard tell of a tall bird.
I picked up my stuff, and went looking for the Susquehanna Seal.
I walked down to the bridge. I stood for a while, looking out over the water. It's unbelievable how much paranormal investigation winds up being just standing around, waiting for something to happen. I took a few photos. I had my flashlight in my pocket---I hadn't needed it to walk the path down to the bridge----And the forest was dark and quiet.
The Susquehanna Seal had been said to make noise, howling at night, but all I could hear was the bullfrogs. There were a couple of fallen logs in the water. I looked at my watch; it was past ten-thirty. I'd been out later than I'd realized.
It was dark. I tried to think back, imagine it the way it must have been in the very early days. No camp, no highway nearby, just some settler cabins and Native American tribes. It would have seemed much more remote then, almost an impossible place to reach. The dark was pervasive. Sometimes, mysteries remain mysteries, and I'm good with that.
I could see how some floating logs or decent-sized snakes, maybe, could have turned into the legend of a monster. This forest was great. There was adventure here.

When I opened my eyes in the morning, Paul was next to me in his sleeping bag, smiling at me. "I think it's morning time, Daddy," he said.
"Yeah. It's morning. Let's let Mommy sleep for now, okay?"
"This was a fun camping trip."
"Well, we're not quite done with it yet," I said. "You want to go look for the tall bird?"
"Okay."
We pulled our sneakers on, crawled out of the tent, and walked down to the creek. We sat down on the little overlook platform and watched for a while.
Paul pointed excitedly over the water. "Daddy! There is the tall bird!"
I looked---He'd spotted it. The heron was soaring upward, over the water, heading upstream.
"You got it, little man! That's the tall bird!"
"I love it, Daddy!" Paul smiled. "Can we go camping again soon?"
"Sure we can."
It shot up, over the mountain, and then it was gone.