INTRODUCTION
So the paranormal doesn't exist, does it?
Well, considering this blog was written on a computer, and 300 years ago such an invention was fantasy, it stands to reason fiction has become fact.
Much of what was paranormal three centuries ago — automobiles, credit cards, lasers, plastic, robots, space travel, television, etc. — is normal, today.
The following is a compilation of locations purportedly inundated by the paranormal. Some of the subjects herein may be nothing more than great campfire stories, while others might be built upon foundations of truth.
Your task, as a researcher, is to investigate these sites and determine if the otherworldly exists. Grab your road map to Area 51, a case of something fermented, and an inflatable Oprah love doll. Follow Rob Halford's timely advice and head out to the highway!
What you discover today may positively influence the world, tomorrow.
Hugh Mungus
THE GHOST BUS OF HIGHWAY 93 (ARIZONA)
Joe mentally massaged the waning motor of the massive monolith.
"C'mon. C'mon!" the frazzled bus driver pleaded beneath breath wreaking of black coffee and Winchell’s finest.
Through a veil of sweat, the coach operator fixed his gaze on the pinnacle of Union Pass 200 yards in the distance. The bus' air conditioning had committed suicide just outside of Wickenburg. Joe felt like the pie portion of a TV dinner, bubbling and sizzling inside this metal coffin baked by the Arizona Sun. Less than a quarter of a mile, now. The remainder of the way was a breezy, downhill slope into Laughlin. Blue smoke billowed from the rear of Number 777, obliterating the highway behind the bus from Hell.
"You can do it, baby. You can do it!" Joe coaxed. Snake eyes. Detroit steel groaned, emitting its death knell. Joe muscled the vanquished beast to the shoulder of the turnpike. Drenched in perspiration, the driver's trembling palms never got a firm grip on the wheel. Even before applying the emergency brake, Joe caught sight of the irate passenger marching toward him from the back of the vehicle. Squinting into the rear-view mirror, the motor coach operator noticed a change in the commuter’s appearance. The once-feeble tourist now seemed a hulking beast, no longer human.
Joe gazed back just in time to see the hoard of passengers — an entire bus worth — descend upon him like a lynch mob. Docile Sun City geriatrics now sported hideous features only the mother of a demon could love.
The driver gasped in terror. His world went black.
A breeze cooled the blanket of sweat covering Joe's brow. Regaining consciousness, the coach operator opened his eyes. Mojave Desert Sun fried his pupils. Where the hell was he?
Joe glanced about. He was lying on his back in dried, red caliche. His once-crisp uniform was covered in the stuff. He detected the sounds of passing automobiles somewhere beyond his feet.
By the position of the Sun, it couldn't have been much later than noon.
Through a mire of heat, Joe recognized his bus, Number 777, now being pushed uphill by a gaggle of demons resembling his most recent passengers. At the helm of the vehicle was the old man-turned-Devil who had led the mutiny. An evil smile gracing his black lips, the senior citizen-cum-incubus glared back at the bus driver.
It was then Joe noticed the icing on the cake. Those blue-haired bastards had stolen his shoes. Barefoot and confused, the coach driver watched as the troupe of fiends pushed the deceased bus to the crest of Union Pass.
Did somebody spike his coffee this morning? Was any of this even possible?
Joe stared, mouth agape, recalling how fervent the elderly group had been in their quest to reach Laughlin, and gamble their pensions away. Sure, everybody loves sittin' shotgun in Lady Luck's Gran Torino. Even Joe secretly enjoyed a pull, or 50, on a slot machine handle, but this bunch had been abnormally obsessed from the beginning.
After the air conditioning had gone on the fritz, the driver recalled asking the passengers if they wanted to head back to Phoenix. A collective “No!” thundered from the rear of the bus. Not a hint of doubt in a single voice.
When the behemoth began losing power around Wikieup, Joe had inquired if the assemblage of "Q-tips" prefer he radio back to headquarters for a climate controlled vehicle.
An old man — Metamucil caking the corners of his mouth — leaned in and croaked, "We'll push this damned bus all the way to Laughlin if we have to, sonny! Those slot machines ain't waitin'. You just do your job."
Had this little guy — all of 80 pounds — really threatened Joe? What's more, had Joe been scared?
Now, from the driver's vantage point in the dirt, it appeared as though the geriatric was about to make good on his promise. Joe watched Bus 777 reach the top of Union Pass and disappear over the decline on the opposite side. The group of devilish seniors followed suit. Propping himself up on his elbows, the driver wondered, "Had it all been a nightmare?"
A hundred and twenty degree heat is nothing to fool with, but then how did he end up here along the shoulder of the highway, not a town in either direction for 10 miles? Plus, Joe recalled having kept in contact with dispatch throughout his entire ordeal, informing headquarters of the paranormal conundrum unfolding around him.
Wearily, the coach operator rose to his feet. He turned toward the crest of Union Pass, and stumbled forth. Laughlin was beyond the horizon, but he was certain to hitch a ride during midday. After all, spirits don't appear until nightfall, right?
It's known as the Ghost Bus of Highway 93 — a.k.a. the Grim Weeper — and according to certain motorists between Kingman, Arizona, and Laughlin, Nevada, its ethereal form still exists.
Wayfarers heading northwest from Wickenburg have reported sighting spectral Bus 777 careening across the desert. Most encounters occur in the small hours, when drivers are traveling alone.
The vehicular apparition appears suddenly in your rear-view mirror, headlights ablaze, purportedly weeping molten chrome. Without warning, the behemoth devours your car, as you fight to retain sanity. Clearing your front bumper, the beast dissolves into the roadway illuminated by your headlights. The vacant seats inside your automobile become inexplicably occupied by ghostly passengers. Before you've wrangled your car to the side of the road, your otherworldly travel companions have vanished. You're left along the shoulder of a darkened highway, in the middle of nowhere, wondering if that signpost up ahead reads, "The Twilight Zone."
The day trip from Phoenix to Laughlin for a few hours of moderate stakes gaming is one undertaken by folks all the time. Buses akin to that of the infamous 777 run the route on a constant basis, and the stretch between Turnpike 93 and 68 are well-traveled.
Should you find yourself in Arizona — thirstin' for a duel with a one-armed bandit — take a leisurely bus trip to Laughlin. Besides the opportunity to win a small fortune, you may be in for the ride of your life. The Ghost Bus of Highway 93 is spotted, to this day, anywhere from the former mining town of Wickenburg, to beyond Union Pass along Highway 68.
Sources:
Books:
Treat, Wesley. (2007). Weird Arizona: Your Travel Guide to Arizona's Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets. pp. 178–179. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402739389
Online Sources:
Ghost Bus Prowls Highway 93:
http://www.wickenburg-az.com/2003/10/ghost-bus-prowls-highway-93/
Joe mentally massaged the waning motor of the massive monolith.
"C'mon. C'mon!" the frazzled bus driver pleaded beneath breath wreaking of black coffee and Winchell’s finest.
Through a veil of sweat, the coach operator fixed his gaze on the pinnacle of Union Pass 200 yards in the distance. The bus' air conditioning had committed suicide just outside of Wickenburg. Joe felt like the pie portion of a TV dinner, bubbling and sizzling inside this metal coffin baked by the Arizona Sun. Less than a quarter of a mile, now. The remainder of the way was a breezy, downhill slope into Laughlin. Blue smoke billowed from the rear of Number 777, obliterating the highway behind the bus from Hell.
"You can do it, baby. You can do it!" Joe coaxed. Snake eyes. Detroit steel groaned, emitting its death knell. Joe muscled the vanquished beast to the shoulder of the turnpike. Drenched in perspiration, the driver's trembling palms never got a firm grip on the wheel. Even before applying the emergency brake, Joe caught sight of the irate passenger marching toward him from the back of the vehicle. Squinting into the rear-view mirror, the motor coach operator noticed a change in the commuter’s appearance. The once-feeble tourist now seemed a hulking beast, no longer human.
Joe gazed back just in time to see the hoard of passengers — an entire bus worth — descend upon him like a lynch mob. Docile Sun City geriatrics now sported hideous features only the mother of a demon could love.
The driver gasped in terror. His world went black.
A breeze cooled the blanket of sweat covering Joe's brow. Regaining consciousness, the coach operator opened his eyes. Mojave Desert Sun fried his pupils. Where the hell was he?
Joe glanced about. He was lying on his back in dried, red caliche. His once-crisp uniform was covered in the stuff. He detected the sounds of passing automobiles somewhere beyond his feet.
By the position of the Sun, it couldn't have been much later than noon.
Through a mire of heat, Joe recognized his bus, Number 777, now being pushed uphill by a gaggle of demons resembling his most recent passengers. At the helm of the vehicle was the old man-turned-Devil who had led the mutiny. An evil smile gracing his black lips, the senior citizen-cum-incubus glared back at the bus driver.
It was then Joe noticed the icing on the cake. Those blue-haired bastards had stolen his shoes. Barefoot and confused, the coach driver watched as the troupe of fiends pushed the deceased bus to the crest of Union Pass.
Did somebody spike his coffee this morning? Was any of this even possible?
Joe stared, mouth agape, recalling how fervent the elderly group had been in their quest to reach Laughlin, and gamble their pensions away. Sure, everybody loves sittin' shotgun in Lady Luck's Gran Torino. Even Joe secretly enjoyed a pull, or 50, on a slot machine handle, but this bunch had been abnormally obsessed from the beginning.
After the air conditioning had gone on the fritz, the driver recalled asking the passengers if they wanted to head back to Phoenix. A collective “No!” thundered from the rear of the bus. Not a hint of doubt in a single voice.
When the behemoth began losing power around Wikieup, Joe had inquired if the assemblage of "Q-tips" prefer he radio back to headquarters for a climate controlled vehicle.
An old man — Metamucil caking the corners of his mouth — leaned in and croaked, "We'll push this damned bus all the way to Laughlin if we have to, sonny! Those slot machines ain't waitin'. You just do your job."
Had this little guy — all of 80 pounds — really threatened Joe? What's more, had Joe been scared?
Now, from the driver's vantage point in the dirt, it appeared as though the geriatric was about to make good on his promise. Joe watched Bus 777 reach the top of Union Pass and disappear over the decline on the opposite side. The group of devilish seniors followed suit. Propping himself up on his elbows, the driver wondered, "Had it all been a nightmare?"
A hundred and twenty degree heat is nothing to fool with, but then how did he end up here along the shoulder of the highway, not a town in either direction for 10 miles? Plus, Joe recalled having kept in contact with dispatch throughout his entire ordeal, informing headquarters of the paranormal conundrum unfolding around him.
Wearily, the coach operator rose to his feet. He turned toward the crest of Union Pass, and stumbled forth. Laughlin was beyond the horizon, but he was certain to hitch a ride during midday. After all, spirits don't appear until nightfall, right?
It's known as the Ghost Bus of Highway 93 — a.k.a. the Grim Weeper — and according to certain motorists between Kingman, Arizona, and Laughlin, Nevada, its ethereal form still exists.
Wayfarers heading northwest from Wickenburg have reported sighting spectral Bus 777 careening across the desert. Most encounters occur in the small hours, when drivers are traveling alone.
The vehicular apparition appears suddenly in your rear-view mirror, headlights ablaze, purportedly weeping molten chrome. Without warning, the behemoth devours your car, as you fight to retain sanity. Clearing your front bumper, the beast dissolves into the roadway illuminated by your headlights. The vacant seats inside your automobile become inexplicably occupied by ghostly passengers. Before you've wrangled your car to the side of the road, your otherworldly travel companions have vanished. You're left along the shoulder of a darkened highway, in the middle of nowhere, wondering if that signpost up ahead reads, "The Twilight Zone."
The day trip from Phoenix to Laughlin for a few hours of moderate stakes gaming is one undertaken by folks all the time. Buses akin to that of the infamous 777 run the route on a constant basis, and the stretch between Turnpike 93 and 68 are well-traveled.
Should you find yourself in Arizona — thirstin' for a duel with a one-armed bandit — take a leisurely bus trip to Laughlin. Besides the opportunity to win a small fortune, you may be in for the ride of your life. The Ghost Bus of Highway 93 is spotted, to this day, anywhere from the former mining town of Wickenburg, to beyond Union Pass along Highway 68.
Sources:
Books:
Treat, Wesley. (2007). Weird Arizona: Your Travel Guide to Arizona's Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets. pp. 178–179. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402739389
Online Sources:
Ghost Bus Prowls Highway 93:
http://www.wickenburg-az.com/2003/10/ghost-bus-prowls-highway-93/
DULCE'S DEADLY DITCH (NEW MEXICO)
It's time for the truth to be brought out in open congressional hearings. Behind the scenes, high-ranking Air Force officers are soberly concerned about UFOs. But through official secrecy and ridicule, many citizens are lead to believe the unknown flying objects are nonsense. *
— first Director of the CIA, Vice Admiral R.H. Hillenkoetter, Retired
* Roscoe Hillenkoetter:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roscoe_H._Hillenkoetter
You've tasted a Dempsey Roll from the Manassa Mauler. ** You spent the previous evening watching spook lights dance around a rural graveyard in Silver Cliff, Colorado. *** You've scanned the skies for extraterrestrial spacecraft at the UFO Watchtower. ****
** Jack Dempsey:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Dempsey
*** Silver Cliff, Colorado:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silver_Cliff,_Colorado
**** The UFO Watchtower:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/UFO_Watchtower
Exhausted, you hop on the wrong freeway in your travels back to Santa Fe. Your lids become heavy, as you merge onto the 17. Fate eases you over the magnetic asphalt of Highway 64. You slap yourself silly, whilst singing along to Wang Chung's greatest hit. You need sleep, but instead you get an eyeful of something hideous lumbering through your headlight beams.
Brake pedal finds floorboard as you narrowly miss hitting the seven foot tall half-bat, half-man limping across the blacktop. The abomination vanishes into the underbrush on the opposite side of the road. Realizing you're in the middle of nowhere, you glance around for some point of reference.
Moonlight illuminates a highway sign. You've just entered Dulce, New Mexico — a forgotten hamlet which may be home to a subterranean world.
Although underground dwelling seems like a concept from Star Trek, numerous nations are currently engaged in subsurface construction.
Continuity of Government: It's a United States directive providing underground accommodations for officials, in event of a catastrophic disaster. ***** Canada, Great Britain, Japan and Norway are presently developing sub-terrestrial access between their respective countries. The possibility of subsurface bases on the Moon is being devised by top theoretical minds, as we speak.
***** Continuity of Government:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Continuity_of_government
Enter Dulce, New Mexico, where the population rivals the attendance one would expect at a Wham! state fair comeback concert. One corporate motel is all that links this burg to modern society. Or is it?
According to tale, buried deep beneath Archuleta Mesa — a natural geologic formation on the outskirts of town — dwells a Top Secret base run by humans and extraterrestrials. This clandestine facility is purportedly comprised of at least seven sub-terrestrial levels. Upwards of 18,000 Grey aliens are said to be housed on the three lower floors. A maze of tunnels supposedly connects the compound with similar installations, nationwide.
The most infamous portion of the Dulce base is Level Six — dubbed Nightmare Hall. A freak show of genetically engineered mutations, this floor is supposedly home to half-bat, half-humanoid creatures. Living anthropomorphic beings, sporting additional limbs. have also been reported roaming this notorious level.
During 1978, a group of government employees uncovered the pending fate of test subjects imprisoned at the base, and decided to take preventive action. This response culminated in the Dulce Wars — an underground battle between extraterrestrial and human forces, during which 66 U.S. soldiers were purportedly killed.
Throughout the late 1980s, New Mexico state police officer Gabe Valdez reported witnessing UFOs in the skies above Dulce. Around this time, Paul Bennewitz, president of Thunder Scientific Labs — a then-cutting-edge atmospheric testing company — claimed to be receiving unearthly signals from the ground below Dulce.
There's also the story of investigator John Anderson, who followed a motorcade of mysterious vehicles to a cordoned off installation on the outskirts of town. Upon arriving at the compound, John claims six UFOs simultaneously floated above the base, while he hastily fired off a photograph.
Certain he had witnessed something inexplicable, Anderson stopped at a local store and began relating his tale to the owner. After receiving a curious phone call, the shop's proprietor forced John to vacate the premises.
Confused, Anderson hopped in his car and raced out of town. In his rear-view mirror, John observed an anomalous van parking in front of the shop. A mysterious man stepped from the vehicle and entered the establishment. Things became even more bizarre when a car sped behind Anderson’s automobile and followed him past city limits.
Adding fuel to this conspiratorial fire is the fact that sonar readings taken beneath Archuleta Mesa have uncovered unexplained hollow regions.
Does a secret, subterranean base reside below the parched soil of Dulce, New Mexico? Are the tales emanating from this area taller than the Lompoc Giant? To determine the truth, simply hop in the old roadster and visit this diminutive borough.
Located in northern New Mexico, Dulce is accessible via Highway 64.
UFO sightings are prevalent in and around city limits, as are unaccountable cattle mutilations, so keep your eyes peeled for the strange.
Sources:
Books:
Birnes, William J. (2004). The UFO Magazine UFO Encyclopedia: The Most Comprehensive Single-Volume UFO Reference in Print. pp. 157, 199. Pocket Books, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. ISBN: 0743466748
Coleman, Loren. (2001, 2007). Mysterious America: The Ultimate Guide to the Nation's Weirdest Wonders, Strangest Spots, and Creepiest Creatures. p. 297. ISBN: 1416527362
Piccard, George. (1999). Liquid Conspiracy (Mind Control and Conspiracy Series). pp. 109–114. Adventures Unlimited Press. ISBN: 0932813577
Sauder, Richard, Ph.D. (2001). Underwater and Underground Bases: Surprising Facts the Government Does Not Want You to Know!. pp. 57–59. Adventures Unlimited Press. ISBN: 0932813887
Online Sources:
A Spirited Search of Ghostly Haunts:
http://www.denverpost.com/ranger/ci_6069771
Dulce Base:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dulce_Base
Ghost Lights of the Silver Cliff Cemetery:
http://www.legendsofamerica.com/co-ghostlights.html
The UFO Watchtower:
http://www.ufowatchtower.com/
It's time for the truth to be brought out in open congressional hearings. Behind the scenes, high-ranking Air Force officers are soberly concerned about UFOs. But through official secrecy and ridicule, many citizens are lead to believe the unknown flying objects are nonsense. *
— first Director of the CIA, Vice Admiral R.H. Hillenkoetter, Retired
* Roscoe Hillenkoetter:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roscoe_H._Hillenkoetter
You've tasted a Dempsey Roll from the Manassa Mauler. ** You spent the previous evening watching spook lights dance around a rural graveyard in Silver Cliff, Colorado. *** You've scanned the skies for extraterrestrial spacecraft at the UFO Watchtower. ****
** Jack Dempsey:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_Dempsey
*** Silver Cliff, Colorado:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silver_Cliff,_Colorado
**** The UFO Watchtower:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/UFO_Watchtower
Exhausted, you hop on the wrong freeway in your travels back to Santa Fe. Your lids become heavy, as you merge onto the 17. Fate eases you over the magnetic asphalt of Highway 64. You slap yourself silly, whilst singing along to Wang Chung's greatest hit. You need sleep, but instead you get an eyeful of something hideous lumbering through your headlight beams.
Brake pedal finds floorboard as you narrowly miss hitting the seven foot tall half-bat, half-man limping across the blacktop. The abomination vanishes into the underbrush on the opposite side of the road. Realizing you're in the middle of nowhere, you glance around for some point of reference.
Moonlight illuminates a highway sign. You've just entered Dulce, New Mexico — a forgotten hamlet which may be home to a subterranean world.
Although underground dwelling seems like a concept from Star Trek, numerous nations are currently engaged in subsurface construction.
Continuity of Government: It's a United States directive providing underground accommodations for officials, in event of a catastrophic disaster. ***** Canada, Great Britain, Japan and Norway are presently developing sub-terrestrial access between their respective countries. The possibility of subsurface bases on the Moon is being devised by top theoretical minds, as we speak.
***** Continuity of Government:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Continuity_of_government
Enter Dulce, New Mexico, where the population rivals the attendance one would expect at a Wham! state fair comeback concert. One corporate motel is all that links this burg to modern society. Or is it?
According to tale, buried deep beneath Archuleta Mesa — a natural geologic formation on the outskirts of town — dwells a Top Secret base run by humans and extraterrestrials. This clandestine facility is purportedly comprised of at least seven sub-terrestrial levels. Upwards of 18,000 Grey aliens are said to be housed on the three lower floors. A maze of tunnels supposedly connects the compound with similar installations, nationwide.
The most infamous portion of the Dulce base is Level Six — dubbed Nightmare Hall. A freak show of genetically engineered mutations, this floor is supposedly home to half-bat, half-humanoid creatures. Living anthropomorphic beings, sporting additional limbs. have also been reported roaming this notorious level.
During 1978, a group of government employees uncovered the pending fate of test subjects imprisoned at the base, and decided to take preventive action. This response culminated in the Dulce Wars — an underground battle between extraterrestrial and human forces, during which 66 U.S. soldiers were purportedly killed.
Throughout the late 1980s, New Mexico state police officer Gabe Valdez reported witnessing UFOs in the skies above Dulce. Around this time, Paul Bennewitz, president of Thunder Scientific Labs — a then-cutting-edge atmospheric testing company — claimed to be receiving unearthly signals from the ground below Dulce.
There's also the story of investigator John Anderson, who followed a motorcade of mysterious vehicles to a cordoned off installation on the outskirts of town. Upon arriving at the compound, John claims six UFOs simultaneously floated above the base, while he hastily fired off a photograph.
Certain he had witnessed something inexplicable, Anderson stopped at a local store and began relating his tale to the owner. After receiving a curious phone call, the shop's proprietor forced John to vacate the premises.
Confused, Anderson hopped in his car and raced out of town. In his rear-view mirror, John observed an anomalous van parking in front of the shop. A mysterious man stepped from the vehicle and entered the establishment. Things became even more bizarre when a car sped behind Anderson’s automobile and followed him past city limits.
Adding fuel to this conspiratorial fire is the fact that sonar readings taken beneath Archuleta Mesa have uncovered unexplained hollow regions.
Does a secret, subterranean base reside below the parched soil of Dulce, New Mexico? Are the tales emanating from this area taller than the Lompoc Giant? To determine the truth, simply hop in the old roadster and visit this diminutive borough.
Located in northern New Mexico, Dulce is accessible via Highway 64.
UFO sightings are prevalent in and around city limits, as are unaccountable cattle mutilations, so keep your eyes peeled for the strange.
Sources:
Books:
Birnes, William J. (2004). The UFO Magazine UFO Encyclopedia: The Most Comprehensive Single-Volume UFO Reference in Print. pp. 157, 199. Pocket Books, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. ISBN: 0743466748
Coleman, Loren. (2001, 2007). Mysterious America: The Ultimate Guide to the Nation's Weirdest Wonders, Strangest Spots, and Creepiest Creatures. p. 297. ISBN: 1416527362
Piccard, George. (1999). Liquid Conspiracy (Mind Control and Conspiracy Series). pp. 109–114. Adventures Unlimited Press. ISBN: 0932813577
Sauder, Richard, Ph.D. (2001). Underwater and Underground Bases: Surprising Facts the Government Does Not Want You to Know!. pp. 57–59. Adventures Unlimited Press. ISBN: 0932813887
Online Sources:
A Spirited Search of Ghostly Haunts:
http://www.denverpost.com/ranger/ci_6069771
Dulce Base:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dulce_Base
Ghost Lights of the Silver Cliff Cemetery:
http://www.legendsofamerica.com/co-ghostlights.html
The UFO Watchtower:
http://www.ufowatchtower.com/
AN ENTOMBED EXTRATERRESTRIAL (TEXAS)
I happen to have been privileged enough to be in on the fact that we've been visited on this planet, and the UFO phenomenon is real. *
— Apollo 14 astronaut, and sixth person to walk on the Moon, Captain Dr. Edgar Mitchell
* Dr. Edgar Mitchell:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edgar_Mitchell#Views_on_UFOs
Is a creature from another planet buried in an unmarked grave in rural Texas?
According to the UFO community, it's possible.
A paranormal conundrum shook the tiny town of Aurora — in the Lone Star State — the night of April 17, 1897. It was during this evening an unidentified aircraft allegedly crash-landed on private property, destroying a windmill in its wake, and shattering the consciousness of this rural commonwealth.
As stated in the Dallas Morning News — on April 19th of the same year — not only was a flying vessel recovered from the wreckage, but so too the live body of a mortally wounded extraterrestrial.
Reportedly, townsfolk attempted to aid the interstellar visitor by sheltering it in a local barn. Unfortunately, the diminutive humanoid perished during the evening as a result of physical trauma.
In 1897, extraterrestrials were far from the tabloid headlines they are today. This was an era before functional airplanes. Rather than seek the media, the citizens of Aurora purportedly buried this deceased space visitor, bequeathing it the same consideration they would their own dead.
According to tale, the Aurora Cemetery is now the final resting place for what may be physical proof of extraterrestrial life. A modest gravestone — complete with a carving of a spacecraft — was erected to mark the remains of this traveler.
The incident was all but forgotten until 1973, when a group of miscreants stole the headstone denoting the space alien's place of interment. This criminal act made local news before the legend, once again, disappeared.
Today, some claim the tale was a publicity stunt concocted by S.E. Haydon — the author of the 1897 Dallas Morning News article, as a means of generating revenue for his dying town. However, there are still those who believe an alien remains buried in the Lone Star State.
Ufologists claim the hamlet's lack of intent to capitalize on what could be a tourist gold mine, speaks volumes. No alien-related businesses have sprung up around town.
Intriguingly, this legendary incident is now documented on a Texas Historical Commission marker outside the Aurora Cemetery.
But what of the remains of the downed craft, itself? Are they locked in some basement somewhere, still glowing with otherworldly power?
According to tale, portions of the shattered space vehicle were carted off by citizens shortly after the crash. One piece of the vessel was said to have been buried with the alien, itself, while the remainder of twisted metal was thrown down a well.
Brawley Oates — a subsequent owner of the property upon which this pit resides — suffered grotesque swelling of his joints, perhaps due to ingestion of contaminated water from the spring.
Is an alloy slug recovered from the alleged crash site proof of extraterrestrial contact? Metallurgists determined an inch-long chard retrieved from the area was composed of high grade aluminum that didn't exist in 1897, and would be difficult to manufacture, even today.
UFO investigators continue their efforts to exhume whatever is buried in a now-unmarked grave in the Aurora Cemetery. However, they face legal impediments from local authorities attempting to protect their tiny town from further vandalism.
Should you care to visit the Aurora Cemetery, and gaze upon what might be the most important grave on the planet, the boneyard is located on Cemetery Road in Aurora, Texas. Aurora is nestled in the northeast portion of the state. From US 81/287 in Rhome, take Highway 114 and head west for a mile and a half before turning onto Cemetery Road and venturing south. The Aurora Cemetery resides half a mile down, on the left hand side of the street.
Sources:
Movies:
UFO Hunters: The Complete Season Two. Prod. John Alon Walz. Perfs. Dr. Ted Acworth, Bill Birnes, James Lurie, Pat Uskert. DVD, 2007. ISBN: 1-4229-3099-8
Online Sources:
Aurora, Texas, UFO Incident:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aurora,_Texas_UFO_Incident
I happen to have been privileged enough to be in on the fact that we've been visited on this planet, and the UFO phenomenon is real. *
— Apollo 14 astronaut, and sixth person to walk on the Moon, Captain Dr. Edgar Mitchell
* Dr. Edgar Mitchell:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edgar_Mitchell#Views_on_UFOs
Is a creature from another planet buried in an unmarked grave in rural Texas?
According to the UFO community, it's possible.
A paranormal conundrum shook the tiny town of Aurora — in the Lone Star State — the night of April 17, 1897. It was during this evening an unidentified aircraft allegedly crash-landed on private property, destroying a windmill in its wake, and shattering the consciousness of this rural commonwealth.
As stated in the Dallas Morning News — on April 19th of the same year — not only was a flying vessel recovered from the wreckage, but so too the live body of a mortally wounded extraterrestrial.
Reportedly, townsfolk attempted to aid the interstellar visitor by sheltering it in a local barn. Unfortunately, the diminutive humanoid perished during the evening as a result of physical trauma.
In 1897, extraterrestrials were far from the tabloid headlines they are today. This was an era before functional airplanes. Rather than seek the media, the citizens of Aurora purportedly buried this deceased space visitor, bequeathing it the same consideration they would their own dead.
According to tale, the Aurora Cemetery is now the final resting place for what may be physical proof of extraterrestrial life. A modest gravestone — complete with a carving of a spacecraft — was erected to mark the remains of this traveler.
The incident was all but forgotten until 1973, when a group of miscreants stole the headstone denoting the space alien's place of interment. This criminal act made local news before the legend, once again, disappeared.
Today, some claim the tale was a publicity stunt concocted by S.E. Haydon — the author of the 1897 Dallas Morning News article, as a means of generating revenue for his dying town. However, there are still those who believe an alien remains buried in the Lone Star State.
Ufologists claim the hamlet's lack of intent to capitalize on what could be a tourist gold mine, speaks volumes. No alien-related businesses have sprung up around town.
Intriguingly, this legendary incident is now documented on a Texas Historical Commission marker outside the Aurora Cemetery.
But what of the remains of the downed craft, itself? Are they locked in some basement somewhere, still glowing with otherworldly power?
According to tale, portions of the shattered space vehicle were carted off by citizens shortly after the crash. One piece of the vessel was said to have been buried with the alien, itself, while the remainder of twisted metal was thrown down a well.
Brawley Oates — a subsequent owner of the property upon which this pit resides — suffered grotesque swelling of his joints, perhaps due to ingestion of contaminated water from the spring.
Is an alloy slug recovered from the alleged crash site proof of extraterrestrial contact? Metallurgists determined an inch-long chard retrieved from the area was composed of high grade aluminum that didn't exist in 1897, and would be difficult to manufacture, even today.
UFO investigators continue their efforts to exhume whatever is buried in a now-unmarked grave in the Aurora Cemetery. However, they face legal impediments from local authorities attempting to protect their tiny town from further vandalism.
Should you care to visit the Aurora Cemetery, and gaze upon what might be the most important grave on the planet, the boneyard is located on Cemetery Road in Aurora, Texas. Aurora is nestled in the northeast portion of the state. From US 81/287 in Rhome, take Highway 114 and head west for a mile and a half before turning onto Cemetery Road and venturing south. The Aurora Cemetery resides half a mile down, on the left hand side of the street.
Sources:
Movies:
UFO Hunters: The Complete Season Two. Prod. John Alon Walz. Perfs. Dr. Ted Acworth, Bill Birnes, James Lurie, Pat Uskert. DVD, 2007. ISBN: 1-4229-3099-8
Online Sources:
Aurora, Texas, UFO Incident:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aurora,_Texas_UFO_Incident
THE LOMPOC GIANT (CALIFORNIA)
My rusty spade split parched desert soil.
Barely.
The Mojave ground was so depleted of moisture, I had already broken three shovel blades, and we weren't even halfway done with this lousy hole.
Still, the powder magazine needed to be dug. At least that's what El Comandante kept telling us.
I eased back from the pit Juan Miguel and I had been excavating in the noonday Sun. It had to be a hundred and ten out. Almost twice that here at ground level.
We'd been stationed in this godforsaken furnace since 1831. It was already 1833. Having been the best of friends since childhood made our situation almost tolerable. Juan sat back, using my shadow as the only shade for a mile. I gazed out at the barren land that was eating us alive.
"There has to be a better way," I mused to myself.
"Quieres un poco?"
I turned. Juan offered up his tiny, dented flask. I grabbed the decanter, and gulped.
"Agghh!" I gasped. Vile, American whiskey burnt my bleeding lips, poisoned my swollen throat and devoured my stomach lining.
Juan laughed. He knew I hated anything gringo.
"Donde esta el tequila?" I turned to the man I trusted most in this Sun-bleached oven.
"No hay mas," came my friend's hoarse reply.
"Mezcal?" I quipped.
Juan Miguel just laughed. He sounded like El Diablo, himself, mocking me for getting into this mess. I stared into the nothingness that swallowed us whole. Was this Hell? Would we make it out of here alive?
"Estoy cansado."
I cursed myself, took a second pull off the white man's rotgut, and handed the worn canteen back to Juan Miguel. Tucking my hat tightly over my eyes, I prepared to break my shovel blade again. My trowel crashed hard into solid earth.
"Aye, mi Dios!" Juan leapt to his blistered feet, a spark arcing from my useless digging utensil.
The dirt was hard as stone, but this was the first time we had seen fire emit from our efforts. Juan Miguel and I exchanged glances.
I tentatively lifted the shovel in preparation for a rematch with the impenetrable ground.
"No, no, no!" Juan raised his hand. "Pare ahora!"
He knelt down before me, brushing the soil away at my feet. Beneath his fingertips, something began to emerge. Something not part of the ground. A skull. A human skull.
To anyone else, in any other situation, such a find may have produced a number of heightened responses. Our battalion had run across so many human skeletons out here, though, if an army of the dead were to rise up one night, it would outnumber us three-to-one.
Juan Miguel's sweeping hand made another pass over the dislodged soil, revealing an eye socket the size of a cannonball.
"Madre de Dios!" my friend retreated.
Before the day was through, our regiment would unearth a human cranium larger than any we'd seen before, and a 12 foot tall skeleton attached to it. If that weren't enough, the ancient skull we discovered housed double rows of teeth.
The aforementioned may sound like a work of fiction, but a similar account allegedly occurred in 1833, when Mexican soldiers excavated a colossal human skeleton, in what is now Lompoc, California. Although the find was astonishing, the impromptu discovery was reburied by local Native Americans, who deemed it a harbinger of evil. To the best of anyone's knowledge, the enormous remains still reside somewhere beneath Southern California soil.
Such a historical loss may seem tragic. However, the alleged incident in Lompoc was anything but isolated. During an era in which prospectors tore holes in the Earth — seeking copper, gold and silver — abnormally large, human skeletons were often discovered beneath the continental U.S. In particular, Lovelock, Nevada, and central Minnesota proved to be treasure troves of enormous hominid bones.
Familiar with a giant species of humans that once walked the planet, Native Americans were anything but surprised by these finds. In fact, histories of indigenous inhabitants speak of battles waged against a gargantuan human race.
What is unfortunate is the shoddy record keeping during the 19th century, as well as that era's archaic means of forensic preservation. Both contributed to the loss of almost all gigantic human remains discovered in the 1800s.
Although physical proof of colossal hominids may be missing, written evidence of such a species could have been staring us in the face for over 2,000 years. Thumb through the Old Testament's Book of Genesis to Chapter 6, Verse 4, and you'll find a simple sentence stating, "there were giants in the earth in those days."
Lompoc is located in Santa Barbara County, north of Oxnard and Ventura.
Accessed via Highway 1, none of the community's 40,000 residents currently stand 12 feet in height.
Sources:
Books:
Bishop, Greg; Oesterle, Joe; Marinacci, Mike. (2006). Weird California: Your Travel Guide to California's Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets. p. 30. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402733844
Online Sources:
Giant (mythology):
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giant_%28mythology%29#Giant_Human_Remains
My rusty spade split parched desert soil.
Barely.
The Mojave ground was so depleted of moisture, I had already broken three shovel blades, and we weren't even halfway done with this lousy hole.
Still, the powder magazine needed to be dug. At least that's what El Comandante kept telling us.
I eased back from the pit Juan Miguel and I had been excavating in the noonday Sun. It had to be a hundred and ten out. Almost twice that here at ground level.
We'd been stationed in this godforsaken furnace since 1831. It was already 1833. Having been the best of friends since childhood made our situation almost tolerable. Juan sat back, using my shadow as the only shade for a mile. I gazed out at the barren land that was eating us alive.
"There has to be a better way," I mused to myself.
"Quieres un poco?"
I turned. Juan offered up his tiny, dented flask. I grabbed the decanter, and gulped.
"Agghh!" I gasped. Vile, American whiskey burnt my bleeding lips, poisoned my swollen throat and devoured my stomach lining.
Juan laughed. He knew I hated anything gringo.
"Donde esta el tequila?" I turned to the man I trusted most in this Sun-bleached oven.
"No hay mas," came my friend's hoarse reply.
"Mezcal?" I quipped.
Juan Miguel just laughed. He sounded like El Diablo, himself, mocking me for getting into this mess. I stared into the nothingness that swallowed us whole. Was this Hell? Would we make it out of here alive?
"Estoy cansado."
I cursed myself, took a second pull off the white man's rotgut, and handed the worn canteen back to Juan Miguel. Tucking my hat tightly over my eyes, I prepared to break my shovel blade again. My trowel crashed hard into solid earth.
"Aye, mi Dios!" Juan leapt to his blistered feet, a spark arcing from my useless digging utensil.
The dirt was hard as stone, but this was the first time we had seen fire emit from our efforts. Juan Miguel and I exchanged glances.
I tentatively lifted the shovel in preparation for a rematch with the impenetrable ground.
"No, no, no!" Juan raised his hand. "Pare ahora!"
He knelt down before me, brushing the soil away at my feet. Beneath his fingertips, something began to emerge. Something not part of the ground. A skull. A human skull.
To anyone else, in any other situation, such a find may have produced a number of heightened responses. Our battalion had run across so many human skeletons out here, though, if an army of the dead were to rise up one night, it would outnumber us three-to-one.
Juan Miguel's sweeping hand made another pass over the dislodged soil, revealing an eye socket the size of a cannonball.
"Madre de Dios!" my friend retreated.
Before the day was through, our regiment would unearth a human cranium larger than any we'd seen before, and a 12 foot tall skeleton attached to it. If that weren't enough, the ancient skull we discovered housed double rows of teeth.
The aforementioned may sound like a work of fiction, but a similar account allegedly occurred in 1833, when Mexican soldiers excavated a colossal human skeleton, in what is now Lompoc, California. Although the find was astonishing, the impromptu discovery was reburied by local Native Americans, who deemed it a harbinger of evil. To the best of anyone's knowledge, the enormous remains still reside somewhere beneath Southern California soil.
Such a historical loss may seem tragic. However, the alleged incident in Lompoc was anything but isolated. During an era in which prospectors tore holes in the Earth — seeking copper, gold and silver — abnormally large, human skeletons were often discovered beneath the continental U.S. In particular, Lovelock, Nevada, and central Minnesota proved to be treasure troves of enormous hominid bones.
Familiar with a giant species of humans that once walked the planet, Native Americans were anything but surprised by these finds. In fact, histories of indigenous inhabitants speak of battles waged against a gargantuan human race.
What is unfortunate is the shoddy record keeping during the 19th century, as well as that era's archaic means of forensic preservation. Both contributed to the loss of almost all gigantic human remains discovered in the 1800s.
Although physical proof of colossal hominids may be missing, written evidence of such a species could have been staring us in the face for over 2,000 years. Thumb through the Old Testament's Book of Genesis to Chapter 6, Verse 4, and you'll find a simple sentence stating, "there were giants in the earth in those days."
Lompoc is located in Santa Barbara County, north of Oxnard and Ventura.
Accessed via Highway 1, none of the community's 40,000 residents currently stand 12 feet in height.
Sources:
Books:
Bishop, Greg; Oesterle, Joe; Marinacci, Mike. (2006). Weird California: Your Travel Guide to California's Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets. p. 30. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402733844
Online Sources:
Giant (mythology):
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Giant_%28mythology%29#Giant_Human_Remains
A GRAVITY-DEFYING STAIRCASE? (NEW MEXICO)
Rain deluged the chalky desert street. Below the soil, dense caliche kept the water from dissipating. Arc lightning fanned out across a sky exhibiting more colors than an Italian Renaissance painting. In the distance, the thunder of wild horses could be heard. Somewhere, a coyote ensnared a less agile creature.
Wrapped in gossamer linens, a lone figure stole toward a modest church in the center of town. Reaching the cathedral, the mysterious stranger raised a gnarled fist the size of a mountain lion skull, and pounded on the ample wooden door before him.
No answer. Given the extreme conditions, the drifter was obviously patient, and didn't make a second attempt for another minute.
Light emitted from the furthest window of the sanctuary, flickering as it carved a path to the building’s front entrance. Bulky, metal locks released. On crackling hinges, the wooden door opened, exposing the softened face of a nun.
"May I help you?"
The stranger stepped into the moonlight, illuminating features constructed of Sun-dried leather. "I've come for the staircase."
Perplexed, the woman responded, “I— I'm sorry. I don't understand. The staircase?"
"Yes."
The nun's mind raced. "Here?" The woman motioned to the chapel around her.
"Yes."
Nonplussed, the sister's brow furrowed. "Well, I'm sorry. You must be misinformed. We have no staircase at Loretto Chapel."
"No?"
The woman shook her head.
"Have you any warm water?"
Confused, the nun assumed the stranger was seeking a bath and perhaps shelter for the evening.
"Why, yes."
From a rough-hewn satchel, the withered traveler produced a carpenter's square, hammer and saw. "Then in three months, you shall have a staircase."
Santa Fe, New Mexico: A scenic art community rich in history, but also an alleged paranormal hotspot.
The city's enigmatic past includes La Llarona, or the Legend of the Weeping Woman — in which a female entity searches the rivers of the southwest for her lost children, whom she drowned. *
* La Llarona:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Llorona
The Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi — an exquisite cathedral dedicated to a man claimed to have been the first stigmatic in recorded history. **
** Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cathedral_Basilica_of_St._Francis_of_Assisi
La Plazuela restaurant — home to the spirit of a salesman who reportedly leapt to his death down a well once located in the center of the venue. ***
*** Haunted La Fonda Hotel in Santa Fe:
http://www.legendsofamerica.com/nm-lafondahotel.html
Without question, Santa Fe is a paranormal investigator’s paradise. Consider, for instance, Loretto Chapel, an exquisite church of antiquity nestled in the heart of the capital city. Inside Loretto exists a staircase which, according to certain sources, defies gravity. So popular have the stairs of Loretto become, they’ve been featured on the television shows National Geographic, Ripley's Believe It or Not and Unsolved Mysteries.
Termed the Miraculous Staircase, this set of steps winds around itself twice in consecutive 360-degree turns. Since the stairwell at Loretto possesses no center support, many claim the swirling steps oppose the known laws of gravity. Just as compelling as the stairway, though, is the legend behind the architectural marvel's construction.
The chapel at Loretto was near completion around 1878, but somehow a staircase to the second story choir loft hadn't been factored into the plans.
A stairwell of then-standard size would have proven far too large for the little church. Requiring a method to reach the upper level of the sanctuary, the sisters of Loretto prayed to St. Joseph — the patron saint of carpenters — over a period of nine straight days.
Following the ministry's novena, a gray-bearded stranger appeared at the door of the cathedral, informing the nuns he would build the staircase, but needed privacy in which to complete the task.
Locking himself in the chapel for three months — using only a carpenter's square, hammer, saw and warm water — the visitor manufactured a stairwell made of wood non-native to New Mexico.
From whence the lumber was procured remains another mystery, as the sisters of Loretto never witnessed the architect leave the church during construction of the stairs. In fact, the nuns hadn't observed a delivery of any sort to their beloved basilica, throughout the interim.
The fact that no nails are employed in the creation of the staircase seems incomprehensible, when considering up to 20 adults have stood simultaneously upon this curiosity.
The identity of the carpenter in question remains a mystery, as well. Upon completion of his task, he departed, never seeking compensation, and never being heard from again.
The stairway at Loretto Chapel stands 20 feet high, comprising 33 individual steps, the same number of years Jesus Christ purportedly walked the Earth.
Open to the public seven days a week, admission to view the enigmatic staircase is nominal.
Sources:
Online Movies:
Zzyzx: Destination Three. Loretto Chapel:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q6Ho6-Sdghk
Online Sources:
Haunted Santa Fe:
http://www.legendsofamerica.com/nm-santafeghosts.html
La Llarona — Weeping Woman of the Southwest:
http://www.legendsofamerica.com/gh-lallorona.html
Loretto Chapel:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loretto_Chapel
Loretto Chapel [2]:
http://www.lorettochapel.com/index.html
Rain deluged the chalky desert street. Below the soil, dense caliche kept the water from dissipating. Arc lightning fanned out across a sky exhibiting more colors than an Italian Renaissance painting. In the distance, the thunder of wild horses could be heard. Somewhere, a coyote ensnared a less agile creature.
Wrapped in gossamer linens, a lone figure stole toward a modest church in the center of town. Reaching the cathedral, the mysterious stranger raised a gnarled fist the size of a mountain lion skull, and pounded on the ample wooden door before him.
No answer. Given the extreme conditions, the drifter was obviously patient, and didn't make a second attempt for another minute.
Light emitted from the furthest window of the sanctuary, flickering as it carved a path to the building’s front entrance. Bulky, metal locks released. On crackling hinges, the wooden door opened, exposing the softened face of a nun.
"May I help you?"
The stranger stepped into the moonlight, illuminating features constructed of Sun-dried leather. "I've come for the staircase."
Perplexed, the woman responded, “I— I'm sorry. I don't understand. The staircase?"
"Yes."
The nun's mind raced. "Here?" The woman motioned to the chapel around her.
"Yes."
Nonplussed, the sister's brow furrowed. "Well, I'm sorry. You must be misinformed. We have no staircase at Loretto Chapel."
"No?"
The woman shook her head.
"Have you any warm water?"
Confused, the nun assumed the stranger was seeking a bath and perhaps shelter for the evening.
"Why, yes."
From a rough-hewn satchel, the withered traveler produced a carpenter's square, hammer and saw. "Then in three months, you shall have a staircase."
Santa Fe, New Mexico: A scenic art community rich in history, but also an alleged paranormal hotspot.
The city's enigmatic past includes La Llarona, or the Legend of the Weeping Woman — in which a female entity searches the rivers of the southwest for her lost children, whom she drowned. *
* La Llarona:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Llorona
The Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi — an exquisite cathedral dedicated to a man claimed to have been the first stigmatic in recorded history. **
** Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cathedral_Basilica_of_St._Francis_of_Assisi
La Plazuela restaurant — home to the spirit of a salesman who reportedly leapt to his death down a well once located in the center of the venue. ***
*** Haunted La Fonda Hotel in Santa Fe:
http://www.legendsofamerica.com/nm-lafondahotel.html
Without question, Santa Fe is a paranormal investigator’s paradise. Consider, for instance, Loretto Chapel, an exquisite church of antiquity nestled in the heart of the capital city. Inside Loretto exists a staircase which, according to certain sources, defies gravity. So popular have the stairs of Loretto become, they’ve been featured on the television shows National Geographic, Ripley's Believe It or Not and Unsolved Mysteries.
Termed the Miraculous Staircase, this set of steps winds around itself twice in consecutive 360-degree turns. Since the stairwell at Loretto possesses no center support, many claim the swirling steps oppose the known laws of gravity. Just as compelling as the stairway, though, is the legend behind the architectural marvel's construction.
The chapel at Loretto was near completion around 1878, but somehow a staircase to the second story choir loft hadn't been factored into the plans.
A stairwell of then-standard size would have proven far too large for the little church. Requiring a method to reach the upper level of the sanctuary, the sisters of Loretto prayed to St. Joseph — the patron saint of carpenters — over a period of nine straight days.
Following the ministry's novena, a gray-bearded stranger appeared at the door of the cathedral, informing the nuns he would build the staircase, but needed privacy in which to complete the task.
Locking himself in the chapel for three months — using only a carpenter's square, hammer, saw and warm water — the visitor manufactured a stairwell made of wood non-native to New Mexico.
From whence the lumber was procured remains another mystery, as the sisters of Loretto never witnessed the architect leave the church during construction of the stairs. In fact, the nuns hadn't observed a delivery of any sort to their beloved basilica, throughout the interim.
The fact that no nails are employed in the creation of the staircase seems incomprehensible, when considering up to 20 adults have stood simultaneously upon this curiosity.
The identity of the carpenter in question remains a mystery, as well. Upon completion of his task, he departed, never seeking compensation, and never being heard from again.
The stairway at Loretto Chapel stands 20 feet high, comprising 33 individual steps, the same number of years Jesus Christ purportedly walked the Earth.
Open to the public seven days a week, admission to view the enigmatic staircase is nominal.
Sources:
Online Movies:
Zzyzx: Destination Three. Loretto Chapel:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q6Ho6-Sdghk
Online Sources:
Haunted Santa Fe:
http://www.legendsofamerica.com/nm-santafeghosts.html
La Llarona — Weeping Woman of the Southwest:
http://www.legendsofamerica.com/gh-lallorona.html
Loretto Chapel:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loretto_Chapel
Loretto Chapel [2]:
http://www.lorettochapel.com/index.html
THE LEGEND OF EPHRAIM GRAY (MASSACHUSETTS)
Lightning ripped the blackened sky like a scalpel through buttery flesh.
Gnarled fingers of cold clawed at anything exposed, destroying skin.
A full Moon illuminated empty streets.
Amid this brutal New England winter, candlelight provided a view into a mysterious residence at the center of town. The silhouette of a male figure could be seen pacing before an attic window. If one gazed into these secret proceedings using a spyglass, they might catch a glimpse of an aging man mixing concoctions amidst a laboratory.
Cauldrons bubbled. Steam emitted from simmering, makeshift beakers. By contemporary standards, the scene would have appeared archaic — a mad scientist attempting to reanimate the dead.
A pot was turned three-quarters to the left; a flame was stoked; wrinkled hands dispensed a carefully calibrated amount of liquid into a goblet. As the heavens crashed around him, the man brought the chalice to his lips. Thunder shook the walls, as he drank. Swallowing the acidic fluid, he wondered, would he soon be able to live forever?
Area 51; the Bermuda Triangle; Roswell, New Mexico. Malden, Massachusetts, doesn't generally top anybody's list of paranormal hotspots. Besides an average number of purported hauntings, what supernatural claim could this enchanting East Coast community possess? Only the possible birthplace of the secret to immortality.
His name was Ephraim Gray, and like most small town recluses during the mid-19th century, his covert, nocturnal schedule kept neighbors in a state of wonder.
And then there was that hideous odor emanating from his home. What was it? Was Ephraim conjuring up the undead? Was Mr. Gray a Victorian era Dr. Frankenstein?
For years, only Ephraim and his manservant were privy to the unusual events taking place within the Gray household.
And then, one day in 1850, Mr. Gray's live-in attendant reported that Ephraim had died of natural causes, whilst the town of Malden slept the previous evening.
The assistant claimed Mr. Gray had been a self-trained chemist, spending the greater portion of his life developing an elixir that would guarantee him immortality. According to the servant, even though Ephraim had failed to perfect his solution, he had ingested enough of whatever potion he did create to make certain his corpse would withstand the process of decay.
Heir to his master's estate, the attendant was ensured Ephraim's legacy only upon transportation of Mr. Gray's corpse directly to the Malden Cemetery, without stops for autopsy or embalming. Living up to his word, the assistant carried out his employer's single request.
Of the mysterious elixir of immortality, the formula was never found.
Enter a handful of Harvard students some two decades later; a group curious about Ephraim's grand quest. The assemblage trekked to Mr. Gray's crypt, in hopes of uncovering whether or not his corpse had actually staved off the ravages of decay. Prying open the coffin, there's no way the students could have prepared themselves for what they found; a perfectly preserved Ephraim Gray, lacking the slightest hint of decomposition.
Their questioning appetites satiated, the students sealed the casket, once again entombing Mr. Gray below ground. They then made a solemn oath to keep their midnight grave tampering to themselves, lest they be expelled from medical school.
As the 20th century roared in — propelled by automobiles — the need to relocate the Malden Cemetery arose, making way for a road directly through the burial grounds. The exhumation of caskets went off without a hitch, until boneyard employees hoisted one Ephraim Gray's coffin from the ground, and found it to be abnormally light. Upon opening the funerary box, the grave diggers discovered the sarcophagus empty.
The disappearance of Mr. Gray's cadaver caused word of the medical students' outing to surface. The pupils — now middle-aged — swore they had resealed Ephraim's coffin with extreme care, leaving his corpse where they found it.
To this day, the whereabouts of Ephraim Gray's body remain a mystery. How the cadaver vanished is also a conundrum. Is it possible Mr. Gray unraveled the secret to immortality? Does he continue to walk the Earth, destined to live forever, while the rest of us age and eventually die?
Have you ever met someone too knowledgeable about a century past, as though they could have only obtained such wisdom through firsthand experience? Look closely. Does that person seem to defy the aging process? If so, take heed. You may be in the presence of Ephraim Gray.
Located in Middlesex County, Malden, Massachusetts resides in the northeastern portion of the Bay State. From Boston, travel north along Route 93. Take Exit 32, and follow Route 60 east until you reach your destination.
Sources:
Books:
Citro, Joseph A. (2005). Weird New England: Your Travel Guide to New England's Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets. pp. 16–17. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402733305
Online Movies:
Zzyzx: Destination Five. The Legend of Ephraim Gray:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xckgE7WRuog
Online Sources:
Ephraim Gray:
http://theshadowlands.net/gray.html
Lightning ripped the blackened sky like a scalpel through buttery flesh.
Gnarled fingers of cold clawed at anything exposed, destroying skin.
A full Moon illuminated empty streets.
Amid this brutal New England winter, candlelight provided a view into a mysterious residence at the center of town. The silhouette of a male figure could be seen pacing before an attic window. If one gazed into these secret proceedings using a spyglass, they might catch a glimpse of an aging man mixing concoctions amidst a laboratory.
Cauldrons bubbled. Steam emitted from simmering, makeshift beakers. By contemporary standards, the scene would have appeared archaic — a mad scientist attempting to reanimate the dead.
A pot was turned three-quarters to the left; a flame was stoked; wrinkled hands dispensed a carefully calibrated amount of liquid into a goblet. As the heavens crashed around him, the man brought the chalice to his lips. Thunder shook the walls, as he drank. Swallowing the acidic fluid, he wondered, would he soon be able to live forever?
Area 51; the Bermuda Triangle; Roswell, New Mexico. Malden, Massachusetts, doesn't generally top anybody's list of paranormal hotspots. Besides an average number of purported hauntings, what supernatural claim could this enchanting East Coast community possess? Only the possible birthplace of the secret to immortality.
His name was Ephraim Gray, and like most small town recluses during the mid-19th century, his covert, nocturnal schedule kept neighbors in a state of wonder.
And then there was that hideous odor emanating from his home. What was it? Was Ephraim conjuring up the undead? Was Mr. Gray a Victorian era Dr. Frankenstein?
For years, only Ephraim and his manservant were privy to the unusual events taking place within the Gray household.
And then, one day in 1850, Mr. Gray's live-in attendant reported that Ephraim had died of natural causes, whilst the town of Malden slept the previous evening.
The assistant claimed Mr. Gray had been a self-trained chemist, spending the greater portion of his life developing an elixir that would guarantee him immortality. According to the servant, even though Ephraim had failed to perfect his solution, he had ingested enough of whatever potion he did create to make certain his corpse would withstand the process of decay.
Heir to his master's estate, the attendant was ensured Ephraim's legacy only upon transportation of Mr. Gray's corpse directly to the Malden Cemetery, without stops for autopsy or embalming. Living up to his word, the assistant carried out his employer's single request.
Of the mysterious elixir of immortality, the formula was never found.
Enter a handful of Harvard students some two decades later; a group curious about Ephraim's grand quest. The assemblage trekked to Mr. Gray's crypt, in hopes of uncovering whether or not his corpse had actually staved off the ravages of decay. Prying open the coffin, there's no way the students could have prepared themselves for what they found; a perfectly preserved Ephraim Gray, lacking the slightest hint of decomposition.
Their questioning appetites satiated, the students sealed the casket, once again entombing Mr. Gray below ground. They then made a solemn oath to keep their midnight grave tampering to themselves, lest they be expelled from medical school.
As the 20th century roared in — propelled by automobiles — the need to relocate the Malden Cemetery arose, making way for a road directly through the burial grounds. The exhumation of caskets went off without a hitch, until boneyard employees hoisted one Ephraim Gray's coffin from the ground, and found it to be abnormally light. Upon opening the funerary box, the grave diggers discovered the sarcophagus empty.
The disappearance of Mr. Gray's cadaver caused word of the medical students' outing to surface. The pupils — now middle-aged — swore they had resealed Ephraim's coffin with extreme care, leaving his corpse where they found it.
To this day, the whereabouts of Ephraim Gray's body remain a mystery. How the cadaver vanished is also a conundrum. Is it possible Mr. Gray unraveled the secret to immortality? Does he continue to walk the Earth, destined to live forever, while the rest of us age and eventually die?
Have you ever met someone too knowledgeable about a century past, as though they could have only obtained such wisdom through firsthand experience? Look closely. Does that person seem to defy the aging process? If so, take heed. You may be in the presence of Ephraim Gray.
Located in Middlesex County, Malden, Massachusetts resides in the northeastern portion of the Bay State. From Boston, travel north along Route 93. Take Exit 32, and follow Route 60 east until you reach your destination.
Sources:
Books:
Citro, Joseph A. (2005). Weird New England: Your Travel Guide to New England's Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets. pp. 16–17. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402733305
Online Movies:
Zzyzx: Destination Five. The Legend of Ephraim Gray:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xckgE7WRuog
Online Sources:
Ephraim Gray:
http://theshadowlands.net/gray.html
THE KINGMAN UFO CRASH (ARIZONA)
I have seen three objects in the last seven years which defied any explanation of known phenomenon, such as Venus, atmospheric optics, meteors or planes. I am a professional, highly skilled astronomer...I think that several reputable scientists are being unscientific in refusing to entertain the possibility of extraterrestrial origin and nature. *
— astronomer who discovered the now-dwarf planet Pluto, Dr. Clyde W. Tombaugh
* Clyde Tombaugh:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clyde_Tombaugh#Interest_in_UFOs
"Who the hell are these people?" Arthur wondered, glancing at the passengers around the bus. The soldier at the front of the vehicle made it clear the engineer wasn't to speak to anyone.
Arthur peeled at the strips of duct tape covering the window adjacent his seat. This stuff was thick; at least four layers. The glass panes encircling the vehicle were encased in it.
He wasn't military. Why the hell was he here? Sure, the company he worked for was contracted out by Uncle Sam, but the bus had been on the road now for four hours.
The vehicle slowed to a halt. Tension heightened amongst his fellow passengers.
The door to the bus opened, and the serviceman stationed at the front saluted whomever stood just outside. A brief conversation ensued before G.I. Joe turned to the ensemble.
"Might I remind you," the officer bellowed, "you're all under contract of the United States government. What you see and experience from this point forward is held in the strictest of confidence. You will speak of this incident to no one!"
With the decree, Arthur and his fellow passengers were led into the pre-dawn desert. In the sand before them — illuminated by stationary searchlights — rested a 30 foot wide, circular craft. The collective silence spoke volumes.
"Did the military crash one of its experimental vehicles?!” Arthur's mind raced.
The vessel had to have wrecked. A fissure defaced the otherwise flawless metal of it's fuselage.
"Okay, so this thing ditched," Arthur deduced. "But from where?"
The only tire tracks around the vehicle belonged to the military Jeeps now surrounding the craft. Whatever this was hadn't been driven to its current location.
"And what's with all this secrecy?" Arthur pondered. "A covert, military operation undertaken in the dead of night? Why not just wait until daybreak to clean this up?"
This was definitely something big; by all indications, huge. Arthur recalled a dime store pulp penned about men from Mars. "Hadn't some pilot seen nine of these things in Washington state a few years ago?" He seemed to recall an alleged crash somewhere in New Mexico, as well. "When was that? '47? '48?"
Stancil didn't remember. But the incident had been declared a mistake, right? Damn, he could use a pre-breakfast beverage.
A carved in stone officer from Hell emerged from the darkness, belching chronic halitosis into Arthur’s face.
"Stancil!" the prototype for the perfect soldier bellowed forth.
Shocked, Arthur recoiled. “Y— yes?”
"Arthur G.?" the behemoth sensed fear, and leapt all over it.
"Yes."
"Engineer?"
“Y— yes, sir."
"Follow me."
Arthur got the feeling this Neanderthal didn't give a damn who he worked for: Communists, Nazis, U.S. Marine Corps, it was all the same; just another excuse to exert control.
The officer glared back at the engineer, as though he could read minds.
Stancil lowered his gaze. Fifteen feet from the wreckage, the military official stopped. Arthur followed suit.
The combative drone turned to the mechanical engineer. "You have one objective, Mr. Stancil. Determine the velocity at which it crashed to Earth. The more quickly you accomplish your task, the more quickly we'll have you home."
Arthur hesitated, glancing at the incredible craft.
"'Crashed to Earth?'" he thought. "So, this is some sort of...whatever."
“Wh— what is it?" Stancil queried.
Unsnapping the holster on his sidearm, the officer towered over Arthur. "Ask that question again, and it'll be your last."
The engineer stood his ground, although his trembling hands were a giveaway he was a house of cards in a windstorm. "This is beyond huge," determined Stancil. "Either this is Top Secret Ruskie, or—“ The engineer shuddered at the obvious conclusion.
"I'll...I'll need a slide rule, the longest measuring tape you've got, and a pad. Oh, and a pencil, too."
The officer pointed toward an illuminated tent. "You'll find everything in there. Ask for Sergeant Malloy.” With that, "Major Pain" disappeared into the night.
Arthur would see the supersoldier twice again, both times in fitful nightmares months later.
The calculations went pretty smoothly. Angle of trajectory; distance the craft was embedded into the soil. None of it was precise, but let's face it, these jarheads wouldn't know the difference.
While determining his solution, Arthur queried the handful of civilians around him. He learned of a diminutive cockpit located somewhere within the vehicle. He pondered looking inside, but the mental image of the mammoth, armed officer kept him from doing so.
An hour later, Stancil submitted his conclusion, and was escorted back to the bus. Along the way, he passed a tiny tent wreaking of astringent. The engineer managed a quick look inside. What he saw would forever change his life.
A body; human, yet not human. An anthropomorphic being, perhaps four feet in height. Whatever it was, it appeared dead. Before attempting a closer look, visions of square-jawed Marines pistol whipping him filled his overactive brain. Stepping quickly from the tent, Arthur continued his walk back to the bus.
Copies of a pledge of secrecy were signed, which forbade Stancil and the other civilians from ever speaking of the incident.
The ride back to Phoenix Sky Harbor concluded around 9 AM. Unless the driver was traveling in circles, the vehicle would have headed northwest during its initial excursion. Well under four hours south would place the bus somewhere in Mexico. Due north would take it beyond Flagstaff and into a much more wooded area. Only one solution remained. Highway 93, up through Wickenburg. Kingman — a four hour drive northwest of Phoenix — was still desert by any account.
Whether or not the preceding story is true remains a mystery. Arthur G. Stancil — a.k.a. Fritz Werner, allegedly a mechanical engineer graduating from Ohio University — came forth with this incredible tale as early as 1964. The story gained recognition in 1973 when renowned UFO investigator Raymond Fowler published his own research on the subject. Fowler purports to having conducted extensive background investigation on the individual known as Arthur G. Stancil, and determined him to be of credible nature. Fowler also claims Stancil displayed extensive knowledge regarding the field of mechanical engineering.
Evidence corroborating the fantastical story would later emerge from Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in Ohio. Former staff stationed at the military installation attested to the arrival of "three small bodies packed in dry ice," shipped from Arizona during the time frame of the reported crash. According to personnel, the diminutive cadavers sported oversized craniums and brown skin.
A lack of physical evidence validating Stancil's assertions remains. Combine this with the fact military personnel giving testimony are either unable or unwilling to divulge their names, and you've got an account that may or may not be true.
Since portions of Arthur's claims have subsequently changed, any researcher seeking veracity would be well advised to approach this case with a dubious mindset.
Did a UFO of extraterrestrial origin really crash in Kingman, Arizona, on May 20, 1953? Take Interstate 40 west from Flagstaff and find out for yourself. Kingman can also be reached from Phoenix by traveling northwest on Highway 60, and continuing through Wickenburg along the 93. Upon reaching Interstate 40, head west for 20 miles, and you'll arrive at your destination.
Kingman is located 25 miles east of Bullhead City, Arizona, and Laughlin, Nevada, both of which hug state line. Traversing Route 66 on your way to Vegas, you'll find yourself passing through this historic destination. Stop and speak to the locals; tour the city. Perhaps you'll be able to solve a modern mystery.
Sources:
Books:
Belzer, Richard. (1999). UFOs, JFK, and Elvis: Conspiracies You Don't Have to Be Crazy to Believe. p. 164. The Ballantine Publishing Group. ISBN: 0345429184
Randle, Kevin D. (2010). Crash: When UFOs Fall From the Sky: A History of Famous Incidents, Conspiracies, and Cover-Ups. pp. 160–175. New Page Books. ISBN: 1601631006
Online Sources:
UFO Crash in Arizona, 1953:
http://www.ufocasebook.com/Arizona.html
I have seen three objects in the last seven years which defied any explanation of known phenomenon, such as Venus, atmospheric optics, meteors or planes. I am a professional, highly skilled astronomer...I think that several reputable scientists are being unscientific in refusing to entertain the possibility of extraterrestrial origin and nature. *
— astronomer who discovered the now-dwarf planet Pluto, Dr. Clyde W. Tombaugh
* Clyde Tombaugh:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clyde_Tombaugh#Interest_in_UFOs
"Who the hell are these people?" Arthur wondered, glancing at the passengers around the bus. The soldier at the front of the vehicle made it clear the engineer wasn't to speak to anyone.
Arthur peeled at the strips of duct tape covering the window adjacent his seat. This stuff was thick; at least four layers. The glass panes encircling the vehicle were encased in it.
He wasn't military. Why the hell was he here? Sure, the company he worked for was contracted out by Uncle Sam, but the bus had been on the road now for four hours.
The vehicle slowed to a halt. Tension heightened amongst his fellow passengers.
The door to the bus opened, and the serviceman stationed at the front saluted whomever stood just outside. A brief conversation ensued before G.I. Joe turned to the ensemble.
"Might I remind you," the officer bellowed, "you're all under contract of the United States government. What you see and experience from this point forward is held in the strictest of confidence. You will speak of this incident to no one!"
With the decree, Arthur and his fellow passengers were led into the pre-dawn desert. In the sand before them — illuminated by stationary searchlights — rested a 30 foot wide, circular craft. The collective silence spoke volumes.
"Did the military crash one of its experimental vehicles?!” Arthur's mind raced.
The vessel had to have wrecked. A fissure defaced the otherwise flawless metal of it's fuselage.
"Okay, so this thing ditched," Arthur deduced. "But from where?"
The only tire tracks around the vehicle belonged to the military Jeeps now surrounding the craft. Whatever this was hadn't been driven to its current location.
"And what's with all this secrecy?" Arthur pondered. "A covert, military operation undertaken in the dead of night? Why not just wait until daybreak to clean this up?"
This was definitely something big; by all indications, huge. Arthur recalled a dime store pulp penned about men from Mars. "Hadn't some pilot seen nine of these things in Washington state a few years ago?" He seemed to recall an alleged crash somewhere in New Mexico, as well. "When was that? '47? '48?"
Stancil didn't remember. But the incident had been declared a mistake, right? Damn, he could use a pre-breakfast beverage.
A carved in stone officer from Hell emerged from the darkness, belching chronic halitosis into Arthur’s face.
"Stancil!" the prototype for the perfect soldier bellowed forth.
Shocked, Arthur recoiled. “Y— yes?”
"Arthur G.?" the behemoth sensed fear, and leapt all over it.
"Yes."
"Engineer?"
“Y— yes, sir."
"Follow me."
Arthur got the feeling this Neanderthal didn't give a damn who he worked for: Communists, Nazis, U.S. Marine Corps, it was all the same; just another excuse to exert control.
The officer glared back at the engineer, as though he could read minds.
Stancil lowered his gaze. Fifteen feet from the wreckage, the military official stopped. Arthur followed suit.
The combative drone turned to the mechanical engineer. "You have one objective, Mr. Stancil. Determine the velocity at which it crashed to Earth. The more quickly you accomplish your task, the more quickly we'll have you home."
Arthur hesitated, glancing at the incredible craft.
"'Crashed to Earth?'" he thought. "So, this is some sort of...whatever."
“Wh— what is it?" Stancil queried.
Unsnapping the holster on his sidearm, the officer towered over Arthur. "Ask that question again, and it'll be your last."
The engineer stood his ground, although his trembling hands were a giveaway he was a house of cards in a windstorm. "This is beyond huge," determined Stancil. "Either this is Top Secret Ruskie, or—“ The engineer shuddered at the obvious conclusion.
"I'll...I'll need a slide rule, the longest measuring tape you've got, and a pad. Oh, and a pencil, too."
The officer pointed toward an illuminated tent. "You'll find everything in there. Ask for Sergeant Malloy.” With that, "Major Pain" disappeared into the night.
Arthur would see the supersoldier twice again, both times in fitful nightmares months later.
The calculations went pretty smoothly. Angle of trajectory; distance the craft was embedded into the soil. None of it was precise, but let's face it, these jarheads wouldn't know the difference.
While determining his solution, Arthur queried the handful of civilians around him. He learned of a diminutive cockpit located somewhere within the vehicle. He pondered looking inside, but the mental image of the mammoth, armed officer kept him from doing so.
An hour later, Stancil submitted his conclusion, and was escorted back to the bus. Along the way, he passed a tiny tent wreaking of astringent. The engineer managed a quick look inside. What he saw would forever change his life.
A body; human, yet not human. An anthropomorphic being, perhaps four feet in height. Whatever it was, it appeared dead. Before attempting a closer look, visions of square-jawed Marines pistol whipping him filled his overactive brain. Stepping quickly from the tent, Arthur continued his walk back to the bus.
Copies of a pledge of secrecy were signed, which forbade Stancil and the other civilians from ever speaking of the incident.
The ride back to Phoenix Sky Harbor concluded around 9 AM. Unless the driver was traveling in circles, the vehicle would have headed northwest during its initial excursion. Well under four hours south would place the bus somewhere in Mexico. Due north would take it beyond Flagstaff and into a much more wooded area. Only one solution remained. Highway 93, up through Wickenburg. Kingman — a four hour drive northwest of Phoenix — was still desert by any account.
Whether or not the preceding story is true remains a mystery. Arthur G. Stancil — a.k.a. Fritz Werner, allegedly a mechanical engineer graduating from Ohio University — came forth with this incredible tale as early as 1964. The story gained recognition in 1973 when renowned UFO investigator Raymond Fowler published his own research on the subject. Fowler purports to having conducted extensive background investigation on the individual known as Arthur G. Stancil, and determined him to be of credible nature. Fowler also claims Stancil displayed extensive knowledge regarding the field of mechanical engineering.
Evidence corroborating the fantastical story would later emerge from Wright-Patterson Air Force Base in Ohio. Former staff stationed at the military installation attested to the arrival of "three small bodies packed in dry ice," shipped from Arizona during the time frame of the reported crash. According to personnel, the diminutive cadavers sported oversized craniums and brown skin.
A lack of physical evidence validating Stancil's assertions remains. Combine this with the fact military personnel giving testimony are either unable or unwilling to divulge their names, and you've got an account that may or may not be true.
Since portions of Arthur's claims have subsequently changed, any researcher seeking veracity would be well advised to approach this case with a dubious mindset.
Did a UFO of extraterrestrial origin really crash in Kingman, Arizona, on May 20, 1953? Take Interstate 40 west from Flagstaff and find out for yourself. Kingman can also be reached from Phoenix by traveling northwest on Highway 60, and continuing through Wickenburg along the 93. Upon reaching Interstate 40, head west for 20 miles, and you'll arrive at your destination.
Kingman is located 25 miles east of Bullhead City, Arizona, and Laughlin, Nevada, both of which hug state line. Traversing Route 66 on your way to Vegas, you'll find yourself passing through this historic destination. Stop and speak to the locals; tour the city. Perhaps you'll be able to solve a modern mystery.
Sources:
Books:
Belzer, Richard. (1999). UFOs, JFK, and Elvis: Conspiracies You Don't Have to Be Crazy to Believe. p. 164. The Ballantine Publishing Group. ISBN: 0345429184
Randle, Kevin D. (2010). Crash: When UFOs Fall From the Sky: A History of Famous Incidents, Conspiracies, and Cover-Ups. pp. 160–175. New Page Books. ISBN: 1601631006
Online Sources:
UFO Crash in Arizona, 1953:
http://www.ufocasebook.com/Arizona.html
AN INVISIBLE PORTAL IN THE DESERT (NEW MEXICO)
A chunk of chupacabra jerky, posing as an old man, stopped swigging his mezcal and lemonade long enough to watch the pterosaur dive-bomb his front lawn. "Second time, today," the faded fossil mused to himself.
Another gulp soothed the aged specimen's splintered throat. The man reclined in a lawn chair atop his dying front porch. "This one's smaller than the last. Can't be no bigger than a Buick. Probably just a pup," he silently concluded.
Chewing rusty ice made from rustier pipes, the venerable sage deduced, "Damned door let two in, today."
A legally blind eye was diverted to a sandstorm licking the furthest edges of town. In the opposite direction, the pterosaur simply vanished into the nothingness from whence it came. The old man took no notice. A moment later, he vanished, too.
Just another afternoon in Lordsburg, New Mexico. A dot the size of a pulp novel period defines this hamlet on the map. Three thousand grizzled, live bodies constitute the population, here. Perhaps more of the dead do, as well. Slow suicide is Lordsburg's modus operandi, as an underground methamphetamine enterprise keeps this outpost wavering on life support.
Sandstorms dominate the meteorological forecast in these parts. Defunct storefronts dot the landscape like headstones in a busy graveyard. Yarns of Thunderbirds — the size of small planes — are spun around a ubiquitous loom of urban legends.
Purportedly, ghosts, mysterious spook lights and UFOs are nothing new to area inhabitants.
Amateur paranormal investigator, and Lordsburg resident, Ramon Ortiz has toiled the past 15 years photographing and videotaping unexplained phenomena above this tiny borough. Much of Ortiz's work showcases what appears to be technology beyond human capabilities. Enigmatic craft reportedly "hover, divide, flash and even change shape in midair" over this region.
So, what's causing the mass irregularity inherent to this neglected rest stop on the way to Arizona?
According to locals, the source of the strangeness is a door. Somewhere on the outskirts of town, a portal between dimensions purportedly exists. As asserted by Ortiz, the opening awaits near mile marker 17 along Highway 90. It's unclear as to whether this ingress is tangible, but allegedly a carved rock chair and table rest adjacent it. An ancient tree stump supposedly protrudes from the ground in front of the door. Trapped within resides a human leg bone — evidence of some unfortunate individual emerging from the gateway, and into the molecular structure of a dead tree.
As if gigantic birds, spook lights and UFOs weren't enough, translucent, humanoid behemoths have reportedly emanated from the Lordsburg Door, as well. Ostensibly, even the spirit of Geronimo — long-dead Apache leader — has been observed walking the town.
Area ranchers claim many of their "hybrid, high-grade cattle" have mysteriously vanished, only to "be replaced by low-grade, Mexican" cows from the other side of the portal.
Ortiz maintains only individuals welcomed by the egress are capable of viewing it. According to legend, the Lordsburg Door is but one of seven such vortices within the Bootheel region of southern New Mexico. Whether or not these tales are true is up for debate. Currently, no research has been conducted of the area by established paranormal investigative teams.
Consider changing all that by piloting your ship of steel over the waves of asphalt crisscrossing Interstate 10. West of I-25 — between Shakespeare ghost town and Stein's ghost town, about 25 miles east of Arizona — you may end up driving through a portal into another dimension.
A chunk of chupacabra jerky, posing as an old man, stopped swigging his mezcal and lemonade long enough to watch the pterosaur dive-bomb his front lawn. "Second time, today," the faded fossil mused to himself.
Another gulp soothed the aged specimen's splintered throat. The man reclined in a lawn chair atop his dying front porch. "This one's smaller than the last. Can't be no bigger than a Buick. Probably just a pup," he silently concluded.
Chewing rusty ice made from rustier pipes, the venerable sage deduced, "Damned door let two in, today."
A legally blind eye was diverted to a sandstorm licking the furthest edges of town. In the opposite direction, the pterosaur simply vanished into the nothingness from whence it came. The old man took no notice. A moment later, he vanished, too.
Just another afternoon in Lordsburg, New Mexico. A dot the size of a pulp novel period defines this hamlet on the map. Three thousand grizzled, live bodies constitute the population, here. Perhaps more of the dead do, as well. Slow suicide is Lordsburg's modus operandi, as an underground methamphetamine enterprise keeps this outpost wavering on life support.
Sandstorms dominate the meteorological forecast in these parts. Defunct storefronts dot the landscape like headstones in a busy graveyard. Yarns of Thunderbirds — the size of small planes — are spun around a ubiquitous loom of urban legends.
Purportedly, ghosts, mysterious spook lights and UFOs are nothing new to area inhabitants.
Amateur paranormal investigator, and Lordsburg resident, Ramon Ortiz has toiled the past 15 years photographing and videotaping unexplained phenomena above this tiny borough. Much of Ortiz's work showcases what appears to be technology beyond human capabilities. Enigmatic craft reportedly "hover, divide, flash and even change shape in midair" over this region.
So, what's causing the mass irregularity inherent to this neglected rest stop on the way to Arizona?
According to locals, the source of the strangeness is a door. Somewhere on the outskirts of town, a portal between dimensions purportedly exists. As asserted by Ortiz, the opening awaits near mile marker 17 along Highway 90. It's unclear as to whether this ingress is tangible, but allegedly a carved rock chair and table rest adjacent it. An ancient tree stump supposedly protrudes from the ground in front of the door. Trapped within resides a human leg bone — evidence of some unfortunate individual emerging from the gateway, and into the molecular structure of a dead tree.
As if gigantic birds, spook lights and UFOs weren't enough, translucent, humanoid behemoths have reportedly emanated from the Lordsburg Door, as well. Ostensibly, even the spirit of Geronimo — long-dead Apache leader — has been observed walking the town.
Area ranchers claim many of their "hybrid, high-grade cattle" have mysteriously vanished, only to "be replaced by low-grade, Mexican" cows from the other side of the portal.
Ortiz maintains only individuals welcomed by the egress are capable of viewing it. According to legend, the Lordsburg Door is but one of seven such vortices within the Bootheel region of southern New Mexico. Whether or not these tales are true is up for debate. Currently, no research has been conducted of the area by established paranormal investigative teams.
Consider changing all that by piloting your ship of steel over the waves of asphalt crisscrossing Interstate 10. West of I-25 — between Shakespeare ghost town and Stein's ghost town, about 25 miles east of Arizona — you may end up driving through a portal into another dimension.
THE MEANEST GHOST EVER? (SOUTH CAROLINA)
It's an honor normally reserved for the likes of the Bell Witch of Adams, Tennessee, or the entity that plagued Carla Moran in Culver City, California, during the 1970s. In regard to the majority of hauntings, many ghosts seem harmless. Can the same be said for the spirit of Lavinia Fisher?
The Six Mile Wayfarer House was a quaint South Carolina inn during the 19th century. Owned and operated by Lavinia Fisher, and husband John, the tavern was situated near Charleston, along the route to a then-expanding United States. Those heading west inevitably passed the Fishers' place of respite during their travels.
Although business was good, both Lavinia and John thirsted for more. As such, from time to time, the Fishers would simply kill the occasional lodger, and purloin the poor soul's personal effects. Travelers new to the area made the best prey, since local law enforcement would have no record of them even existing.
A poison-laced meal would send the ailing customer seeking solace in his room. During the night, while the languishing lodger slept, John Fisher would steal into the guest's quarters and smother the visitor. Gathering any valuables the boarder had, Fisher would then burn traceable clothing, and dispose of the corpse in a pre-dug lime pit beneath the tavern.
Although the horrific scam worked well upon those unfamiliar with the area, it was only a matter of time before the Fishers accidentally attempted their scheme on a traveler more acquainted with the region. February 12, 1819, would prove to be such a date.
His name was John Peeples, and he wandered into the Six Mile Wayfarer House in need of an evening's shelter. While the experienced tracker secured his team of pack mules outside, Lavinia prepared dinner for her weary guest. Ducking back into the warmth of the tavern, Peeples thanked the woman for her hospitality, but informed her he was laden with provisions, and simply wished to retire for the night. When Lavinia insisted, attempting to coerce the man with a free meal, John became suspicious, knowing full well anything offered as a gift always came with a price. Once again, Peeples declined, but Lavinia's persistence ultimately won out, as there seemed no way for John to circumvent the situation.
Following dinner, feeling ill, John retired to his room. Woozy, but retaining his wits, the lodger placed blankets beneath his comforter, giving the illusion he was sleeping in bed, while he, himself, curled up in a darkened corner.
Sometime during the wee hours of the evening, the door to the traveler's room opened. John Fisher entered. From the darkness of the hallway, Lavinia hissed the command, "Do it!"
Complying, the innkeeper leapt atop the bed, attempting to smother his latest victim, but was shocked to find the bunk empty. Without hesitation, Peeples made for the door, traversed the hallway and scrambled from the lodge.
Before the Fishers could react, a nauseous John Peeples had hopped upon his horse, and ridden in search of local law enforcement.
The following day, Lavinia, her husband John and a handful of others who had taken part in the murders, were found hiding in a refuge adjacent a nearby river. Initially, only John Peeples indictment was issued, but after the Six Mile Wayfarer House was burnt to the ground, the discovery of the lime pits beneath the property was made. In the end, upwards of 26 partially liquefied corpses were recovered. Almost immediately, Lavinia and her husband were sentenced to hang.
On February 18, 1820, the Fishers respective executions were set to be carried out in public, as was customary of the day. The event took on a circus-like atmosphere, when the streets filled with curious onlookers.
Climbing the gallows, John pleaded for his life, claiming not only had he discovered religion during incarceration, but that his evil deeds were solely the brainchild of his wicked wife. The crowd responded with collective laughter at the condemned man's cries. Moments later, John's lifeless corpse was twitching at the end of a rope.
Lavinia, on the other hand, had no intentions of departing this mortal realm a coward. Instead, she promptly mounted the scaffold, and headed directly toward the noose. Addressing the throng of onlookers, the woman shouted, "If any of you's got a message for the Devil, better give it to me quick, 'cause I'm about to meet him!" As the executioners finished their preparations, Lavinia vaulted off the platform and hanged herself, before her captors could experience the pleasure. Fisher’s leap landed her squarely amidst the crowd, many of whom would later claim the woman died with a sinister smile on her face.
There are those who insist Lavinia's evil presence lingers, to this day, within the jail cell where she was incarcerated. In 1886, a massive earthquake rocked the southeast coast, and the walls of this foreboding chamber at the Charleston Jail cracked open. Since that time, Lavinia's malevolent specter has also been spotted wandering the nearby Unitarian church cemetery mere blocks away. It was in this forgotten boneyard the evil woman's body had been laid to rest, when all other burial houses refused to inter her. The cemetery, itself, is now inundated with weeds. Locals claim folks are just too scared of the place to maintain its upkeep.
Mrs. Fisher's specter is often referred to as Charleston’s most active spirit. That's quite a claim, considering South Carolina is fraught with purported residents of the netherworld — from the Grey Man, to the snarling fangs of the Ghost Hound of Goshen.
Resultant of her insidious escapades, Lavinia is often categorized as this country's first female serial killer. If you wish to dispute that claim, you can pay her a visit at the former site of the Old Charleston Jail in Charleston, South Carolina. 21 Magazine Street is currently home to The American College of the Building Arts, but tours are offered, should you make an appointment. Give 'em a call at 843.577.5245.
Paranormal excursions throughout Charleston are also provided, and detailed descriptions of each — some meandering right past Lavinia Fisher's old jail cell — can be found online. A great place to start your search for perhaps the meanest ghost ever, is with the Charleston haunted jail tour at: www.zerve.com/bulldog/chjt.
Sources:
Books:
Manley, Roger. (2007). Weird Carolinas: Your Travel Guide to North and South Carolina's Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets. pp. 191–195. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402739397
Movies:
Southern Haunts: Ghosts of the Low Country. Dir. Zac Adams. Perfs. Charlie Chase. Prod. Zac Adams, BJ Brown. DVD, 2007
Online Sources:
Lavinia Fisher:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lavinia_Fisher
It's an honor normally reserved for the likes of the Bell Witch of Adams, Tennessee, or the entity that plagued Carla Moran in Culver City, California, during the 1970s. In regard to the majority of hauntings, many ghosts seem harmless. Can the same be said for the spirit of Lavinia Fisher?
The Six Mile Wayfarer House was a quaint South Carolina inn during the 19th century. Owned and operated by Lavinia Fisher, and husband John, the tavern was situated near Charleston, along the route to a then-expanding United States. Those heading west inevitably passed the Fishers' place of respite during their travels.
Although business was good, both Lavinia and John thirsted for more. As such, from time to time, the Fishers would simply kill the occasional lodger, and purloin the poor soul's personal effects. Travelers new to the area made the best prey, since local law enforcement would have no record of them even existing.
A poison-laced meal would send the ailing customer seeking solace in his room. During the night, while the languishing lodger slept, John Fisher would steal into the guest's quarters and smother the visitor. Gathering any valuables the boarder had, Fisher would then burn traceable clothing, and dispose of the corpse in a pre-dug lime pit beneath the tavern.
Although the horrific scam worked well upon those unfamiliar with the area, it was only a matter of time before the Fishers accidentally attempted their scheme on a traveler more acquainted with the region. February 12, 1819, would prove to be such a date.
His name was John Peeples, and he wandered into the Six Mile Wayfarer House in need of an evening's shelter. While the experienced tracker secured his team of pack mules outside, Lavinia prepared dinner for her weary guest. Ducking back into the warmth of the tavern, Peeples thanked the woman for her hospitality, but informed her he was laden with provisions, and simply wished to retire for the night. When Lavinia insisted, attempting to coerce the man with a free meal, John became suspicious, knowing full well anything offered as a gift always came with a price. Once again, Peeples declined, but Lavinia's persistence ultimately won out, as there seemed no way for John to circumvent the situation.
Following dinner, feeling ill, John retired to his room. Woozy, but retaining his wits, the lodger placed blankets beneath his comforter, giving the illusion he was sleeping in bed, while he, himself, curled up in a darkened corner.
Sometime during the wee hours of the evening, the door to the traveler's room opened. John Fisher entered. From the darkness of the hallway, Lavinia hissed the command, "Do it!"
Complying, the innkeeper leapt atop the bed, attempting to smother his latest victim, but was shocked to find the bunk empty. Without hesitation, Peeples made for the door, traversed the hallway and scrambled from the lodge.
Before the Fishers could react, a nauseous John Peeples had hopped upon his horse, and ridden in search of local law enforcement.
The following day, Lavinia, her husband John and a handful of others who had taken part in the murders, were found hiding in a refuge adjacent a nearby river. Initially, only John Peeples indictment was issued, but after the Six Mile Wayfarer House was burnt to the ground, the discovery of the lime pits beneath the property was made. In the end, upwards of 26 partially liquefied corpses were recovered. Almost immediately, Lavinia and her husband were sentenced to hang.
On February 18, 1820, the Fishers respective executions were set to be carried out in public, as was customary of the day. The event took on a circus-like atmosphere, when the streets filled with curious onlookers.
Climbing the gallows, John pleaded for his life, claiming not only had he discovered religion during incarceration, but that his evil deeds were solely the brainchild of his wicked wife. The crowd responded with collective laughter at the condemned man's cries. Moments later, John's lifeless corpse was twitching at the end of a rope.
Lavinia, on the other hand, had no intentions of departing this mortal realm a coward. Instead, she promptly mounted the scaffold, and headed directly toward the noose. Addressing the throng of onlookers, the woman shouted, "If any of you's got a message for the Devil, better give it to me quick, 'cause I'm about to meet him!" As the executioners finished their preparations, Lavinia vaulted off the platform and hanged herself, before her captors could experience the pleasure. Fisher’s leap landed her squarely amidst the crowd, many of whom would later claim the woman died with a sinister smile on her face.
There are those who insist Lavinia's evil presence lingers, to this day, within the jail cell where she was incarcerated. In 1886, a massive earthquake rocked the southeast coast, and the walls of this foreboding chamber at the Charleston Jail cracked open. Since that time, Lavinia's malevolent specter has also been spotted wandering the nearby Unitarian church cemetery mere blocks away. It was in this forgotten boneyard the evil woman's body had been laid to rest, when all other burial houses refused to inter her. The cemetery, itself, is now inundated with weeds. Locals claim folks are just too scared of the place to maintain its upkeep.
Mrs. Fisher's specter is often referred to as Charleston’s most active spirit. That's quite a claim, considering South Carolina is fraught with purported residents of the netherworld — from the Grey Man, to the snarling fangs of the Ghost Hound of Goshen.
Resultant of her insidious escapades, Lavinia is often categorized as this country's first female serial killer. If you wish to dispute that claim, you can pay her a visit at the former site of the Old Charleston Jail in Charleston, South Carolina. 21 Magazine Street is currently home to The American College of the Building Arts, but tours are offered, should you make an appointment. Give 'em a call at 843.577.5245.
Paranormal excursions throughout Charleston are also provided, and detailed descriptions of each — some meandering right past Lavinia Fisher's old jail cell — can be found online. A great place to start your search for perhaps the meanest ghost ever, is with the Charleston haunted jail tour at: www.zerve.com/bulldog/chjt.
Sources:
Books:
Manley, Roger. (2007). Weird Carolinas: Your Travel Guide to North and South Carolina's Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets. pp. 191–195. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402739397
Movies:
Southern Haunts: Ghosts of the Low Country. Dir. Zac Adams. Perfs. Charlie Chase. Prod. Zac Adams, BJ Brown. DVD, 2007
Online Sources:
Lavinia Fisher:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lavinia_Fisher
MOBSTERS, MONSTERS AND A BOTTOMLESS PIT (NEVADA)
Whatever gripped the fisherman's line below the surface wasn't giving up. An abused GPC dangling from his lips, the man wondered how big this bastard could be. He was only using 10 pound test.
Through the haze of a bourbon breakfast, rusty recall dusted off a childhood memory. Sure, everybody had heard of Nessie the Loch Ness Monster, but how many were aware of Tessie, a similar creature of Lake Tahoe renown? The man was. In fact, he had seen the beast back in '56.
So, too, had numerous others throughout the years. Hell, one account made headlines in the San Francisco Chronicle in '84. Two female residents of Tahoe City had been hiking above the west banks of the lake, when they caught site of something large on the surface of the water. From what the man remembered, both women estimated the leviathan at close to 20 feet in length.
And what about the pair of Reno police officers a few years prior that? All it took was a couple oat sodas, and these two began spewin' details of an "unusually large" creature they encountered back in '82. June, from what the man could recollect.
That was just it. Didn't most of the sightings occur in the summer months? June, in particular?
"Well, this ain't June," the AARP member thought to himself. Gnawing arthritis in his hands would attest to that.
The man gave one last yank on his rusty fishing pole. The line slackened. He reeled faster, as if 10 pound test could ensnare a lake monster. And then he saw it. Something on his hook 15 feet away. Not a Kraken, but not a fish, either. The sportsman could tell by the object's color. Flesh. As he continued to reel, his catch came into view. The haul was skin-colored, all right. And for good reason.
The wedding ring at the base of the bloated digit still gleamed as if new. The three-fingered hand it was attached to might have come from a freshly-drowned victim, had it not been swollen to grotesque proportions.
Recalling another area legend, the fisherman crawled back from the severed body part.
Lake Tahoe was known among locals as the Graveyard. Depths upwards of 900 feet off the south shore made this the perfect place for Mafia hitmen to dispose of bodies between the 1920s and 1950s. The water's icy temperatures also created an ideal environment for preserving flesh. As a result, it was theorized hundreds of human corpses may lie in wait, eerily staring into the darkness at the bottom of the giant hole.
In fact, the man remembered the late undersea adventurer Jacques Cousteau exploring the lake in one of his submersibles during the '70s. The fisherman still recalled the oceanographer’s reaction, verbatim, upon returning topside from his journey. "The world isn't ready for what is down there," Cousteau would proclaim.
Giving him chills then, the statement held even deeper meaning as the man knelt before the amputated hand. What did Cousteau witness in the blackness of Lake Tahoe that kept him from releasing a single photo from his dive?
"Did that Frenchman see a creature down there?" the fisherman pondered. Or was there really a necropolis of dead bodies anchored to the bottom of the lake, Swiss-cheesed with bullet holes?
Such thoughts were too much for the man. After all, he had only come down to the water's edge to catch a little breakfast. With trembling fingers, he fired up another coffin nail, kicked the severed hand back in the water and crept into the woods. McDonald's would be openin' soon, and he wouldn't have to clean and gut an Egg McMuffin.
The legend of Tessie the Lake Monster harkens back to an era when Washoe Indians related tales of a "big fish" in the Northern Hemisphere's second deepest inland body of water.
By the 1800s, the creature had become malevolent in the eyes of those spinning yarns, allegedly attacking ships like the Governor Stanford, that lost a bowstrip to the ravenous monster back in 1883. Tessie's notoriety reached its height in the 1930s, when hunting parties were formed with the sole intent of catching the ultimate aquatic trophy.
Contemporary witnesses of the beast include credible observers, such as police officer Chris Beebe, who claimed to encounter a creature pacing a vessel he was water skiing behind. Beebe purports, "I knew that whatever it was, it was alive, and I knew it was bigger than my boat. My immediate reaction was that I would stop moving so that I didn't lose either of my feet." The lawman insists whatever followed him was black, no more than six feet away and similar in appearance to a Volkswagen Beetle. Luckily, the creature would vanish among the depths, allowing the officer to emerge unharmed.
Theories ranging from myth to prehistoric species have been suggested in explanation of Tessie. Giant sturgeon — which can live in excess of 100 years, continually growing their entire lives — have also been proposed. After all, a 22 foot long, 2,000 pound variety of this fish was found in Sacramento River, at one point.
Whatever Tessie may be, there's no denying Lake Tahoe is steeped in mystery. From Mafia graveyards and unplumbed depths, to sea creatures that defy logic, this body of water continues to intrigue.
Sources:
Books:
Bishop, Greg; Oesterle, Joe; Marinacci, Mike. (2006). Weird California: Your Travel Guide to California's Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets. p. 91. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402733844
Oesterle, Joe; Cridland, Tim. (2007). Weird Las Vegas and Nevada: Your Alternative Travel Guide to Sin City and the Silver State. pp. 80–81. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402739400
Online Sources:
Who is Tahoe Tessie?:
http://www.newsreview.com/reno/content?oid=21708
Whatever gripped the fisherman's line below the surface wasn't giving up. An abused GPC dangling from his lips, the man wondered how big this bastard could be. He was only using 10 pound test.
Through the haze of a bourbon breakfast, rusty recall dusted off a childhood memory. Sure, everybody had heard of Nessie the Loch Ness Monster, but how many were aware of Tessie, a similar creature of Lake Tahoe renown? The man was. In fact, he had seen the beast back in '56.
So, too, had numerous others throughout the years. Hell, one account made headlines in the San Francisco Chronicle in '84. Two female residents of Tahoe City had been hiking above the west banks of the lake, when they caught site of something large on the surface of the water. From what the man remembered, both women estimated the leviathan at close to 20 feet in length.
And what about the pair of Reno police officers a few years prior that? All it took was a couple oat sodas, and these two began spewin' details of an "unusually large" creature they encountered back in '82. June, from what the man could recollect.
That was just it. Didn't most of the sightings occur in the summer months? June, in particular?
"Well, this ain't June," the AARP member thought to himself. Gnawing arthritis in his hands would attest to that.
The man gave one last yank on his rusty fishing pole. The line slackened. He reeled faster, as if 10 pound test could ensnare a lake monster. And then he saw it. Something on his hook 15 feet away. Not a Kraken, but not a fish, either. The sportsman could tell by the object's color. Flesh. As he continued to reel, his catch came into view. The haul was skin-colored, all right. And for good reason.
The wedding ring at the base of the bloated digit still gleamed as if new. The three-fingered hand it was attached to might have come from a freshly-drowned victim, had it not been swollen to grotesque proportions.
Recalling another area legend, the fisherman crawled back from the severed body part.
Lake Tahoe was known among locals as the Graveyard. Depths upwards of 900 feet off the south shore made this the perfect place for Mafia hitmen to dispose of bodies between the 1920s and 1950s. The water's icy temperatures also created an ideal environment for preserving flesh. As a result, it was theorized hundreds of human corpses may lie in wait, eerily staring into the darkness at the bottom of the giant hole.
In fact, the man remembered the late undersea adventurer Jacques Cousteau exploring the lake in one of his submersibles during the '70s. The fisherman still recalled the oceanographer’s reaction, verbatim, upon returning topside from his journey. "The world isn't ready for what is down there," Cousteau would proclaim.
Giving him chills then, the statement held even deeper meaning as the man knelt before the amputated hand. What did Cousteau witness in the blackness of Lake Tahoe that kept him from releasing a single photo from his dive?
"Did that Frenchman see a creature down there?" the fisherman pondered. Or was there really a necropolis of dead bodies anchored to the bottom of the lake, Swiss-cheesed with bullet holes?
Such thoughts were too much for the man. After all, he had only come down to the water's edge to catch a little breakfast. With trembling fingers, he fired up another coffin nail, kicked the severed hand back in the water and crept into the woods. McDonald's would be openin' soon, and he wouldn't have to clean and gut an Egg McMuffin.
The legend of Tessie the Lake Monster harkens back to an era when Washoe Indians related tales of a "big fish" in the Northern Hemisphere's second deepest inland body of water.
By the 1800s, the creature had become malevolent in the eyes of those spinning yarns, allegedly attacking ships like the Governor Stanford, that lost a bowstrip to the ravenous monster back in 1883. Tessie's notoriety reached its height in the 1930s, when hunting parties were formed with the sole intent of catching the ultimate aquatic trophy.
Contemporary witnesses of the beast include credible observers, such as police officer Chris Beebe, who claimed to encounter a creature pacing a vessel he was water skiing behind. Beebe purports, "I knew that whatever it was, it was alive, and I knew it was bigger than my boat. My immediate reaction was that I would stop moving so that I didn't lose either of my feet." The lawman insists whatever followed him was black, no more than six feet away and similar in appearance to a Volkswagen Beetle. Luckily, the creature would vanish among the depths, allowing the officer to emerge unharmed.
Theories ranging from myth to prehistoric species have been suggested in explanation of Tessie. Giant sturgeon — which can live in excess of 100 years, continually growing their entire lives — have also been proposed. After all, a 22 foot long, 2,000 pound variety of this fish was found in Sacramento River, at one point.
Whatever Tessie may be, there's no denying Lake Tahoe is steeped in mystery. From Mafia graveyards and unplumbed depths, to sea creatures that defy logic, this body of water continues to intrigue.
Sources:
Books:
Bishop, Greg; Oesterle, Joe; Marinacci, Mike. (2006). Weird California: Your Travel Guide to California's Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets. p. 91. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402733844
Oesterle, Joe; Cridland, Tim. (2007). Weird Las Vegas and Nevada: Your Alternative Travel Guide to Sin City and the Silver State. pp. 80–81. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402739400
Online Sources:
Who is Tahoe Tessie?:
http://www.newsreview.com/reno/content?oid=21708
THE MYSTERIOUS THUNDERBIRD PHOTOGRAPH (ARIZONA)
Upon searching the Internet, you're bound to find some version of it. In fact, numerous people are certain they've uncovered it; they just can't recall where they saw it.
So, what the hell is "it?"
A photograph that, if authentic, would change humankind’s perspective on prehistory. A photograph of a creature thought to have been extinct 65 million years. A photograph of a Thunderbird; a monstrous, flying beast longer than two Greyhound buses placed end-to-end.
Our tale begins in April, 1890, somewhere near the outskirts of Tombstone, Arizona. Through a mire of heat, a pair of cowpunchers spot a massive creature — complete with serpentine body and clawed talons — soaring high above the desert floor.
Undaunted by the size of the anomaly, the men close the distance between the being and themselves. When their horses begin to protest, the cowhands dismount, and track the bird on foot.
As the aberration lands, the men squeeze off a few well-placed rounds from their rickety rifles, and the beast is felled, collapsing in a languid heap.
Though this legend is believed by many to be nothing more than an eerie campfire anecdote, there are those who swear the aforementioned tale is true.
It's been claimed the two cowpokes who shot the bird carved off a hunk of the creature's enormous wing, and dragged it to Tombstone. To date, no one has produced this palpable proof, but numerous individuals profess to having seen a photograph of the giant avian in question.
Cryptozoologists point to a 1960s Saga magazine article, which alleged a daguerrotype of the bird had been published in an 1886 installment of the Tombstone Epitaph. The Epitaph — a legitimate newspaper — declared the creature was killed by a pair of prospectors, and hauled into the southeastern Arizona town on the back of a wagon.
Purportedly, the dead beast was pegged to a wall, while six men stood side-by-side, arms outstretched in front of the enigma — whose wingspan measured 36 feet.
A September, 1963 feature in Fate magazine asserted the photo in question had been published at an obscure date, sometime prior. Fate, itself, conducted a thorough investigation of its own archives, believing they may have unknowingly possessed a copy of the elusive picture. Unfortunately, the periodical's rummaging produced no tangible evidence.
During the hysteria to find the slippery photograph, the original 1886 Epitaph article was recovered. Although the editorial described the bird and the circumstances surrounding its death, this firsthand account made no mention of any picture of the creature.
Such confusion leads one to ponder how so many cryptozoologists — including John Keel, author of The Mothman Prophecies — could insist on having seen the photo, at some point in time.
Even after copious research, what's known as the Thunderbird Photograph has yet to be recovered.
There are at least a couple versions of the mythical picture online. Whether or not any of these is authentic remains to be seen.
Whatever the truth may be, while sauntering down Allen Street in Tombstone, or traveling that lonely stretch of Interstate 10 on your way to the O.K. Corral, glance up occasionally at the sky. You may catch a glimpse of more than just a DC-10 on its way to Vegas.
Sources:
Books:
Treat, Wesley. (2007). Weird Arizona: Your Travel Guide to Arizona's Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets. pp. 88–89. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402739389
Online Sources:
Archive for the "Thunderbirds":
http://www.cryptomundo.com/cryptozoology/thunderbirds/
The Thunderbird:
http://www.weird-encyclopedia.com/thunderbird.php
Upon searching the Internet, you're bound to find some version of it. In fact, numerous people are certain they've uncovered it; they just can't recall where they saw it.
So, what the hell is "it?"
A photograph that, if authentic, would change humankind’s perspective on prehistory. A photograph of a creature thought to have been extinct 65 million years. A photograph of a Thunderbird; a monstrous, flying beast longer than two Greyhound buses placed end-to-end.
Our tale begins in April, 1890, somewhere near the outskirts of Tombstone, Arizona. Through a mire of heat, a pair of cowpunchers spot a massive creature — complete with serpentine body and clawed talons — soaring high above the desert floor.
Undaunted by the size of the anomaly, the men close the distance between the being and themselves. When their horses begin to protest, the cowhands dismount, and track the bird on foot.
As the aberration lands, the men squeeze off a few well-placed rounds from their rickety rifles, and the beast is felled, collapsing in a languid heap.
Though this legend is believed by many to be nothing more than an eerie campfire anecdote, there are those who swear the aforementioned tale is true.
It's been claimed the two cowpokes who shot the bird carved off a hunk of the creature's enormous wing, and dragged it to Tombstone. To date, no one has produced this palpable proof, but numerous individuals profess to having seen a photograph of the giant avian in question.
Cryptozoologists point to a 1960s Saga magazine article, which alleged a daguerrotype of the bird had been published in an 1886 installment of the Tombstone Epitaph. The Epitaph — a legitimate newspaper — declared the creature was killed by a pair of prospectors, and hauled into the southeastern Arizona town on the back of a wagon.
Purportedly, the dead beast was pegged to a wall, while six men stood side-by-side, arms outstretched in front of the enigma — whose wingspan measured 36 feet.
A September, 1963 feature in Fate magazine asserted the photo in question had been published at an obscure date, sometime prior. Fate, itself, conducted a thorough investigation of its own archives, believing they may have unknowingly possessed a copy of the elusive picture. Unfortunately, the periodical's rummaging produced no tangible evidence.
During the hysteria to find the slippery photograph, the original 1886 Epitaph article was recovered. Although the editorial described the bird and the circumstances surrounding its death, this firsthand account made no mention of any picture of the creature.
Such confusion leads one to ponder how so many cryptozoologists — including John Keel, author of The Mothman Prophecies — could insist on having seen the photo, at some point in time.
Even after copious research, what's known as the Thunderbird Photograph has yet to be recovered.
There are at least a couple versions of the mythical picture online. Whether or not any of these is authentic remains to be seen.
Whatever the truth may be, while sauntering down Allen Street in Tombstone, or traveling that lonely stretch of Interstate 10 on your way to the O.K. Corral, glance up occasionally at the sky. You may catch a glimpse of more than just a DC-10 on its way to Vegas.
Sources:
Books:
Treat, Wesley. (2007). Weird Arizona: Your Travel Guide to Arizona's Local Legends and Best Kept Secrets. pp. 88–89. Sterling Publishing Co., Inc. ISBN: 1402739389
Online Sources:
Archive for the "Thunderbirds":
http://www.cryptomundo.com/cryptozoology/thunderbirds/
The Thunderbird:
http://www.weird-encyclopedia.com/thunderbird.php
HIGH STRANGENESS AT THE SKINWALKER RANCH (UTAH)
Two hundred pounds! That's how much the wolf approaching Tom Gorman must have weighed!
"They just don't get this big,” Tom’s mind raced. And yet, before the Gorman family stood a beast on all fours that was chest-high to a six foot tall man. Even more bizarre? The wolf — if that's what it was — seemed completely tame.
Ed, Tom's father, extended a quivering hand, petting the rain-slicked fur of the monstrous beast. Abruptly, the massive creature raced for a nearby corral, engulfing the head of one of Tom's prized Angus calves. With powerful force, the enormous predator worked its squealing captive partially through the bars of the enclosure.
Tom bolted forward, kicking the monster, while Ed attacked the abomination with a Louisville Slugger.
Tad, Tom’s son, tossed a Magnum pistol to his father. Without hesitation, the rancher fired three slugs into the bloodthirsty animal. The wolf seemed unfazed, yet relinquished its death grip on the calf.
Tom squeezed the trigger a fourth time, placing a round in the monstrosity's heart. The first shot should have killed the creature, much less the following three bullets. Yet, the anomaly sat peacefully, gazing back at the herdsman.
Tad handed Tom his .30-06 — a rifle that can slay elk. The cattleman pumped another two rounds into the wolf. A hunk of shoulder flesh and fur ripped free from the animal. The beast merely turned and trotted away.
Tom and Tad raced after the anomaly, which accelerated quickly, escaping behind a grove of Russian Olive trees. The father-son pair were able to follow the beast's trail to a clearing 25 yards from a nearby river. It was there the animal's tracks simply vanished, as did the wolf, itself.
Although this may seem a work of fantasy, the above incident was one of several experienced on the Skinwalker Ranch — an isolated homestead in northeastern Utah.
For the Gorman family, this wasn't the last encounter with the wolves, either. Ellen Gorman, Tom's wife, would be visited by another member of the oversized pack, this one a good head taller than her Chevy Chevette. In fact, the beast was so large it was forced to lean down in order to peer through the driver's side window as Ellen slowly entered the outskirts of her ranch property.
But the wolves were only the beginning. Over a period of 18 months, the Gormans witnessed a deluge of the paranormal, including cattle mutilations, dimensional doorways, ethereal beast encounters, poltergeist activity, spook lights and UFO sightings.
It was 1994, and Tom Gorman had just purchased 480 acres of homestead in the Beehive State, hopeful the transition from small town New Mexico would be a positive one for him and his clan. A more wholesome existence — herding prized cattle in God's country — should be just what the Gormans needed. Little did Tom know he was relocating his family to perhaps the most renowned anomalous hotspot on the planet. It would soon be theorized this region of Utah may be a rift between dimensions, through which all sorts of enigmas found foothold. To the Gormans, however, the ranch became a nightmare. By 1996, the family was ready to sell the place for a song, as had the owners before them.
Navajo hierarchy includes an individual known as the medicine man, highly renowned for his knowledge of positive healing. According to legend, an evil counterpart — called the Skinwalker — also holds place within tribal tradition. A familiar trait of this immoral half-man, half-spirit is its ability to transform into any animal. Hence, its name.
Whether or not this folklore is true, the rash of unexplained activity on the ranch in question is difficult to deny. Equally mysterious is the fact many local Native Americans refuse to set foot on the homestead, for fear of negative reprisals from unknown forces.
Trouble began for the Gormans almost immediately after moving to the Skinwalker. Ellen questioned her own sanity, as she would set cooking utensils down in the kitchen of her new home, step outside for a breath of fresh air, and return to find the items missing. Equally disconcerting was discovering the implements somewhere strange, like the freezer or microwave.
Displaced objects became commonplace around the Gorman household, as Tom's 70 pound post digger vanished, only to reappear later, lodged high within a tree.
Ellen would often arrive home from the grocery store, stock what she'd purchased, leave the kitchen, and return to find the items she'd shelved spread all over the floor.
Strange headlights began appearing on the property in the dead of night. During one such incident — annoyed that anyone might trespass upon his land — Tom approached the source of the illuminations; what appeared to be an RV-type vehicle. As Gorman neared, the machine receded into the darkness, gliding over 50 foot tree lines, before noiselessly disappearing into the night.
With an increase in bizarre activity around the Skinwalker, so too came an expansion of Tom's curiosity. On more than one occasion, Gorman found himself creeping surreptitiously about his property, stalking anomalies.
One evening, Tom discovered a massive aircraft hovering silently above the ranch, as if searching for something. Although initially pegging the vehicle as a cross between an F-117A Nighthawk and a B-2 Stealth Bomber, Gorman quickly realized the awesome machine was noiselessly floating 20 feet off the ground. Tom became frightened when he accidentally made a noise, and the craft whirled around to face him. The rancher held his breath, and the silent vessel vanished into the darkness.
A separate incident found Gorman witness to a large rift in the sky over his property. In time, all four members of the family would view these apparent holes in the atmosphere. Often near dark outside, daylight appeared inside the fissures.
Even more unsettling was the time Tom observed a large, black, triangular object emerging from one of the openings. To the rancher, it appeared he was getting a rare glimpse at something from an alternate dimension entering his own existence. This type of speculation was painful for a devoutly religious family to consider, but what else could explain such bizarre anomalies?
During the winter of '94, the herdsman found himself on horseback, following the trail of one of his top breeding cows through the snow. By the animal’s gait, Gorman surmised the heifer had been desperate, and running at full speed. But running from what? The cow's were the only tracks as far as the eye could see. When Tom followed the trail to a massive clearing, what he witnessed chilled him to the bone. There, in the middle of an open expanse, the frenzied imprints stopped, with no sign of the animal anywhere. What type of force was powerful enough to lift a half-ton head of livestock into the sky during a driving snowstorm? Gorman would never see the cow again.
For a herder who prided himself on perfection, the loss of one animal per year was too much to bear, let alone the four that would simply vanish in similar fashion over the next three months. It was when numerous heads of cattle turned up mutilated that Tom became seriously concerned for his family's livelihood. Even more frustrating was the fact the animals were being killed and disfigured in broad daylight, often minutes after the Gormans had seen them alive.
Along with the ubiquitous fear of financial ruin came a different type of terror. This particular horror manifested itself in the form of spook lights. Normally an illumination that disappears when pursued, in the case of the Skinwalker's enigmatic effulgence, the orbs were aggressive, flying mere feet from both Tom and Ellen. What's more, the lights appeared manufactured, with glass housing containing blue liquid. On numerous occasions, the Gormans were left cowering as the orbs navigated around them, apparently capable of evoking extreme anxiety.
June 1996 brought a stranger to the Gorman property. Hearing tale of the area's mysterious attributes, a tall, blonde man appeared one day, asking if he could meditate on the land. Although Tom was hesitant, the visitor's near pleading led the rancher to acquiesce. Gorman took the stranger to a clearing a mile from the house, where the man began his introspection.
In the distance, the herder became aware of a cowbell resonating. The sound puzzled Tom, as none of his animals wore the crude devices. Behind a nearby copse of trees, Gorman could see something moving at a high rate of speed. Something big.
Continuing his meditation, the visitor paid no mind, as a monstrous wraith — mired in translucent waves — broke from the woods. Before Tom could warn his guest, the enormous beast towered over the blonde man, bellowing forth a thunderous reverberation. Jarring from his reverie, the stranger scrambled backward in terror. The huge anomaly returned to the cover of trees in mere seconds. It took the rancher several minutes to calm his distraught visitor. Needless to say, the man vowed never to return to the Skinwalker Ranch.
In Tom's mind, the episode validated the immense power of what he and his family were up against. The sight of the creature looming above the meditating man also proved the forces at work may no longer be hesitant to harm humans. Gorman's worst misgivings were justified after a group of blue, fear-inducing orbs appeared on the property one evening. Curious to see what might transpire, the rancher unleashed three of his dogs on the whirring objects. Within moments, he realized he had made a grave mistake. The spook lights proceeded to lead the canines behind a growth of trees, and systematically incinerated the animals. It was at this point Tom understood he would be putting his family in tremendous danger, should they remain on the property. Within hours, the Gormans had vacated the ranch.
Shortly, thereafter, Tom sold his homestead to the National Institute for Discovery Science (NIDS). Funded by Las Vegas real estate mogul, Robert Bigelow, NIDS was a collaboration of expert investigators hellbent on probing the paranormal.
Armed with a pair of Ph.D. accredited scientists and a group of top-tier technologists from multiple disciplines, the organization headed out to the ranch to see what they could find. In the meantime, the Gorman family relocated to a diminutive farmstead 25 miles away. Tom Gorman signed on as ranch manager of the Skinwalker, in order to clarify the mystery surrounding the property.
NIDS began their tour of the homestead with an investigation of four cattle mutilations. Tom lead the team to a pair of circular cavities in the ground, he claimed were remnants of inexplicable aircraft.
With a full briefing of anomalous events, NIDS hashed out a course of action. For the first time, whatever mysterious presence was inhabiting the area became the prey, as opposed to the pursuer.
Although many involved in the project argued advanced technology was the key to success, an opposing faction concluded low-end surveillance would yield optimal results. Tom sided with the latter of the two camps, explaining the only time he got the drop on the strangeness was when he employed minimal electronic equipment.
Despite Gorman's recommendation, an extensive network of devices was deployed to ensnare enigmas not only in the UV spectrum, but also the electromagnetic, as well as the magnetic.
A pair of reconnaissance teams — armed with a multitude of surveillance equipment — were sent into the field on a nightly basis. Both squads consisted of one or two paranormal researchers and at least one scientist. An advisory board of 15 top scientific minds would fly into Las Vegas for regular debriefings from the field investigators.
Apparently, the Gormans' old ranch wasn't the only property alive with paranormal activity, although it did seem the epicenter of the bizarre disturbances. The team recorded numerous consultations with local residents who had experienced the unexplained.
One horrific account came from a Mr. Gonsalez, who had discovered a cow — two of its legs broken — lying in a field on his property. Fearful the animal was in shock, Gonsalez raced to his ranch house, and retrieved a blanket with which to keep the creature warm. When the herdsman returned five minutes later, the heifer had vanished. Cattle in the aforementioned condition can't just move on their own.
Perplexed, the rancher returned home. An hour later, Gonsalez was astounded, as he peered out his window and viewed the same cow 50 yards from her original position. This time, when the man examined the animal, all four of her legs were broken. Gonsalez theorized the heifer must have been lifted into an aircraft on two separate occasions, and dropped from considerable altitude.
Why, then, hadn't the cattleman heard nor seen the surmised flying machine? His land provided no place for aerial vehicles to hide.
Three nights following the Gonsalez interview, NIDS would experience an enigmatic encounter of their own. On November 13th, at 1:30 AM, two crew members witnessed a brilliant, yellow light racing toward them from a nearby ridge. Emitting no sound, the luminance circled the investigators before speeding off into the darkness.
As temperatures dipped below zero, the investigative group headed for the warmer confines of Las Vegas, but remained on call. January 21, 1997 found a frenzied Tom Gorman reporting bizarre injuries to three calves, sustained during a severe snowstorm the previous evening. Conditions this drastic would have prevented predators from venturing into the open and attacking the animals, who were kept inside a closed corral. Yet, photos showed a cow with a shredded ear, and two more cattle with holes poked in their eyelids.
On March 10th, Tom informed NIDS something inexplicable had dismembered a prized calf during the day, while he and Ellen were in close proximity. According to the cattleman, neither he nor his wife heard nor saw a thing.
Five hours later, three members of NIDS had flown in from Vegas and were examining the carcass of the dead beast.
Whatever killed the calf had been exceedingly powerful, able to rip the animal's leg bones from their knee sockets. Even more peculiar was the fact the creature's four severed appendages were positioned methodically around the body, itself. The internal organs of the cow were missing, and not a single drop of blood remained in, on or near the beast. NIDS' veterinarian determined one of the animal’s ears had been sliced off by a razor-sharp instrument.
Three of Gorman's dogs — no strangers to tracking predators — had subsequently huddled in their kennels, refusing to come out for food or water. The fourth canine had raced off in the direction of the calf's killer, and would never be seen again.
With the partial NIDS team on site, another incident rocked the property after 11 PM, when the remaining dogs began barking maniacally. In response, Gorman and the crew jumped into the ranch manager's pickup, and raced onto the homestead. Viewing a cow in trouble, Tom aimed his vehicle at a nearby tree. That's when all four present saw two massive, reflective eyes gazing forth from the darkness. Braking to a halt, Gorman grabbed his rifle and fired a shot at whatever was hidden in the foliage 20 feet above the ground.
The eyes blinked out. Tom raced to the spot beneath the tree, only to discover the area empty. The rancher would once again catch sight of the creature, and fire two more rounds into it. Again, the anomaly would vanish, leaving the four men cautiously searching for what Gorman described as a 400 pound beast. Although there were no traces of blood, a pair of huge tracks, with apparent talons, were discovered in the snow.
Tom informed NIDS he had seen a pair of creatures, one in the tree, the other on the ground. Able to fell a predator from 500 yards, he claimed to have hit both beasts; the first with the initial round, the second with the last two.
NIDS was left with almost no physical evidence to substantiate their encounter. This trend would prove indicative of the group's overall experiences at the Skinwalker. Anomalous events never followed any pattern. Thereby, scientists were unsure where to focus their data collecting equipment. Still, investigative teams were able to corroborate one another's reports, ensuring researchers something beyond their comprehension was occurring.
Neighbor testimony lent credence to the supernatural origin of what was happening. If the Gormans were fabricating a lie, their efforts were thorough. To achieve such a feat, collusion with countless acquaintances would have been necessary.
The scientists began to feel as if some type of force was toying with them. During one particular instance, a researcher spotted a massive, black entity moving through a copse of trees in front of him. Whatever he gazed upon was large enough to block out the stars. The man began screaming.
Racing to their colleague's side, the investigators discovered their associate bewildered and horrified. The frazzled scientist claimed whatever he encountered had somehow penetrated his mind, informing him it was watching the team. The individual — an esteemed academic — appeared to have his entire belief system shaken.
Among the more prevalent enigmas witnessed by NIDS were inexplicable lights displaying malicious intent. Such was the case when a pair of mysterious, blood-red spook lights attacked Tom's herd, causing the animals to race headlong over a 15 foot cliff. When all was said and done, two more cows would be injured, one would die, and a fourth would be aborted.
It should be noted the most common UFO witnessed throughout history is the mysterious light. Lest one forget the unexplained "foo fighters" observed by Allied and Axis pilots, or the strange spheres ineffectually tracked by radar and fighter jets over the White House in 1952.
On the evening of August 25, 1997, while surveying the ranch, two scientists witnessed a glowing opening in the distance. From within the portal, a black, faceless 400 pound humanoid emerged, dropping onto the ground and escaping into our current dimension. Moments later, the opening vanished. The entity disappeared, as well, but only from view, as the men realized they were alone, in the dark, with a being from another reality.
Cautiously, the scientists set out to acquire evidence from their sighting. Although the creature never manifested again, the pair of researchers did detect a distinct odor in the vicinity where the beast had crawled on its stomach and elbows. A thorough search for footprints revealed nothing, as the ground in the region was too hard to absorb impressions.
In time, NIDS scientists mounted six CCTV cameras at one of the more active regions on the property. One evening, Tom noticed three of the devices were no longer working — their electronics violently gutted. Fortunately, an undamaged camcorder had been pointing toward the vandalized cameras. As a result, whomever, or whatever eviscerated the equipment should have been caught on video. Upon examining footage from the operating camcorder, NIDS was astonished to find no unusual activity on the tape, even during the time stamp displayed at the moment the three other devices were destroyed.
Eventually, activity on the ranch dissipated, even though anomalous encounters continued in the Uinta Valley. Despite the fact the members of NIDS witnessed the enigmatic whilst at the Skinwalker, they felt they had missed their opportunity to capture evidence validating these experiences.
The fear emitting from the Gormans was almost tangible, whereas NIDS displayed a more intrepid demeanor. The assemblage of scientists hunted anomalies, while Tom and his family were the hunted. The Gormans had minimal technology at their disposal, as opposed to the barrage of electronics employed by the researchers.
Had these variances in approach produced the disparity in results?
In the words of one NIDS delegate, "We know so little in terms of what the overall scope of these phenomena are that it's just embarrassing to try and make some conclusions at this point. Imagine that you have a phenomena that is very selective as to how it exposes itself and to whom. So if you have a tailgate, football stadium-type of atmosphere and everybody's got hot dogs and hamburgers and they're barbecuing and waiting for the UFOs to come down, I don't picture a continuation of the activity."
In conclusion, the National Institute for Discovery Science spent eight years on the Skinwalker Ranch. Such exhaustive field research is unparalleled in the realm of the paranormal. NIDS is certain the enigmatic disturbances on the farmstead were not the result of an elaborate fabrication by the Gorman family, themselves.
Tom and his clan are "rock-solid, firmly grounded, honest people." The Gormans never amassed a dime from their story. Neither did their neighbors. In fact, numerous ranchers in the region lost considerable capital due to cattle deaths. In addition, "dozens of the most disturbing incidents were personally witnessed and documented by NIDS scientists and researchers. The Gormans did not — and could not — manufacture them."
Tom and his family have subsequently moved out of state. To this day, they refuse to grant interviews.
Could whatever enigmas once present at this Hotspot of High Strangeness have been so intelligent, they orchestrated who would experience them?
The answer to this question, as well as so many others regarding the Skinwalker Ranch, currently eludes us.
Sources:
Books:
Kelleher, Colm, Ph.D.; Knapp, George. (2005). Hunt for the Skinwalker: Science Confronts the Unexplained at a Remote Ranch in Utah. Pocket Books, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. ISBN: 1416505210
Online Sources:
National Institute for Discovery Science:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Institute_for_Discovery_Science
Path of the Skinwalker:
http://www.aliendave.com/Article_PathoftheSkinwalker_p1.html
Scientists at NIDS Study Anomalous Phenomena:
http://www.ufoevidence.org/documents/doc1200.htm
Skinwalker Ranch:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skinwalker_Ranch
Skinwalker Ranch [2]:
http://www.skinwalkerranch.org/
Two hundred pounds! That's how much the wolf approaching Tom Gorman must have weighed!
"They just don't get this big,” Tom’s mind raced. And yet, before the Gorman family stood a beast on all fours that was chest-high to a six foot tall man. Even more bizarre? The wolf — if that's what it was — seemed completely tame.
Ed, Tom's father, extended a quivering hand, petting the rain-slicked fur of the monstrous beast. Abruptly, the massive creature raced for a nearby corral, engulfing the head of one of Tom's prized Angus calves. With powerful force, the enormous predator worked its squealing captive partially through the bars of the enclosure.
Tom bolted forward, kicking the monster, while Ed attacked the abomination with a Louisville Slugger.
Tad, Tom’s son, tossed a Magnum pistol to his father. Without hesitation, the rancher fired three slugs into the bloodthirsty animal. The wolf seemed unfazed, yet relinquished its death grip on the calf.
Tom squeezed the trigger a fourth time, placing a round in the monstrosity's heart. The first shot should have killed the creature, much less the following three bullets. Yet, the anomaly sat peacefully, gazing back at the herdsman.
Tad handed Tom his .30-06 — a rifle that can slay elk. The cattleman pumped another two rounds into the wolf. A hunk of shoulder flesh and fur ripped free from the animal. The beast merely turned and trotted away.
Tom and Tad raced after the anomaly, which accelerated quickly, escaping behind a grove of Russian Olive trees. The father-son pair were able to follow the beast's trail to a clearing 25 yards from a nearby river. It was there the animal's tracks simply vanished, as did the wolf, itself.
Although this may seem a work of fantasy, the above incident was one of several experienced on the Skinwalker Ranch — an isolated homestead in northeastern Utah.
For the Gorman family, this wasn't the last encounter with the wolves, either. Ellen Gorman, Tom's wife, would be visited by another member of the oversized pack, this one a good head taller than her Chevy Chevette. In fact, the beast was so large it was forced to lean down in order to peer through the driver's side window as Ellen slowly entered the outskirts of her ranch property.
But the wolves were only the beginning. Over a period of 18 months, the Gormans witnessed a deluge of the paranormal, including cattle mutilations, dimensional doorways, ethereal beast encounters, poltergeist activity, spook lights and UFO sightings.
It was 1994, and Tom Gorman had just purchased 480 acres of homestead in the Beehive State, hopeful the transition from small town New Mexico would be a positive one for him and his clan. A more wholesome existence — herding prized cattle in God's country — should be just what the Gormans needed. Little did Tom know he was relocating his family to perhaps the most renowned anomalous hotspot on the planet. It would soon be theorized this region of Utah may be a rift between dimensions, through which all sorts of enigmas found foothold. To the Gormans, however, the ranch became a nightmare. By 1996, the family was ready to sell the place for a song, as had the owners before them.
Navajo hierarchy includes an individual known as the medicine man, highly renowned for his knowledge of positive healing. According to legend, an evil counterpart — called the Skinwalker — also holds place within tribal tradition. A familiar trait of this immoral half-man, half-spirit is its ability to transform into any animal. Hence, its name.
Whether or not this folklore is true, the rash of unexplained activity on the ranch in question is difficult to deny. Equally mysterious is the fact many local Native Americans refuse to set foot on the homestead, for fear of negative reprisals from unknown forces.
Trouble began for the Gormans almost immediately after moving to the Skinwalker. Ellen questioned her own sanity, as she would set cooking utensils down in the kitchen of her new home, step outside for a breath of fresh air, and return to find the items missing. Equally disconcerting was discovering the implements somewhere strange, like the freezer or microwave.
Displaced objects became commonplace around the Gorman household, as Tom's 70 pound post digger vanished, only to reappear later, lodged high within a tree.
Ellen would often arrive home from the grocery store, stock what she'd purchased, leave the kitchen, and return to find the items she'd shelved spread all over the floor.
Strange headlights began appearing on the property in the dead of night. During one such incident — annoyed that anyone might trespass upon his land — Tom approached the source of the illuminations; what appeared to be an RV-type vehicle. As Gorman neared, the machine receded into the darkness, gliding over 50 foot tree lines, before noiselessly disappearing into the night.
With an increase in bizarre activity around the Skinwalker, so too came an expansion of Tom's curiosity. On more than one occasion, Gorman found himself creeping surreptitiously about his property, stalking anomalies.
One evening, Tom discovered a massive aircraft hovering silently above the ranch, as if searching for something. Although initially pegging the vehicle as a cross between an F-117A Nighthawk and a B-2 Stealth Bomber, Gorman quickly realized the awesome machine was noiselessly floating 20 feet off the ground. Tom became frightened when he accidentally made a noise, and the craft whirled around to face him. The rancher held his breath, and the silent vessel vanished into the darkness.
A separate incident found Gorman witness to a large rift in the sky over his property. In time, all four members of the family would view these apparent holes in the atmosphere. Often near dark outside, daylight appeared inside the fissures.
Even more unsettling was the time Tom observed a large, black, triangular object emerging from one of the openings. To the rancher, it appeared he was getting a rare glimpse at something from an alternate dimension entering his own existence. This type of speculation was painful for a devoutly religious family to consider, but what else could explain such bizarre anomalies?
During the winter of '94, the herdsman found himself on horseback, following the trail of one of his top breeding cows through the snow. By the animal’s gait, Gorman surmised the heifer had been desperate, and running at full speed. But running from what? The cow's were the only tracks as far as the eye could see. When Tom followed the trail to a massive clearing, what he witnessed chilled him to the bone. There, in the middle of an open expanse, the frenzied imprints stopped, with no sign of the animal anywhere. What type of force was powerful enough to lift a half-ton head of livestock into the sky during a driving snowstorm? Gorman would never see the cow again.
For a herder who prided himself on perfection, the loss of one animal per year was too much to bear, let alone the four that would simply vanish in similar fashion over the next three months. It was when numerous heads of cattle turned up mutilated that Tom became seriously concerned for his family's livelihood. Even more frustrating was the fact the animals were being killed and disfigured in broad daylight, often minutes after the Gormans had seen them alive.
Along with the ubiquitous fear of financial ruin came a different type of terror. This particular horror manifested itself in the form of spook lights. Normally an illumination that disappears when pursued, in the case of the Skinwalker's enigmatic effulgence, the orbs were aggressive, flying mere feet from both Tom and Ellen. What's more, the lights appeared manufactured, with glass housing containing blue liquid. On numerous occasions, the Gormans were left cowering as the orbs navigated around them, apparently capable of evoking extreme anxiety.
June 1996 brought a stranger to the Gorman property. Hearing tale of the area's mysterious attributes, a tall, blonde man appeared one day, asking if he could meditate on the land. Although Tom was hesitant, the visitor's near pleading led the rancher to acquiesce. Gorman took the stranger to a clearing a mile from the house, where the man began his introspection.
In the distance, the herder became aware of a cowbell resonating. The sound puzzled Tom, as none of his animals wore the crude devices. Behind a nearby copse of trees, Gorman could see something moving at a high rate of speed. Something big.
Continuing his meditation, the visitor paid no mind, as a monstrous wraith — mired in translucent waves — broke from the woods. Before Tom could warn his guest, the enormous beast towered over the blonde man, bellowing forth a thunderous reverberation. Jarring from his reverie, the stranger scrambled backward in terror. The huge anomaly returned to the cover of trees in mere seconds. It took the rancher several minutes to calm his distraught visitor. Needless to say, the man vowed never to return to the Skinwalker Ranch.
In Tom's mind, the episode validated the immense power of what he and his family were up against. The sight of the creature looming above the meditating man also proved the forces at work may no longer be hesitant to harm humans. Gorman's worst misgivings were justified after a group of blue, fear-inducing orbs appeared on the property one evening. Curious to see what might transpire, the rancher unleashed three of his dogs on the whirring objects. Within moments, he realized he had made a grave mistake. The spook lights proceeded to lead the canines behind a growth of trees, and systematically incinerated the animals. It was at this point Tom understood he would be putting his family in tremendous danger, should they remain on the property. Within hours, the Gormans had vacated the ranch.
Shortly, thereafter, Tom sold his homestead to the National Institute for Discovery Science (NIDS). Funded by Las Vegas real estate mogul, Robert Bigelow, NIDS was a collaboration of expert investigators hellbent on probing the paranormal.
Armed with a pair of Ph.D. accredited scientists and a group of top-tier technologists from multiple disciplines, the organization headed out to the ranch to see what they could find. In the meantime, the Gorman family relocated to a diminutive farmstead 25 miles away. Tom Gorman signed on as ranch manager of the Skinwalker, in order to clarify the mystery surrounding the property.
NIDS began their tour of the homestead with an investigation of four cattle mutilations. Tom lead the team to a pair of circular cavities in the ground, he claimed were remnants of inexplicable aircraft.
With a full briefing of anomalous events, NIDS hashed out a course of action. For the first time, whatever mysterious presence was inhabiting the area became the prey, as opposed to the pursuer.
Although many involved in the project argued advanced technology was the key to success, an opposing faction concluded low-end surveillance would yield optimal results. Tom sided with the latter of the two camps, explaining the only time he got the drop on the strangeness was when he employed minimal electronic equipment.
Despite Gorman's recommendation, an extensive network of devices was deployed to ensnare enigmas not only in the UV spectrum, but also the electromagnetic, as well as the magnetic.
A pair of reconnaissance teams — armed with a multitude of surveillance equipment — were sent into the field on a nightly basis. Both squads consisted of one or two paranormal researchers and at least one scientist. An advisory board of 15 top scientific minds would fly into Las Vegas for regular debriefings from the field investigators.
Apparently, the Gormans' old ranch wasn't the only property alive with paranormal activity, although it did seem the epicenter of the bizarre disturbances. The team recorded numerous consultations with local residents who had experienced the unexplained.
One horrific account came from a Mr. Gonsalez, who had discovered a cow — two of its legs broken — lying in a field on his property. Fearful the animal was in shock, Gonsalez raced to his ranch house, and retrieved a blanket with which to keep the creature warm. When the herdsman returned five minutes later, the heifer had vanished. Cattle in the aforementioned condition can't just move on their own.
Perplexed, the rancher returned home. An hour later, Gonsalez was astounded, as he peered out his window and viewed the same cow 50 yards from her original position. This time, when the man examined the animal, all four of her legs were broken. Gonsalez theorized the heifer must have been lifted into an aircraft on two separate occasions, and dropped from considerable altitude.
Why, then, hadn't the cattleman heard nor seen the surmised flying machine? His land provided no place for aerial vehicles to hide.
Three nights following the Gonsalez interview, NIDS would experience an enigmatic encounter of their own. On November 13th, at 1:30 AM, two crew members witnessed a brilliant, yellow light racing toward them from a nearby ridge. Emitting no sound, the luminance circled the investigators before speeding off into the darkness.
As temperatures dipped below zero, the investigative group headed for the warmer confines of Las Vegas, but remained on call. January 21, 1997 found a frenzied Tom Gorman reporting bizarre injuries to three calves, sustained during a severe snowstorm the previous evening. Conditions this drastic would have prevented predators from venturing into the open and attacking the animals, who were kept inside a closed corral. Yet, photos showed a cow with a shredded ear, and two more cattle with holes poked in their eyelids.
On March 10th, Tom informed NIDS something inexplicable had dismembered a prized calf during the day, while he and Ellen were in close proximity. According to the cattleman, neither he nor his wife heard nor saw a thing.
Five hours later, three members of NIDS had flown in from Vegas and were examining the carcass of the dead beast.
Whatever killed the calf had been exceedingly powerful, able to rip the animal's leg bones from their knee sockets. Even more peculiar was the fact the creature's four severed appendages were positioned methodically around the body, itself. The internal organs of the cow were missing, and not a single drop of blood remained in, on or near the beast. NIDS' veterinarian determined one of the animal’s ears had been sliced off by a razor-sharp instrument.
Three of Gorman's dogs — no strangers to tracking predators — had subsequently huddled in their kennels, refusing to come out for food or water. The fourth canine had raced off in the direction of the calf's killer, and would never be seen again.
With the partial NIDS team on site, another incident rocked the property after 11 PM, when the remaining dogs began barking maniacally. In response, Gorman and the crew jumped into the ranch manager's pickup, and raced onto the homestead. Viewing a cow in trouble, Tom aimed his vehicle at a nearby tree. That's when all four present saw two massive, reflective eyes gazing forth from the darkness. Braking to a halt, Gorman grabbed his rifle and fired a shot at whatever was hidden in the foliage 20 feet above the ground.
The eyes blinked out. Tom raced to the spot beneath the tree, only to discover the area empty. The rancher would once again catch sight of the creature, and fire two more rounds into it. Again, the anomaly would vanish, leaving the four men cautiously searching for what Gorman described as a 400 pound beast. Although there were no traces of blood, a pair of huge tracks, with apparent talons, were discovered in the snow.
Tom informed NIDS he had seen a pair of creatures, one in the tree, the other on the ground. Able to fell a predator from 500 yards, he claimed to have hit both beasts; the first with the initial round, the second with the last two.
NIDS was left with almost no physical evidence to substantiate their encounter. This trend would prove indicative of the group's overall experiences at the Skinwalker. Anomalous events never followed any pattern. Thereby, scientists were unsure where to focus their data collecting equipment. Still, investigative teams were able to corroborate one another's reports, ensuring researchers something beyond their comprehension was occurring.
Neighbor testimony lent credence to the supernatural origin of what was happening. If the Gormans were fabricating a lie, their efforts were thorough. To achieve such a feat, collusion with countless acquaintances would have been necessary.
The scientists began to feel as if some type of force was toying with them. During one particular instance, a researcher spotted a massive, black entity moving through a copse of trees in front of him. Whatever he gazed upon was large enough to block out the stars. The man began screaming.
Racing to their colleague's side, the investigators discovered their associate bewildered and horrified. The frazzled scientist claimed whatever he encountered had somehow penetrated his mind, informing him it was watching the team. The individual — an esteemed academic — appeared to have his entire belief system shaken.
Among the more prevalent enigmas witnessed by NIDS were inexplicable lights displaying malicious intent. Such was the case when a pair of mysterious, blood-red spook lights attacked Tom's herd, causing the animals to race headlong over a 15 foot cliff. When all was said and done, two more cows would be injured, one would die, and a fourth would be aborted.
It should be noted the most common UFO witnessed throughout history is the mysterious light. Lest one forget the unexplained "foo fighters" observed by Allied and Axis pilots, or the strange spheres ineffectually tracked by radar and fighter jets over the White House in 1952.
On the evening of August 25, 1997, while surveying the ranch, two scientists witnessed a glowing opening in the distance. From within the portal, a black, faceless 400 pound humanoid emerged, dropping onto the ground and escaping into our current dimension. Moments later, the opening vanished. The entity disappeared, as well, but only from view, as the men realized they were alone, in the dark, with a being from another reality.
Cautiously, the scientists set out to acquire evidence from their sighting. Although the creature never manifested again, the pair of researchers did detect a distinct odor in the vicinity where the beast had crawled on its stomach and elbows. A thorough search for footprints revealed nothing, as the ground in the region was too hard to absorb impressions.
In time, NIDS scientists mounted six CCTV cameras at one of the more active regions on the property. One evening, Tom noticed three of the devices were no longer working — their electronics violently gutted. Fortunately, an undamaged camcorder had been pointing toward the vandalized cameras. As a result, whomever, or whatever eviscerated the equipment should have been caught on video. Upon examining footage from the operating camcorder, NIDS was astonished to find no unusual activity on the tape, even during the time stamp displayed at the moment the three other devices were destroyed.
Eventually, activity on the ranch dissipated, even though anomalous encounters continued in the Uinta Valley. Despite the fact the members of NIDS witnessed the enigmatic whilst at the Skinwalker, they felt they had missed their opportunity to capture evidence validating these experiences.
The fear emitting from the Gormans was almost tangible, whereas NIDS displayed a more intrepid demeanor. The assemblage of scientists hunted anomalies, while Tom and his family were the hunted. The Gormans had minimal technology at their disposal, as opposed to the barrage of electronics employed by the researchers.
Had these variances in approach produced the disparity in results?
In the words of one NIDS delegate, "We know so little in terms of what the overall scope of these phenomena are that it's just embarrassing to try and make some conclusions at this point. Imagine that you have a phenomena that is very selective as to how it exposes itself and to whom. So if you have a tailgate, football stadium-type of atmosphere and everybody's got hot dogs and hamburgers and they're barbecuing and waiting for the UFOs to come down, I don't picture a continuation of the activity."
In conclusion, the National Institute for Discovery Science spent eight years on the Skinwalker Ranch. Such exhaustive field research is unparalleled in the realm of the paranormal. NIDS is certain the enigmatic disturbances on the farmstead were not the result of an elaborate fabrication by the Gorman family, themselves.
Tom and his clan are "rock-solid, firmly grounded, honest people." The Gormans never amassed a dime from their story. Neither did their neighbors. In fact, numerous ranchers in the region lost considerable capital due to cattle deaths. In addition, "dozens of the most disturbing incidents were personally witnessed and documented by NIDS scientists and researchers. The Gormans did not — and could not — manufacture them."
Tom and his family have subsequently moved out of state. To this day, they refuse to grant interviews.
Could whatever enigmas once present at this Hotspot of High Strangeness have been so intelligent, they orchestrated who would experience them?
The answer to this question, as well as so many others regarding the Skinwalker Ranch, currently eludes us.
Sources:
Books:
Kelleher, Colm, Ph.D.; Knapp, George. (2005). Hunt for the Skinwalker: Science Confronts the Unexplained at a Remote Ranch in Utah. Pocket Books, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc. ISBN: 1416505210
Online Sources:
National Institute for Discovery Science:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Institute_for_Discovery_Science
Path of the Skinwalker:
http://www.aliendave.com/Article_PathoftheSkinwalker_p1.html
Scientists at NIDS Study Anomalous Phenomena:
http://www.ufoevidence.org/documents/doc1200.htm
Skinwalker Ranch:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skinwalker_Ranch
Skinwalker Ranch [2]:
http://www.skinwalkerranch.org/
For further information, please access the following:
www.paranormalroadtrip2.weebly.com
www.paranormalroadtrip3.weebly.com
www.paranormalroadtrip2.weebly.com
www.paranormalroadtrip3.weebly.com