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Contents
Non-Fiction

Meet the Authors..............................................................................................4

Paranormal Q & A.............................................................................................6
UFO Report.......................................................................................................7
Alien Abduction in the Peace...........................................................................9
From the Archives- Newstead Abbey.............................................................11
The Pillars of Hercules..................................................................................14
NPS Highlights................................................................................................16
Spiritual Safety...............................................................................................19

Fiction

Peaches- Virginia Carraway Stark.................................................................21

The Wriath of Oheganos- Jen M. Duell............./.............................................27
21- Damon Norko............................................................................................35
Chosen- Laura Callender................................................................................38

Virginia Carraway Stark is editor in chief of StarkLight Press and

Director at the National Paranormal Society. She has written
extensively on the paranormal and injects her considerable
knowledge on the subject into her speculative fiction and
screenplays. You can find Virginia's work through StarkLight Press.
She works with other writers, artists and poets to hone her talents
and to offer encouragement and insight to others. She has been an
honorable mention at Canne Film Festival for her screenplay, Blind Eye and
was nominated for an Aurora Award.
www.starklightpress.com
www.ihavememory.wordpress.com
www.virginiastark.wordpress.com
Jen M Duell is an American author, photographer and illustrator whom
resides in Upstate New York. Her short story What Has Kenneth
Done! was selected in a contest to appear in the thriving anthology
entitled Starklight Volume 3.Jen is studying parapsychology and
conducting sleep studies on herself in which she discusses on her
blog Fortean Encounters She is also studying demonology and
abnormal psychology.
Rev. Alex LaFountain is currently studying to be an Independent
Catholic Priest. He has worked in the demonology field for several
years and has worked with dozens of paranormal teams all across
the country as a consultant on demonic cases.
L,E, Caine is a staff writer for Starklight Press as well as an artist in
her own right. She started off her career in writing as a ghost writer
and later ventured into the world of science fiction and fantasy with
the occasional horrendous horror story that she claims helps her to
'vent murderous urges'.
She is a frequent contributor both here and to various wiccan,
empath and magical bulletin boards.

Our Guest Writers

Micheal Rivers is the pseudonym for Mike Baugham. His
Cherokee heritage prompted him to honor his great-grandfather
and write under the name of Rivers. He grew up near the Outer
Banks of North Carolina. His love of the sea and all it has to
offer was the driving force of his first novel The Black Witch. As
a child, he became aware of the supernatural world due to
several experiences. A recognized authority as a paranormal
investigator with more than thirty years of research, teaching
classes and giving speeches provides his readers with some of
his experiences woven into his paranormal thrillers. He is the
lead investigator for the Smokey Mountain Ghost Trackers.
He has been writing since 1993 and was first published in 2003. His works
include supernatural thrillers, literary fiction and his ghost story anthologies
are published by Schiffer Publishing.
Micheal is a USMC veteran and served during Vietnam. The passions in his life
are his wife, family, Boxer Delilah affectionately known as DeeDee, and the
great outdoors.
A former punk rock poet who stumped about with a poems for
sale on his back, Damon Norko is now a writer, teacher and
play director. Among his published works are The Glue Story
(1990) and The Delilah Factor (2010). His stories often focus
on technology and human nature, asking critical questions
about where humankind is headed. Copies of his newest
novel, The Ghost Writer are available at all major
booksellers, including Black Rose Writing, Amazon, and
Barnes & Noble.

Dear Ms Caine,
I was wondering if you have ever had light flicker for absolutely no reason
when you enter a room? It has been happening not just at my home but also in
the homes of my friends and a lot of times streetlights will go out when I walk
under them. Sometimes they go out when I park my car under them. I know it
could just be coincidences as well, but it has been happening so often that it's
made me wonder if it's something more.
-Blanche
Dear Blanche,
Lights can flicker for a lot of reasons and of course the first thing to check out
is if there is a wiring problem or even an energy shortage in your area.
Assuming that it happens in too diverse of locations I would suggest one of a
couple of options.
The body emits electricity and it also absorbs electricity as it does any other
source of energy. Perhaps you are upset and putting out a lot of energy or
taking in energy to make up for a dearth of it. If someone puts out a lot of
energy all at once it can even allegedly make light bulbs explode. This is, of
course difficult to prove as light bulbs can explode for other reasons as well.
The other option is that there may be a dark influence following you. I hesitate
to suggest this as an option as people are far too quick to jump to the idea that
it's a 'demon' or other malevolent spirit. Darkness can mean a lot of things, it
can be a bad influence on you, it can be something that is bringing you down
or even that you are on the wrong path and you have been put out of alignment
with the universe. Of course, it is ultimately impossible for anyone but you to
say which of these options it might be. I would suggest some soul searching
and careful meditation to determine what may be causing it. Follow your own
intuition and 'clean house' as you feel fit.
-L.E.. Caine.

MUFON reported on October 15, 2015 a cigar shaped UFO was spotted over
the city of Grande Prairie, Alberta, Canada. A large, central light with three
small lights surrounded in a triangle was reported by numerous witnesses.
Immediately after the sighting, military jets were seen in pursuit of the
unidentified flying object. Witnesses stated the the lights on the object did not
blink or strobe as the marker lights on airplanes are known to do. After it was
pursued by three military jets a central light on the object that was shaped
nothing like the fighter jets had a central light in its center turn red. Witnesses
said that although they could clearly hear the noise from the fighter jets, that
there was no sound from the strange object even though it appeared to be
about the same distance and altitude away as the jets. The red light later
changed colour to orange and blue-green and then back to an orange red.
Multiple similar sightings in the area have been reported in the Peace River
region. If you have a UFO report you would like to share email
outermostsubmissions@gmail.com
Reported by Virginia Stark
UFO and Alien Activity in Vanderhoof and Fraser Lake
in Northern British Columbia, Canada
The one thing that can be said about the UFO activity in the Vanderhoof area is
that it is so common and widespread that it seems to be common knowledge
amongst the locals.
It isn't unknown to see several cars parked on the side of the road, people
leaning against them and watching the zig-zagging 'light shows' that pass for
entertainment in the sleepy farming community. While hard facts are hard to
come by, at least one resident, Brian Vimes, has been compiling information
about the activity and documenting incidents from anyone who is impacted
enough by the activity to file a report with him.
Vanderhoof has the unique distinction of being the first in western Canada to
have documented crop circles as well and those and the mysterious missing
women and the omnipresent lights in the sky are the three main factors that
locals will tell you are proof of the phenomena.
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Far from capitalizing on the UFO craze, Vanderhoof residents are reluctant to
speak to outsiders and are secretive about their theories. It isn't like visiting
Roswell, New Mexico. Even though UFOs are the unspoken ubiquitous thread
there aren't any signs of interest in them. Nevertheless, conversations
speculating on why the 'ships' hover over the now defunct Molybdenum mine
are more common around the campfires than ghost stories.
Other people blame the UFOs for the dozens of women who have gone missing
along the highway that cuts through Vanderhoof. The infamous 'Highway of
Tears' has allegedly claimed more than forty aboriginal women and a handful of
other women whose disappearances have never been solved. The women go
missing and don't leave a clue behind and they or their bodies have never been
found.
Pictographs on the Aborignal tribal land that can only be reached by boat have
also been interpreted as proof of ancient UFO activity in the area. According
to some native story tellers, the ships come up from under the lakes or from
inside of mountains.
The vagueness and the speculation of the region add to the eerie quality of the
zigging lights in the night sky. Nothing systematic has been done to debunk or
prove what any of it means but in the meanwhile, the body count keeps
growing and the lights keep flickering through the clouds.
If you want to read some of Brian Vimes reports you can go to:
Http://the-v-factor-paranormal.blogspot.com/
- Virginia Carraway
with artwork by Jason Christiansen www.jasonsart.com

Interview with an Alien Abductee.

Interview was conducted by Virginia Stark with a man claiming to have been
abducted multiple times by aliens. He has requested to remain anonymous.
1.Why do you believe you were abducted by aliens?
I was abducted by aliens. I watched it, the whole thing. They came right into
my room. There is no doubt in my mind that I was abducted by aliens. It's not a
belief, it's a fact.
2.Tell us about your experience
It wasn't the first time that it happened to me. I saw a bright light in my
window, a bright white light and my dog started to bark like crazy. It went dark
outside. Then it went quiet, real quiet, my dog wasn't even barking anymore.
After a few minutes I heard my front door open. I thought I heard something,
like little footsteps in the hall. There was a light under my door. I knew it had
happened before so I looked at my alarm clock, it said it was 1:35. I heard the
door to the bedroom open, I tried to wake up my wife but she wouldn't wake
up. Then I woke up and looked at the clock again and it said 2:21. It didn't feel
like I woke up though, it just felt like I looked away and looked back and I was
missing all that time.
3.Do you thing anything else could have accounted for what you experienced?
No, I don't think so at all. My wife said that maybe I fell asleep and woke up.
Maybe I dreamed the whole thing. I know I didn't though, I could feel it and the
light made me feel bad. It made me feel like my skin was all hot and prickly,
that wasn't no dream.
4. Why do you think people are skeptical of the existence of aliens and that
they abduct people?
Honestly, I just think they're ignorant. I don't try to convince them because I
know that they're just scared and don't want it to be true. I don't want it to be
true either but there comes a point when you have to look at reality and just
realize that somethings are true and denying it won't fix it. If people aren't
ready to face it today, maybe they will be when they see that light outside their
own window. It isn't my job to fix everyone's mind, I've got my own struggles
and fixing other people's struggles isn't part of that.
5. What were the ramifications for you as a result of your abduction?
I'm scared a lot. I'm scared every night when I go to sleep that they will come.
I feel violated and the fact that people laugh at me just makes it worse. This is
something that happens to me, it has happened to other people too. I'm not
alone but I feel like I am. When I see the light, I can't move, I can't hardly even
9

breathe and every night I'm afraid they will decide to come again. There is no
way for me to escape. There is nowhere to run to. I live in terror and not even
my wife believes me, she is usually asleep through the whole thing and nothing
I can do will wake her up.
6. Could you tell us why you chose to speak to us but only with the clause of
anonymity?
I'm tired of being made fun of. I've told people, a few people, and everyone
just makes fun of me. Sometimes they pretend to believe me to my face, but
unless someone else had lived it, they won't ever believe it. It's too horrifying
to believe. Whatever these things are doing to us, it's worse than rape, it's
worse than murder. I wish they'd kill me, then it would be done.
7.To your knowledge has anyone else in your family ever been abducted by
aliens or suspected that they were?
I saw my wife in one of their ships. She looked like she was asleep, but they
woke her up and then she was screaming. She kept calling out for my name,
then she called for her mother. I couldn't move. I was strapped to a chair. I
don't know what they did to her after that. I think it happened other times too.
8.How do you respond to skeptics?
I buy myself a whiskey and tell them to go to hell. If you don't believe that
aliens are here and that they're messing with us, you don't deserve my time
because frankly, you're an idiot.

10

Newstead Abbey- Its Haunted Heritage

Newstead Abbey is located in Nottingham, England. Its notoriety comes

from being the former home of Lord Byron, famous poet and former lover of
Mary Shelly the author of Frankenstein. The priory was built in 1170 and
remained in the Byron family for three hundred years. Originally built as a
priory for the Canons of the Order of St Augustine it was converted into a
country home by the Byron family.
Lord Byron was a romantic. He was noted as being handsome and
eccentric. He was said to be a colorful character and born with a club foot; he
still proved to be a great enticement to the ladies. Many may find it odd that he
was contemptuous of women considering the number of affairs he engaged in.
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Notorious for his many love affairs, Lord Byron did marry, but his marriage to
Anne Milbanke was less than a life of harmony ending in disaster.
His affairs included women of importance to society, women such as Lady
Caroline Lamb, the wife of Viscount Melbourne, and Claire Clairmont the
sister- in- law of Percy Shelley.
It was the year 1817 when Lord Byron decided
to move to Venice and sold Newstead Abbey a year
later for the sum of 95,000 pounds. It would have
cost far greater than that sum to repair the Abbey
due to the state of disrepair it had fallen to by one of
his ancestors. There seemed to be a curse on the
Abbey for each time the Abbey passed to a new
owner they had ill luck.
Newstead Abbey has become more infamous
for its spectral visitors now than its former owners.
Among paranormal enthusiast The Black Friar is a
ghostly figure worthy of attention. There is almost
nothing but conjecture concerning its origin.
According to legend the curse upon the Byron family
produced the Black Friar when Henry VIII broke with
the Roman Catholic Church. The Friar appears to the head of the Byron
household before a disastrous event in the family. Lord Byron reported seeing
the specter before his marriage to Anne Milbanke. The marriage lasted only
one year.
The ghost of Sophia Hyette is reported to roam the gardens of Newstead
Abbey. She was infatuated with Lord Byron and his poetry. Her home was close
to the Abbey and in 1818 after Thomas Wildman had purchased the home, she
was allowed to roam the gardens at her leisure. She is seen today wearing a
white dress and as in life she is very shy. The lady in white will assuredly hide
when she believes she is being watched.
The Rose Lady of Newstead Abbey can be seen descending the formal
stairs within the Abbey. She brings with her the scent of roses before she is
seen and the scent lingers well after she has gone. The sighting of the Rose
Lady varies. Some have reported to have smelled lavender perfume. Some
report she has never been seen, only leaving the scent of her perfume. Others
feel they have caught a glimpse of her. Her identity has never been known.
Another interesting spirit said to haunt Newstead Abbey is that of a small
boy seen sitting beneath his portrait reading.
My favorite of all the reported specters is the ghost of Lord Byrons
companion. Boatswain was a large Newfoundland dog buried at Newstead.
Lord Byron had requested to be buried next to his companion in his will. Due to
12

his behavior in life Lord Byron was refused burial at Westminster where his
colleagues were laid to rest. Lord Byron was buried in the churchyard of St.
Mary Magdalene Church in Hucknall Torkard, Nottinghamshire, England. The
dog has been seen by many on the grounds of Newstead.
It is interesting to note I could find nothing on Lord Byron himself
haunting Newstead Abbey. It would seem his ghost has not graced the home
with his presence. The only reference I located deemed to have little or no
validity as a reported sighting should have had.
Newstead is a gathering place for Rooks. They
can be seen seven days a week at the old priory. The
local legend believes these Rooks to be the souls of
the monks once inhabiting Newstead. The Rooks travel
back and forth six days of the week foraging for food
and never on Sunday according to the caretakers of
Newstead.
Lord Byrons home has fallen under the same
spell as hundreds of historical homes and buildings left
for the public to consume. We would love to know all
the stories are true and yet, legend is just that, legend.
We have to find proof of how much is actually true and not conjecture or
stories to titillate the senses. I would love for all of the stories to be fact. I feel
some of the stories are true indeed. The romance of the stories begins to fall
short for me when some exaggerate what has actually been seen or
experienced. Lord Byron and his ancestors will always be the fact behind the
legend.
Lord Byron was a firm believer in ghosts. He was a child of the Gothic
period and this made his work ever more enticing to read for us today.
Newstead Abbey is worthy of being saved for all to see. Regardless of who has
ever lived within its walls it retains a beauty unlike anything modern builders
can imagine with their sanitized walls of white and glass. I feel Newstead
Abbey is not just a mark in history. It is a work of art that should be cherished.
Too many rare buildings have been razed in the name of progress. Our future
demands we make room for the lessons of our past.
- Micheal Rivers

13

The Pillars of Hercules, The Straight of Gibraltar and the Almighty Dollar.
The Straight of Gibraltar is a narrow opening between Europe and the African
continent. It is located between Spain and Morocco connecting the Atlantic to
the Mediterranean Sea. This straight is actually an ancient monolith that will
forever be connected in mythology with the feats of Hercules.
According to legend, Hercules was half mortal and half god. He was given 12
impossible feats to complete as a way to gain immortality and to be saved from
the wrath of his father, Zeus. Hercules had super human strength and stamina,
but he was also forced to suffer more than any mortal had ever been made to
suffer in payment for his superpowers. After completing the first 9 of the 12
tasks inside the rim of the Mediterranean, his tenth task was to take him
outside of the Mediterranean and into the wilds of the Atlantic Ocean.
His task didn't sound particularly difficult. He was had to bring cattle back to
Greece. There were several obstacles in his way, the main one was that no
Greek had ever left the Mediterranean before (Also the cattle belonged to a
monstrous, three-headed king, but that doesn't come up much in regards to the
monolith itself.)
The Mediterranean was ringed by mountains that were considered impossible
to cross and getting over them was the most difficult part of his 10 t h challenge.
Hercules used his powerful, supernatural sword to split the mountains open
and to become the first Greek to reach the Atlantic Ocean.
In modern terms, it is difficult to understand the
importance that the Greeks put on what is now
the strait of Gibraltar. In that time the two huge
monolithic mountains that guarded the exit to
the Atlantic were considered to be more than a
strait, they were considered to be a gateway.
They were a portal between the world of reality
that they had always know, and the world of
myth and of extreme possibilities. The Rock of
Gibraltar is usually referred to as the northern
pillar and the Jebel Musa is the southern pillar
in North Africa.
In other writings, the portals are described as a magical place that open
gateways to different oceans or seas. They describe going through the portals
once and ending up in a shallow sea and then a second time and arriving in
rough, deep seas.
The motto of Spain: Plus Ultra is Latin for 'further beyond' and it is featured
around the Pillars of Hercules. This echoes back to the belief that exiting
through the pillars was to go beyond the known limits of this world and into
14

another world entirely.

The Pillars of Hercules are something that you probably see
everyday without knowing it: They are the lines that are put
on the dollar sign.
Originally taken from the Spanish flag, the first dollar sign
was seen in the 1770's. Pesos were the standard for
international trade at the time and the 'p' for peso was
gradually marked with the pillars of Hercules. The American Dollar was being
printed around the time and the 'p' was replaced with scrolling 's' that
mimicked the ribbon that wrapped around the pillars of Hercules. The American
Mint adopted the double pillar and the 's' to show that one American dollar was
equal to one Spanish Peso.
It seemed the most powerful sign that could be put on money was Hercules
blasting his way into the Atlantic to steal the cattle of a three-headed king.
There are many other stories that talk about where the dollar sign came from
but this one seems to have the greatest credence behind it.
The word 'Gibraltar' means 'Impenetrable Stronghold'. Certainly, it has proven
to be that over the years and to this day it serves as a fortress under the
control of Britain. People who visit the caverns of Gibraltar report feeling a
strange, 'electric' energy in the tunnels that are peppered all throughout this
great monolith. Most of the tunnels were built during World War 2 but some of
them predate that considerably.
In fact, it is believed that the very last group of Neanderthals in existence died
out in the ancient caverns of Gibraltar. There is a still living population of
Macaque monkeys that live on Gibraltar. The inhabitants of Gibraltar were
largely evacuated during world war 2, and the residents banded together to
collect the monkeys, immunize them and take them off the island as well. After
the war, they were all returned. The macaques of Gibraltar are special
monkeys. They have hands that are quite similar to humans and they have a lot
of aggression as well. They made headlines more recently when they attacked
actor Jason Biggs and his wife while they were vacationing in Gibraltar. Their
aggression, however isn't the mystery. The mystery is that nobody has every
found a dead macaque on the island or a skeleton of one of the simians. It is
speculated that perhaps they throw themselves into the sea or throw their dead
into the sea, but if so: Why do their bodies never wash ashore? Yet another
eerie mystery about these 'portals'.

- Virginia Carraway Stark

15

A Brush With the Paranormal

When we hear about personal experiences with the paranormal, we typically

dismiss the claims or consider the shared stories as fictitious. Its hard to truly
believe the unbelievable if we hadnt experienced the event ourselvesif you
dont see it for yourself then you may think it probably isntisnt it funny how
we can dismiss a personal experience so quickly yet we can accept the fable of
a popular television show? So what does it take to begin offering proof of our
experiences? It can be easily argued (or rather debated) that each and every
personal event is indeed individualized and therefore would render or even
deem the this quest as nearly impossible; however, whatever obstacle that
should manifest itself in our path should in no way disable our ability to press
forward.
For this article; I will use my own personal experience (in which you can read
in full here: Spirits & Hauntings ) as a way to understand a personal experience
first-hand.
We will start with acknowledging that while this incident had occurred, I was
nearing 14 years old. It should be acknowledged that an adolescent female at
age 14 is experiencing sadness and depression. In my case I was not only
anxious, I had several bouts of manic depression coupled with A.D.H.D. and
experienced mood swings on occasion. (It is important to fully understand the
mental stability of the subject with the personal experiences so we can better
understand the situation in completion.) During this time I was in
psychotherapy as an attempt to handle the recent divorce proceedings between
my parents. I will also state that at this time in my life, I wasnt taking any
medication outside of Tylenol for headache, nor was I using any recreational
drugs.
We now have established that in this part of my life, I was undergoing a lot of
emotion due in large to the separation of my mother and father. We can also
understand that I was not only emotional, but struggling with bouts of
depression as well as struggling with hyperactive issues associated with
A.D.H.D. without it being medically controlled.
Next, we will consider the elements of the location. Port Byron is a village
located in Cayuga County in upstate New York. The village is in the town of
Mentz and is just north of Auburn. It is estimated that Port Byron in the year of
1825 became a port for the Erie Canal until the canals route was changed in
1856 which then the village was considered a railroad town. The village plays
host to the Owasco Outlet which flows northward from Owasco Lake to the
Seneca River. The DEC has reported evidence of phosphorous in the Owasco
lake and outlet. Recreational uses in Owasco Lake are affected by
bacteriological contamination along the north shore and by excessive growth of
16

aquatic vegetation and algae in other parts of the lake, particularly its southern
end. The sources of bacteria include wildlife and waterfowl, agricultural runoff
and to a lesser extent residential septic systems. * see
http://www.dec.ny.gov/lands/44965.html
In some cases; phosphorous overconsumption can affect the brain, personality
and actions. It has also been stated that an individual with phosphorous
overconsumption have vivid visualizations, overactive working mind, may
believe to experience visits from angels and spirits, and in some cases,
phosphorous has been linked to ESP, dreams, mediumship sensory impulsion
and other purported strange phenomena. * see
http://calypso53.com/jensen/phosphorus.html also
https://books.google.com/books *
We can begin to speculate that the presence of phosphorous has played a
major part in this instance. Many theorists have cited other elements such as
quartz and limestone as directly linked to incidents in which a spectre, a
sensitive, and other contributing facets of personal paranormal experiences are
involved.
If you had read my original
experience that I linked you to at the
beginning of the article; you would
have learned that these events felt
very real. There was no doubt in my
mind that what I had experienced
was very realas real as someone
reaching out and physically touching
my arm. You would have as well
learned that at some point while
swimming in the Owasco Outlet, I
had nearly drowned. We shall now go
over briefly what our minds could do
if we think were going to expire.
Perception is a largely overlooked tool of the human mind. In moments of panic
and anxiety; we can cast out thought forms that seem incredibly real. For
example: I mention that I had a belief that I was going to expire while
submerged in this river and at the exact moment, I had a life-recess. In this
moment of electrified and heightened fear, I was somehow pulled loose from
the small mouth of the underwater opening. (Or so it had appeared) * for
education on the powers of our mind, follow these links:
http://www.pickthebrain.com//mental-superpowers-how-to-un/ and here
https://www.psychologytoday.com//your-mind-has-extraordina I could make
an argument suggesting that somehow, the spectre of this since deceased boy
had freed me from certain demise; Or I could make an argument that while my
17

mind thought it was going to die, it manifested temporarily something that

pulled me free from the enclosure. Proving either side of this argument is
indeed near impossible though we can speculate that a number of things that
are more rational to accept were the case.
At the end of my original experience; I go on to discuss actually seeing briefly
the apparition of the boy. In my own personal view as I look back now with a
level mind and an overall calmness, I question whether or not my subconscious
had somehow picked up on energy left behind by the boy who drowned. Did
any sensitive part of my mind draw on the energy the boy must have released
into the area when he met his demise all those years before? We have proof of
phosphorous as well as an existence of a prior drowning incident coupled with
the risen emotions and struggles that I had underwent at that stage in my life.
Though bits of the aforementioned are personal facts of me during my
teenaged adolescence; my approach with this personal experience is to begin
to offer data towards studies of personal paranormal experiences.
It is of my belief and opinion that on that day in the Owasco Outlet, I did in fact
pick up on the energy left behind from the Owasco Outlets former victim and
somehow manifested him solely by the power of mind. Perhaps I am entirely
incorrect; I however offer this evidence to you and leave you, the readers and
researchers and free thinkers to decide for yourselves.

- Jen M. Duell, NPS Senior Director

18

Spiritual Safety: Some Advice for Paranormal Investigators

One of the questions I am often asked involves safety not just of the
physical self during investigations but of the spiritual self as well. Many who
enter into paranormal investigations often ignore the aspect of spiritual safety
which can (and does) lead to spiritual problems not only for the investigator but
also for the client. So what can you as an investigator do to stay spiritually
safe and why is spiritual safety so important? Lets have a look first at why
spiritual safety is so important.
Spiritual safety is important because it helps decrease the chances that
you as the investigator will have spiritual issues after investigating a location.
What do I mean by spiritual issues? Its not uncommon to hear of (and indeed I
have helped several) investigators who walk into haunted locations only to
leave with an unexpected guest who follows them to their home. This unwanted
guest proceeds to frighten or wreak havoc because it formed a spiritual
attachment to the investigator. Another common (common in my opinion)
spiritual issue is obsession. Many become obsessed over what they are
experiencing at a certain location and either frequently returns to that location
in order to continue experiencing what they originally experienced or they
attempt to bring the location to them through countless hours of video or
photos that they cant help but look at, at any given moment of the day.
These types of issues are spiritual in nature and can be avoided (with
some exceptions) through proper spiritual preparation before and after each
investigation. Taking spiritual precautions for yourself and for others, is not a
sign of weakness but rather a sign of wisdom as you understand the potential
for a spiritual encounter. Your precautions can be extremely simple or complex
based on what you (and your teammates) believe. So what can you do to
protect yourself from potential spiritual problems?
The methods and techniques used for spiritual protection vary from
religion to religion. Wiccans for example may wear a pentacle and an amulet or
carry certain stones and certain herbs for protection. For those of us who are
Christian, we often wear religious jewelry too which is normally a cross or
crucifix though some of us (particularly us Catholics of all different types) wear
blessed medals as well. I myself for example wear a blessed scapular with a
blessed St. Benedict medal and crucifix everywhere I go. If youre going to
walk into what may be a haunted location, wearing jewelry that symbolizes
protection in your religion is always a good idea. Almost every religion features
special symbols of protection so utilize them as a means of staying spiritually
safe. If you are a Christian then I highly recommend a blessed crucifix and a
blessed St. Benedict medal or blessed St. Michael medals.
Another good way to provide yourself with spiritual protection is through
prayers before and after each investigation. If your religion has special prayers
for protection then I highly recommend saying them before and after your
investigations. Since I cannot speak for all religions I wont say what form all
prayers have to take. However I can say for us Christians that prayers for
protection can be something spontaneous from the heart or you can utilize
19

special prayers such as the St. Michael prayer. I myself always say a small
spontaneous prayer from the heart as well as an Our Father and Hail Mary
before and after each investigation. Prayer is communication so utilize that
communication to keep you safe.
Lastly avoid going into investigations if your mind is altered by
substances in anyway. I know this seems like a common sense thing but going
to any investigation drunk or high (whether legally or illegally) is not only
unsafe physically but it is unsafe spiritually. With an altered state of mind you
are not in full control of your mental faculties which makes it far more easier
for you to be manipulated then it is for someone who is in full control of their
mental faculties. Most paranormal teams (and spiritual warfare teams) have a
strict rule on not showing up drunk or high and this rule exists for your safety
as well as your teammates and clients safety. Never forget that common sense
is always your best friend when it comes to staying safe both physically and
spiritually.
With Halloween coming up, many paranormal teams will be busy looking
for ghosts and other spirits. Remember to stay safe at all times and remember
to utilize common sense at all times. Dont be afraid to utilize spiritual
protective measures for yourself and remember to respect your clients and
your teammates who may have differing religious beliefs. It is always wise to
spiritually prepare yourself before entering into any potentially haunted
location. Stay safe everyone, happy hunting, and happy Halloween!
-Rev. Alex LaFountain

20

Peaches
By Virginia Carraway Stark

The storm is too bad, I can hear the orchard creaking... branches breaking...
She moaned.
I glowered at Margaret. I know that, but what do you want me to do about it?
Anytime my son left his pretty insipid wife on her own, I was inevitably left to
'babysit' her. She was passably good as a mother and as a wife for my son, I
suppose. Anytime there was a crisis she felt to pieces, just like now. Stated the
obvious was only one of her many failings.
I never tried to hide my scorn for her and turned away from her apologetic
response, I'm sorry Father, of course, we will have to wait and pray.
Conciliatory should have been Margrets middle name, while her concerns were
pointless, I too, was afraid of the howling wind and the sound of wood
breaking. The orchard had been in our family for many generations now and I
could never remember a storm this bad before. The power was flickering. With
a glare at Margaret, I opened the door to go outside, grabbing my coat as I did.
The door blew into the house and I cursed under my breath as it hit the
cupboard with a loud slam. I felt a small hand tug at my jacket.
Can I come with you, Gramp? I nodded. He was brave like his father and like
me. He should be rewarded. Margaret wrung her hands, her terror evident all
across her face and in the slump of her shoulders. My Grandson grabbed his
coat and Margaret helped him put on his rubber boots, all the while fretting and
worrying but not daring to gainsay the permission I had granted to little Clyde.
Outside the air was cold and fell. The orchard was in ruins, green peaches lay
scattered under branches the size of my waist. Further down the line of trees I
could see some of them had be felled by the winds. The green fruit had been
scattered, the harvest ruined and perhaps the orchard itself. Clyde looked up
at me with his large hazel eyes, he was scared but I didn't blame his fear on
the genes he had picked up from his mother this time, my own eyes were
fearful as well. The wind was so heavy and thick you could see it whipping
21

through the air itself, picking up leaves and unripened fruit with 0strange, fey
hands. A barrage of peaches, branches and bits of bark hit us like rocks.
Get out With both heard the fell voice, inhuman, black as the night and evil
as sin.
Clyde tugged on my jacket, Gramps, I want to go back into the house!
I had seen storms before that had left me filled with electricity and adrenaline
but I had never felt a storm like this. Thunder roared only a split second after
lightning hit a tree only a few trees down from us.
Blinded and deafened me and little Clyde stumbled through the storm. He
clutched my leg the way he had when he had been a baby, not a big boy of
seven. I clutched him back, afraid that the storm would take him. If it hadn't
been for Margrets fearful nagging we never would have come out here. I
couldn't see the house, torrents of rain had been unleashed by the lightning. It
wasn't a normal rain though. There was something more in it just as there had
been something more in the wind.
Faces... they weren't human... twisted and evil. I wanted to retreat but I didn't
know which way to go.
Can you see the houses, Clyde?
The boy shook his head but then pointed, I think it's that way. He had to
scream to be heard over the wind. Staggering against the wind, I pulled Clyde
along with me, our hands were wet with rain and we could barely hold on, but
we did, because we had to. You do what you have to when survival is on the
line.
We hadn't gone far but I could see the dim figure of the house ahead of us and
I squeezed Clyde's hand and spared him a smile. It was like fighting through a
bar room brawl trying to get to that door. I turned the handle and it didn't move.
The door was sealed shut. I banged on the door with the side of my hand. That
little coward Margaret had locked the door behind us and left her own son to
the mercy of whatever storm this was that hell itself seemed to have released.
I kicked and pounded at the door but either the wind was too loud or Margaret
too dense to hear our distress and unlock the door. I told Clyde to hold on to
the mailbox on the side of the house and I ran at the door and hit it with my
shoulder until the sturdy wood started to give around the lock.
I grabbed Clyde and pulled him into the house, the door wouldn't close
properly behind me now but I pulled it shut as well as I could and roared out
Margrets name, You fallow little bitch! Get in here!
22

Except for the storm, the house was silent. Where had that stupid woman gone
off to? I recalled the faces in the storm and shook my head as though I could
erase the memory of their twisted evil. I had imagined it. It wasn't real.
Margaret, you stupid thing! You locked us out and scared your son half to
death, I called out but still there was no reply.
Angry at the storm, angry at the ruined orchard but even more angry at my
daughter in law I took off my boots and put my jacket on a hook by the fire.
Clyde followed suit, getting a chair so he could reach the hook. He was a smart
boy, took after my son Ed and not a drop of his fool mother in him.
I went to the kitchen and put on a kettle for some tea. She must have hid when
she heard us at the door, she probably panicked when she realized she had
locked us out. She was always so eager to please that she would do these
foolish things and then berate herself until she did even more foolish things.
I turned from the stove to see Margaret standing in the doorway. Her raven
black hair had gone stark white and her grey eyes had turned yellow, more
yellow than someone who had the jaundice, more yellow then a lemon. Her hair
was wild as though she had been out in the storm and she held a kitchen knife
in her hand.
Margaret, what are you about? Have you taken leave of your senses? I
asked, but there was fear in my voice. She looked wrong, wrong the way the
faces in the storm looked wrong. She stood tall, as I had never seen her stand
before and her rosy cheeks were white.
Clyde came running into the kitchen when he heard me talking to his Ma. He
loved her fiercely even if it was me and his Pa he looked up to. Without taking
her eyes from me she grabbed Clyde as he came through the doorway and
picked him up off his feet as though the sturdy child were as light as a
newborn. She tucked him under his hand and put the knife to his throat.
Mama? Clyde asked. He was so surprised by this that he hadn't even put it
together that he had something to fear. He was always such a trusting child.
Wind and hail, lightning and rain, all your work has come to vain, She recited
the strange words in a voice I could barely recognize as being Margaret. The
words left her mouth like a curse and still she held that butcher knife to her
child's throat like he was an autumn pig for the slaughter.
Margaret, come back to your senses, can't you see, that's your son, that's
your Clyde you're holding, At my words Clyde seemed to realize his danger.
He didn't cry, brave boy.
23

Mama, put me down, He said, looking up at her. He saw her face then and I
saw true fear enter his heart.
The orchard is no more, The thing said in a voice that was a braying caw
compared to Margrets usual dulcet, timid tones.
The orchard will go on, the orchard always goes on, I said, knowing it was
true but still fearing the wildness of the storm and the damage I had seen.
You will make a sacrifice, The thing said.
Get out of my house, Margaret turned, obeying my words but still carrying
Clyde with her. His little head, covered in thick black hair disappearing through
the door, headed towards the front door and the storm.
Wait! I called after her and she stopped, her hand on the door. Clyde was
fighting her with all his strength but it seemed to make little difference to the
thing that had taken over Margaret. She held him as easily as I would a kitten.
Who are you? I asked.
I am the storm, She replied. Thunder cracked outside the window at her
words.
What do you want?
A sacrifice. I will take this child as my tribute as you have not followed the
ways of your father. I will take him and go and leave you with no grandchild, no
orchard and you to start over again.
The thing smiled at me and pulled open the door I had broken to get back in.
The storm blew into the house and with it went the power. All that lit the room
was the sullen orange glow of the fire.
I don't know what you mean, but you don't have a right to my grandson, I
realized, appalled, that I was weeping.
Every first born belongs to the orchard. This is the first born just as you were
second born.
I saw that from his struggles Clyde had a thin line of blood along his throat. I
remembered my older brother. He had been six when I had been five. He had
died, the branch of a peach tree had fallen on him, or so I had been told. I had
had a son before Clyde's father as well. I didn't think of him much anymore, it
had been so long ago. I couldn't remember what had happened to him, another
24

accident, I thought, he had been about the same age as Clyde was now. He
had died, that was all I knew. I sheen of sweat broke out across my brow. It
wasn't like me to forget something, not something big.
The thing that had been Margaret smiled a horrible smile and walked towards
me, the knife now pointed at me, blade first.
Your choice, old man, she said, and I took the blade from her hands.
She crumpled to the floor in a heap in the doorway. I remembered something
now, something, about a rock, a rock out in the orchard.
Clyde disentangled himself from the hag who had colour flowing back into her
cheeks and her hair turned black once more before our eyes. She sat up,
confused, the same insipid Margaret who had fiddled with the buttons on
Clyde's coat before locking us out of the house.
Clyde ran to me and wrapped his arms around me. I pulled him off of me and
went over to the hooks to put my jacket back on. Outside the storm had
calmed, just a little, as though it was listening, waiting. I pulled Clyde's jacket
off the hook and handed it to him.
Gramps, where are we going? He asked, he wouldn't let his mother help him
with the buttons and I didnt' have time to help him. Margaret took a step
towards us and Clyde flinched away from her approach.
We're going away from her, I said, pointing at the boy's mother. Is that good
enough for you?
He nodded and I tucked the butcher knife into my belt. I took him by the hand,
Margaret, scared and confused let us go.
We walked through the storm, the damage to the orchard was bad, very bad.
Perhaps irreparable. The winds didn't oppose us now and we made good time
to the half unearthed rock at the base of an oak tree, the only tree for acres
that wasn't peaches.
I set my grandson on the rock and prayed for mercy that a demon wouldn't
spare. I pulled out the blade from my belt and I saw that Clyde had wet himself.
He didn't move, he didn't try to flee. I was his grandfather, his gramps and he
would never try to escape.
I brought the knife down, swift and hard across his neck where the thin line of
blood marked him and held him while the lifeblood fled him and ran over the
boulder and stained my arms red.

25

The next morning dawned clear and bright. Ed came home in the early hours
and we surveyed the damage to the orchard before breakfast. It wasn't as bad
as I had worried. The harvest would be poor this year but the trees would
recover and we would have a good harvest the year after.
Margaret was making pancakes and went to wake up Clyde, He's a sleepy
head today, he's usually my little early bird. She laughed.
Ed laughed with her, he loved her, I could see that. There would be more
grandchildren in the making before I knew it.
Margaret came out of Clyde's room, her eyes large and nervous, He must
have gone out already. Did you see him in the orchard? He isn't in his room?
I saw my arms soaked with blood but my memory was faded, what had that to
do with Clyde? It must have been a random memory from the slaughter of last
year's hogs. We went out into the yard, calling Clyde's name but he was
nowhere to be found.
We searched high and low and then we called the neighbours, they had seen
hide nor hair of him. Finally we called the police. Search parties were sent out
but they never found him, never found a body.
The following year, Margaret was big with child and as stupid as ever. How I
missed my grandson and looked forward to having a new child in the house. I
loved being a grandfather and if I found some monster had taken my grandson
I swore I would show no mercy, although the police concluded that the boy
must have taken it into his head to go look at the storm and decreed it to be an
act of God. There had been some flash floods, he probably got caught up in
one of them.
In the meantime, it was a record year for peaches but my hands trembled every
time I held a butcher knife. It's the cross of old men to bear, these ravages of
age.

26

The Wraith of Ohnganos

Fiction by Jen M. Duell

Thats foolish talkJonnie kept a cool yet persistent pace down the
leaf-covered college-town sidewalk with her smartphone pressed tightly against
her right earjust last week I was back in Hendersons loft with Jim Bradigan and
Kori Rounds when Bradley stopped by and he said that the wedding was still on. I
dont understand why youre having last minute doubts now Angie unless there is
something I dont know.
Can we talk about this later? Angies voice questioned with a hint of
frustration lingering.
Look, be upset with me I dont really care. Jonnie pulled the smartphone
from her face to scope out the time; I have to go anyways, I am meeting a friend
at Caz Lake in a few minutes and I dont really feel like taking your baggage in
with me.
Mystery date? Angie curiously questioned.
What part of friend didnt she understand? Talk to you later. Jonnie swiftly
ended the call, and then shoved the device into the front pocket of her jeans.
Since she was just 7 years old; Jonnie was easily irritated with other girls her age
and found them foolishly immature and an annoying nuisance to be around. She
was always happiest when in the company of a good book, or somebody who
seemed to be well educated. She was commonly alone, though often sought out
the presence of others in such places as the college library even if just to be
physically near other humans.
The late-Summer afternoon was winding down to a gentle roar by the time
Jonnie had reached the open access to Cazenovia Lake. Though the park was
often filled with the laughter of children; it seemed cloaked with a mysterious hint
of desolation and murkiness.
Her eyes searched eagerly for any sign of Jay Masters, an old email
acquaintance that had studied Freudian psychology of dreams at an exceptional
length.
Hed agreed to finally meet her to review any questions shed had on his
achievements in sleep study. Assessing herself had become exhausting enough;
she considered the journal which was jammed tightly in the book bag she had in
tow. A penny for his thoughts on the reoccurring she sat at the steps of the square
gazebo and rested her chin in her palm maybe hell follow me home for dinner. A
lonely Jonnie was never picky; any company at this point seemed as welcoming as
a cool glass of milk was to a handful of Oreos.
As her eyes stretched across the yard of the little park, a noise had
distracted her from the concentrated glancesan illegible vocal echo shot across
27

the still waters of the lakeobscure gusts of cooler winds then immediately
followed.
A breath of rushed wind hissed by her ear; within it she heard these words:
save him in a whimpering female tone. Save who?
Hello there? questioned a thickly bemused male voice from the other side
of the gazebo. Jonnie then noticed a moderately corpulent man whom was rather
well dressed looking in her direction. Are you Jonnie Morrison by chance?
Thatd be me. She replied while considering the prior incident as just her
overactive imagination.
Righthe rested his right arm flatly against the front of himself while
sloppily stepping in her directionI am professor Masters from the psychology
department here on campus, I believe you wanted to talk about sleep or dreams
would you have it?
She eyed his sense of sloppiness in movement and even considered his tone
of confusion as he continued to step towards her; Perhaps another day, I just
remembered that I have to be someplace in Syracuse. She couldnt believe the
calmness of her words as she felt the sense of fear rise from the pit of her gut at
the sight of the messy professor. Its real important that I get there, I
Must be my clumsiness is a fright. He could nearly sense her unease.
Or your inability to regain control Really I must get going, I hope I havent
troubled you.
Ju-jujuh, jeh, just give me a muhuh, moment, Jonniea nervous
stutter flew from his tongueI realize how I must seem buhbut I, uh, I had
cleared my schedule and guh, gah gathered these notes, for you.
You can sense something is wrong, cant you? Just look at him struggling to
speak! What kind of well-respected professor acts like this? This is the wrong guy,
just look at him! I really thank you for taking the time but I really must get going;
perhaps another day?
He reached inside of his jacket, and pulled out a notebook; My notes on
group-perception and lucid dreaming, yuh, yuhyou said in your emails that you
believe you have a grouped perception with a roommate, a belief about artificially
obtaining premonitions as a group. He stepped back from her and continued to
settle his sloppiness. I want to know more about it, and possibly help you.
Jonnie observed that he was who he claimed to be as she recalled the bogus
email shed mailed him a month prior based off of an indie-film she caught on
Netflix.
I understand I must seem a fright, but at least we arent alonehe
pointed over to the concrete bridgeand by the looks of her, she had a bit much
to drink.
Why didnt I notice someone over there before? Jonnie looked over at a
woman who was stood at the edge of the concrete staring out into the lake. A long
white dress flowed behind her in the wind along with her long flowing raven hair.
The design of the dressed seemed quite outdated along with the native
ceremonial headdress that looked like it was woven into several strands atop of
her head.
Was she there when you came up the stairs? Jonnie questioned.
28

I just noticed herthe professor observed while leaning against the

innermost rail facing the bridgeI traveled that walkway until I spotted you up
here, but I dont recall seeing anyone on or near the bridge. Maybe she was sat on
that bench.
Jonnie observed the walkway, the bench and even the driveway and then
looked towards the disoriented woman again something seems a little off about
her So, about grouped perception have you even conducted any studies on a
group of two or more sleepers? She heard herself ask the question, but knew she
couldnt care less about the brain fumbling he was about to reply with because
she was now intrigued by the woman on the cement bridge. There was something
about her somberly mysterious appearance that pulled Jonnie in like a magnet.
Yes, of coursehe began, but then as he continued, all she actually heard
was; blah, bluh merkch, hebfabunh, leh bluh mehaubfauten de blurr, der, ja mur,
and then
She occasionally replied; uh-huh followed by a slight nod to give off the
impression that she was intently listening as she deeply observed the woman on
that cement bridge. Why are you so sad?
Well? The professors voice startled her from her concentrated glance.
Sorry, can you repeat that last part? She brought herself back into the
conversation with the professor and hoped she could bank on her previously
attained knowledge to float her through without him figuring out that she hadnt
heard a single word hed been saying.
Yes um, of coursehe rubbed his forehead in a fright of exhausted
frustrationon your mentioned experiences with your friend Edward, did you
both in your perceptions of the dream ever feel as though you were in fact in the
same head if you will? Perhaps I shall ask in another way; had you both
previously discussed the time travel together just before retiring, or do you
believe that somehow you were telepathically linked?
This man deserves a simple reply to heighten his frustration with me
Actually we were fooling around with another while watching Dr. Who, Eddie is a
big fan you know.
Oh bollocks! The professor shouted in her direction, Had you been
playing with me, or are you literally spinning a web? I expected quite a bit more
from you considering our exchanges in mail; I had a bloody seminar to attend
tonight with my family and had cancelled to finally meet you and resolve some of
these queries but I assure you of this young lady. I will not be a toy for you to play
with, I
Professor! Jonnie grabbed his arm as to startle him from his rant; I
wouldnt dream of doing such a thing!
Right He replied hesitantly.
He either wants to kiss me, or kill me with that sort of reaction Edward and
I were messing with the Ouija board like I explained in the email to you. We began
to fool around while the show was on and after that, we went to sleep and were in
the same bedJonnie then noticed that the mysterious woman had seemed to
have disappearedand we She paused a moment as she glanced around to
see where the woman could of possibly went, and then continued. The next day
29

we compared what we remembered from our dreams and we both perceived that
somehow while sleeping we travelled in time.
Piss off, then! The professor barked. I saw that episode on the BBC you
pompous arse!
Really professor Mastersshe swung around and looked through the other
benches in an attempt to figure out where the woman had gonethere is no
need for crass assumption, which is a truth of what was experienced. I expected
professionalism from you, sir. My thoughts were that perhaps the show which was
on the television had rendered the direct result of the dream, we can; of course
speak about the other group perceptions that dont directly mirror anything you
might had seen on the damn BBC.
That is quite enough young lady, I had as well been deceived and have
taken enough time from my family for this this fools game of yours. Now if
youll excuse me, I will leave you to it alone.
Its about time you took a hike professor.
Jonnie watched him struggle with replacing his notes inside of his jacket
while attempting to step down the stairs from the gazebo. His wobbly movement
could nearly rival that of any Barnums circus clown on a good day. Despite her
amusement, her mind immediately raced back to the whereabouts of the
mysterious woman from the concrete bridge. She came down from the gazebo
behind his sloppy movement and then quickly began to look around.
The wind whistled by her ear once again help him Help who?
She continued towards the bridge and asked; someone here? The
lingering silence crept as loudly as the gentle breezes kissing the surface of the
evening waters. The area around her was as desolate as a section of earth could
possibly get. Jonnie then stood at the edge of the bridge where shed seen the
woman and a distinct sound of whimpering interrupted her concentration of the
area.
What are you doing there? yelled a male voice from behind her.
Jonnie turned around to notice a man standing there at the foot of the
wooden section of the bridge. Im sorry, who are you? she asked.
The mans face appeared quite still and emotionless as he stood silently to
himself. He appeared to be dressed in native ceremonial clothing that long
outdated the modern attire commonly seen in museums across the area. His
presence seemed quite unnerving to her; she stepped back from the edge and
then began walking in his direction, and she asked Can I help you with
something? He still remained as still as the trees behind him.
A whistling in the wind had then caught her attention. Jonnie turned in the
direction of the whistling ditty, and then back towards the man who seemed to
have disappeared within a span of a second. Where are they going? Just then, the
air had felt increasingly cooler, much cooler than when shed first entered the
park, in fact. Cold enough to see her own breath, she thought.
A scream in the distance had then caused her to look back towards the
gazebo shed earlier been standing uponto her surprise she noticed the
mysterious somber womanshe stood at the furthermost end of the square
30

shaped structure looking out towards the western section of the lake where the
land turned into Onondoga territory.
Without hesitation; Jonnie slowly made her way towards the ominous
presence of the mystery woman as quickly and stealthily as possible.
Excuse me. The grueling nasal sound of professor Masters ripped her out
of her concentrated walk; Jonnie, I think we should revisit this manner.
She turned to notice the professor walking calmly in her direction. She
considered his second pair of eyes, and asked; Excuse me, Jay is it? Can you
help me?
You can call me Jayhe mumbled breathily trying to sip the air that had
raced away from his lungs due to excessive movement for a guy of his size
whatever do you need dear?
She cringed at the scent of his garlic-tainted breath reaching her nose, yet
swiftly replied; Will you talk to that woman with me? I think theres something a
matter with her. And, did you see a man when you returned?
A man? the professor questioned.
Yesshe flattened her shirt against her stomach and looked towards the
concrete bridgeI was coming off that bridge and he was behind me.
What did he look like? He asked flatly and unenthusiastically.
I think he was Native American maybe, certainly dressed the part. She
rubbed her chin in concentration and then turned back towards the professor;
does it seem cold to you?
The professor looked at her with a bit of concern behind his stare; Yes, it
does seem a bit cooler, say are you all right? Would you like to go get a
coffee?
I am not going anywhere with you! No. Jonnie turned to walk away from
the professor and as she looked back to the gazebo, she noticed that the woman
was gone again without a trace. Where did she go?
Who, dear?
The womanJonnie ran up into the gazebo to investigate the areashe
was just right here, and she is gone again!
Are you sure you dont want to go grab a cup o Joe dear? The professor
was now sincerely worried for her.
No! she barked, where is she!
There is nobody here but you and I, I am afraid perhaps shed gone
home for the evening or something like that. The professor hardly believed hed
really seen anyone himself and much less believed that shed seen a man like the
one shed described to him. Its getting late out dear, perhaps you
Help him the wind whispered in her ear again.
Shhshe interrupted him mid-sentencedid you hear that?
Hear what?
She observed the professors overall demeanor and began to walk away
from him quickly while searching the immediate area for the woman some more.
Lookshe yelled with her back towards himI am busy so lets talk some
other day.
Help who?
31

The professor once again had enough of her actions and threw his hands in
the air; Have fun crazy girl he spat out sarcastically while eagerly exiting the
park quicker than he had before. He figured her for a lunatic at this point and
wanted nothing further to do with her.
Once again, Jonnie returned to the edge of the dock and this time she dug
out her smartphone. She noticed that the battery had dramatically emptied since
she had last used it. The device had somehow gone from 91% down to a depleted
7%. She swiped her thumb across the screen and pulled up the camera feature.
Her eyes shot across the still waters of the lake as she brought up the phone to
her eye level to catch a shot of the fog that seemed to be forming in the center.
In the display of the device, she could see what appeared to be an
anonymous canoe floating nearby the fog formations. She lowered the device and
looked out towards the same spot, but didnt see the canoe.
She looked into the display again, and again the canoe was there this
time, the woman was also in the canoe and appeared to be holding something in
her arms. Again, the weeping sounds were present along with a muffled
whimpering that pleaded for help.
Just then, the battery of the smartphone had exhausted to the point of
powering down the device. She angrily shoved it back into her front pocket and
looked back out in the direction where shed seen the canoe and again, it was
nowhere to be seen.
Yakukw!yelled a distant voiceLa:kvhe'
Jonnie stepped away from the edge, and this time walked towards the
direction of the exit of the park. This time, a series of splashes followed by a
bone-chilling scream ripped through the silent air of the growing night.
H-e-e-e-l-l-l-p him! quickly followed.
Just then, as she looked back into the lake the environs looked warm
again, and this time she could see a gathering of people on the shoreline of the
lake standing in a messy circle and they seemed to be holding up handcrafted
axes while yelling towards the waters. Beyond the angry clan gathering she could
also see two canoes; one had a man and a woman aboard, and the other two men
who seemed to be chasing the couple.
Though she could see them, she couldnt hear anything but the gentle wind
passing by.
She walked closer to the shore; one of the men in the pursuing canoe had
leapt out of his vessel and managed to capsize the couples canoe and both the
man and woman became submerged in the murky water of the lake. The pursuing
man grabbed a hold of the other male and appeared to be stabbing him
repeatedly in the chest along the area of his heart and then hed released his
lifeless body into the water and stood before the frightened woman.
He picked her up by her hair and grabbed her chin in an attempt to force
her to see the dead man floating in the water upside down. Jonnie then
recognized the aggressive man was the same man shed seen at the foot of the
bridge earlier.
Help him whispered the wind
Jonnie shook her head just as it appeared like the woman was about to meet
32

her demise and recognized that she was back in the cool, desolate surroundings
of Cazenovia Lake park.
Her eyes stretched back out in the direction of the altercation only to be met
with a growing cloud of fog rising from the water.
Tell me how to help you! Her choked up voice ripped through the stagnant
air. I dont know what to do unless you tell me what to do! She could feel the
presence of heavy mourning enter her. She thought about the death of her father
some ten years ago and how she could barely move forward. She thought about
the loneliness within her that shed walked around with day after day in search of
something more than just the quiet life she was stuck inside of.
Something within her began to grow like the persistence of a thought that
wouldnt go away no matter what was done to shake it. Her eyes remained
painted on the exact location where shed seen the residual event play out before
her eyes.
If nothing I ever did before mattered to anyone ever, maybe this has
become that moment where something I did finally meant something, somehow.
Without second thought, she ran gung-ho into the cold dark water and began in
the general direction where shed last seen the weeping woman and her canoe.
The fog nearly seemed to grow thicker, and even thicker still. Jonnie didnt
care she wanted to set the woman free from her prison of an obvious grief
stricken bereavement.
Each step towards the location felt nearly impossible as the ice cold water
cut through her legs right to the bone. Behind her, she could hear the screaming
of the professor whom shed assumed had left the park; Stupid girl! he yelled,
where the hell are you going!
Where are you? Jonnie asked; I am here to help.
As she suddenly felt the life force being sucked away from her, she thought
about her fathers last day with her:
Joe had a ridiculous level of sadness wrestling with his thoughts as he
watched his little girl Jonnie play in the backyard with his niece Kaylie Jean.
Jonnie! he walked over to her and sat on a swing beside her and brushed her
hair back from her little innocent face.
I have to go on a trip with grandpa down to Pennsylvania, so I need you to
be a brave little girl and keep your mommy company. Think you can do that? You
could nearly see the lie behind the sentence hed spoken to his innocent daughter
float into the air but she sweetly answered yes daddy.
He continued to watch his little girl for about a half an hour before finally
leaving the yard when she wasnt paying too much attention to him. He made his
way down to the creek and with a bold yet tormented mindset; he put a revolver
into his mouth and pulled the trigger. The gunshot could be heard for a mile
Jonnie herself had heard the echo but never realized that she just heard her father
end his own life.
Help him. The voice jolted her to a conscious awareness and there before
her in the water stood the apparition of her deceased father.
Daddy? She tearfully asked, What are you doing here?
Go back he said sternly. Turn back now, and go back.
33

As she reached to touch him, his presence seemed to disappear into thin air.
Again, she could hear the yells and pleas of the professor from the shore who had
now been joined by a police officer. In shock of the vision of her father; Jonnie fell
down into the knee deep water and lost herself to the heaviness of pain from the
confusion.
Help me! She now screamed like the woman of the canoe.
H-e-e-e-e-l-l-l-l-p m-e-e-e-e!
Again, the woman appeared before her Jonnie regained momentary control
of and stared contently into the face of this beautiful, and yet tormented mystery
shed been chasing all afternoon.
I wanted to help youJonnie said through tearsbut now I cant even
save myself.
Do not cry, brave onethe woman placed her hand on Jonnies shoulder
go back now to land and write about me, and tell my story. That is how you can
help me.
I dont understand? said she.
Go now brave soul, go and write of me.
What is your name? Jonnie asked.
The woman put her finger up to Jonnies lips to silence her, and then
vanished into the fog just as quickly as she had appeared. What was your name?
After the shock had worn off, Jonnie returned to shore and after dealing with
the officer, she had went home to the comfort of her bed and a cup of warm
relaxing tea. The visions of her day in Cazenovia Lake Park were so overwhelming
that she couldnt gather her thoughts around anything else but
Like the mysterious woman had asked; she began to scribe the events that
had taken place that afternoon at the lake.
She looked into the mirror at herself, and thought
I shall call you the wraith of Ohnganos.

34

21
by Damon Norko
For me, sleep was always functional.
Fragments of the day sorted and reorganized.
No symbolism, but random juxtapositions.
No narrative, just a jumble.
No dreams until now.
She came last night.
And, as I do not dream, I must accept her as real.
I must follow her, elusive as she is, into the dark void.
Its unfamiliar territory.
The fragments seem to have aligned themselves into stepping stones, one
after another, leading me on. I think she may be dead. I see her under water.
I am driving my car over a bridge and I look down and there she is, shimmering
in the waves. I feel very bad that she is down there, but there is nothing I can
do.
In the morning, everything is fine. But I do have a lingering feeling of guilt,
like I had something to do with her, like I should have known who she was. I
have some coffee, dress, and drive to work. Im a waiter. I serve 21 tables
and fold about a million napkins. It takes eight hours. Time flies when youre
having fun.
Its only 6:30 when I get home, and I go right to bed. Fluff my two down
pillows and pull up my comforter and turn off the light.
I cant wait to get to the bottom of this . . .
And there she is! Only this time shes happy were both at a party. Shag
rug. Streamers. Some sort of brandy-based sweet drink and cold ice cubes.
Lots of people, noise, the scent of pot in the air.
Whered she go?
Lost her darn.
I hope she stays away from the water.
Next day 42 tables very busy. Im really glad I folded enough napkins
yesterday. Im completely exhausted when I come home. I realize that I am
stuck in a rut. I feel like I have been waiting tables forever. Im not in the
mood for the girl. I take a shot of Jack Daniels, watch a Netflix movie, and fall
asleep 21 minutes into it.
I have a completely different dream. This time I am over my parents house.
They are talking about the girl, whom they refer to as my sister. This is very
surprising because a) I had no idea that I had a sister, and, b) I never knew my
parents.
But its a dream, and there they are, talking about a girl I dont know. I play
along.
She will miss her twenty-first birthday, Mom says, dabbing her eyes.
So will he, says Dad.
How could I have forgotten about him! says Mom.
Its been a long time, says Dad, ever gentle. Twenty-one years . . .
35

They both died so young, she says.

But he never had a chance, Dad remarks.
Who are you talking about? I ask, as lightly as possible, considering the
situation.
I receive no answer.
I wake up at this point. I feel like I need to pee, but nothing comes out. I sit
like a woman on the seat. It doesnt help. Back to bed. My mind is grasping
into the subconscious, trying to find that dream . . . all I need is a piece of an
image, a hook, a something . . . ah, there it is!
The drowned woman is at the hospital, hooked up to tubes. Shes fretful;
tossing and turning. Where are the damn doctors! No ones around!
There, there, I say.
From behind me comes the sound of curtains parting. A doctor and a nurse
come in. He has a stethoscope. She has an electronic notebook.
The patients moving again, the doctor observes with calculated impassivity.
First time in twenty-one days.
The nurse wants to show some emotion, but then she reins herself in and
matches the doctor s cold sterility.
They do that once in a while, she says. But then they always calm down.
The brain begins to die, says the doctor.
Sad, says the nurse.
Do something! I practically scream at them, but they dont seem to care what I
demand.
The doctor shakes his head. The nurse gazes at me like I am part of the
wallpaper.
I am tired of the dream. It is too much of a burden.
Thrashing and turning in my own bed I wake up. Maybe I can pee now.
I dont allow myself any more dreams tonight. If I start to fall asleep, I turn
over and open my eyes to keep myself awake. The rest of the night becomes a
light meditation, not sleep. Of course all I think about is her. What happened?
Where do I know her from? Why am I involved?
I wake up way too early for work the next morning. Two minutes to one. I
dont have to be in until six! I lay in bed for a while, but thats the same thing
as dreaming, so I get up and put on my waiter clothes. Still, two hours to kill.
I decide to take a drive.
Out of the city, hit the highway, get out and do something different for a
change. The early morning air is crisp and clean. I open all the windows of the
car. Maybe I will drive and drive and never come back! And, suddenly, there
is the bridge. The very bridge where I saw the girl! Honking horns behind me
remind me that I have slowed perceptibly in the highway. Almost caused an
accident. I speed up, slowly approaching the bridge. I begin to cross, finding
it hard to look down into the waters and to keep my car between the white
lines. Lets see, she should be . . . about . . . there!
But she is not. There are just waves of a river swelling and cresting with the
current. I cant see the bottom. How would anyone know she was there?
They call it distracted driving. Thats what happened. Looking down at the
water I missed the stalled seafood delivery van in the left lane. Instinctually I
36

swerve to avoid it, but the tires strike the curb sideways and bounce, and then
the car flips, up and over, and, after a glancing blow off the truck, my car is
airborne . . . heading for the water.
Time slips by very slowly, dream-like.
Indeed, all the images seem to fragment, just like my dreams.
Maybe its me hitting the water.
And then I am here, in the hospital, with the girl.
Her tossing and turning has ceased; shes as still as a porcelain doll.
Im here! I tell her. Wake up!
Her eyes open. Color floods her cheeks. Her lips purse to form words.
I knew youd come, she says.
You knew I would crash my car? I ask.
Im sorry that you had to go through that, but it was the only way, she says,
sitting up a bit and leaning over. I feel her breath on my cheek.
I brought you back, she says.
No, I tell her gently. You didnt. This is my dream. If anything, I brought
you back.
Are you sure about that? she asks.
Of course, I answer.
Then, who are you? she says.
Its a simple question, but, I must admit, shes got me stumped.
But its a dream, strange things are supposed to happen. Maybe I have
amnesia. Who knows? You fill in the blank.
I need this to be a dream, I tell her. Otherwise, I might be dying. It was a
pretty bad car crash.
I brought you back, brother, she insists. So I wont let you die.
Not to be outdone, I answer, I wont let you die, either.
She smiles again and says, Then does it really matter who created whom?
I think for a moment.
No, I say. It really doesnt.
This patient is coming back from the brink! came the doctor s voice.
They do that sometimes, too, said the nurse.

37

Chosen
By Laura Callender

The static sound was hard to miss

The radio was off
Yet I awoke to a hiss
It consumed my grief for what would be
The next few hours I feared to see
Swirling storms inside my eyes
So tightly shut I still cant hide
The world beyond this taunting vision
Cant save me from the hand Im given
The journey to the other place so sudden
Then that sullen face
It looks at me with pity though an earthly being, not much I know
They see the change in me now
A baby grows
And yet somehow
They still decide to poke and prod
I grimace through my silent sob
They chose me first
When I was ten
But yet they come again and again
They take me when I least expect just as i begin to forget
Then all at once the pain returns
From deep within
My soul it burns
They say Im special but they dont see
The agony they're causing me
Back in bed Its time to rest
The bright lights fade, the darkness sets
But underneath earths only moon
I know were not safe in this room
No one ever hears my claims
Self harm they say
This girls deranged
Despite how much they isolate me
Im the chosen' one, they fail to see.

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