Anyway, he was back in his garden by the shed and couldn’t see clear to the driveway so I figured it was a prime opportunity for a covert op. Wasn’t sure if I’d find any prints but the car is pretty dirty so I figured I’d get lucky. I did.
There were several to choose from along the edge of the trunk lid so I took a length of clear tape and carefully laid it across the line of prints. Voilà, a perfect sample.
Later at home, under my desk lamp with a magnifying glass, I compared the prints on the tape with the print on the note. No match.
So the question remains, if Andy is not the mysterious note leaver, who is? And who was Andy chasing off with his shovel? Was that strange figure the note-leaving phantom? I may never find out. But I’ll keep working on it. Mysteries for another day.
The reason for my two month absence was that I was called away on business to a town which will remain unnamed — at the town’s request of course, to avoid unwanted weekend ghost hunters and gawkers in search of paranormal weirdness — and I decided to mix in a little mini vacation along with the trip.
It may be evident from this website that I am an investigator of paranormal activity, by which I mean anything seemingly unexplained and apparently not normal, including, but not limited to: UFO sightings, aliens (from outer space), alien abductions (meaning people abducted by aliens from outer space and not the other way around), cryptozoological creatures like your common Sasquatch varieties, Bigfoot, Mothman, Nessie, etc.; and let’s not forget good old-fashioned ghosts and haunted houses! Hooray!
Early in June I received a call from a woman who began nervously babbling on about a paranormal entity she guessed had taken up residence in her home. She seemed frantic and serious, so genuinely scared that I felt compelled to at least try and help her out.
I don’t believe in ghosts. Not at all. So when someone calls me up to investigate their haunted house I feel that I have an obligation to help them understand what they are really experiencing. I look for the facts and explain it so that they can understand what is really going on.
However I am no psychologist, so if they do happen to be plumb crazy they’re on their own.
When I found out who the hell gave her my number I was pissed. The lady didn’t want TV cameras or any of that nonsense so my publishing agent, Alfred, knowing I was a low-key investigator felt it was okay to pass along my contact information. Real nice Alfred.
He told me he figured I could use the extra money since sales have dropped off on my latest book, The Nascent Saint. Hey Alfred, if you’re listening… you’re my publishing agent, do your job. The novel was your idea anyway.
Personally I didn’t feel there was a huge market for supernatural religious mystery thrillers since Dan Brown cornered that market in the early oughts.
So I arrive at the “haunted house” and knock on the door. The house is located right next to a creepy old cemetery. What better location to foster spooky thoughts. Personally I love cemeteries, simply because they are spooky and I love spooky shit. Simple as that.
While waiting I scanned the porch and surroundings. Someone needs to clean a little bit more around here. Dusty cobwebs hung in the rafters and drifted sluggishly in a slight breeze, the silken threads heavy with the funk of ages. Dry leaves were caught up in one of them, a long dead moth in another.
Something weird: a small doll sat in a corner behind an old rickety rocking chair. Generally speaking small dolls aren’t weird, but when they have an X carved in their head and an inverted pentagram painted on their dress with maroon nail polish I’ll concede the notion.
What the fuck?
Is it near enough to October to have Halloween decorations set up already? Maybe that explains it. Or maybe not.
I heard a muffled cough from inside. Then the door creaked open…
I walked out to my garden earlier today and noticed that my hot peppers have just taken off! I mean these buggers are really growing like crazy. Actually all of my plants are taking off. My seedlings sprouted like Jack’s magic beans. Unbelievable.
It must have something to do with that Mothman manure. The dung of the century, no joke. Andy let me have a wheelbarrow full, and he had enough left to spread in his small field. It’s a mini farm really. The old timer grows all sorts of stuff out there; peppers, peas, cabbage, cucumbers, carrots, radishes, rhubarb and assorted herbs here and there. He has some funny looking stuff way out in the back that he tends to pretty regularly.
When he’s back there I usually see some smoke drifting out from the weeds and smell something funny. When he comes out he walks back to his house, sits on the porch and starts drinking beer and eating nachos.
He’s got a major green thumb though, really impressive.
I finally asked him about the shovel in his trunk. Just seemed weird to me that an old dude would be driving around with a shovel in the trunk of his car. He’s a nice enough guy but you never know, could be one of those unassuming nice fellows who turn out to be serial killer or something. You can never be too safe.
He said he keeps it back there just in case he spots an interesting plant or tree growing on the side of the road. Says he’d stop, dig it up and bring it back home to plant in his yard. Could be true, he has a huge assortment of random growth out there.
Oh, and the report came back from the lab about the origin of the giant turd. What fell onto the street that night, the crap that’s fertilizing my garden and Andy’s mini farm, was a giant cow pie.
Obviously it wasn’t just the dung of one cow, but many cows, collected into a gargantuan poop load and dropped right there on the street.
The question is, what the hell did the poop pile drop from? Why was it collected? And why the hell was Mothman flapping around my woods that night? There is a real mystery here my friends, and I aim to solve it.
One more thing. Yesterday evening I happened to glance out my back window and saw Andy running with his shovel, brandishing it like a halberd, as if chasing someone from his property. I leaned in to the window pane to peer farther ahead of him but saw no one. He ran from view behind his shed, which lies just this side of his vast planting field.
Ten minutes later a note was slipped under my door. Two words on the paper as usual, but this time written by hand. The words? “Andy – Crate.” And in the lower right corner of that paper, a dirty thumbprint.
The mystery deepens.
My approach as a skeptic is to seek evidence to support claims of the paranormal or cryptozoological, instead I find a profusion of data that point entirely in the opposite direction. This is why I remain utterly perplexed following an experience I had over the weekend. If I do not get to the bottom of it I may have to concede that at least some of these mysteries may be for real. Read more
As you may have noticed, my phone rang just as I was wrapping up my last post. It was my mother. She always calls on the landline, which I have absolutely no idea why I still own one… yes I do, my mother won’t call me on my phablet or use FaceTime. She’s one of those whacks who think the government is tracking us and monitoring everything on the cellular network. Read more
I have no clue, but I thought that was a good post title.
Regardless of what my top level informant tells me, I have my suspicions regarding the existence of creatures called Bigfoot, Sasquatch, Skunk Ape, Yei, Almas, what-the-hell-ever. Many years have I swatted mosquitos and pinched loafs in the field looking for tracks, listening for wood knocks, and sniffing for putrid stinks, other than mine, that are said to accompany these beasts. I have found nothing. Nothing!
Scientists have discovered four new craters in the Siberian Yamal Peninsula in northern Russia. The current theory is that methane gas is being released from the thick permafrost, which is melting due to global warming.
Hah! We all know that global warming is a joke, no one is going to make me give up my fucking Bronco!
But back to the story… Read more