The Fortune Teller of Rhinelander by Marlin Bressi

We’re thrilled to give you a Halloween treat– the winners of the Cult of Weird/ Milwaukee Paranormal Conference short fiction contest. We absolutely thrilled that all of our story winners (and honorable mentions) have been narrated by the extremely talented Darren Marlar on his Weird Darkness program. Light some candles and listen here:

And check out more Weird Darkness programs/ submit stories to Darren here: www.WeirdDarkness.com

We had 40 entries in our contest, a lot of unique and chilling takes. The only contest requirements were a 1500 word limit, a paranormal theme, and Wisconsin as a backdrop. Our top three stories were separated by a mere one point margin. Here is our second place contest winner.

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The Fortune Teller of Rhinelander

By Marlin Bressi

“Such a peculiar little girl,” her grandmother would say whenever Rosey went outside to play. While other neighborhood children would jump rope, play hide and seek along the marshy banks of the Pelican River or sell lemonade from a stand on the sidewalk, Rosey Palm would wrap herself in her grandmother’s paisley shawl, put on her shower cap and tell the fortunes of those who strolled down the quaint, tree-lined thoroughfare of Randall Avenue.

Rosey’s fascination with palmistry developed as a result of her own misfortune at a young age; when she was only three years old she had yanked the tail of Mr. Stanley’s ornery beagle, Samson, who responded by snapping his fangs at the girl’s fingers. Rosey was left with a jagged pink scar which ran down the side of her palm, crooked and meandering like the course of the Pelican, which she could see from her bedroom window.

The scar fascinated the young girl, as well as the lines that zig-zagged across her palm like highways on a flesh-toned road map. While other children were interested in games and toys, Rosey became fascinated with the human hand. She would spend entire afternoons at the town library reading about fingerprints, fingernails, and any other subject related to the hand. Her favorite subject, however, was palm reading.

Rosey’s grandmother was dismayed about the girl’s interest in fortune telling. “If your mother and father were still alive, they would surely not find such behavior appropriate for a young girl,” Rosey’s grandmother would say. Nonetheless, she allowed the girl to read palms and tell fortunes and costume herself like a gypsy princess, as long as she stayed within sight of the house.

One quiet and uneventful mid-summer afternoon, Rosey absconded with her grandmother’s folding card table and set up a fortune telling booth on the sidewalk in front of the house. Her grandmother had gone downtown to buy groceries, but Rosey didn’t think she would object to her borrowing the table. The passersby were more than happy to give Rosey a quarter for a palm reading, since they had a soft spot in their hearts for the little girl who, at such a tender age, had endured so much hardship.

Before long, a woman came down the street, her natural beauty concealed behind horn-rimmed glasses, and she was fashionably dressed in a floral dress and white gloves. Rosey immediately liked the woman, and hoped that she could talk her into a palm reading.

“Beautiful afternoon, isn’t it?” the woman smiled as she neared Rosey and her makeshift fortune telling booth.

“Yes, ma’am,” the young girl replied. “My name is Rosey Palm, and I can tell you your fortune for a quarter.”

The woman with the glasses chuckled. “That’s a tempting offer, young lady. Unfortunately, I don’t have much time. I’m waiting for the bus to Milwaukee and before it arrives I wanted to see the house where I grew up.”

“You grew up on Randall Avenue?” asked Rosey, excited to make the acquaintence of a native Rhinelander, and one who appeared to have gone on to bigger and better things. Rosey supposed that she might be an actress or singer; they were the only types of women who wore those lovely, long white gloves.

“Yes. Right there is where I grew up,” the woman replied, pointing to a white house with cheerfully-painted red shutters.

“That’s my house!” exclaimed Rosey, her mouth agape in astonishment. “I live here with my grandmother. I moved here last year, after…. after, my parents passed away.”

The woman in glasses gave Rosey a sympathetic stare. “I’m sorry to hear that, my dear,” she said. “It must be terribly difficult for you.”

“I suppose,” replied Rosey. “But I make the best of it. So, you must have been the one who lived in this house before me and Grandma?”

The woman didn’t hear the question; she was gazing vacantly at the house, which caused her expression to change into one of sadness. Rosey asked her what was wrong.

“Nothing is wrong, dear,” she said. “I’m just remembering things. Things that happened long ago, yet are as fresh in my mind as if they just happened today.”

Her statement, along with the hint of sadness in her voice, aroused Rosey’s curiosity. “What kind of things? Did something bad happen to you when you lived in my house?”

“Something very bad, unfortunately,” the woman replied.  She took a moment to compose herself, and then told the young fortune teller her story. “I was playing outside, when a man came up to me and said he was from the water company, and that he needed to come into the house and check on the pipes in the basement. There was no one else home, so I let him inside.” She paused. “He did some awful things to me.” The woman’s voice trailed off as she recalled the horrendous experience.

“What kind of things?”

The woman in glasses shook her head and told Rosey that she was far too young to understand, and that she didn’t want to frighten the young girl with her story.

“Don’t be afraid, though. They caught the man and he went to jail for a very long time. I only wish I could have done things differently, and perhaps it wouldn’t have happened the way it did. But I was young and didn’t know any better. Nobody thinks of such terrible things happening in a town like this.”

“What did the man look like?” asked Rosey. She was deeply interested in hearing the rest of the woman’s story. She had read many books about crime in the library, in the books about fingerprints which she pored over like a student of criminology.

“He was a tall man, in a gray suit and a black fedora. He– ”

“What’s wrong?”

The woman took off her glove in order to glance at her watch. “Nothing, dear. I just realized that my bus will be here soon and I must leave. It was very nice meeting you, Rosey,” she said, extending her ungloved hand to the girl for a handshake.

Rosey shook her hand, noticing the pink jagged scar on the woman’s palm. Rosey watched the woman disappear around the corner, and was still grasping the strangeness of the incident when she turned around and saw a man walking toward her. He was wearing a gray suit and a black fedora.

Please support the Milwaukee Paranormal Conference and our programming by making a donation today. More info: www.gofundme.com/savempc

Thinning the Herd by Eric Montag

We’re thrilled to give you a Halloween treat– the winners of the Cult of Weird/ Milwaukee Paranormal Conference short fiction contest. We absolutely thrilled that all of our story winners (and honorable mentions) have been narrated by the extremely talented Darren Marlar on his Weird Darkness program. Light some candles and listen here:

And check out more Weird Darkness programs/ submit stories to Darren here: www.WeirdDarkness.com

We had 40 entries in our contest, a lot of unique and chilling takes. The only contest requirements were a 1500 word limit, a paranormal theme, and Wisconsin as a backdrop. Our top three stories were separated by a mere one point margin. Here is our third place contest winner.

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Thinning the Herd

By Eric Montag

My name is Harry Swinton, and when I went looking for Leonard Crowley, I was Police Chief Swinton. My youngest brother, Isaac, was a volunteer deputy, and he went with me. So did my younger brother Carl, a retired school teacher who had moved to the Northwoods.

Isaac owned a successful taxidermy business. He called one evening to tell me that Mr. Crowley, an Ill-Annoyan with a nearby cabin, had brought him a buck’s head to mount. He told me that he was certain that something had gnawed through the deer’s neck to separate the head from the body. He had even found five puncture wounds at the base of the deer head, and that the arrangement of these wounds suggested that whatever had done the gnawing had a thumb. He said, “Something held that deer down and chewed through its neck.”

And further, he also told me that he didn’t like the looks of Mr. Crowley. Said the old guy looked like a nut, and it might not be a bad idea to stop by Crowley’s cabin and do a friendly check-up. Just to remind him that he wasn’t in a lawless territory. Isaac even got our brother Carl involved. Each got the other wound up with theories about Crowley torturing animals, or running some kind of dog fighting scheme.

I told them that I’d go myself. It wasn’t the first time I’d done such a thing to get a good look around a place. Isaac went on badgering me, and reminded me that I was the only full-time officer in town, and it wasn’t smart for me to go alone. I told Isaac that he could ride along in the cruiser and wait in the car while I did the talking. He agreed. And then he invited Carl. Both agreed to wait in the cruiser.

I knew which cabin Crowley owned, and we went there. I parked behind Crowley’s car, a black Lexus with Illinois plates and tinted windows that looked out of place in the middle of the woods.  It was damn cold that day, with a biting wind that made my eyes water and nose burn. But that didn’t stop my brothers from joining me as I walked up to the cabin door. I had just enough time to cuss at them before the cabin door opened.

It was my first good look at Leonard Crowley. I had never seen him before. He was tall, maybe six four, with gray hair pulled back in a loose tail behind his head. He was wearing jeans that were tore up on his left side, and a flannel shirt that looked like it had been put on by someone who was just learning to put on shirts. There were buttons, but some were unbuttoned and some were buttoned wrong. Parts of his skin showed. He flashed us a grin that looked friendly from farther back and descended the stairs of his tiny porch. He was a little older than me, maybe mid sixties, but he moved smoothly, like there were oiled machine parts beneath his skin. “I help you?” he asked as we approached each other.

I introduced myself and told him that I had gotten some reports from hunters about a pack of wolves or wild dogs in the area harassing and killing animals. I asked him if he had seen any evidence of that.

As he approached, I could smell him. Even with the wind, I could smell wet dog. Only one thing smells like wet dog, and that’s wet dog. “I haven’t seen anything of the kind,” Crowley said. He was still smiling, except his smile looked less friendly. More like a gash in his face. Despite several days of beard growth, I could see that the corners of his mouth were raw.

I told him that I assumed he was a hunter, and I’d just come to warn him about potential wolves. Then I asked if he had any dogs that might get hurt by a pack of wolves. He didn’t answer me right away. Instead, he turned his smile to Isaac. Crowley was close now, and I could see his eyes. They were yellow. I wondered what kind of guy wears yellow contacts. “I am a hunter,” he said, “but I’ve got no dogs. I hate dogs.” I didn’t like how Crowley was looking at my brother.

“What do you shoot?” Isaac asked.

“Whatever’s handy,” Crowley said. “Aren’t you the owner of that little shop that I was in yesterday? Isaac, right? Isaac Swinton. And you two are Swintons, too.” He nodded like he had just told a little joke. “Three Swinton brothers, come all this way out to the woods to see me. How about that?”

Isaac crossed his arms in front of him as the wind picked up. “Just checking up. For your safety, Mister Crowley.”

Crowley nodded again, and turned back to me. The wind didn’t seem to bother him at all. It flapped the loose flannel around his body, but he didn’t so much as shiver. “Perhaps you three would like to come inside? We can talk about all this business where it isn’t so cold.”

“No,” Carl said. I turned to him, and saw that he was staring over at the edge of the clearing. There wasn’t too much snow on the ground to tell that there were dead animals over there. A deer, a cow, and something else that had either black or dark brown fur. From where I stood, it looked like a small bear. Or maybe a large bear. I wondered what in the hell was a bear doing out in winter.

Crowley followed Carl’s gaze. “The cold gets animals great and small. I found that cow there, froze to death. Must have wandered away from its herd. Meat’s probably okay.” It looked like the thought of a cow freezing to death amused him, and I decided to get my brothers out of there. Isaac, the fool, had left his gun in the cruiser, Carl had no gun at all, and I did not like Leonard Crowley one tiny bit. I told him that we had others to check in with, and thanked him for his time. Then he stuck a hand out for me to shake.  I didn’t realize until I had already taken it that my gun was hanging on my right side, and it would be unreachable if Crowley didn’t let my hand go. He did let it go, but before he did, he bent toward me, and sniffed. He sniffed me, and thanked us for stopping by to warn him. I remember that sniffing sound very well. I hear it in my nightmares now.

We left. On the way back to town, I asked Carl and Isaac what they made of Leonard Crowley. They both agreed that he was “odd,” but Carl reminded us that being odd was not a criminal offense. And he didn’t think that Mr. Crowley was into animal torture at all. He suggested that maybe Crowley was just a man who was passing off dead animals as hunting trophies. Isaac, the one who had gotten us all involved to begin with, agreed. He even said that he was probably wrong about the puncture marks. Probably just sloppy knife work, and not worth pursuing further. We should drop it.

That was the last we ever talked about it, the three of us. We came face to face with something evil that day, and we looked away and pretended it wasn’t there. Crowley had been completely without fear before us, and we had turned tail and not looked back. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I am sure that he came to the Northwoods just to see us. Must have heard about three little Swinton brothers, and had to come see.

Carl didn’t have to live with that knowledge long. He died a month later. Heart attack while shoveling his driveway.

Isaac abruptly decided to close his taxidermy business. Didn’t even try to sell it, just packed up and left town. Told me he had the urge to move to a bigger city where there was more to do. Maybe live in an apartment building in downtown Minneapolis. And that’s what he did. Except that two months after moving, he vanished. I have not heard from him since.

I moved to Wausau, into the senior community that I live in now. There are lots of people around me, and I like that. But two nights ago, I woke up and saw a black Lexus parked in the parking lot. I could not go back to sleep. I stayed up last night to watch, and saw the Lexus again.

I’m going to stay inside and keep my gun handy, but I’m also going to write this down. Just in case.

Leonard Crowley.

Black Lexus.

Chicago, Illinois.

If you meet him, don’t look away.

Please support the Milwaukee Paranormal Conference and our programming by making a donation today. More info: www.gofundme.com/savempc

Short Story Contest Winners!

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Milwaukee Paranormal Conference and Cult of Weird launched a short story speculative fiction contest on the first day of Summer and now on this, one of the first days of Autumn, we are thrilled to announce the winners! We challenged people to write stories with a paranormal theme and a setting of Wisconsin as the backdrop. A fantastic response of 40 stories that chilled us to the bone crept into our inbox.

We had four judges for the contest– Matthew Wamser of Furrow (a UWM undergraduate literary journal), author Rachel Green (First Contact), author J. Nathan Couch (Goatman: Flesh or Folklore? and Washington County Paranormal)and Christina Rickman of Cult of Weird. They had quite a challenge and competition was fierce, but based on their totaled scoresheets, here are our winners:

1st Place: “The Devil in the Cornfield” by Zelia Edgar

2nd Place: “The Fortune Teller of Rhinelander” by Marlin Bressi

3rd Place: “Thinning the Herd” by Eric Montag

Honorable mentions:
“Stopping Sirens” by Cassie O’Rourke
“Beware the Bindlestiff” by Carolyn Toms-Neary

You will be able to read “The Devil in the Cornfield” in our conference program (accompanied with original art from Xeroine Illustration) and all three placing stories will be posted on our website on Oct. 30, Halloween Eve.

Our winning authors are invited to read their stories in a special session at the conference, Sunday, Oct. 16 4pm in Union Ballroom West, hosted by author Kat de Falla. The top three contest authors also get conference tickets and a prize pack that includes signed books, a gift from Grave Digger Candles and MPC merch. Honorable mentions will receive free conference tickets.

Thanks to everyone who participated, we appreciate your efforts and we hope to host the contest again next summer!


Please support the Milwaukee Paranormal Conference and all of our programming by pre-ordering conference tickets here: milwaukeeparacon.brownpapertickets.com

Follow us on Facebook: facebook.com/milwaukeeparanormalconference
Twitter: @MKEparacon #MKEparacon2016
Instagram: @paracon_mke

 

Writing Contest update!

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We know some writers are probably checking our site today looking for writing contest results. We are going to have a slight delay. We received 40 entrants to the writing contest and we want to give the judges enough time to get through the all the entrants efficiently.

So, our new announcement date is a week from today, September 22. As it happens, this is a more appropriate day to announce winners as it is officially the first day of Fall and our summer writing contest was launched on the first day of Summer!

So tune back in next week for the announcement!

Meanwhile, be sure to get your conference tickets here: milwaukeeparacon.brownpapertickets.com

That’s a Wrap on the Summer Writing Contest!

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When the clock tolled twelve midnight last night, our Summer Short Fiction Contest (presented with our friends Cult of Weird) came to a conclusion. And what good timing– we’re just starting to feel a hint of Fall in the air.

We received 40 entrants to our contest (more than our expectation!) and we got quite a mix of creative ideas for paranormal stories set here in our home state of Wisconsin. The stories offered us a ghoulish parade of haunted houses, eerie cornfields, and things that go splash in the night in Lake Michigan, among other frights. These stories our now in the hands of our judges, who we’re sure will read them with all the lights on!

Our judges include representatives from Furrow, a literary organization and magazine for undergraduates at UW-Milwaukee, UW-Washington County’s creative writing department, and Cult of Weird. We are shooting for a Sept. 15 announcement, but bear with us as judging might take longer with such a great turn out.

1st place winner gets a conference VIP pass, their story printed in our conference program, and a prize pack. 2nd and 3rd place will have their stories posted on our website and will receive a 2-day Super Pass and prize packs. Prize packs include candles from Grave Digger Candles, signed books from conference speakers, Milwaukee Paranormal Conference merch, and more. The top 3 will also be invited to read their stories at the conference in a session hosted by author Kat de Falla in Room 191.

Most importantly, we’d like to give a heartfelt thanks to everyone who took time to submit their stories. We are thrilled with the interest in this contest and can’t wait to share the results. Good luck to all!

You can help us make our programming possible by pre-ordering tickets and merch via our Indiegogo. We need your support to make this happen! igg.me/at/milwaukeeparacon

Panel Discussion: Wisconsin’s Wildest Urban Legends

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Presented by Cult of Weird. Sunday, UWM Ballroom West

Moderator: Tea Krulos (author, Monster Hunters) Panel: J. Nathan Couch (author, Goatman: Flesh or Folklore?) Charlie Hintz and Christina Rickman (Cult of Weird), Valerie Kedrowski (Stevens Point Paranormal Club).

Have you heard the story of Haunchyville, a village of angry dwarves (and their albino bodyguard) that supposedly exists in Muskego? Or maybe you’ve heard the gruesome tale of Boy Scout Lane, an isolated road outside of Stevens Point where a troop of Boy Scouts met their demise in the 50s…maybe it was the 60s. They were killed by their demented Scoutmaster…or their bus driver…or they died in a fire when their bus crashed.

And who could forget our breakout star of Milwaukee Paranormal Conference 2015, the Goatman! This half human, half goat creature allegedly stalks couples getting hot n’ heavy with each other on Hogsback Road outside of West Bend.

Our panel of urban legend enthusiasts will discuss these and more– we got to mention the Phantom Man of Highway 12 in Baraboo, and probably should discuss whatever happened with that Milwaukee Lion story.  We’ll also have a discussion session with the audience so you can share your own favorites.

Why discuss urban legends? They’re an important part of our modern local folklore…and of course, they’re a hell of a lot of fun!

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Boy Scout Lane

Milwaukee Paranormal Conference tickets available here: milwaukeeparacon.brownpapertickets.com

Cult of Weird and Milwaukee Paranormal Conference Summer Writing Contest!

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Cult of Weird and Milwaukee Paranormal Conference are inviting you to show off your storytelling abilities with a short speculative fiction contest!

Here’s the contest rules:

  • The story needs to incorporate a paranormal theme somehow. Should fall somewhere in the realm of one of these genres: horror, science fiction, fantasy, mystery.
  • The story setting needs to be Wisconsin, but it does not need to be a contemporary setting.
  • The story should be no longer than 1500 words. You can submit previously published pieces if they fit the guidelines.
  • Deadline is September 1 at Midnight.
  • Submit stories as word docs to: milwaukeeparacon@gmail.com
  • Winners will be announced on Sept 15th. Judging will be done by Cult of Weird, Furrow (a UWM literary organization and magazine) and creative writing staff from UW-Washington County.

First place winner receives a Milwaukee Paranormal Conference VIP Pass, a prize pack of cool stuff from our vendors and sponsors, and their story published (along with original art provided by one of our amazing artists) in our conference program.

Second and Third place winners will both receive Milwaukee Paranormal Conference 2-Day Super Passes, a prize pack, and will have their stories published on the Milwaukee Paranormal Conference website.

All three placing winners will be invited to read their stories at the Milwaukee Paranormal Conference on October 15-16 at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee Student Union.

June is our VIP ticket drive. VIP tickets raise from $75 to $100 on July 1. All Milwaukee Paranormal Conference tickets available here: milwaukeeparacon.brownpapertickets.com

Guest Announcements, Round 2

Milwaukee Paranormal Conference is happening October 15 and 16 at the UWM campus. In our last post, we announced our first round of guest speakers, including Loren Coleman, Chad Lewis, Mary Marshall, Allison Jornlin, Celesté Contreras, Summerwind Restoration Society, and Paranormal Investigators of Milwaukee. We also announced two panels, “Searching  for Wisconsin’s Sasquatch” and “Haunted Road Trip.”

We’re excited to reveal our second round of guest announcements.

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First, special guest speaker Chase Kloetzke. Chase is an author, radio show host, and frequent guest lecturer at UFO conventions. Chase has been a member of the Mutual UFO Network since 1996 and is currently MUFON’s Deputy Director of Investigations and Special Case Manager, leading a team of high performance and highly skilled investigators to special assignments in MUFON.

She is also the host of Fate Magazine Radio on KGRA, co-author (with Richard Dolan) of Admissable: The Field Investigator’s Manual and the children’s book Are Aliens Really Real?
Here’s her website: chasekloetzke.com

Additionally, we are happy to announce:

Ursula Bielski, author and Chicago ghostlorist.

Nick Roesler, author and host of Beyond Deep Black Radio.

Kristan T. Harris, researcher and co-host of The Rundown Live, he’ll be giving a presentation titled “The Hidden History of Giants.”

Dark Star Ministry presents: “Ouija & Tarot: Occult Tools and the Paranormal.”

Panels
Cult of Weird presents: Wisconsin’s Wildest Urban Legends: This panel will talk about one of the more fun aspects of our folklore– the urban legend. We’ll be talking about Muskego’s Haunchyville, an alleged colony of angry little people, the bloody legend of Boy Scout Lane in Stevens Point, the break out star of the 2015 Milwaukee Para Con–Goatman!–and more. This panel includes J. Nathan Couch (Goatman: Flesh or Folklore?), Charlie Hinz and Christina Rickman(Cult of Weird), and Valerie Kedrowski (Stevens Point Paranormal). Moderator: Tea Krulos (Monster Hunters, Riverwest Ghost Stories).

We will be announcing a third round of speakers in early February!

Tickets on sale nowmilwaukeeparacon.brownpapertickets.com

We will also have a table at the Milwaukee Comic Con, Sunday Feb. 21, 10:30-4:30, at American Serb Hall. Admission to the con is $5, kids 12 and under free. You’ll be able to buy Para Con tickets from us with cash or card.

Cult of Weird Contest Winning Entry

Congratulations to Kylee Dahlene of West Allis, who won the Cult of Weird Milwaukee Paranormal Conference giveaway package. Cult of Weird challenged readers to share their creepiest Wisconsin experiences, and Kylee wrote about an eerie encounter in Grant Park, right here in Milwaukee. She won a Cult of Weird bookmark, Milwaukee Para Con sticker and certificate for a free Milwaukee Para Con t-shirt (check ’em out HERE), a signed copy of Monster Hunters by Tea Krulos, and a ticket for a photo in the Search for the Yeti Photobooth. You can read Kylee’s winning story below…but you might want to leave the lights on!

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An Encounter at Grant Park

There’s probably a ton of stories about Grant Park but one evening my fiancé, his friend, and I went to walk around for a little bit and hang out at the beach. Everything was peaceful and going great until about 8pm. Before we crossed the bridge going down to the beach Trent heard a mans voice say “over here.” He looked at me, asked if I heard anything. I said “no.”

He shrugged it off (told us about it later of course) and we kept walking. I rested my hands on the bridge before going down, and they were off talking. I seen something out of the corner of my eye and looked down at what I thought I saw In the water, but to my dismay saw nothing. Few seconds later a flash, like a dream while being awake, flashed into my head of a teenage girl face down, just a whirl of dark brown hair… tank top… and jean shorts, and a small stream of blood in the water following the small current. I immediately took my hands off and walked off the bridge. Our friend Andy looked me over and asked if anything was wrong, because my face was void of color. I blew it off… said nothing. We proceeded to walk down the beach until it started raining…bout 20 min went by.

As we was walking back into the woods we took a different route and ended up getting kinda lost. At 8:24… All of our phones froze for a whole minute. At 8:25 Trent and Andy’s phone went back to normal, but my phone didn’t do anything for hours. Woke up the next day and it was still frozen. I had to shut off my phone and reboot it. Going back to the park… it felt like we was being followed the whole time. Walking back Trent told his story and I braved up and told mine. After my story I got really angry and fearful. I assumed it was just because I couldn’t figure out what I saw. I woke up the next day, restarted my phone, and got out of the covers and noticed a bruise on my knee. Four small bruises on one side (different sizes) and one big bruise on the other. Needless to say… I was freaked out. Trent called Andy to tell him and we agreed to make a night to go down there again. I, of course, was skeptical.

We went back but this time we took our skeptic friend Ryne and an EVP machine or whatever you use to pick up voices. It cost him $50.00. We went after hours when we shouldn’t have, bout 10pm. Spent a couple hours in there, didn’t get any weird vibes. Got out and was busted by the cops who all thought we was at an underage drinking party nearby, by the way. We all came clean and received park tickets. Trent and I went back during the day with our friend TJ when he came to visit. We went out as far as the barge and I seen the time 8:24 etched in the cement. Those barges have to be over 20, 30 years old, falling apart at the seams. I became really fearful, so we decided to head back before it had gotten dark. The whole time I felt I was being followed and was going to be pushed over the edge and down the hill to the beach. The woods were quiet that day. I never seen a man, but I felt him.

Haven’t been back there since. A couple months after, we was there with Andy. We sat down with him and his computer and EVP and listened to it. Only thing we caught was on that bridge and we hear a woman’s voice say what we thought was “he’s coming.” Only way I’ll go back is during noon hours and with a big group of friends. It’s been 2 years since I was down there. Chances are I’m really sensitive to this stuff and I don’t ever want to see that man. I have a feeling he killed some girl there some time ago. I don’t wanna find out for sure.

They say when a person dies, residual energy can be left over for years on end. Maybe that’s true. Very sad.