Squeals with piggy delight. My friends I have scored the ultimate story for your today. Mommy has helped me to get in touch with Mr. Dave Schrader. If you know anything about the paranormal field, you will recognize the name. Dave Schrader does a talk show where he is the host and producer of Darkness Radio. If you haven’t heard of his show, you *must* check it out for chills and thrills. Dave Schrader has also been seen on television with Zak Bagans on Ghost Adventures, co-hosted the show Paranormal Challenge with Zak Bagans and has made contributions to Ghost Hunters TAPS ParaMagazine. Dave Schrader currently lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
We are VERY excited to present a story from Dave Schrader today. Now, settle back and enjoy my friends!
It was August of 2005 and our radio show was entering its 8th month on the air when I received an invitation to be a part of a psychic and shamanic exploration at Thayer’s Bed and Breakfast in Annandale, MN. Since I have no psychic bones in my body, I thought I would check it out and see if I could learn something new and tap into some psy experience for myself. I would be surrounded in a peaceful environment with mediums, psychics and shamans at a well known haunted location. This might be my best chance yet to witness some interesting phenomena.
I say quietly watching people mill about, discussing what they were picking up on, what spirits they sensed and generally soaking in the atmosphere. During my observation, the resident cat – a large fluffy white beastie – decided I was its new friend and would not leave my side, lap or feet. It stuck to me like I was made of tuna. I stroked the cat like an evil Bond villain as I sat and watched a fascinating scene unfold before me of shared experiences, giddy claims of ghostly presence and some chilling moments as part of the group relayed a story about the creepy man on the top floor that leapt to the wall and skittered up and across the ceiling like a Victorian Spider-Man.
Next came an extraordinary experiment. We were all going to tap into ourselves, meet our spirit guides and do a Shamanic journey. We laid upon the ground, spread eagle and not touching ourselves or others nearby while Hanakia Zedek gently beat a drum to some soothing music and in his deep voice guided us to a meditative trance. By this time, the room lights had been dimmed and the room had been cleared of all cats, kids and other distractions. We were to just BE in the moment and experience the darkness, the music and open ourselves to contact with our totem, spirit guides or loved ones.
As I lay trying to quiet my mind and the senseless chatter that usually clutters it, I found myself getting more restless, unable to attain the nirvana our leader wanted us to achieve. That was when my furry friend found his way back to my side. He would nuzzle my hip and flop on my hand seeking affection and attention. I would pet him for a few seconds than push him away so I could try to slip into a deep meditation, but my kitty companion wasn’t having it. He kept purring, nuzzling and pushing against me.
After 20 minutes or so all with my eyes closed, I finally relented and began giving him the love he craved. My hands scratching the deep fur bringing about even more purrs and nuzzles. I began to wonder how much longer this foray into futility would continue with our Shamanic leader. Obviously I was not going tobecome more enlightened or have a profound moment. I opened my eyes and glanced down to see which cat was so desperately in need of my attention. My eyes widened, my hand stopped mid scratch and I froze. I could feel the cat purring, pushing against my leg and hand simultaneously but to my utter amazement, there was no cat there.
I paused assuming my eyes were playing tricks on me and that they had just not adjusted properly to the low light setting. I closed them tightly, drew in a deep breath and began digging deep into the fur of phantom friend once more. I opened my eyes a second time and there was my hand, hovering mid-air, stroking….emptiness. There was no cat to bee seen, but I could feel and hear it. Within moments, the drumming stopped and the lights began to lift as they adjusted the dimmer switch, our journey to the ether-world was at an end yet here I was stroking an imaginary cat.
The crowd milled about in a semi comatose state. My brain raced trying to make sense of what had just happened to me. I was afraid to speak up for fear of looking like a fool despite the wild claims I had heard from other experiencers all night long. Then I heard the group begin to discuss their personal reflections of the drumming and meditation when one of the people spoke up and said, “How about the ghost cat?” Many in the group admitted to seeing a ghostly cat all night long checking us out and stalking the room. Still I stood silent.
“He was sure curious about what we were doing. I heard the owner say her favorite cat passed away a few weeks back, its nice to know he still calls this home.:” I was astounded, did I just spend 30 minutes petting a specter? I don’t even like cats I thought to myself, why did he mess with me?
The crowd dispersed and a few days later I got an email from a girl that also attended the event. She had laid to my immediate right and she informed me she knew I had an experience and she had been petting that same cat all night. We had been ping ponging the cat between us for the evening when we would try to focus on the guided meditation and brush it off, it would move to the other one of us. That was one of the first truly amazing experiences I ever had that was more than a fleeting moment that could easily be explained away and I will cherish that forever.
– Dave Schrader
Friends – we hope you enjoyed our special guest today. We would also like to throw a great huge THANK YOU to Dave Schrader for taking time to share his story. You rock!!
Hello friends. Are you spooked yet? Well today I continue with my guest submission by Angie Deptula. Wasn’t her submission earlier today just chilling? Well, your in for a extra treat with her final submission. Happy reading my spooks.
There once was a boarding school for delinquent girls, named Martha Washington Institute or Martha Washington School for Girls. It was located at Brighton Beach on Lake Washington in Seattle. It functioned from 1900-1971, and at one point became known as “Martha Washington School for the Insane Girls.” Prior to this, Judge Smith had owned the house. Smith built the home with a nursery and a boathouse, with a hollow stairway to a madrone tree on the property, a location that plays a role in today’s hauntings. Rumors of violence, murder and suicide are associated with the school while it was opened. It is thought that a janitor of the school had raped and killed a girl by hanging her on the tree. Whether this hanging was done on the madrone tree or not, I’m not aware of that.
In 1971, after the school closed, a satanic group utilized the building for rituals and sacrificed animals on the property. Because this is within a residential location, the general community became uneasy with the building so the city council decided to have the building demolished and turned into a park. Today, without knowing the history of the location, one would think nothing of it.
The park is a popular spot for people to walk their dogs at, or relax and picnic on a nice sunny day. However when nighttime comes, the empty park has an ominous atmosphere. Paranormal activities occur frequently. The old madrone tree is still present and is thought to have ghostly energies attached to it. And the area where the stairway Judge Smith once built is still there and is thought to be a portal. Visitors often feel a presence or become uneasy in that area like they’re being watched. Disembodied footsteps and screaming have also been reported in the park. Teenagers who visit in odd numbers have had a spirit follow them home. A mom who was once visiting the park one evening took a picture of her son and noticed behind him an apparition of a girl looking right at her. Sightings of a girl have been reported multiple times by different sources as well.
One in particular is from a good friend of mine, Pam. One day Pam and her two friends visited the park early in the morning. The girls walked around the empty park. Pam was walking with one of her friend, while the other was off somewhere else. Pam caught movement from her peripheral and turned, noticing a female apparition of a girl in a white nightgown walking, coming up side-by- side to her and her friend. She choked up, froze, the blood rushed out of her face as she realized this girl was translucent. Pam’s friend quickly realized why: Her friend acknowledged the ghostly girl too. They ran and called for their other friend, hurrying to the car. Inside the car, the new car would not start. The girls panicked, feeling ice cold, squealing and squirming in their seats. After a few minutes, the car finally started and they sped away. Pam and the girls have never returned since.
I have been to the park too, with friends, but have never experienced anything like that. I never explored the park long enough, probably because I was too chicken from all the spooky stories I’ve heard of. However, I did feel uneasy, overcome with chills as I felt like invisible eyes were on me the whole time. It’s indescribable, but the place really does feel ominous at night. I wonder if this girl in the white dress or nightgown is the same girl who was killed or murdered at the school, and if she’s the same apparition seen over and over by others? I can imagine there being other spirits on site as well if the place was once used as a satanic gathering. The mysteries of this place are left unknown, but the uneasiness it provokes onto visitors still remains.
Hello my spooky friends. I have a guest submission story for you today. And trust me, it brought shivers to this little piggy. The story comes from our great friend Angie Deptula. Please be sure to let her know what you think. We send off many thanks for this submission ❤
Ring Around the Rosie
Ada Langan looked and thought nothing special or peculiar about the oval leather mirror. Old and worn, the aged leather, despite a gash on the right corner, looked decent. She walked away from the bedroom, appreciating the secondhand mirror that came with her new place. The apartment couldn’t have been more perfect: spacious, high ceilings, and such charm on top of Capitol Hill. For the price, she would have been insane to pass on the amazing deal. It was unheard of for a thousand-square-feet place to cost only eight hundred dollars! She not only had a bedroom, but now an office where she could study for her MCAT, and a splendid bathroom with a porcelain claw foot tub.
Inside the office, she unpacked her textbooks, stacking them onto her bookshelf. Silence suppressed her cheery vibe and she yearned for music. She walked into the living room, switched on the light and approached her iPod station on a vintage chest. She pushed the ON button and closed her eyes, smiled to Etta James’ voice.
Ada took two steps into the office and froze, bewildered. Etta’s voice stopped in mid-singing, as the familiar nursery rhyme “Ring Around the Rosie” played in full blast. She heard a little girl’s laughter, little footsteps creaked on the hardwood floor.
“Hello? Who’s there?”
No answer.
She scanned the room and grabbed her wooden umbrella. Tiptoeing, she inched forward, balancing her stride and holding her breath, then thought she was being silly. A little girl could do no harm and she had no reason to be afraid. She dropped her precarious stance and walked into the living room, still grasping the umbrella. Her presence stopped the child’s song, but next to the iPod her incense glowed and the room was redolent with citrus. Certain she did not light the incense, she suspected the child intruder. But no one stood among her in the living room, which connected to the open kitchen. Her little intruder couldn’t have gone anywhere else but out the front door. If the little girl had come towards the bedroom or office she would have seen her.
Ada rested the umbrella against the wall and opened the front door, the door that she didn’t lock and scolded herself for not doing so. The long dim hallway stood empty. Halloween decorations adorned her neighbors’ doors, reminding her of Hallow Eve’s Day. Kids were out trick-or-treating, reveling in their sweet treats. Despite so, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was an easy victim of a Halloween prank by a neighbor’s disobedient child. She remembered seeing three kids on her floor, and one of them being a little girl. Would that same little girl come in here and dare do such thing? But how could the girl have turned on the music that didn’t exist on her playlist?
Closing the door, she turned the lock and made a mental note of it for next time. She had a habit of forgetting such little but important details. Several steps toward the office, she acknowledged her wrong assumption. She listened to the light footsteps coming from inside the bedroom. A little girl’s chuckle taunted her and meddled with her patience. She had enough. Whoever’s child this was needed to be reprimanded by the mother for trespassing.
Her rushed footsteps entered the bedroom where she expected to find the little girl. But no sight of her. Ada eyed the portal to her clothes. She remembered hiding inside closets as a little girl.
“I know you’re in there.”
She reached for the door. No little girl hid behind the hanging clothes. Pushing the door back, her throat tightened and body tensed when she felt her shirt tugged from behind. Finding courage, she turned around but saw no one. Then the bedroom door slammed shut and she jolted, the scare wreaking havoc on her heart.
“Ring Around the Rosie” emanated from the living room and the tone of the child singer turned malicious. Ada felt a chill that felt like death and it magnetized the hairs on her goosebumps. A heavy force set upon her lanky body and stopped her in her tracks as she ran for the door. The light in the room morphed into a fiery glow, playing tricks on her eyes. The oval mirror whispered her name, inviting her over. Compelled to look into the mirror, she sauntered towards it and gazed into her own brown eyes. Paralyzed, she couldn’t scream or tear away from her own grinning image. She knew not one muscle fiber of her face helped her wear that ominous smirk. She ached to break free, run away and hide from her mirror image.
The music slowed in the background, the repetitive lyrics flowed out as though each word meant to linger. The invisible girl taunted her prey with maddening chuckles from behind and waited…
In the mirror Ada’s eyes darkened like black buttons and her complexion mottled. Her ears tuned in to the child’s malevolent voice.
Ring around the Rosie
Ada’s neck and face developed red rings, rosy bumps.
Pocket full of Posies
The citrus aroma dissipated and replaced with a foul, rotting smell.
Ashes, Ashes
Ada’s lung burned and she wheezed. Her eyes dilated as though they were going to pop. Her flesh felt volcanic and the rotten air suffocated her.
We all Fall Down
Ada collapsed on the floor, a loud thud. A little blond girl manifested with empty eyes and smiled down on her as she fell into darkness.
Squeals with piggy delight. My friends I have scored the ultimate story for your today to officially start my 31 Days of Spook. Mommy has helped me to get in touch with Mr. Dave Schrader. If you know anything about the paranormal field, you will recognize the name. Dave Schrader does a talk show where he is the host and producer of Darkness Radio. If you haven’t heard of his show, you *must* check it out for chills and thrills. Dave Schrader has also been seen on television with Zak Bagans on Ghost Adventures, co-hosted the show Paranormal Challenge with Zak Bagans and has made contributions to Ghost Hunters TAPS ParaMagazine. Dave Schrader currently lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
We are VERY excited to present a story from Dave Schrader today. Now, settle back and enjoy my friends!
It was August of 2005 and our radio show was entering its 8th month on the air when I received an invitation to be a part of a psychic and shamanic exploration at Thayer’s Bed and Breakfast in Annandale, MN. Since I have no psychic bones in my body, I thought I would check it out and see if I could learn something new and tap into some psy experience for myself. I would be surrounded in a peaceful environment with mediums, psychics and shamans at a well known haunted location. This might be my best chance yet to witness some interesting phenomena.
I say quietly watching people mill about, discussing what they were picking up on, what spirits they sensed and generally soaking in the atmosphere. During my observation, the resident cat – a large fluffy white beastie – decided I was its new friend and would not leave my side, lap or feet. It stuck to me like I was made of tuna. I stroked the cat like an evil Bond villain as I sat and watched a fascinating scene unfold before me of shared experiences, giddy claims of ghostly presence and some chilling moments as part of the group relayed a story about the creepy man on the top floor that leapt to the wall and skittered up and across the ceiling like a Victorian Spider-Man.
Next came an extraordinary experiment. We were all going to tap into ourselves, meet our spirit guides and do a Shamanic journey. We laid upon the ground, spread eagle and not touching ourselves or others nearby while Hanakia Zedek gently beat a drum to some soothing music and in his deep voice guided us to a meditative trance. By this time, the room lights had been dimmed and the room had been cleared of all cats, kids and other distractions. We were to just BE in the moment and experience the darkness, the music and open ourselves to contact with our totem, spirit guides or loved ones.
As I lay trying to quiet my mind and the senseless chatter that usually clutters it, I found myself getting more restless, unable to attain the nirvana our leader wanted us to achieve. That was when my furry friend found his way back to my side. He would nuzzle my hip and flop on my hand seeking affection and attention. I would pet him for a few seconds than push him away so I could try to slip into a deep meditation, but my kitty companion wasn’t having it. He kept purring, nuzzling and pushing against me.
After 20 minutes or so all with my eyes closed, I finally relented and began giving him the love he craved. My hands scratching the deep fur bringing about even more purrs and nuzzles. I began to wonder how much longer this foray into futility would continue with our Shamanic leader. Obviously I was not going tobecome more enlightened or have a profound moment. I opened my eyes and glanced down to see which cat was so desperately in need of my attention. My eyes widened, my hand stopped mid scratch and I froze. I could feel the cat purring, pushing against my leg and hand simultaneously but to my utter amazement, there was no cat there.
I paused assuming my eyes were playing tricks on me and that they had just not adjusted properly to the low light setting. I closed them tightly, drew in a deep breath and began digging deep into the fur of phantom friend once more. I opened my eyes a second time and there was my hand, hovering mid-air, stroking….emptiness. There was no cat to bee seen, but I could feel and hear it. Within moments, the drumming stopped and the lights began to lift as they adjusted the dimmer switch, our journey to the ether-world was at an end yet here I was stroking an imaginary cat.
The crowd milled about in a semi comatose state. My brain raced trying to make sense of what had just happened to me. I was afraid to speak up for fear of looking like a fool despite the wild claims I had heard from other experiencers all night long. Then I heard the group begin to discuss their personal reflections of the drumming and meditation when one of the people spoke up and said, “How about the ghost cat?” Many in the group admitted to seeing a ghostly cat all night long checking us out and stalking the room. Still I stood silent.
“He was sure curious about what we were doing. I heard the owner say her favorite cat passed away a few weeks back, its nice to know he still calls this home.:” I was astounded, did I just spend 30 minutes petting a specter? I don’t even like cats I thought to myself, why did he mess with me?
The crowd dispersed and a few days later I got an email from a girl that also attended the event. She had laid to my immediate right and she informed me she knew I had an experience and she had been petting that same cat all night. We had been ping ponging the cat between us for the evening when we would try to focus on the guided meditation and brush it off, it would move to the other one of us. That was one of the first truly amazing experiences I ever had that was more than a fleeting moment that could easily be explained away and I will cherish that forever.
– Dave Schrader
Friends – we hope you enjoyed our special guest today. We would also like to throw a great huge THANK YOU to Dave Schrader for taking time to share his story. You rock!!
Squeals with piggy delight. My friends I have scored the ultimate story for your today on my Bacon’s Tales of Terror. Mommy has helped me to get in touch with Mr. Dave Schrader. If you know anything about the paranormal field, you will recognize the name. Dave Schrader does a talk show where he is the host and producer of Darkness Radio. If you haven’t heard of his show, you *must* check it out for chills and thrills. Dave Schrader has also been seen on television with Zak Bagans on Ghost Adventures, co-hosted the show Paranormal Challenge with Zak Bagans and has made contributions to Ghost Hunters TAPS ParaMagazine. Dave Schrader currently lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
We are VERY excited to present a story from Dave Schrader today on our Bacon’s Tales of Terror. Now, settle back and enjoy my friends!
It was August of 2005 and our radio show was entering its 8th month on the air when I received an invitation to be a part of a psychic and shamanic exploration at Thayer’s Bed and Breakfast in Annandale, MN. Since I have no psychic bones in my body, I thought I would check it out and see if I could learn something new and tap into some psy experience for myself. I would be surrounded in a peaceful environment with mediums, psychics and shamans at a well known haunted location. This might be my best chance yet to witness some interesting phenomena.
I say quietly watching people mill about, discussing what they were picking up on, what spirits they sensed and generally soaking in the atmosphere. During my observation, the resident cat – a large fluffy white beastie – decided I was its new friend and would not leave my side, lap or feet. It stuck to me like I was made of tuna. I stroked the cat like an evil Bond villain as I sat and watched a fascinating scene unfold before me of shared experiences, giddy claims of ghostly presence and some chilling moments as part of the group relayed a story about the creepy man on the top floor that leapt to the wall and skittered up and across the ceiling like a Victorian Spider-Man.
Next came an extraordinary experiment. We were all going to tap into ourselves, meet our spirit guides and do a Shamanic journey. We laid upon the ground, spread eagle and not touching ourselves or others nearby while Hanakia Zedek gently beat a drum to some soothing music and in his deep voice guided us to a meditative trance. By this time, the room lights had been dimmed and the room had been cleared of all cats, kids and other distractions. We were to just BE in the moment and experience the darkness, the music and open ourselves to contact with our totem, spirit guides or loved ones.
As I lay trying to quiet my mind and the senseless chatter that usually clutters it, I found myself getting more restless, unable to attain the nirvana our leader wanted us to achieve. That was when my furry friend found his way back to my side. He would nuzzle my hip and flop on my hand seeking affection and attention. I would pet him for a few seconds than push him away so I could try to slip into a deep meditation, but my kitty companion wasn’t having it. He kept purring, nuzzling and pushing against me.
After 20 minutes or so all with my eyes closed, I finally relented and began giving him the love he craved. My hands scratching the deep fur bringing about even more purrs and nuzzles. I began to wonder how much longer this foray into futility would continue with our Shamanic leader. Obviously I was not going tobecome more enlightened or have a profound moment. I opened my eyes and glanced down to see which cat was so desperately in need of my attention. My eyes widened, my hand stopped mid scratch and I froze. I could feel the cat purring, pushing against my leg and hand simultaneously but to my utter amazement, there was no cat there.
I paused assuming my eyes were playing tricks on me and that they had just not adjusted properly to the low light setting. I closed them tightly, drew in a deep breath and began digging deep into the fur of phantom friend once more. I opened my eyes a second time and there was my hand, hovering mid-air, stroking….emptiness. There was no cat to bee seen, but I could feel and hear it. Within moments, the drumming stopped and the lights began to lift as they adjusted the dimmer switch, our journey to the ether-world was at an end yet here I was stroking an imaginary cat.
The crowd milled about in a semi comatose state. My brain raced trying to make sense of what had just happened to me. I was afraid to speak up for fear of looking like a fool despite the wild claims I had heard from other experiencers all night long. Then I heard the group begin to discuss their personal reflections of the drumming and meditation when one of the people spoke up and said, “How about the ghost cat?” Many in the group admitted to seeing a ghostly cat all night long checking us out and stalking the room. Still I stood silent.
“He was sure curious about what we were doing. I heard the owner say her favorite cat passed away a few weeks back, its nice to know he still calls this home.:” I was astounded, did I just spend 30 minutes petting a specter? I don’t even like cats I thought to myself, why did he mess with me?
The crowd dispersed and a few days later I got an email from a girl that also attended the event. She had laid to my immediate right and she informed me she knew I had an experience and she had been petting that same cat all night. We had been ping ponging the cat between us for the evening when we would try to focus on the guided meditation and brush it off, it would move to the other one of us. That was one of the first truly amazing experiences I ever had that was more than a fleeting moment that could easily be explained away and I will cherish that forever.
– Dave Schrader
Friends – we hope you enjoyed our special guest today. We would also like to throw a great huge THANK YOU to Dave Schrader for taking time to share his story. You rock!!
I am squealing with delight. Really I am my friends. If you could see me right now, you would see the biggest grin on my little piggy face. In fact, I don’t know which one of us is more excited – me or mom.
You will NOT believe who I scored a story from for this month’s Bacon’s Tales of Terror. Someone famous. Yep I said that – famous. If you follow the paranormal field, you will recognize the name. We are SO EXCITED to share it this Wednesday, January 13, 2016 for my Bacon’s Tales of Terror. You don’t want to miss it either. It is an awesome story – something that happened in real life to our guest. So mark your records now my friends – and don’t worry – I’ll hold your hand 🙂
Oh my friends. I do hope you have been enjoying my 31 Days of Spook with me this year. I have had so much fun sharing with you so many spooky things – things that go bump in the night – things that create shadows in the dark – things that maybe make you do a double take. Today, I have another story submission. This one is from my great friend Fozzie in Australia. Do you know Fozzie? If not, you need to go visit her now and check her out. She’s got some great stories and photographs from Australia that will absolutely blow you away. Check her out and tell her this little oinker sent you 🙂 And thanks Fozzie for a great story my friend ❤
“When I came home from hospital with Rhiannon..(some 29 years ago), we lived in a small two bedroom flat. Bradley, our eldest, was in his own room and Rhiannon slept in a cot in our room. She must have been about a month old when this happened.
We had in our room an old white wicker chair, you know the type that belongs on a porch under the shade of a wisteria. This chair was my grandmas (she was still alive at the time of this incident). Now the story went my grandma and her sister had some to and fro’s over who got to have this chair..and as it happened my grandma got it.. her sister is now deceased. I always loved it and my grandma was happy to give it to me. And so it sat in the corner of our bedroom..
One night I was woken with the fright of my life. As I lay on my side asleep, I felt a hand grab my shoulder! I sat bolt upright frozen. Phil was fast asleep. Rhiannon fast asleep. Me wide awake and terrified!
I woke Phil and made him get up to check the flat all over…nothing. I went back to bed..but not to sleep. This happened again for the next three nights. I was terrified so badly that I went to my doctor.
I told him I was sure I was losing my mind,such a violent grab and yet nothing! My doctor, such a cool young guy he was, simply said to me, ““There’s a lot more to life than what we think. You aren’t nuts, just experiencing something you are not tuned to.”
Eventually, I relaxed a bit more and the grabbing stopped…after I politely asked it to stop as I was needing sleep…since then I have lots of special things happen. Life indeed is a weird and mysterious journey.”
Hello my spooky friends. Thank you so very much for staying with me during my 31 Days of Spook. We really hope that all of you are shaking and shivering by now with our scary stories. Here at the Hotel Thompson, we just want you to enjoy every single spooky day that October has to give!
Today, we have another guest story submission. This one is from my friend Lori. Do you know Lori and her ducks? If you don’t know them, you are definitely missing out on beautiful pictures, wonderful stories on her ducks. You just have to go visit their blog. Please make it a point to visit my friend Lori – tell her that Bacon sent you. This is her tale – enjoy my friends!
Christmas at Hanging Rock
By Lori Fontanes
There’s a visitors center at Hanging Rock but on that stifling day right before Christmas, we pretty much had the place to ourselves. I vaguely recall one other couple, possibly on their way out, but after that, no one. And it really was hot, even by Australian standards, and even though antipodal December means the end of spring, it must have hit triple digits. That year, summer had come early, or maybe only at the Rock.
I’d wondered about the strange site known as Hanging Rock ever since watching Peter Weir’s lyrical film, which takes place on its stony peaks. “Picnic At Hanging Rock” dreamily reenacts the supposed real-life disappearance of a teacher and her students on Valentine’s Day in the year 1900. The girls and their chaperones go for a picnic but some don’t come back. They disappear between the silent stones, without explanation. Where did they go and why? If they were taken, why not the others? Since the movie doesn’t provide answers, we’d decided to see for ourselves. One hundred years after the alleged events, we thought it would be fun to pretend to investigate. We left our rental car in the parking lot, grabbed two water bottles and started climbing.
I’m not really good in hot weather. It’s my husband who thrives in the heat. Like a desert creature, he absorbs the radiance and turns it into useful energy. I wilt. As we slogged our way to the top, weaving among the huge boulders, he tried to joke me out of my increasingly foul mood. It had to be 100 degrees or close to it and I felt thirstier than our water could satisfy. Nonetheless, I suggested we ration the supply carefully. Since it wasn’t supposed to be a long hike, my husband merely shrugged. See, he’s the optimist and I’m the realist. I like to be prepared; he likes to leave for the airport at the last minute. And there we were, alone, on this weird outcropping of volcanic rock in the middle of rural Victoria.
As I think about it now, I realize that no one knew where we were. We didn’t tell the hotel staff, our families were celebrating the holidays thousands of miles away and in these pre-smartphone days, no one expected you to stay in constant contact. It was 2000 (yes, Y2K) so I guess we had a cell phone but I doubt we could have gotten reception. Hanging Rock is that type of lonely, an inland Bermuda Triangle, buzzing with insects, desolate and blistering. In fact, I wonder if the igneous formations hold a sort of magnetic charm that distorts compasses and makes minds struggle. That day, I told myself it was just the heat. It’s hard to think straight when the mercury hits those highs.
About halfway up, when it didn’t look like we’d meet anyone else, my husband started in with his silliness. I guess you could call it romance. Either way, it was the last thing I needed so I ignored his playfulness.
“Let’s keep going,” I said.
“Let’s go this way,” he said.
His way didn’t feel right.
“No, I think the sign says this way,” I demurred.
He wouldn’t listen. I hung back as he entered a small archway that somehow I knew wouldn’t work. Stubbornly, I stood there and watched him go. I don’t remember the details. He may have cried out. Like I said, I can’t remember.
He emerged pretty quickly.
“You’re right, it’s not the way,” he said.
“What happened?”
I moved past him to see. The path he’d chosen led to another opening and then, a sheer drop. He must have stopped in time but he may have slipped because somehow he lost both bottles down the slope.
We kept going.
I tried not to think about losing the water. We had a distance to hike before reaching the top. Or should we turn around now? Should I say something? Would it matter?
And then, we arrived. It looked like the summit or close enough. Was there a rock like an altar? A platform? Or maybe nothing at all, my memory doesn’t say. All I know is how bright it was and still. Quiet, like the inside of your breath when you hold it. I didn’t know what that quiet meant.
My husband tried to kiss me. I sidled away. It didn’t seem like a good idea. I might have said, are you crazy?
He might have said, yes.
“Let’s go.”
I kept my voice as weightless as possible. Bugs sang in counterpoint to my clattering heart. I walked quickly in the direction of escape.
My husband made an off-color comment then followed. I fought my rising anxiety, wanting to read the path with clarity, not fear. We decided to go down a different way. He might have suggested it. I might have agreed.
It might have been the heat.
We came to an intersection where once more, he wanted one way and I, the other. I don’t know how I knew it but on this point I’m perfectly clear: If we’d gone his way, we might not have come back. At that moment, I felt completely certain that the Rock wanted him to stay. And I couldn’t tell him that. So I had to convince him to follow me. I ignored the insects, the heat, my thirst, our dusty isolation and said, in my calmest voice, “Let’s go this way.”
Hello my spooky friends. Thank you so very much for staying with me during my 31 Days of Spook. Have you been enjoying the stories, the thrills, the things that go bump in the night? Today, we have another guest story submission. This one is from my friend Bree. Do you know her? She’s Reilly and Denny’s mom. If you don’t know them, you have so got to visit their blog. They are great. And personally, I don’t think those pooches take a bad picture – I’m just saying. Please make it a point to visit my friend Bree – tell her that Bacon sent you. This is her tale – enjoy my friends!
“When I was very little – only 4 years, we lived in London in a very old house. One morning I woke up and was very sick and feeling very scared but then this little old lady came into room and sat on the bed talking to me. She told me some wonderful stories in her soft Scottish accent and she would sing to me too – and lull me to sleep. Every morning she would come and visit. She was very small only about 4′ 5”, had grey/white hair pulled back tightly and wore a little cap like the the one Andy Capp wears. She also had a little white pipe – like the one Popeye had. She wore a long black skirt with big pockets on the front of it, big brown lace up boots and had layers of sweaters on. She smelled of lavender and even to this day I still think of her when I smell it.
My Mom came in one morning and asked me who I was talking too. I didn’t know her name so I pointed to her and said, “Grandah”. Mom looked around and couldn’t see anyone and yet there she was sitting on the end on the bed. Whenever any of my brothers or sister was sick she would appear and we always knew she was about the house because we suddenly would smell the lavender. Our Mom too smelled the lavender but never saw or knew who Grandah was until one day she showed us a very old photo of our great grandma and it was her! She had been dead for over thirty years and yet there she would come visit us when ever we were sick and we knew she would make us feel better.”
Oh my sweet friends. How are you holding up so far with my 31 Days of Spook? Are you leaving the lights on at night yet? Are you watching all of the shadows behind you? Are you spooked when someone says hello to you? Snorts – if you are, buckle up those seat belts because I’ve got a great scary story for you today. This story was submitted by my friend Easy. If you haven’t met Easy, please visit his blog and tell them that Bacon sent you. Without further ado, here it is straight from Easy’s mouth – his horror story 🙂
“The Haunted Archipelago of Britanny or the Archipel des Glénan is located some miles westwards of my crib.
Because the whole area was subtropic once, the archipelago with 9 islands and a lot of dead coral reefs accrued there. There are Saint Nicholas, Loc’h, Penfret, Drenec, Guiautec,Quignénec, Bananec, Brunec and Cigogne. Some are inhabited, some are abandoned and some are occupied by sheeps – butt ALL are haunted. The reefs and rocks and the the special drifts shall be the reason that many ships got lost there and a giant ships graveyard was built during the years. But the truth is, that this ships were sunken by La Groac’h de l’île du Loc’h, a witch who lives on the island Loc’h. She is the richest woman of the world, because she collected all the treasures from the ships she pulled to the ground of the sea. She is described as a beautiful girl what caught the sailors who lost their ships, butt in reality she is a wild creature, as ugly as a baboons ass with snakes and algues in her hair and with giant fangs in her mouth.
Her home is at the bottom of a lake at Loc’h and it’s being said that this lake has a secret connection to the ocean where she is luring for her victims. Once in the clutches of La Groac’h you belong to her fur ever and ever…
and ever…. Maaaan, thanks Overlook-Twins, are you everywhere or what? Breeze off!
Because the bretons are practical thinking people, they built a chapel and a cemetery on Loc’h, where they buried the sailors who died in maritime disasters. That was much easier than to bring them to mainland, because they anyway landed at the island of La Groac’h. And btw. the striped sailor shirts, called Mariniére or matelot , were invented there. Dating back to March 1858 French Navy-Wear Act when all mariners were required to wear a blue and white striped top in order to aid spotting and rescuing should they fall into the sea. The rules required 21 white stripes of 20 mm and 20/21 blue stripes of 10 mm and soon all sailors, particularly around the busy ports of Brittany were wearing it. The legend tells that every one of the 21 stripes stands for a victory of Napoleon… and the hole for the neck probably stands for Waterloo or what? Butt anyway that’s the shirt what became famous in 1917 as Coco Chanel wore it with widelegged pants. Althought many designers and chainstores copied that style , the original is made by ARMOR LUX, they are still in business and if you want to be prepared for all reasons what can happen at sea, you should get one.
Another island, called Cigogne has a fort, what was built in 1717 to safe the coast from pirates, dutchmen and brits. The fort was used by french troops and during the WWII occupied by germans. Today the island is used by the world famous Sailing School Les Glénans, but it’s totally haunted and during stormy nights you can hear the screaming and howling of the lost souls of the former residents. Sometimes a sudden mist comes up there and between the fog patches you can discover the praying arms of the lost souls who crave for salvation.
Till today the archipelago is a beautiful but dangerous area, every year the coast guards find bodies of smart tourists or people from Paris who thought they can hop from island to island by foot during ebb tide. Some of them end as the prey of La Groac’h who is insatiable. Also many ships end there, from rubber-rafts to million-dollar yachts, La Groac’h knows no difference. Treasure hunters mostly land between their objects of desire or in jail, because the whole area is a protected reservate.
And the boast of some bathtub-captains and the special weather there, what changes within minutes without a warning, are La Groac’hs helpers… That’s very annoying for the coast guards who have to risk their lifes to collect the peeps who fidget in the creek after a sudden storm… and otherways their Bouillabaisse, the traditional meal after a storm gets cold while they have to pick up that folks…and a cold Bouillabaisse is totally NOT tasty, just saying…
Miniature pot bellied pig and friends - Bacon, Houdini, Hemi and all of the Rock Clan with Journalist Rocky the Squirrel all out looking for adventures from the Hotel Thompson.
Squeals with piggy delight. My friends I have scored the ultimate story for your today. Mommy has helped me to get in touch with Mr. Dave Schrader. If you know anything about the paranormal field, you will recognize the name. Dave Schrader does a talk show where he is the host and producer of Darkness Radio. If you haven’t heard of his show, you *must* check it out for chills and thrills. Dave Schrader has also been seen on television with Zak Bagans on Ghost Adventures, co-hosted the show Paranormal Challenge with Zak Bagans and has made contributions to Ghost Hunters TAPS ParaMagazine. Dave Schrader currently lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
u Loc’h,
, they are still in business and if you want to be prepared for all reasons what can happen at sea, you should get one.
Piglove 