Unedited Chapter 3

3 Inescapable voices in the darkness flooded the young girl’s mind in a barrage of horrible memories as the blowing snow of the outside world slapped the high rise apartment’s glass windows in vain. If only similar protection could be offered by the window into her very soul… “Daddy, who was that man?” her younger voice asked in the echoes of her mind. “Baby, that’s a very bad man and he’s here to do very bad things. I’m going to take care of him but you’re going to have to be cool and let me do my thing.” Her father spoke in desperation. His name was Reed. That was all she remembered of the chubby intruder that had entered their home that night on a mission. Somewhere between her mother’s secret nocturnal activities and her father’s accusations of murder, this man had inadvertently drawn the shortest straw to carry out the evil deeds of Sheriff Jessie McGee. Seeing only through her mind’s eye, the two of them ran up the stairs for the protection of her bedroom like a realistic movie stuck on ‘repeat’ night after night. “I’m going to try and bluff him, baby” Toby told her “If I can keep him busy with conversation, maybe I can buy us the time to go out of a window or something” Her younger voice was obviously not impressed with the decision made. “Bluff him?” the teenage girl questioned “Dad…you’re a damned werewolf! Go out there and eat him, don’t bluff him!” She could almost feel the chill in the house from the October wind and rain that blew just outside what she once considered to be the safest place in her world. Shaking her back to a near sense of reality, the pressure on her shoulders from Toby’s hands felt realistic. “Honey” Toby explained “If there were more, they would’ve knocked. This guy isn’t here to arrest me…he’s here to kill us! Go do what I say!” The sincerity in her father’s voice was unlike any she had heard before from Toby Liberman. Struggling to open her bedroom window in order to escape into the night, the argument in the hallway continued… “You mean to tell me that you, Toby Liberman, is going to bare handedly take down an officer of the law, who happens to be armed, and save the day in front of your slut wife and smart mouthed daughter…and bells will chime…and birdies will sing…and the good guy wins and the bad guy falls?” The overweight law man screamed from the bottom of the stairs with confidence. “Well…yeah…” Toby thought aloud “That kind of was the thought that was going through my head right about now. Why? You don’t think it’s possible?” her father bluffed hopefully. She could sense the nervousness in his reply. Suddenly, the unthinkable happened. Awakened by the commotion in the next room, her mother awoke. Realizing that she was suddenly alone in her own bed, she made her way to the only thing that separated her from the dangerous condition her husband and daughter were already deeply involved in. The bedroom door. With a twist of the knob and the creak of ancient hinges, the number of individuals in the home that were at risk of not making it out alive became three. “Toby…are you still here?” she announced in the darkness, not knowing of the danger that awaited her only a mere ten feet away in the shadows “What’s going on out here?” “Jessica…GO!” her dad screamed in vain at the top of his lungs only to be drowned out by the recognizable crack of a gun blast. A single strobe of blinding light had bore witness to the surprised look in Jessica Liberman’s eyes before she collapsed helplessly onto the floor. Almost as though it had been rehearsed time and again, the intruder spoke six words that instantly changed Katie Liberman’s life forever… “One Liberman down…two to go.” Everything from this point on in her memory existed as quick flashes in her subconscious because of the terror that unfolded before her very eyes. She had seen massive amounts of blood before on television. What the television never explains to you is that it comes with a smell and a substance…and, as she would soon find out shortly after this…a taste. It was a taste that would eventually come to consume her life. A taste of home… “Don’t kill me Toby! Please don’t kill me!” Toby’s image shrank suddenly from the animal’s full height and his human features showed through the darkness towards the pleading, dying man. “Don’t kill you?” Toby spoke maniacally “You mean…don’t kill me like I did your wife? Don’t kill me like I’ve done to so many others before her at the orders of that lunatic you call a boss?” It wasn’t necessarily the visions of the man’s destruction that effected her…it was the sounds. The desperate begging for his own life and the gurgling of the blood in his throat as he fell limp on their living room floor in the shadow of the roaring fire place caused her to twitch ever so slightly…even in memory. The fireplace’s shadow soon became a bright, roaring, and controllable mean’s to and end for this chapter in her young life. Dodging flame and falling debris and escaping the choking smoke, she and Toby emerged onto the front porch only to be confronted with another hopeless situation. The death of the Deputy didn’t quiet his call for backup quick enough. As though everything was playing out in slow motion, her father turned to her with a fateful ultimatum. “Do you feel like giving up?” he asked calmly and seriously to Katie. “Do we end it all here? I’m leaving it up to you, kiddo…” Finally, the answer came…and it was much to his new found liking. Much like the raging fire that had been shut just beyond the barrier of their front door, Katie burned with an unusual and never before felt desire for vengeance and danger. Nothing else mattered in her young mind anymore. The visions, smell, and sound of the dying man’s blood had awakened something over all unusual to her and she was overpowered with the thoughts of making the same thing happen to all involved in the events of that evening. “Mom wouldn’t want us to give up” she replied angrily “How fast can you run?” Her father replied with a smart assed smirk that could’ve put Harrison Ford’s trademark to shame. “Pretty freaking fast, baby” Dodging red and blue flashing light as well as sporadic gun fire, her mind now raced to visions of the deep, rain soaked forests of Twin Oaks, Texas. Suddenly, the two of them entered a clearing as she hung on to her father for dear life and passed through the iron gates of an old cemetery. Descending into a dank structure that Toby had been using for a hideout, she soon slipped into a deep slumber that, unfortunately, didn’t end too well… She remembered his words of comfort just before everything around her faded into black. “Katie, honey…” he gained her attention “It’s okay to cry now. You don’t have to play the role of the untouchable big girl. I plan on doing the same here in just a little while…” Crying her young eyes out was really all that she wanted to do at the current time but the before mentioned fire raging inside of her wouldn’t allow it. “If we cry…they win” she boasted, forcing anger again to the surface of her face. In dreams, all that the young girl could think of was great feats of vengeance that could only be carried out in movies like The Boondock Saints…cool prayer and slow motion actions sequences included. In just a matter of days, her mother and uncle had been taken from her suddenly with no means of return…or so she thought at the time. Rudely awakened and thrown into the trunk of a police cruiser, she screamed for any and all that could hear her…but no one came to her aid. Her visions soon jumped to that of an open field amidst the rides and attractions of the Myrtle County Fair Grounds soaked in pouring rain restrained with freezing chains. Her captor, the now mortal enemy of the Liberman family paced like a caged animal waiting for a feeding. Her usual witty back and forth banter had only earned her a slap across the face and a promise of her demise once Toby’s inevitable rescue efforts came into play. From that point on, all she could deliver to the Sheriff was, at that particular time, empty promises. “Now…you’ve gone and screwed yourself. If my father doesn’t kill you…I sure as hell will. Mark my words.” Jessie couldn’t help but notice the seriousness in her voice but it fell away almost unheard. She was nothing more than a child delivering empty promises in desperation. “Young lady…” he spoke bending down, looking her deep in her moistened eyes “I can almost assure you that the only people that will be dying tonight will be those by the last name of Liberman. Consider your words marked…and ignored.” The fear that would normally exist on a thirteen year olds breath at this point in the situation would normally be overpowering to some that had never been placed in a similar event. Katie Liberman, however, was exhaling nothing but vengeance and anger. When her father finally appeared at the edge of the clearing for the final confrontation of the evening, she searched her mind frantically for a means to assist him in any way possible. Hell, if the situation were to arise, she was going to attempt to make it happen on her own without anyone else’s help. “Welcome back, Mr. Liberman” the Sheriff announced aloud. “Glad you could make it to my little party!” “Daddy!” young Katie screamed out loud, still tied to the power post. “It’s a trap, daddy…run!” Fortunately…her father was well aware of the situation and had come prepared…somewhat… “I know, baby…I know” What followed was a frantic fight for life and a revelation of secrets the likes of which even a Hollywood movie would have to struggle to invent. During the argument, she had managed to sneak out of her restraints and put the events of that fateful night in motion. Both of them now lingering on the narrow footing of death’s edge, she stared hopelessly down the barrel of Jessie McGee’s gun awaiting eternity. As though the man were answering a comment from an unseen player in the game, he chambered a bullet with her name on it and answered the unheard comment. “No sir…I’m going to enjoy this. She won’t be as lucky as you were…” With the velocity of the bullet that never reached her, Katie sprang from her bed into the cold night air of the New York apartment with blankets flying in all directions. Gasping for relief from the memories that plagued her sleep, she sat upright in a field of temporary confusion. As she inhaled deep and frantic, the chill around her brought the young girl back into a sense of reality. Searching around the room for some recognizable signs of truth, the blue tinted, glowing vision of Jessica Liberman sat in a bedside chair next to her in observation. Even though there was no physical substance to the lady’s being, it almost appeared as though the entity had tears forming in the wells of her eyes. A mother’s love for their daughter and the desire to comfort them in times of uncertainty knows no boundaries…even in death…and the life that possibly waits beyond… “You know…I never wanted any of this.” the ghost whispered “I wanted you to grow up, go to college, and spit out a few kids of your own. Not this…” “Well, Mom…” Katie began, stretching sleepily “None of us have much control in the hand that was dealt to us. I’m sure if we could restart the game, you and Uncle Johnny wouldn’t be dead, Dad wouldn’t be a creature of the night, and I wouldn’t be freezing my ass off in a tree in Central Park every night looking for the bastard that did all of this to us. I’m doing what I feel needs to be done in order for the dreams of yesterday to still have a fighting chance tomorrow.” The last things in the world that the young girl wanted was to let her mother, living or dead, know of the fear that was currently living deep down inside of her soul. Katie had it all figured out…up to a point. Fly to New York and spend every last cent of her freshman year money on a lush apartment and find Kurt Jimmerson in thirty days? Check. What to do with him once she had found him? Not a clue. Stretching her arms above her head lightly scratching the headboard, she peered hopelessly at the snow that was once again falling onto the world below. For most girls her age, this was a dream come true. The big city sprawled out two dozen stories below her covered in white as far as normal eyes could see. “You know, you didn’t have to come with me” she began the argument again “I mean, I don’t know what it is you would’ve been doing otherwise...ghost crap, I guess…interrupting kids parked in the cemetery while they were making out and fun stuff like that…but there isn’t a whole lot that you’re going to be able to do to help me when the time comes other than watch me or the other guy get shredded to pieces.” “Shredded to pieces?” Jessica shrieked “Kathryn Rene Liberman, could you please be a little gentler with the terminology when it comes to speaking about the future?” “I’m just trying to keep it real, mother” she barked doing her best New Yorker impression “Did you like that? I’m trying to sound like a local!” “You’ve got a long way to go, honey” Jessica responded “That East Texas draw in your voice isn’t easily overlooked in this part of the country…” The fact of the matter is, Jessica Liberman wasn’t about to let Katie strike out on her own. She had been wandering around in the foggy abyss of her burial ground for what had seemed like an eternity. Speaking occasionally to the other entities that chose to remain near their bodies, she had learned a thing or two…but not how to contact the living. Sure, she could see them come and go through the graveyards going about their daily lives but they never so much as acknowledged her presence no matter what she tried in order to get their attention. Suddenly, like a beacon in the opaque darkness, Katie had appeared next to her headstone to have what was to be the final conversation. Without warning, Katie had looked up from the ground while speaking and recognized her image. Jessica wasn’t quite sure how it had happened...she only knew that it did. She could only imagine that it had something to do with the unfortunate curse that had been bestowed upon her young daughter and, for a few days, it was pleasant. Honestly, she didn’t know how much longer she was going to be able to handle not being able to physically interact with her. One last hug would be enough. “…the choice is yours, though” Katie continued during Jessica’s recollection “I’ve got to hit the shower and get to work if I’m going to make this happen. Don’t wait up. I’m going back to the park tonight to see what I can come up with. These guys have got to show up sometime. The priest I spoke to last night verified that it’s a part of Jimmerson’s story that isn’t a lie.” “A priest? Come on, Katie…you’re Jewish! You weren’t worried about bursting into flames by going into a Catholic church?” Jessica attempted to joke. “Not really” Katie started to retort “Grandpa was Jewish, Dad is nothing, and before you died…you were a Methodist. That’s what they call people that worship meth, right?” “Funny, dear” Jessica exaggerated half heartedly “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Katie paused momentarily before closing the bathroom door, searching for the proper come back. “Mommy dearest, I hate to be the bearer of bad news…but your chances of “living” anything down from this point on is minimal.” Visually disturbed by the comment, Jessica swooped towards the girl’s location in the blink of an eye. “It’s not funny, Katie! You need to give the ghost jokes a rest!” “Yeah, sure I will…” Katie winked “I’ll be more than happy to give them a rest…in peace…” Slamming the door behind her, Katie quietly giggled behind the noise of the falling shower leaving her mother outside to cringe. It was times like these she was glad that there was no possible way for her mother to physically interact with her. She was going to have fun at her expense while there was still fun to be had… Her mother’s existence in this situation hadn’t been something that she originally planned for. She had been told by Toby that her Uncle Johnny had come to him in a time of need by stating something personal and sincere that only belonged to the two of them. As time went by and the curse lived on inside of her veins, she was slowly learning that everything going on from her father’s point of view wasn’t entirely true. It wasn’t that he had lied to her…it was just what he had been instructed in the beginning. I’m sure there had been things he’d discovered on his own that made him come to the realization of being led down a false path also…but there was always the slightest possibility that he was keeping it to himself. Even though he had been more than willing to try and steer Katie down the easiest path to werewolf acceptance, there were some things that she had to figure out on his own. He was always a little cryptic when it came to certain details. Either he didn’t know the entire truth himself or there were some things that he just didn’t want his darling daughter to know. The interaction with ghosts was one of them. She was sure that the last thing her father wanted was for her to be in the cemetery trying to seek guidance from her mother. He wanted her to live for the future and not live in the past. Quite frankly, it was the past that was destined to control each of their futures. It was during her final attempt to make contact…when she was needed most…that she appeared to her. The Catholic Priest had been the same way. The other ghosts she’d encountered on her journey belonged to something altogether different that she hadn’t figured out yet. Maybe it was ‘they’ that needed her? Finishing her shower and stepping out onto the floor, she was thankful that she had chosen the Rockefeller Center apartments as her dwelling. No matter what the temperature was outside in the harsh conditions of Manhattan, she stayed toasty warm with the heated floors. Five thousand dollars a month for a place this luxurious had damn near cleaned her out but, if there indeed existed a possibility that she might not return to Twin Oaks in one piece, she was going to live it up the best she could. It was absolutely perfect as a base of operations. Ten minutes away from Central Park, as the human runs, and barely five minutes away from the Jimmerson and Wolf law firm where she was now gainfully employed. If things went to hell suddenly…she didn’t have far to go for most people would consider to be safety. The only drawback was that five thousand dollars didn’t leave much to the imagination when it came to meals and a party budget. If she pulled a victory in the situation at hand, it was going to be a long walk back to Texas. Exiting the bathroom, her mother stared her up and down with a smirk upon her transparent face. “This is what you’re wearing to work at a law firm?” the apparition inquired. “I’m working in the mail room, Mom.” As though she had prepared for the conversation at hand “No one of any importance is going to see me sorting mail in the basement and I doubt, if they did, they wouldn’t be quick on their feet to recognize my radiant beauty and propose marriage to me.” Glancing up and down again slowly, Jessica stared disgusted at the ripped knee holes in a pair of two year old, faded jeans and the black hoodie that draped loosely over the body of her eighteen year old daughter. “It’s all about comfort, mother” she attempted to explain “I’m not climbing trees in the snow wearing a business suit” Exhaling non-existent breath out of pure habit, Jessica hung her head to the floor “Why, oh why, child did you end up with your father’s fashion sense? First impressions last a lifetime, Katie.” “Coming from the expert on lifetimes, I’ll have you know that I probably don’t have much more of one left” Katie informed her mother hopelessly “Now…sit tight…let me do my thing…and watch a Ghost Hunter’s marathon or something. Hell, you might learn something…” With the security and warmth of the high rise apartment far behind her, Katie pushed head first into the oncoming bitter cold of the city. Today, she infiltrated the wolf’s den, for lack of better terminology, in the hopes that she could find some small clue to end her family’s curse forever. With any luck, there wouldn’t be much opposition in the form of fact finding. Her main concern was the physical battle that was destined to ensue if she was caught. It’s not every day of your life that you have to battle for mere survival and she hoped beyond all hope that she wasn’t too rusty with her skills to do so. After all…it had been five years since she’d stared at death face to face… A couple of years of internet research had given Katie a tiny bit of a prepared feeling when she first reached the 52nd Street entrance of Jimmerson & Wolf but the tall shadow of the fifty story building brought on an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness when she first reached for the door. Constant viewing of satellite maps and web cameras in the area had revealed nothing at all unusual and the charitable contributions towards the Central Park area of New York, especially the Belvedere Castle restoration had kept the business in the positive media with article after article in her computer’s search engines. This was the marker for what could very well be the rest of her life. All actions, consequences, and futures of the Liberman family from this point forward in history would be traced back to this exact moment in this exact spot. Upon entering the lobby, the building looked like typical Manhattan money. Chocolate colored, marble floors reflected the images of priceless chandeliers as though they were stars shining on a river at midnight. The smell of lavender filled the air with a hint of cinnamon from an adjoining bakery. People rushed from everywhere headed nowhere. When the snooty, elderly lady at the front desk directed her to the elevator, however, all signs of luxury and importance came to a screeching halt. When the doors opened to the basement that housed the mailroom, it was the closest thing that Katie had ever experienced that resembled a medieval dungeon. Flat white cinderblock walls lined the dimly lit hallway and the pleasant smells of the world above were no longer existent. Mold and ancient water now filled her nostrils unpleasantly with a small hint of aging papers and computer exhaust. Oddly enough, she felt a little more like it was somewhere she belonged. There were no suits and ties in the underground. Instead, a gothic looking girl in her mid twenties was all she could find of a living presence. This mystery was obviously the one meant to be her boss. She had snatched the job application from Katie’s hands as though it was an annoyance. Jet black fingernails flipped pages curiously while dark eyes scanned the information hidden behind long, stringy, dye bottle colored hair. Somewhere, a Hot Topic store was missing a manager…or a favorite customer. In this town, it was getting harder and harder every day to tell the difference. As the girl thumbed the last page, Katie couldn’t help but almost feel an instant connection with the girl. She was far beyond attractive regardless of her initial appearance and a similar sense of fashion existed. Torn jeans and hoodies were obviously the dress code for law firm mailrooms. Glancing up between opaque bangs, the dismal girl finally spoke. “Kathryn Rene Haynes” she sarcastically read from the stack of papers “What brings you to my personal hell?” Katie loved her already. “I’m just interning while I’m in school” she explained off the top of her head “I put in an application and got lucky I guess. Columbia University…” “Columbia?!” the mid twenties girl exclaimed “Damn, girl…you’re a long way from 116th Street! Couldn’t you have found anything closer? Do you like getting mugged or something?” Katie was really in love. “I just wanted to work somewhere that I could tell was more interested in the greater good rather than lining its own pockets with wealth. From my research…I figured that this was the place.” It was at this point in the conversation that the young lady removed her hair from in front of violently dark and shadowed eyes. “Honey…screw the research. You want to know what really happens in a law office? This is the place to do so. Every half wit piece of trash in trouble with the law within a hundred miles of this town comes through this place first in the form of court writs and letters begging for help. Charity? The greater good? You have no idea.” Katie could tell suddenly that any positive thoughts of a work environment had left this girl a long time ago. Who was to blame her? Sure, her father had come home from time to time complaining about the minor law breakers from back in Twin Oaks but a city this size was sure to bring them out in droves. Murders, rapists, and child molesters could fill the streets around her at any given time and she would never know the difference. It was time to turn on some charm or this girl was going to be the death of her at some point before anyone else got a chance to be the death of her. “Oh, I totally get what you’re saying” Katie began “To a point anyways. My dad is sort of involved with the law back home and we’ve been ran out of a store or two by guys he’s had to deal with before. It kind of sucks, really. Never knowing from one minute to the next if you’re going to be safe or not…” “Kathryn, this isn’t Dallas…regardless of how ‘big’ you think that place is.” The boss interrupted “I went there once when I was a kid. It was a joke. This is New York City. This is the hub of the entire world. Trade. Immigration. Crime. The worst of the worst of the worst come here looking for a quick fix or a helpless victim. If you stay here long enough…you’ll see what I’m talking about. You’ll be sick of it soon enough, dropping out of Columbia, and running back home to the land of hicks and snuff rings in the boy's back pockets before you know it.” Katie didn’t know why the young girl had picked this particular time to vent out possibly years of frustration…but she was starting to get a little nervous again. Maybe she was trying to scare her away but maybe…just maybe…she was also trying to save her from whatever wholesome visions of the world that an eighteen year old still possessed. What this nameless, troubled face didn’t understand was that the young Texan had lost her innocent hopes of the world years ago. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, the black haired girl caught her breath and took the conversation into an entirely different direction. “Well, regardless of how I feel, I guess you’re here Kathryn. Welcome to Jimmerson & Wolf.” Standing up sharply and pulling her dark hair from inside of her hooded sweatshirt, she extended her pale hand in welcome. “This is basically a bean flicking job so you’re probably going to like it. Letters come in, we read them, and then we send them upstairs. It’s sort of like a written version of daytime trash television shows so…wait….” The young lady paused “you’re not a LUG, are you?” “I don’t even know what a LUG is…” Katie responded “so I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.” The dark haired girl snickered under her breath “A LUG is an acronym for ‘lesbian until graduation’. I don’t…well, not since that one time, swing that way so I just needed to know if I should be worried about being alone with you down here in this lonely, soundproofed, almost abandoned, and darkly lit basement.” Katie couldn’t help but smile a little bit at the question being asked but she could tell that the other girl in the conversation was dead serious…almost as though it had been an issue in her life before. If ever there were a chance for an icebreaker regarding her sense of humor and attitude, this was it. She took her shot. “Lesbian? No, not me. I mean, sure…I’ve sat there at the silverware drawer before when no one else was home looking at the utensils wondering which one’s would hurt me, if I’d get an infection, and if I ever planned on using them again to prepare food…but I’ve always been partial to guys. I think you’re safe with me.” The hair fell in front of the girl’s face again as she bent forward in what seemed to be painful but welcomed laughter. Smiling for the first time since meeting one another, she looked up at Katie through new and sparkling eyes as though they’d just found their first friend in a long time. It was an instant connection. “Girl…you are sick!” the stranger responded “I like that in a chick. My name’s Amdrea, by the way…but I prefer that my friends call me Willow.” “Nice to meet you, Willow” Katie responded “I’m Katie Haynes. I don’t have any friends…but if I did, I would want them to call me Kat.” The two girls continued to giggle and stare at one another for several minutes as though they were long lost sisters that were meeting for the first time. With one cynical joke after another, they traded verbal licks on into the afternoon and beyond as though they’d known each other forever. As the work day ended and Katie began to gather her belongings into her backpack, she had completely forgotten that she had gone to this place with a purpose to fulfill. It would have to wait. Right now…this was something that was altogether unusual to her since the passing away of Johnny Haynes. She had discovered someone else in this crazy world that was just as odd and terrible as her. Throwing the pack over her shoulder with a shrug, she smiled at the first potential friend who had come along since first landing in the city that never sleeps. “Goodnight, Willow…” She bid farewell “I guess I’ll be seeing you in the morning…” “Oh, no way, Kat” Willow exclaimed in disbelief “There is no way I’m going to let you out of my sight tonight! I know a little Irish pub just around the corner…” Katie interrupted her right back quickly out of habit. “Willow! I’m only eighteen! I can’t drink…” Willow pressed an extended index finger softly across the lips of the teenage traveler and shushed her in mid sentence. Looking Katie deep in her eyes as though she could read her very thoughts, the new found friend made it all sound simple and honest. Simple and honest was within reason at this point. “Kittie Kat…this is Manhattan. Eighteen or eighty…no one gives a shit here. C’mon…lets go get drunk, shake off the stress of the day, and wake up with matching tattoos! Deal?” …and with that, Katie Liberman’s adventures in New York City were successfully kicked off…regardless of the fact that they were being kicked off in the opposite direction of her original intentions. “You know this job doesn’t pay, right?” Willow added as they strolled towards the elevator “I don’t want you to get hard up for money and start having to rub peter to pay Paul…” “You mean ‘rob Peter to pay Paul’?” Katie inquired half confused. “I wish” Willow confessed “I owed money to a guy named Paul once. I had to do a few things I’m not proud of…”

Far From Home, Chapter 2, unedited, first draft 2 The full moon shone brightly against the clear night sky causing a blinding shimmer of elegance on the freshly fallen snow of Central Park. Blanketed by the disguising vale of a million city lights, a few stray stars here and there were all that shared the grandeur amidst the blackened heavens above New York City. Still…its beauty was a far cry to behold when compared against the celestial crowding of North Texas nightfall…but it held a certain charm all its own nonetheless. The chilling, frozen precipitation had ended hours ago removing all signs of life or movement amongst the local population. With the darkness came a need for them all to return indoors to their warm homes without fear of molestation by the metaphoric monsters that reside in the shadows of the night. Tucked away safely in toasty beds, most inhabitants of this city dreamt away their worries and cares amidst the ignored intrusions of honking taxi cabs and the ear piercing squeal of an occasional garbage truck’s brakes. Regardless of the noise surrounding it, no sounds existed in Central Park with the exception of a broken tree limb from time to time being overcome by the weight of the accumulation. It was the eerie kind of silence in which nightmares were often composed. Ten blocks away from the serenity of the majestic park, a young stranger sat alone in ultimate concentration within the gothic cathedral walls of St. Patrick’s Catholic Church shaking off two hour’s worth of the park’s frigid emptiness. Like an ancient shadow pressed against the modern illumination of Manhattan, the three hundred foot tall spires rose like flowers to the sunlight amongst its more recently built counterparts. Able to accommodate over two thousand people at any given service, the young girl felt more alone than ever before. Although she knew all too well that she wasn’t the only person that had ever felt insignificant inside the church’s echoing, empty chambers since its construction nearly two centuries ago…the girl couldn’t help but think exactly that with each passing second. Deep in the confines of prayer, a lonesome tear of both fear and hope streaked the soft skin of her young cheek heading straight for the polished marble floor below. In the quiet darkness, its impact caused a deafening disturbance that snapped her from her trance momentarily. Quickly scanning the shadows for any other signs of life, she bowed her head once again and returned to her meditation. Her name was Katie Liberman. The past few years of Katie’s life had been one of tragedy and discovery. With every passing day, the memories of those that had come and gone before her in the metaphorical roller coaster that she had come to know as life tugged at her heart strings with increasing weight. Barely eighteen years of age, she had been struck with the loss of her favorite Uncle, Johnny Haynes, who had served as her personality and attitude’s mentor since the time in which she was first learning how to speak. Within hours of that tragedy, she had personally witnessed the murdering of her own mother, Jessica Liberman, at the hands of a rogue deputy Sheriff after he had broken into their home in Twin Oaks, Texas by order of a maniacal tyrant hell bent on destroying her family. In return, she bestowed upon herself a great power in order to rescue what remained of those she loved and cared about but with great power…comes a price. This price, in general, was that of a curse that changed her life completely from that moment until now. She had journeyed to the terrible city from her quiet, country roots in order to find a cure that curse and it was nearly within her grasp. To most, hers was a story that would be almost too much to handle on any given day regardless of circumstances or upbringing. To Katie, this had become daily life. The curse of the werewolf was something she had seen produced by Hollywood time and time again during her youth but, contrary to popular belief, there was nothing glamorous about it. Inadvertently caught up in the middle of an ongoing war between the lunatic Sheriff of her hometown, Jessie McGee, and a stranger whom she had never met face to face, her father and been infected with the rage of the once thought mythical creature. In order to save his life from the secretive and power mad Sheriff, she had made the rash decision to take upon her father’s burden without a second to spare for thinking of repercussions and win the day for all those that suffered at the hands of McGee. At thirteen years old, an altered future was something rarely thought of. Jamming her wrist between her father’s poisonous teeth as he drew what could’ve been his final breaths; she turned to meet her foe with a face of terror and took his life with furious anger. Unknown to her at the time, Jessie McGee was not the source of the evil that had coursed through her veins over the past five years. There were more. A New York City attorney by the name of Kurt Jimmerson had came and went in her small town like a falling star in the night sky and left in his wake a pathway of destruction…yet hope. Being the cursed Sheriff’s creator, he had traveled to and from the East Coast and North Texas on several occasions in the hopes of destroying that which had gotten out of hand. Repeatedly, he had failed. Realizing that newer, younger blood would be needed to defeat his foe had led to a chance meeting with Katie’s father in the midnight wilderness and that was where it all began. Departing quickly with a mouthful of lies to mislead her father on various facts of his existence and history, Jimmerson had left Twin Oaks before the infamous final showdown in order to retain his safety when it all came to a head. As that rainy night in the fairgrounds progressed, the light of truth had been brought forth before the death blow was dealt to the town villain. Jimmerson had lied about a lot of things with the exception of, luckily, his profession and place of residence. The hope amongst the bad dreams of five years ago was the fact that the townspeople had embraced her father’s misfortune rather than fear him for his differences. Soon after everything was said, done, and settled…Toby Liberman had been elected the replacement Sheriff in Myrtle County and the entire place went werewolf crazy. Still a secret to the majority of their community’s outsiders, the local population had lifted him up to near celebrity status and entrusted their safety and well being to what they considered to be a type of super hero as sorts. Within the frame of a few months, her hometown had become a place of safety and family where those who wished ill will against peace were no longer welcomed…and taught accordingly with swift justice. He had even remarried. Katie was now the proud step daughter of her Uncle’s late girlfriend upon his untimely death. They had all been so close during the tragic ordeal that it was the only solution that really made sense. What happened in the Liberman family…stayed in the Liberman family. Somehow, she had made it through her high school years without a soul identifying that she, too, possessed her father’s ‘gift’. Granted, she was a little more nimble and faster at sports and such than the normal kids ever wished they could be, but no one had ever guessed of the hunger that stirred inside of her from time to time. If they had, there was no way for it to be comprehended. A weekend camping trip from month to month was used to hide the true animal that prowled just beneath the skin of she and her father. In secluded privacy, the two of them would hunt wild deer and game to suffocate the pain filled feeling of emptiness that no mortal or conventional food could fill. This small tidbit of information would more than likely instill fear into the masses if they ever were to discover what their curses were truly capable of. The last thing they needed in such a small town was enemies. As time had progressed during the times that the two of them spent alone, her powers of transformation had become perfected and synchronized with her emotional state. Unlike the beliefs of the West Coast movie magicians, the curse of the werewolf had nothing to do with the cycles of the moon. It could be turned on and off at will with practice, patience, and mental peace. Also and unfortunately, unlike the horror films, it didn’t take a silver bullet from a gun to drop either of them like a bad habit. They could be killed by any means that would kill a normal human being. With this in mind, it was almost enough to keep Katie near the safety of her home rather than the far away confines of New York City on a quest for answers. Due to the lies that Kurt Jimmerson had fed her father over their extremely short relationship, neither of them truly knew much of the actual truth of their being unless it had been something personally experienced or accidentally discovered. To her, that in itself was enough to risk the unknown. She needed to know. Of course, this sudden trip across the country had been disguised as something else entirely… As far as anyone knew back home, including her own family, Katie was living the good life at the University of North Texas by way of a high school sports scholarship. Withdrawing all of her savings that was intended to be her lifeline for her freshman year in college, she bought a plane ticket to Manhattan and rented the most extravagant furnished apartment she could find closest to Central Park. With the difference in the cost of living between New York and home, she was only going to be able to survive financially for a month. Only three more weeks remained in order to confront her family’s nemesis or return home and explain to her father what had transpired. Either way, she wasn’t expecting to live through either. Taking on her mother’s maiden name, she had immediately represented herself as the newcomer Katie Haynes and landed a job in the basement floor mail room of the Jimmerson and Wolfe law firm on 52nd street near the park. After working there for only a few days now, she had realized all too quickly that her meager paychecks weren’t going to be able to support her heightened lifestyle in the Rockefeller Center apartments…and neither Mr. Jimmerson nor Mr. Wolfe had poked their heads in the basement very often. It was going to take some careful planning on her part and some down home cunning to eventually get where she needed to be in order to meet the infamous Kurt Jimmerson in the workplace. If that didn’t work then she was almost certain to meet him face to face in Central Park. When Jimmerson had given his version of the curse’s origin to Toby, the slick attorney had told him that there were entire clans of werewolves in New York City living daily lives in secrecy. When that special time came, they would venture into the park under cover of darkness to feed upon whatever living creature was unlucky enough to cross their paths. After three late and chilly nights in the park, Katie had seen nothing or no one other than average purse snatching criminals and police officers. Decent people didn’t venture into the park much after the sun went down but maybe that was the reasoning. If the wolf clans only fed on the criminal element…then who would care much if a few people disappeared here and there from time to time? Who would know when and where to find those people better than an attorney? Maybe all of them weren’t all that bad? If things didn’t change soon in order for the young girl to return home unscathed, she was beginning to think that she would have to do the same thing very soon. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time that she had delivered death to a human being. The only difference was that this particular man had been pointing a gun at her earlier in the evening. He had it coming. Again, her praying eyes opened slightly as she peered from side to side but, as before, there was nothing to be seen. Shifting slightly in the church pew, she returned to deep thoughts and requests for guidance and forgiveness for the events in her life’s horizon. Overhead through hidden speakers, a recording of chanting monk’s played that soothed her troubled soul. Even though it was being spoken in another language and she had no idea whatsoever what they were saying, it was a calming soundtrack to the mental movie of blood and carnage that was playing out in her head. She was trying everything possible to block those scary images from coming but it was no use. Upon her initial transformation, she had beaten McGee hands down because he had underestimated her. Jimmerson would be different. One of the lies, out of many, that her father’s mentor had explained to him was the fact that McGee had been the one to change him many years ago while on a camping trip in North Texas. According to the cryptic man and the majority of the werewolf legends, an infected person can be cured of their curse by tracking down and destroying the one responsible for bestowing the disease upon you .In reality, it had been the other way around and Jimmerson was merely attempting to clean up one of his ‘messes’ by killing the Sheriff.. With that being the case, no one was cured by Jessie McGee’s death. It was also the reason that McGee had allowed Jimmerson to live year after year through failed and numerous attempts on his life. If McGee killed Jimmerson, the Sheriff would’ve lost his powers and the ability to govern his criminal empire through fear and bloodshed. Ultimately, that was why Katie had journeyed to Manhattan. She wasn’t on a quest for answers or teachings. She was there to end it once and for all. With Jimmerson’s death…all would be set right once again. For years now, she had known that a normal life would be beyond her grasp as long as she carried her family’s burden. Time after time, she had turned boys away and put up her defenses upon their interest regardless of how much she admired the guy in return. What if she got carried away in the heat of the moment one night, transformed, and knocked the guy’s head clean off of his shoulders? What if eventually the relationship became serious and she had to reveal her deepest, darkest secret to the unsuspecting mate and he ran away in fear? What if she were to keep it a secret throughout the relationship only to reveal it suddenly when their first child began teething and killed the family cat? Is the curse even something that could be passed along through genetics? There were too many questions she didn’t have answers for but she cared little for discovering them. If she terminated the bloodline once and for all, she wouldn’t have to worry about any of the craziness that went through her head while staring at the ceiling deep in the dark night. Five long years of nothing but unanswered questions was enough. She was going to be cured or die trying. The other curse in her young life, other than the facts that she was a creature of the night with her late uncle’s undiagnosed tourette’s syndrome, was the fact that she had been passed along her biological mother’s physical features. Being five and a half feet tall and weighing a mere one hundred and twenty pounds, Katie had adopted her mother’s dirty blonde hair and athletic figure. It was getting harder and harder to remain hidden in a room full of men as she got older. Between genetics and the athleticism required to be a successful werewolf, nothing she ate stayed physically visible for any length of time. Her heightened senses could pick out easily which guy in the room was physically attracted to her and it sometimes made her sick to her stomach. As things developed in her favor during her last couple of years in high school, it got harder and harder to go to certain classes because of the bells and whistles going off in her head concerning how a few of the teachers truly felt about her. Luckily, her athletics coach was a woman but there were times where she wasn’t too sure about her feelings either. Most young girls that ended up this ‘lucky’ would flaunt their gifts to no end but all Katie wanted to do was hide it all. It did her no good whatsoever knowing that at any given time…she could be showing someone a lot more than what they bargained for. When she looked into the mirror, she couldn’t see what those around her coveted. All she could see was the animal within. The images of her past were beginning to invade her communication attempts with the all knowing and, though she tried, it was becoming more difficult to block them out. She could almost feel the frigid downpour of the October rain on her skin as she lay nearly helpless on the saturated ground of the Myrtle County fairgrounds. Her father’s almost lifeless body in werewolf form was twitching spastically only a few feet from her position and she could hear her foe loading his shotgun to deal out a swift end to the both of them. Five years later and fifteen hundred miles away, the piercing and searing pain of her father’s teeth dug deep within her arm’s flesh and all transformed to red. Dodging McGee’s gun as though she was no longer in charge of the destiny of her body, she pounced. The uncertain fear in his eyes revealed that he was no longer in control of the situation at hand. The taste of warm blood trickled down her throat for the first time and she howled into the pouring sky for the entire world to know of her victory… That was when the voice came. “What seems to be troubling you on this snowy night my child?” Katie’s mental bond with the savior was broken suddenly but she remained calm. She wasn’t quite sure how this individual was able to sneak up on her but from the sound of his voice, he meant no harm. He was merely curious and possibly offering help. At this point in time, she needed every bit that she could get. In a town full of eight million people coming and going, there was little time for any of them to offer kindness or advice. Whoever this gentleman was, he sounded both wise and sincerely concerned…and he was the first to do so since her plane had landed. “Nothing much” she replied, not wanting to reveal too much to the stranger. Not knowing of this individual’s intentions, she was going to attempt to stay as mysterious as possible. Granted, this man didn’t give off any vibe or aroma of something that intended her harm…but how many of those prowling the city at this hour had she truly encountered other than her father and Jessie McGee? Cautiously, she kept her eyes shut tight in the hopes that he would take the hint and go on about his business in the church. “I might’ve been born at night…but it wasn’t last night, my dear” the raspy, soft voice of the elderly gentleman continued “You’ve been sitting in this exact same spot every night for almost a week now. Boy trouble?” Even though it was a welcomed distraction from what Katie had come to know as ‘normal’ inside the confines of the cathedral over the past few nights, she wasn’t quite sure on what to reveal to this man. Unfortunately, his persistence had caused an answer on that subject to come to mind almost instantly. Fine. If he truly wanted to know…she was going to tell him. Perhaps it would be enough to give him the hint to keep moving about his business. "I don't do romantic relationships, mister.” She began. “Most people I've had an emotional attachment to have either died a horrible death in the past five years or had their lives severely altered beyond recognition. After that, all that's left is sex…and where does that leave me? They fall in love and I fall asleep most of the time. A basic friendship usually has to suffice but I would almost advise most people against doing that as well! They have no idea who I am and, half of the time…neither do I" Katie waited patiently for the inevitable inhale of the disgusted man or the awkward silence followed by footsteps away from her location. Neither of them came. “Young lady” the gentle voice began again “I’ve been alive for many, many years and if you think you can fool me into leaving with a comment like that…you’re wrong. If that was truly the way your mind worked…you wouldn’t be sitting here. You’d be at a bar instead.” Smiling slightly, Katie continued her vigil with the ground below her with head bowed. It was beginning to appear that her night couldn’t move forward without going into deep conversation with this man. A confession, so to speak. If the man truly wanted to do some digging…she knew a great place that needed a mental ditch or two. “Forgive me Father…for I have sinned.” She began. “I know dear” the old man replied “Haven’t we all at one time or another?” Katie’s smile began to grow a little bigger. He had no idea. She continued. “It has been a little over eighteen years since my last confession” she stated, holding back a giggle. Raising a bushy eyebrow to the heavens, the priest inquired further. “Eighteen years, my dear? You can’t be a day over eighteen yourself! Are you even Catholic?” “Well, that’s the issue” Katie spoke seriously “I was born into a family that was never much for a church-ish environment and my father is a Jewish man that is in denial…or at least that’s what my Uncle Johnny used to claim about him. I came into this place because it felt safe and wise. I really needed safety…and I really, really need some wisdom. Got any?” The old priest filled the empty, echoing cathedral with laughter that broke the reverent silence like shattering glass. This was the exact moment that Katie had been waiting for. As far as New York was concerned, she had yet to meet a friendly person that could fall victim to her southern charm and witty humor. If she ever got half the chance, she knew that it wouldn’t take much…but no one in this city stood still for longer than five seconds at a time. The priest was the first…and he was exactly the type of friend she needed. She was determined to make this man fall in love before the night was over. “I’m glad you liked that” she said cynically “because I worked terribly hard on it. Do you have any idea whatsoever of what it’s like to be a stranger in a strange land? An outcast among conformity? A freak among normalcy? If you don’t…then there is little chance that you’re going to be able to relate and help at all.” She felt the bench sink slightly as the now quiet priest sat beside her. A chill ran the length of her body from head to toe as he did so. This was the point in the conversation where things were about to turn into a more serious agenda or he was just going to move into a better position to place his holy hands around her neck and do the world a favor. Either way, she braced for the worst. After all, no one back home even knew of her location and there would be little chance of figuring out where to start looking for the body. Ultimately, if she felt hands…those hands were going to feel hair…and not the good kind that most men hope to feel when touching a young woman. Finally, the priest began to speak again revealing his intentions. A girl has to be prepared for all situations… “My dear, sweet, and weary traveler…these old eyes have seen much over the years. I doubt that there is much you could tell me or show me that would make me sprint out of here in terror. This is the Catholic faith after all. We believe in demons and exorcisms and all the things that go bump in the night that some religions in this country choose to ignore. From what I can gather of your essence, so to speak, I know that you’re not from around here and there is something slightly ‘different’ about you…but it’s nothing that I’ve never come in contact with before.” Now came the deep inhale that Katie had been expecting long before this moment. “I can sense the curse upon you, my dear, and I deeply sympathize.” He stated honestly “For someone so young to carry around so much, I don’t believe it’s fair. The Lord, however, truly works in mysterious ways…and you, my young child, are indeed one of His mysteries. Now…back to my original question. Why are you here?” Katie was tired of holding it back and was about to lay all of her cards on the table in a single slam. Far from home, ultimately alone, and with no one to offer a smidgen of help or advice on the matters at hand, she was going to burst if she didn’t get it all out soon. When it all came down to it, why not confess it all to a priest? Besides…he has to keep all of his secrets confidential, doesn’t he? “I’m from Texas” she started “I turned myself into a werewolf to save my father’s life five years ago and I was told that the curse could be lifted if you destroyed the source. The source is a powerful man that lives close by. I came here to kill him and lift my family’s curse for good. I can’t live with it anymore. One day, I want to have children and a family…and it’s going to be a little difficult to land a good husband if I have to explain to him that I could possibly lose control and rip his head off the first time we decide to get intimate…or I have to leave the house occasionally to go out into the woods to decapitate a wild animal so I don’t eat all of his poker buddies. I don’t know for a fact but I’m sure the curse can be passed genetically. It could be passed to my children and that’s a daycare newspaper headline that I’m not willing to read. My entire future and the futures of generations to come depend on my success right here, right now, so I guess what I meant to say was…forgive me father, because I’m about to do a whole lotta sinning.” Now came an even more awkward and extended silence from the receiving end of the conversation. She could only imagine what it was taking in order to process all of the strange information the unprepared man just received. Still, she felt a lot better being able to tell someone who she truly was and what she had on the plate before her. It was the first time that she had ever been able to do that with a complete stranger. “I knew that you were a werewolf from the moment you first walked into my church.” the priest stated after a long pause of deep reflection “Your kind have a particular smell to you but I haven’t sensed it in these halls in many a year. The creatures of the night don’t come in here often after all.” “It’s probably a good thing that most humans can’t recognize that smell you speak of or it would’ve been really hard trying to get a date to the senior prom” Katie chuckled, relieved. “Indeed” the priest joined her “but I jest slightly. God keeps few secrets from those that are truly faithful, my child, and he assisted with your identification a little bit.” Katie loved to hear conversations that helped to cement the existence of an all knowing being. There had been times in the past few years in which she had wondered if a real deity would allow such things to happen to his people such as the events of the Myrtle County Fair Grounds incident. It was time to switch tracks in the conversation. “Why would God allow this to happen? I mean my curse and all…” “God doesn’t control us, in my opinion” the old man interrupted “He allows us to do as we will and helps those in need that come to him humbly. Remember, my dear, because there is a real God above and all around us…there is also an all knowing, all powerful spirit that leads the forces of those that intend to do evil. Unfortunately, you fell victim to one of those instead. He’s here now, though, because you came to him in need. I doubt very seriously that he would ever turn away from someone as sincere and valiant as you.” “Valiant?” Katie asked. “When it comes down to it, you’re doing the work of the Lord by battling the forces of evil” he explained “It would appear that Mr. Jimmerson has traveled beyond his normal boundaries to do his handy work and I don’t think God is going to care much one way or the other if you were to quietly dispatch him. It would take one less thing off of his spiritual ‘honey-do’ list…if you catch what I’m saying.” Katie couldn’t believe that the wise old man sitting beside her already knew so much about what was going on in her life. Was Kurt Jimmerson really that well known for his doings? How many others locally had fell victim to his charm and false promises? How many other werewolves were there in New York City? “I can tell by your silence that you’ve been taken aback from my knowledge of the subject” the man spoke again “Yes, Kurt Jimmerson has been at this type of trickery for many years and you’re not the first individual to sit in this very seat and tell me their similar stories. The only thing is…where are they now? They never returned from an identical quest to tell me of their exploits and victory. At one time, even he, himself, sat here and confessed to me his wrong doings and aspirations but I knew I’d never see him again after that. The devil inside of him was much too strong of an ally to allow him to do so.” The nerves that Katie had calmed by entering the Holy sanctuary were beginning to act up once again from the priest’s speech. If his was a favored stop on the quest of those that had set out on her identical journey, then it didn’t shed much light and hope on the outcome. All those that had come before her had perished after this point. Very similar to Jimmerson’s quest to end McGee’s tyranny over the town of Twin Oaks, Katie herself had been the only one to win the battle that so many others had failed before her also. The only difference was that she had the element of surprise on her side that night and the Sheriff didn’t know what to expect. She had caught him off guard. This would not be the case when it came down to her east coast target. She was almost certain that he knew someone from the Liberman family was coming for him eventually. Hopefully, he wouldn’t expect that it would be young Katie. For all he knew or anyone else involved the in secret lives of lycanthropy, her father’s life was the only one thought effected by his antics back home. He was gone long before the final confrontation and her being infected had been a secret that Toby insisted on taking to the grave. Due to this…there was still hope. “So…Jimmerson confessed to you when he was first turned?” she asked curiously. “Oh no, my child” he answered sharply “I think he had been living with his curse for several years before he finally came to God for help with his way of thinking. I just think that his so called sharing of the power had gotten out of hand and someone had turned on him and challenged him for dominance. He was losing the struggle and he felt that this was his final chance at redemption.” Katie knew exactly of who the priest spoke of. “McGee” she answered suddenly “Jessie McGee. He was the Sheriff in my town back home and Jimmerson turned my dad to help deal with him. He’s the reason that I am who I am right now…sort of. Unlike my father, I had a choice in the matter. I chose to save his life and continue living myself. McGee wasn’t going to allow that to happen if I didn’t do so.” “So that would appear to be another internal struggle going on in your young mind” he said wisely “You wonder if the choice you made between dying or living with a curse was the right choice to make?” “Sometimes…” Katie answered unsure. She had often wondered if sacrificing her father’s life would’ve allowed her to live on several occasions. She had pondered the scenario that McGee would’ve let her go on living if he had been satisfied with Toby’s demise. Ultimately, that wouldn’t have been fair to anyone involved. Everything happened so quickly that night and she was being driven by the instinct to protect someone she loved. Knowing the Sheriff, he would’ve definitely killed her also just to keep his secrets from getting out. There was never an ounce of doubt in his eyes that night that he truly had every intention of dispatching her in the same way he planned on doing her father. She had gone with her gut and did what needed to be done. There was no other way. Was there? “I sounds to me that you did exactly what needed to be done in order for you to be sitting here entertaining me this evening” the priest picked up on her insecurity “You fought to live another day in the hopes that you could one day solve the problems at hand. I’m sure that your father thanks heaven every day that you did what needed to be done. Now, you’re here to make things right. Not only for yourself, but for him and those that are yet to come. You were noble that day and you’re being very noble now for being here. Never doubt that, young one. Never doubt that.” Still, up until this point, Katie had never opened her eyes to the wise old man that was offering the advice and comfort. It was much more soothing to hear his voice without being able to pinpoint it to a recognizable face. It was almost as though she had been speaking to the voice of God himself all along and she liked keeping it that way. In the end, she felt like that was going to be the only man to help her when things got to where she was intending for them to go. “I like talking to you, Father” she whispered quietly “You almost remind me of my own Grandfather from when I was a little kid…other than the fact that he was a grumpy old Jewish man that did nothing for our family because my did wouldn’t accept his faith. Still, he was a smart man.” Oh, I’m not all that smart” the priest chuckled again “I’ve just been around the block a time or two several times over many years. There is a fine line between knowledge and wisdom. I don’t know much…but what I do know…I know it well.” Katie paused again in the hopes that the man wouldn’t take any offense to what she was about to ask him. “You’re a ghost, aren’t you?” There was yet another, but expected long pause in the conversation as the ancient man was searching for the proper way to answer the question at hand. “You guys have a certain smell also” Katie added. “Do you spend a lot of time around ghosts?” the priest inquired as curious as ever. “My Uncle Johnny had helped me right after I changed but never showed up again after my dad married his girlfriend. I know. Jerry Springer stuff, right? Shortly after that, my mother showed up and she pops up here and there. Right now I’m sure she’s popping up in my temporary apartment a few blocks away waiting to grill me on where I’ve been and why I was gone for so long. I liked her much better when she was alive and could care less about what I do. Jimmerson had told my dad that he could only see the ghosts that he knew personally while they were living. Something about reciting the perverted lyrics to an Elton John song, I don’t know…it’s confusing, but we soon found out that he lied about that too. I see them all the time.” “He lies a lot” the man reassured her “and I’m sure that you’re going to find out soon enough that other things you thought you knew were complete falsities also.” This was something that Katie feared the most. If the theory of the curse reversal had been another concoction of the twisted mind of Kurt Jimmerson, all of this would be for nothing and it would almost spell certain death. He had tricked her father with every outing of his forked tongue and that knowledge had been passed on to her. As time went by and the curse took hold of their lives even tighter, they both began to realize that they truly knew nothing about the world they lived in and the rules that bound them. Every day was a learning experience. For Katie, today hadn’t been any different. “So…I’m probably going to be coming back here to see you quite a bit” Katie broke the ice again “and I don’t even know what to call you.” “I’m Father McCormack” the old priest introduced himself. “I’m Katie Liberman and it was a pleasure to meet you” she stated, finally opening her eyes to the blue tinted, transparent man sitting beside her “but tomorrow is another day and work comes early.” “Oh, I’m sure work is nothing compared to your late nights in Central Park in an attempt to find the clues you so desperately seek, young one.” He groaned With that note, Katie stood from her place of rest and passed through the man’s spirit on the way to the door. With a rush of chilled wind, she peered dreadfully into the snow covered night for any signs of danger that might be awaiting her. Pulling the wool hood from underneath her frantically blowing hair, she hid her face from both element and foe looking back on the helpful being one last time. “Thank you” she said “You’ll never know how much of a help you’ve been to me tonight” “And to you also, Katie Liberman” the priest replied “I don’t get many visitors that purposely interact with my old soul. Be safe.” “Always…” she winked, firmly shutting the door on her way into the night “Always…”

A Decade of Shadows Chapter 2

Then…
“We’re Under Here”

Years ago, a young and impressionable inventor by the now infamous name of

Thomas Edison had an irregular (for that period in time) and unusual theory that one of

his amazing creations could not only be considered a form of high value entertainment,

but also possessed the unlikely ability to intercept eerie, sometimes disturbing

communication from the other side. To all of you out there that cannot utilize the ability

to process context clues, this invention was called the “phonograph”.

How, some may inquire, does this intricate and most of the time underestimated

tool of our modern society serve as a telephone service to the nearly departed? Well, as

you may or may not know, sound waves are nothing more than an invisible form of

energy. Theoretically, when a spirit materializes, it causes an absence of energy in the

position in which it does so. This is why paranormal investigators claim to be coming in

contact with an entity when they experience a “cold spot” or a place where there is an

absence of heat in an otherwise heated area without the presence of a draft or cooling

source…because heat is another form of energy. In theory, regardless of whether it is a

residual haunting (events that are possibly trapped in some kind of time loop) or an active

haunting, ghosts can use sound wave energy to communicate. This communication is

commonly referred to as EVP (Electronic Voice Phenomenon) and can be picked up and

recorded with the most basic of recording devices, if in fact, you’re lucky enough to have

a spirit want to conversate with you. Now that I have a somewhat basic explanation of

EVP out of the way, I can continue on to the fun stuff, my first official investigation!

For months, I had been dying to begin what I had been dreaming of for

years. You see, being a young and impressionable child in the midst of mid eighties pop

culture heaven, you wanted to be one of two things when you grew up: A Jedi or a

Ghostbuster! Well, trying frantically, sadly, and unsuccessfully to move things with the

power of my mind had made the Jedi dream unobtainable. However, paranormal

investigation technology and popularity grows more everyday. There may not be

backpacks that fire beams of proton energy and one hundred foot tall marshmallow

sailors threatening to destroy our lives, but our televisions are bombarded with shows

detailing the chronicles of professional paranormal investigating organizations, no matter

how “hokey” some of them are. I personally think that one of my biggest and most

recent influences is an investigation group out of Rhode Island known as T.A.P.S. (The

Atlantic Paranormal Society). These guys go into places with reported paranormal

activity and try to “debunk” activity by giving occurrences a scientific and normal

explanation. However, when they do discover something that is unexplainable, the

footage is usually amazing…unlike some others who turn the camera and scream or

claim to be possessed. Getting a member of T.A.P.S. to say that a location is actually

haunted is like getting a three time scorned man to say “ I Love You “. There was only

so long that a television show could captivate my longing and I was literally dying to go

out and conduct these investigations on my own. Another of my greatest influences, of

course being my partner in everything that I do, my girlfriend was just as excited as I was

to begin this hunt into the unknown.

Early one afternoon as I was conducting my daily routine of suiting up for

work, I presented her with a spontaneous idea that I had concocted while showering,

which is where I have been known to come up with some of my most brilliant ideas. My

presentation contained the key words “tonight” and “cemetery” which, in fact, are two of

the words contained in the combination to unlock one of her most devious and seductive

grins. It had begun.

Something was missing, though. Knowing that neither of us would run

hysterically into the night screaming at the discovery of any type of paranormal event,

we decided to invite one of our female friends along, not only for the value of her

company, but for the fact that every Scooby Doo organization needs its own “Shaggy”.

She normally acts a little skittish towards these types of scenarios and I thought that it

would make the investigation more enjoyable if she were to come along…not to mention

that she owns all of the camera equipment. To my surprise she made not a whimper,

acting highly professional, and I personally hoped that she would remain the third

member of our team regardless of the barrage of personal criticism that I knew she would

have to endure if she decided to do so. With the plan in motion, I left for work, eagerly

awaiting the end of my shift to begin the fulfillment of my childhood dream of becoming

a paranormal investigator.

As we entered the darkened gates of McWright cemetery, the three of us

unanimously and simultaneously agreed that flashlights would have been an awesome

idea but were not readily available or obtainable in this wooded, country cemetery at

10:30 pm on a Sunday night. Once I extinguished the vehicle headlights, it seemed an

eternity before our eyes could adjust to the ambience of the moonlit cemetery. I pressed

“record” on my micro cassette recorder and began to recite aloud the place, time, and

date in which our investigation was being conducted but was suddenly distracted by the

hysterical laughter of my co-conspirators in this midnight intrusion of afterlife privacy.

Perhaps they believed I was taking this a bit too seriously? Perhaps I was, and regardless

of the personal experiences that I had witnessed over the past couple of years, there still

remained a bit of a skeptic in me, a belief that nothing would be discovered and all that is

“paranormal” would continue to remain a mystery to me revealing nothing. As we

walked along the white rock pathway that circled the perimeter of the weathered

headstones we came upon the landmark that made McWright remain in my mind as my

initial investigation choice. In the center of the cemetery lies an open air mausoleum

that, over time, had sunken into the ground revealing only about three feet of the walls,

the headstones, and a roof that now begins at chest level of the average man…which

means it begins at neck level for me! My girl snapped a photo on the digital camera, and

upon its appearance on the camera’s view screen, she noticed that it contained an “orb”

next to the roof of the sunken enclosure.


Some say that orbs are balls of spirit energy that can be digitally photographed

and are highly regarded by some paranormal investigators to be proof of the existence of

life after death. I, on the other hand, feel that some investigators go for years without

finding any other evidence and possibly even begin to falsify their findings. Orb

photograph, personally, is nothing more that a camera’s flash reflecting light from dust

particles or even nocturnal flying insects. Passing this oddity off as either of the above,

we pressed on into the darkness occasionally enduring the temporary blindness caused

by the flash of the camera. We began to hear human voices nearby; possibly from one of

the homes in the area wondering what was causing all of the flashing. It was at this point

we came to the decision that we should draw our maiden investigation to a close

before we inadvertently became the receivers of a shot gun blast by one of the curious

members of the living. Disappointed, I made the suggestion to take more photos and

recordings near the sunken mausoleum for the simple fact that it was the only spot that

we had encountered anything out of the ordinary, even though it was just an orb. (o.k.,

now I was reaching!) As we were venturing through the labyrinth of headstones, a bright

ball of light passed quickly a few feet above my head! I never said that I didn’t believe in

orbs that can be seen with human eyes!

“Did you just see that”? I asked the other two excitedly.

Luckily, I wasn’t the only one who had seen it and together we brainstormed to

figure out its origin. There was no rain in the forecast which ruled out lightening and

heat lightening was out of the question due to the fact that it was late October. We had

no flash lights and no pictures had been taken in quite a while. With a renewed sense of

enthusiasm, we continued towards the sunken structure.

When we reached the mausoleum, my girlfriend began to share with us a little of

the history of McWright cemetery and informed us that at one time there had been two

mausoleums, side by side, but one had mysteriously been destroyed by a fire long ago.

She recalled some of the writing on one of the headstones that had since been erased by

time and the elements.

“A Loving Wife, A Mother Dear, A Faithful Friend Lies Buried Here”. “Kind of

creepy, huh?” she inquired.

We shuffled back to the car to put an end to the events of the evening and I spoke

aloud to all that were listening.

“If anyone has anything to say, you’re running out of time.”

I lit a cigarette and, one last time, did a 360 degree viewing of the moon

drenched, peaceful landscape. When it’s my time, I thought, this is where I’d love to be.

No city lights to block the view of the stars, and nothing to hear but chirping crickets, the

distant howls of a pack of coyotes, and the chatter of country dwellers loading their guns

and wondering what is really going on in that cemetery down the road. Receiving

another set of twin laughs from my female companions, I spoke aloud into the recorder

“end of recording”. I started the car and turned towards the other two, congratulating

them for we had now had our ghost hunting cherries popped. I activated the headlights

and off we sped into the darkness of normalcy.

Once we returned home, the audio tape was rewound to the beginning and we

huddled close together, eagerly awaiting the presence of anything that didn’t belong,

anything that was not spoken by any of us, and anything that was paranormal. We

attentively listened and, half an hour into the playback, the only discovery that I had

made is that everyone I know has been right all this time: I am, indeed, the cockiest

person that I’ve ever had the displeasure of listening to for half an hour! I have since

apologized to almost everyone I know and even a few complete strangers. With my ears

on fire, the playback continued.



As we came to the spot in the audio tape in which we encountered the orb, there

was no type of disturbance caught on the tape that we could decipher and nearing the end

of the recording our morale began to plummet. We continued, listening ever closer,

waiting for anything to reveal itself.

“A Loving Wife, A Mother Dear, A Faithful Friend Lies Buried Here, pretty

creepy, huh”?

“Carla”

STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“What was that? Who in the heck said that?”

We ran the tape back again and again and clearly, each time, a male voice whispers the

word “Carla”. Our spirits soared to new heights as we had discovered our own evidence

of any otherworld existence. We had just captured our first EVP! High fives and hugs

all around. Thinking that this was the pinnacle of the night’s findings, we settled in to

endure the remainder of the recording, not knowing that the best, if not the eeriest

moment of my life, was merely minutes ahead.

“If anyone has anything to say, you’re running out of time”.

This is it. We had captured an EVP and were ecstatic about it, believing that

nothing more awesome than that could have ever been found in our initial data

collection.

“We’re Under Heeeeere”

Electricity engulfed my spine and both our jaws fell open as the ghostly words

were spoken again and again as the segment was repeatedly rewound and reviewed. A

distinct female voice upon my taunting had stated to us the obvious explanation as to

why no one could hear her speak….

”We’re Under Here”.

We were no longer people who had an interest in hunting the paranormal. In two

hours time, we had been christened by the voices of the unknown, given the title of

paranormal investigators. Not just any paranormal investigators, mind you, but such that

had obtained evidence. Our own evidence!! I have since played these recordings to

friends and co-workers, skeptics and hard core believers, with the results resembling a

shocking likeness to my own upon first discovery. I have so wanted to post these on the

web site to share with the world but I’ve hesitated due to the fear of an investigator being

less fortunate and copying them and claiming them as their own.

We needed a name. A clever name, like so many others, that could spark easy

recognition and, when the time came, would look awesome on a T-shirt!

Thus, P.R.I.N.T. was born: Paranormal Research and Investigations of North

Texas. I haven’t yet discovered the time to return to McWright to see if I can find the

identity of “Carla” because we need to go in the daylight hours to be able to read the

headstones…not to mention that neither of us had gathered the nerve to enter a sunken

mausoleum in pitch black conditions. Not yet!

It had begun:

P.R.I.N.T. is a non-profit organization that is dedicated to furthering the research and exploration into the scientific aspect of paranormal investigation. We are not psychics, nor are we "Ghost Busters". However, we believe that there is something more out there than what the powers-that-be have led us to believe. If you believe that you have a paranormal problem, or blessing depending on if you're one of those "glass is half full" kind of people, we would be honored to assist you in discovering and verifying the activity in a scientific and rational manner. To initiate an investigation, leave us a personal message containing your name, a phone number that you can be reached at, and a brief description of the activity. From there we will conduct a telephone interview to determine if your problem requires further investigation. Please do not falsify information or contact us because you are a skeptic that finds those sort of things humorous. We take our work and beliefs very seriously. By no means will you be charged for any of our services. If you have not experienced paranormal activity personally but know of a particular location that has, please feel free to contact us also. It's all about discovery and the quest to further our knowledge into the unknown to share with one and all. Until then....Keep believing.

Now…

Wow…how naive we were. A borrowed digital camera and a cheap tape recorder. I actually still have the tapes in my equipment bag but I haven’t listened to them in ages…probably because we’ve uncovered a ton of evidence since then that runs circles around a few simple EVPs. Equipment wise, we roll out with multiple digital night vision cameras and several digital audio devices now…not to mention a few other really sweet toys that have been invented since that fateful night. Clients are required to submit to a video taped interview that is reviewed by professional lie detectors before we will even step foot in their house instead of a simple phone call. For the record, I think T.A.P.S is a joke now. Sometimes I yearn for the simpler times though. Trial and error…

A Decade Of Shadows Chapter 1

This is a compilation of my journal entries as a paranormal investigator over the last decade. These were originally released by Publish America Publishing years ago under the titles "A Ghost Hunter's Journal" and "We Believe You". I am re-releasing them as a Kindle exclusive soon with updated 'Now' sections at the end of each chapter to explain where things have gone since writing them. Here is chapter 1. Enjoy.

Then…

“The Converted”

In the beginning, I didn’t believe her. Sure, I had my share of unexplained events

that had occurred around me, but I could always find plausible explanations such as

alcohol, illegal drugs, sleep deprivation, or second hand information. For instance, an

uncle of mine witnessed my deceased Great-Grandmother floating above him while he

lay sleeping. A mere five seconds later, a house not more than fifty yards away from us

exploded due to a gas leak or a drug lab…take your pick. Did the house really explode?

Yes, as a matter of fact, I witnessed the aftermath with my own eyes on several occasions

because they took their sweet time cleaning up the debris. They later rebuilt it and rented

it out. I always wanted to go inform the new tenants just to scare the living heck out of

them. Next question, did my uncle see a ghost? Who knows! Explanation: He was

quite the little expert when it came to the subject of the exploration of the effects of

illegal substances. Hey, man, it was the eighties!

My next unexplained experience came when I was but a young lad with

my hormones raging and stupidity at an all time high! My best friend and I, probably no

older than fourteen if I recall correctly, were lying on our backs in a drainage ditch

waiting for my latest conquest’s parents to go to sleep so that I may venture through an

open window and lay waste to the spoils of their daughter. O.K., you win, I was a virgin

and only wishing that the above mentioned scenario would play out identically to the way

I had dreamed it up. All jokes aside, we were lying on our backs, staring blankly and

lethargically up at the midnight sky when suddenly we began to bear witness to an

awesome meteor shower. The freaked out part about this particular event was the fact

that there was one object, among the thousands that were streaking towards our

atmosphere that was a lot larger, significantly brighter, and moving at about half the

speed of its celestial brothers. Suddenly, the object stopped dead in the middle of its

decent and hovered completely motionless while the remainder of the heavenly debris

continued to plummet all around it. Without warning, the hovering object shot skyward

in the opposite direction and out of sight. Needless to say, the only things remaining in

our site of temporary refuge were the shape of two young boys that remained in the

flattened grass. Was it a UFO? I can’t say. I had only seen stars “fall” before, not

change their minds in mid-drop and return home. Explanation: We were drunk as

skunks! The two of us had raided an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels from his parent’s

liquor cabinet and had easily consumed at least half of it before we began the trek.

Shortly upon our return, we ascended his ancient childhood tree house and accidentally

caught it on fire with the remainder of the whiskey. Man, you’ll never have friends like

that again. Sometimes, I really miss him.


We skip ahead in time about four years from that fateful night in which I

unexpectedly got to try my luck at performing the duties of an amateur fire fighter, to

find myself in my senior year of high school. Living with my grandparents in the same

house that my uncle had witnessed the floating apparition, strange noises and things of

that nature were a pretty regular occurrence. I thank the powers that be everyday that

those unexplained noises in the night were not being emitted from my grandparent’s

bedroom, causing some type of repressed erectile dysfunction that would probably still

effect me to this very day. My uncle and his girlfriend were sitting in the living room

with me when we began to hear footsteps in the hallway coming towards us. My only

thought was that my grandmother had been removed from a dead sleep either by the

sound of a blaring television or the ear-piercing chuckle of our female companion.

When the footsteps reached our location, we simultaneously turned towards the doorway

to receive our latest scolding and to be reminded of what time it was, regardless of how

may clocks were contained in that particular room of the house. We were pretty

awestruck to discover that we were blankly staring into the darkness of the hallway. Our

puzzled stares were quickly transformed into frightened faces as a bluish colored,

transparent hand reached into the room as though what remained of this being lay in

waiting around the corner. The girl screamed and the hand was no more, now being

replaced by my real grandmother who was now cutting us to the bone by an evil gaze for

taking her away from whatever childhood backwoods farmhouse of a dream that we had

inadvertently awoke her from. You can never quite forget the unmistakable scent of

Menthalatum, cold-cream, and unconditional love. I miss her, too. Since her death, my

grandfather has re-married and, at one time before an awesome renovation took place,

had put the house up for sale. It was offered to me just to try to keep it in the family, but

I refused it. I no longer can tolerate a Texas summer without central air conditioning, and

quite frankly, as much as I would love to, would absolutely hate to be summoned into the

kitchen late one evening because the ghost of my grandmother had whipped me up her

famous meatloaf, fried potatoes, red beans, and cornbread. I take that back…two wives

later and I still can’t get a woman to duplicate her awesome cooking. She was loved, and

she is missed.

The question that weighed heavily on my mind was: Did the three of us just have

a supernatural encounter? Were there spirits running amok somewhere in the quaint and

quiet dwellings of my grandparent’s home, deep in the dark and eerie nights when only a

select few could possibly discover their presence? After all, if you catch an old person

awake at midnight, they’re not your average, ordinary old geezer and probably have some

interesting tidbits of life saving information that could possibly assist you in your

whirlwind of a life, if not save it someday. This being the case, immediately snatch up

this vessel of ancient wisdom and entertain them with some type of alcoholic beverage,

for they have earned it, two or three times over. But, to the question at hand: Did we see

a ghost? Explanation: We were stoned out of our ever loving minds! Will I ever be able

to explain the unexplainable without blaming it on the effects of controlled substances?

Just wait, there’s more!


We jump ahead five more years and I’ve become someone’s ex-husband and the

father of the world’s most beautiful little girl. Then, I accidentally get the rebound girl

pregnant, and BLAM, I am the father of two of the most beautiful girls that I have ever

had the privilege of laying eyes on. As if I didn’t have enough joy in my life, the

rebound girl had a daughter already. I was in love with this one from the first day I saw

her. (The daughter, not the rebound girl, to hell with the rebound girl!!!!) She was so

tiny and adorable, and she crapped all over a fifty dollar silk tie that I happened to be

wearing at the time. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is! In my early twenties, with

three daughters and no wife, I made an irreversible, drunken decision that

would change the course of my life forever. Not only did I wake up one morning in the

Army, but I awoke more confused and lonely than I had ever recalled being before. In

times like these most men turn to God…and so did I. Military church was not at all like I

expected. I had attended service to find shelter, advice, and possibly some kind of

loophole in the whole military experience that could provide for me a way out of this

voluntary hell hole. All I got in return was a “holy” explanation as to why God wanted

me to follow the orders of my superior officers, straight to my own death if they so

desired it. I believed exactly at that moment that God let me down. Spiritually lost, I

mentally wandered desperately seeking answers into the unknown. Then in a fateful turn

of events, I came across a fellow soldier sitting on a stone wall staring with undivided

attention at a small patch of ground. When I asked him what he was doing, he informed

me he was studying an ant bed. Being the jerk that I was, I inquired as to why in the heck

someone would want to burn their free time by watching insects? He told me that it

made him understand nature better, and that it helped him to better understand the way of

the goddess. He later loaned me a book titled “Wicca, For the Solitary Practitioner” by

Scott Cunningham (Llewellyn Publishing). All at once, my entire life seemed to fall into

place and the next thing I knew, I was watching ants also. I found the drive, strength

and courage to remain in the Army, but with one major drawback. I came home and

married the rebound girl.

Enter Ft. Huachuca, Arizona. A beautiful yet rustic military installation nestled

deep in the valley of the Huachuca Mountains, some fifteen minutes away from

Tombstone. I was in a nature lover’s heaven! With nature, however, comes the presence

of spirits and spirits, in the hands of a young, curious and inexperienced student in the

ways of Old, can be a dangerous combination. The thing that needs to be noted about the

nature of spirits is their origin. Ft. Huachuca was the home base of the Buffalo Soldiers

in the late 1800’s and they are famous for their courageous duty during the infamous

Mexican and Indian wars. There were a lot of lives lost in that desert, and psychic

energy built up over time can be a tempting lure. Ft. Huachuca had more domestic

violence incidents and divorces than any other military installation in the world. A lot of

people believed it was due to the simple fact that all of the military housing was located

on land that was used for both the living areas and burial grounds of the Indians that were

eradicated from that area. Now, the thing to be noted about witchcraft is that its user

thirsts greedily for knowledge, for with knowledge comes power and with power comes

the ability to accomplish awesome feats of the supernatural. Eventually, the beginner

books no longer satisfy.

Midnight, Halloween. You can see where this is all leading, even if you’ve never

watched the movie Poltergeist. Reading through some advanced incantation, something

was set free in my home. Over the next year, it continued to scare my young daughters

and the rebound wife even claims to this very day that a female apparition materialized

and actually spoke to her crying desperately for help. Using the power of the ancient

religions, did I actually conjure up some dangerous and evil spirit? Explanation: Little

children have awesomely vivid and powerful imaginations and my wife at the time was

on some serious drugs. Long after I’d given up on the partaking of illegal substances, my

immature military buddies found companionship in the form of my young burnout of a

wife which, in fact, stayed pretty much baked out of her bleached blonde mind on a daily

basis. Of course frickin ghosts were talking to her!



Now you can plainly see why I had remained a bit of a skeptic for so many years.

I never had tangible evidence to back up any of the paranormal experiences that had

occurred in either my own life or in the lives of my friends and family. I stopped

practicing the craft; however, I remain a faithful holder in the beliefs of natural co-

existence and conservation. Another child, another divorce, and a failed career later,

something amazing happened.

I ran into a girl that I had not seen in years. A girl that had been an intricate and

very special part of my life for as long as I could possibly remember. Recently

weathering the storm of a romantic relationship gone horribly wrong, we clung to one

another for sanctuary. Anyone who owns half of a brain and believes in romantic fate

can figure out the rest of that storyline, but what I would like to do now is skip far away

from the details of my past because I think you can gather the type of person that you’re

dealing with by now. If not, stop reading now because this is actually where it begins to

get complicated. The “her” that is mentioned in the very first line of this work of literary

lunacy is, in fact, my girlfriend. One night, after she had moved in with me, she began to

tell me a story. According to her, she had been stalked by a spirit over the course of her

entire life. Nothing more than a large shadow in the shape of a man, it had followed from

her youth in California, to every home she had ever settled in locally. Imagine my

surprise to discover that this, by all means, was not a part of her creative subconscious.

Our spiritual houseguest first appeared to me late one evening while she and I

were camped out for a cozy evening on the sofa, watching whatever visual junk that was

being offered by our local cable distributor, when she whispered for me to look in the

doorway of our bathroom. As a bolt of frightened energy strategically worked its way

from my feet to my spinal column, I came to the eerie realization that my uncle had at

one time witnessed my long departed great grandmother floating inches from his face,

that I could have possibly witnessed an unidentified flying object while lying in a ditch

down a country road, that myself and two others had once been on the receiving end of a

ghostly handshake, and that I, quite possibly released an evil spirit into my old house that

threatened my children and had conversations with my ex wife just by reading a few

simple verses that can be found on the pages of witchcraft books that are sold by the

thousands in bookstores nationwide. Not to mention that I, one hundred percent stone

cold sober was staring at an actual ghost! So, being the man that I am, I mustered up the

courage to do what any red blooded figure of masculinity would do given a similar

situation. I threw back my shoulders, tightened my arms, and ran towards the entity!

However, as I arrived closer to its location it was no longer visible. When I reached the

exact spot in which the bastard had spiritually taunted me, a sudden feeling of extreme

and bitter cold came over me causing every hair on my body to stand at electrical

attention. Now, armed with my trusty vacuum cleaner, I swore at the now empty corner

promising to suck him up if he had the balls to show himself again. He did, time and

time again, over the period of a year. Sometimes, he appeared during some highly

awkward situations. I’m here to tell you from first hand experience that seeing a ghost

during the course of committing unspeakable acts can make you lose concentration faster

than if your girlfriend’s mother had walked in and caught you…depending on how hot

your girlfriend’s mom is.

When we relocated to a larger apartment on the opposite side of town, I was

curious to see if our shadow stalker would again follow suit and travel alongside her to

our new dwelling. Without missing a beat, the sightings began within a week but this

time there was an added bonus (if you consider strange phenomena a bonus). After

finally getting unpacked and settled in I was wakened one night by the feeling of being

touched by small cold hands, accompanied by an innocent and childish giggle. When I

had finally taken all I could stand, I sat up in my bed and yelled loudly

“For Heaven’s Sake, Will You Frickin Stop!!!!!!!”

No sooner had I done so, the meanest sounding and loudest evil hissing noise that I had

ever experienced came from the direction of the giggling like I had just stomped on the

tail of the world’s largest cat. In the far corner of the bedroom stood a small shadow, half

the size of the other, cowering like a scared child. Suddenly, the shadow jumped and

disappeared through the ceiling. Where did this one come from? One of my developing

theories is that the spiritual energy of our shadowy hitchhiker somehow woke a sleeping

entity that had lay dormant in the new place in which we were living. Or, perhaps, the

spirit was already there before we arrived, and is possibly lending strength to our original

buddy because of the fact that he is no longer lurking in the shadows but de-

materializing when I get too close. Recently, I’ve witnessed him darting down well-lit

hallways and materializing close by me, unexpectedly, just to make sure that the living

daylights are officially scared out of me. To boot, our young child spirit, which has now

been recognized as a female, is no longer a shadow but an illuminated being with

recognizable features that enjoys making appearances at the foot of our bed.

Why is this happening to us? Why were the two of us being chosen to play the

part of some type of paranormal magnet? Somehow I’m going to find out. I needed

answers.

I never meant to take things this far. After having my first unexplained paranormal experience, we decided to start ghost hunting as a hobby. As far as the writing goes, it was always a way to pass the time and express my feelings through twisted little short stories and poetry. I never knew I’d go public with it because, when I first began, I never really had any subject matter to write about that could hold a person’s interest. I honestly don’t recall at exactly what point it all got out of hand.
My name is Chad. As you already know from even glancing at the cover of this literary journey, I am a ghost hunter. What you are about to read is the documentation from the journal that I wrote during my first year as a paranormal investigator. None of the following information has been altered and none of the evidence we uncovered has been falsified or exaggerated.
When I first co – founded the group that I belong to, P.R.I.N.T. (Paranormal Research and Investigations of North Texas) it was originally meant to be and unusual and cool way to pass the spare time. At first, even though I had encountered a paranormal event that couldn’t be explained by alcohol or drug usage or even severe exhaustion, I was still convinced that all the paranormal shows on television were completely full of it. I wasn’t trying to say that I didn’t believe in ghosts, I just wanted to prove that all of the televised EVP and spirit photographs were fake. I was wrong.
I grew up and lived the majority of my life in the mid sized North Texas town of Greenville. It was the home of Audie Murphy (the most decorated soldier of WWII), Collin Raye (a country singing superstar) and twenty six thousand of the most conservative non believers that you’ll ever come across.
Greenville was the center of the cotton industry in this area long ago during the days of slavery and beyond. We had a baseball team that played and won, I think, against the New York Yankees, burned a man accused of rape on the steps of the courthouse, and boasted a sign that hung near the town square that read ‘Welcome to Greenville: The blackest land, the whitest people’. Trust me, this place has multiple skeletons in their municipal closet that some people don’t want discovered. You figure it would be a cool place to find something unusual.
My co – founder Shahnez ‘Nez’ Ragosino moved here from California when she was very young. Through some unseen circumstances we became the best of friends growing up, coming and going with other relationships until we both ended up taking things to the next level several years later. Her husband and my wife both had bad habits of sharing the cold side of the pillow with various people other than the one they were married to. You could say that we had something in common. We hated cheating, lying, and abusive spouses. It was the perfect way to start a relationship. When she moved in, she unintentionally brought along the paranormal friend mentioned above. Now, I’m hooked.
The hard part in all of this was making people in such a conservative town to take us seriously. According to local belief, ghosts do not exist within the city limits of Greenville. When we started out, we were scheduling places to investigate on our own. I would come home afterwards and document what we found on my web page and the few friends that I had would comment and anxiously await the next adventure. Four hundred friends, four thousand readers, two radio talk show interviews, and a years full of investigations later, we’re networking with over three hundred different paranormal investigation groups world wide to find the answers to the unknown. Needless to say, we don’t have to schedule our own adventures anymore.
I’d like to think that we accomplished what we originally set out to do by proving to the local community that there is the possibility that things exist outside of human comprehension. Its something that has slowly came to pass with the select few but there are some minds you can never change. To these people, what we’re doing is wrong and there’s no way to make it right. We’re the epitome of all that is evil. Even if we somehow landed a television gig and became loved by millions, we’d still be loathed entirely in this town.
Well, I think I’ve set you up to continue the rest of this journey on your own. I seriously hope that you enjoy reading about this little life of ours as much as we enjoyed living and writing it. Even if you’re not a true believer, maybe before it’s all said and done you’ll hopefully raise an eyebrow to the events that have occurred around us and the evidence that we’ve uncovered. We hope that the next time you visit or drive by a cemetery, you’ll ponder the fact that there might be something more going on there other than growing grass and weathering head stones. We hope that when you visit an old house that you’ll see beyond the dust and age and recognize the history and the soul of the house itself. This is a way of life and a gift that I never once asked for. My life and my beliefs changed forever suddenly and without warning.
There are times when I look back on my life, a different life, and remember fondly when I didn’t have to lie to my children and tell them that ghosts and things are all in their head. There was a time when I didn’t lead a secret life and hide it from my conservative friends and family. Those times are gone forever. In the beginning, I didn’t even want Nez’s name involved in this. You’ll notice that she’s referred to as my partner, co – founder, and girlfriend for quite some time as you begin reading.
To the skeptics, keep in mind that I didn’t choose the entities, they chose me. You’re time could come sooner than you think when they choose you also. To the believers, keep believing. You’re the only ones who can vouch for me and prove that I’m not a complete psychopath that is suffering from reoccurring hallucinations.
This is a ghost hunter’s journal. Feel free to walk in my shoes but don’t forget where you found them. Some day soon, I’ll need to strap them on again to continue the journey.

Now…

If I’d only known back then, back when I first wrote that journal entry, what I know today…

The Legend Of The Smoking Cowboy...

To the many of you that have been following my little escapades over the past seven years…this may not come as much of a shock to you. To the many more that really have no idea what I'm about and who I really am…I hope you enjoy this…and I hope it creeps the living hell out of you. Since 2004, my best friend and I have been vigorously investigating the paranormal because of separate incidents in our lives that pretty much made us both ‘obsessed’. We've investigated just about every local cemetery and claimed haunted house in our local area and even went as far as successfully influencing the powers that be that we deserved a night alone in Six Flags Over Texas to investigate claims of hauntings in the park that date all the way back to the 1960's! It's been a fun ride. However, in October of 2010 the two of us tied the knot and ceased to be business partners. We became husband and wife. One of the things I promised myself upon saying 'I do' was that I was going to be less of a careless adventurer and more of a husband over our first year of marriage…just to see if I could remember how 'normal people' lived. This meant that I wouldn’t be running crazily after every claimed haunting and every creepy cemetery that I came in contact with and no spending month after month pecking out another novel…at least until our one year anniversary in October 2011. As you can see per the title of this rant…it didn’t last. We were bored out of our freaking minds and eventually came to the conclusion that we could care less how normal people lived! After all…the two of us are far from being normal people and there is something about being all alone, miles away from civilization in the darkness, in places where some have claimed to experience pure hell. That feeling of isolation and terror…nothing can compare to it. Now that I’ve got the explanations out of the way…I can get to the meat and potatoes of this whole scenario. Next time…pay attention from the beginning and we won't have to backtrack?

So…over the past seven years, we've spent night after night in this beautiful country cemetery hoping to catch a glimpse of what some have called 'The Smoking Cowboy'. After all, I was informed by a member of the Money family a few years ago that they didn’t want their cemetery associated with 'people like us' so the 'Goat Man Legend' was out of the question. Dear mean people…bite me on my three published novels and get over yourself! In other words, the cowboy would have to suffice. Supposedly, three different people that have never spoken to one another have all witnessed the darkened figure of a cowboy smoking a cigarette in the darkness at a local grave yard that scared them to the point of pissing their pants and running away screaming. Sweet. Sounds like fun! I love pissing in my pants almost as much as I adore screaming and running! Where do I sign up for this? (Oh…by the way…I’m not going to make it public record which cemetery this is due to the fact that it’s vandalized enough as it is without some dumb ass kids looking for something to do on summer vacation and coming by and knocking over some headstones. I wouldn’t want adults going out there getting in trouble by the law either. I am the man…I have special privileges lol. If you really must know though…you can always beg me…) For seven long years, in between the countless other investigations that we’ve conducted, we’ve gone to this special place repeatedly with different team members in the hopes of flushing out this mythical figure. I discovered quickly that it wasn’t an urban legend because no one else I asked had ever heard of it before. These three people might’ve actually had a strange experience! We had to know. Investigation after investigation occurred there year after year with some of them producing little results and other’s causing head injuries. (For details…read Chad Miller’s ‘A Ghost Hunter’s Journal’ and ‘We Believe You…A Ghost Hunter’s Journal Continues’ – shameless plug) We never saw anything that resembled a cowboy…just headstones in the darkness and an occasional demonic shadow chasing you step for step. I wish I was kidding. Shortly after my six month absence due to nuptials…My new wife, an investigator in training by the name of Jake, and I journeyed towards the setting sun and an approaching storm to spend some quality time with an imaginary cowboy that has rudely never walked up to any of us and introduced himself. From the time we entered the cemetery gates, the three of us stumbled crazily like drunken pirates due to the fact that our equilibrium was unexplainably being affected. Was it the storm that was coming…or was something legitimately wrong with this place? After an hour had passed and the millionth lightning strike had struck…the three of us walked simultaneously towards a familiar grove of trees in the spacious cemetery fighting monotony. From about fifty yards away, my loving bride noticed the flicker of a match or lighter in the distance illuminating the dark of the gathered trees. Jokingly, I asked what the possibilities of it being the legendary cowboy was….especially since individuals had followed us there in the past wearing sheets with eye holes cut out. Oddly enough, we all almost witnessed a real ghost that day because I rarely travel into dark and creepy places without a .357 on my side. Call me funny…but it would’ve been convenient to kill one of my friends in the middle of a cemetery. Think before you do, ladies and gentlemen…think before you do. Granted, it was funny after about an hour had passed but I had never been so angry in my life. This time, no one knew we were coming and unfortunately I had left the gun at home. As we drew closer, the three of us stopped dead in our tracks in unison. I didn’t even have to ask if they saw it also. I could tell that they did by the quickened breathing. In the midst of the shadowed trees stood a figure in the darkness sporting the brim of a cowboy hat where its head should’ve been. Six feet tall at least, we stood at the ready for anything…not daring to cross the threshold of the trees. Immediately, the electromagnetic frequency detector in my hand began to react violently proving that a paranormal event was indeed at hand…or the shadowy figure in the darkness had a powerful cell phone. (Before anyone says anything…our cell phones were off. This wasn’t our first rodeo.) Tired of the standoff…I moved in for the kill, so to speak, and the figure immediately darted into the darkness. With the feeling now back to my legs and our blood pumping madly, I gave chase to the next set of trees in hopes of viewing the phenomenon again. Unbeknownst to me…my darling bride that had stayed behind had been overwhelmed by a feeling of unseen force and her body slumped to the ground. Sitting there in a daze, a figure hovered over her victoriously at his deception but vanished once again at the approach of our trainee. After everything was over, she described the feeling to me as being that of ultimate sadness and hopelessness. For the first time in ages, she was legitimately frightened. Honestly, so was I. Unprepared from our absence of investigating and without the majority of our equipment to record the scenario…we exited the cemetery for safety reasons in order to regroup and research. Back in the comfort of home, with only our own ‘well known inside and out’ ghost to bother us, I thought to myself that there was no way whatsoever that I would’ve made it through an entire year without putting myself or someone I care about in a precarious or dangerous situation and been able to live with myself. This is who we are and what we do. Why deny ourselves what we consider to be normalcy? Just because the ones that persecute and point fingers at us can’t fathom the opportunity of being in the presence of something amazing doesn’t agree with what we do isn’t a good enough reason to be someone that I’m not. Actually, the majority of them do wish for these feelings…they just give it another name to make themselves feel better and be viewed as ‘normal’ through the eyes of the judging public. I’m sure that soon, every single one of them will venture out to experience the grandeur of the Great White Buffalo that was born just outside of my hometown that is supposed to signal the beginning of the end of days. Guess what, ladies and gentlemen? That IS a paranormal experience by true definition of the word…whether you like it or not. Hell…our smoking cowboy doesn’t even have a movie deal yet and the damn buffalo has two of them! From now on…you be ‘you’ and I’ll be ‘me’. Give me ghosts any day. Ghost shit is much easier to clean than buffalo. I’m sure of it.