Cullan Hudson's Blog, page 27
January 17, 2013
Haunted Travels: Residual Rome (Part I)
The 'Eternal City' of Rome, Italy is famous for not only such ancient landmarks as the Colloseum, but their attendant spirits as well. It has been said that this blood-soaked arena is stained with the anguish of the many who died here over the years. Witnesses have returned with stories of having glimpsed ghostly gladiators or of having heard the spectral sounds of battles from long ago. Even Caesar has been spotted now and then.
Rome's famous Pantheon--once a pagan temple to all (pan) gods (theós)--was originally constructed by the emperor Hadrian in 120 CE on the site of an earlier temple dating back to 27 CE. Many have called this the most influential building in architectural history since its unique dome inspired that of the Duomo in Florence, which effectively kicked off the Rennaissance and the dome of St. Peter's Basilica--even the dome on the US capitol building. The columns outside are 40 feet high and each is made of a single piece of stone. They were taken from an Egyptian temple. The reason this building isn't another Roman ruin is because early in the Middle Ages the pagan temple was converted into a Christian church, thus sparing its demise for future enjoyement and edification. It is said the famed Italian king Umberto I (who is buried at the Pantheon) has been spotted on occassion. A well-known account is even from a police officer in 1930.
January 16, 2013
Whorl Books On Kindle
You can now find Strange State, The Mound, and other Whorl Books offerings available for download to Kindle.
January 12, 2013
A (Somewhat) Belated Best Of 2012 List
These are some of the para-centric and horror-based bests of 2012. Some are my own choices and some have been chosen by others. If you have anything to add, we would love to hear your thoughts. Leave a comment and let us know what YOUR faves of 2012 were.
Best Blogs/Websites:
Propnomicon.blogspot.com
http://watchinghorrorfilmsfrombehindthecouch.blogspot.com/
http://ufocon.blogspot.com/
Best Horror Films: The Woman in Black / Cabin in the Woods
Best Sci-Fi Film: Prometheus / Looper / Cloud Atlas
Most Haunted City: USA Today hails Kansas City as THE most haunted.
Best Paranormal Book: Shadow of Night by Deborah Harkness (goodreads.com)
Best Horror Book: The Twelve by Justin Cronin (goodreads.com)
Best Science Fiction Book: The Long Earth by Terry Pratchett and Stephen Baxter (goodreads.com)
Best "Dark" Artists: www.nicolasbrunophotography.com/#Recent-Works-2011-2012
http://www.pumpkinrot.com/index2.htm (pumpkinrot.blogspot)
http://kerrykate.blogspot.com/
Best Crypto Story: Dr. Melba Ketchum's peer-rejected paper on Bigfoot DNA / The man killed while trying to execute a Bigfoot hoax / Kickstarter used to crowdfund an expedition to the Congo in search of Mokele Mbembe.
Best Doomsdayers: The Mayans
Best UFO Story: The National Atomic Testing Museum showing up in relationship to UFOs in not one but two media events this year in seeming support of the prospect of alien visitation (http://nationalatomictestingmuseum.org/area51.aspx)
Best Haunting/Ghost Story: Can't think of a one. Do you have any suggestions? Which ones were BIG news this year?
Best Original Paranormal TV: Grimm / Being Human
Best Original Science Fiction TV: Dr. Who / Fringe
Best Original Horror TV: Walking Dead / American Horror Story
January 9, 2013
Stone Age Britain Was A Much Bigger Place
A vast underwater area in the North Sea may once have been home to tens of thousands of Stone Age people before suffering a devastating tsunami and gradually disappearing under rising sea levels, according to 15 years of research by U.K. scientists. Named Doggerland, the region stretched from Northern Scotland to Denmark and down toward the Channel Islands. It slowly became submerged between 18,000 and 5,500 B.C., separating Britain from the rest of Europe.
“Doggerland was the real heartland of Europe until sea levels rose to give us the U.K. coastline of today,” said geophysicist Richard Bates at the University of St. Andrews in a statement.
“We have speculated for years on the lost land’s existence from bones dredged by fishermen all over the North Sea, but it’s only since working with oil companies in the last few years that we have been able to recreate what this lost land looked like.”
The scientists reconstructed a huge and complex landscape using geophysical modeling and material collected from the ocean floor, including fossilized material from the plants and animals that inhabited Doggerland.
“We have now been able to model its flora and fauna, build up a picture of the ancient people that lived there and begin to understand some of the dramatic events that subsequently changed the land, including the sea rising and a devastating tsunami,” Bates said.
Initially, Doggerland was hilly with waterways and a convoluted coastline, but as sea levels rose, an archipelago of low islands would have formed.
Other interesting findings include a mass mammoth grave, standing stones, and potential human burial sites.
“We haven’t found an ‘x marks the spot’ or ‘Joe created this’, but we have found many artifacts and submerged features that are very difficult to explain by natural causes, such as mounds surrounded by ditches and fossilized tree stumps on the seafloor,” Bates said.
“There is actually very little evidence left because much of it has eroded underwater; it’s like trying to find just part of a needle within a haystack.”
“What we have found though is a remarkable amount of evidence and we are now able to pinpoint the best places to find preserved signs of life.”
Images and artifacts are currently on display in an exhibit called ‘Drowned Landscapes’ at the annual Royal Society Summer Science Exhibition in London.
http://www.theepochtimes.com/n2/science/doggerland-atlantis-like-country-discovered-off-scottish-coast-261649.html
January 4, 2013
Is Bigfoot A Big Waste Of Time?
Buy This Design HereAs reported in the
Charlotte Observer
, science writer Brian Switek harangues readers with an exasperated diatribe (you can almost visualize him throwing his hands up in the air with a sigh) about the total time-suck that is cryptozoology--especially as it concerns Bigfoot. And while you may hate to admit it, the man makes some valid points.
But should that matter? Even if this (and many other cryptids) are entirely nonexistent, is the quest without merit? Can we not look at how big cryptozoology and paranormal interests have become and ask ourselves if there aren't larger social yearnings at work? Are these not worth exploring as well?
Moreover, who are any of us to rob people of something they enjoy? Yes, we get it: THE EVIDENCE IS SCANT BEYOND REASON!
But...so what?
January 2, 2013
Flayin' Alive
Statue of St. Bartholomew with the skin, which was flayed from his body while he was still alive, slung about himself like a mink stole.This creepy statue by Marco d'Agrate (1562) sits in the Duomo di Milano, a cathedral in Milan, Italy.
Bartholomew (sometimes referred to as Nathanael) was a friend of the Apostle Philip and is counted among the Apostles in both the gospels and pseudepigraphical literature as well. There are three separate accounts of his martyrdom and how exactly he died. some say he was tossed into the sea and others that he was crucified upside down. For obvious, dramatic reasons artists enjoy the story in which he is skinned alive and then beheaded in Albanopolis near Baskale, Turkey.
An equally gruesome depiction by Michaelangelo can be seen in the Sistine Chapel, which I also saw, but they don't allow photographs.
December 30, 2012
The Squeeze Box
It's a little rough, but this is the short fiction I wrote at a friend's behest. I was given a picture (an old black and white photo from what seemed to be the late 19th / early 20th Century) of a man holding an accordian or "squeeze box". From there...SQUEEZE BOX
Folks ain't got much to do 'round these parts when the sun sinks down into that black water. Drinkin' mostly, I suppose. That always starts out fun and turns ugly as the night drags on. Some folks just get to actin' like fools and then some just get down right mean. Life on the bayou is hard for poor folk. Not much to look forward to but drink and screw and pick a fight. Of course, we got some damn good music though. Every now and then a man will show up at Freddy's and really wail. But every now and then, even the music can go bad. Not bad. No... It can go...wrong.
Leticia said his name was Samuel or Sammy or something like that. I don't think no one really knew his name though. He wasn't from the area--at least, no one had ever seen him before. Old Joe said he just showed up down by the river while all the men were fishing, soaking wet without any shoes and carrying a squeeze box (you might call it an accordian) and asking around if there was any place he could play some tunes and pass the hat. Old Joe's got a heart as big as outdoors but a brain the size of a pea, so he didn't see nothin' suspicious about the circumstances of this man's arrival. He just pointed out the dusty scratch of Beaubois Bayou road and told him to follow the sun til he got to town.
Freddy's is a mile past the church (or a mile outta God's reach). The man tipped his sopping wet hat, thanked Old Joe, and trudged barefoot up the bank, through the reeds, and disappeared into the leopard print shadows beneath the canopy of oaks flanking the old plantation road.
It weren't but that same night, after the men had tried without success to snag any fish, that we found ourselves at Freddy's listening to the stranger play a feverishly impossible tune on the old squeeze box. I can't quite explain why it sounded wrong because, on paper, it likely made a lot of sense. But that wasn't how it came out. It was too fast, too complex for one. It was like the man was playing it with four hands instead of two--maybe six. And while our heads could tell you it was just a song, our bodies seemed to think otherwise. There was a buzzing sensation that kinda shot through our skin like electricity and we spun on it like a pinwheel, nausea building within like a frothy, storm-tossed sea.
Yet none of us moved. We stood there, transfixed by his devilish, maniacal playing. Hypnotized.
Most of us were, anyway. After a bit, my migraine kicked in and, with each passing note, it got harder to focus on the demon music. I looked around to find everyone in Freddy's--and it was most everyone in town--swaying absently to the strangers tune, humming along. Then the man stood up without missing a note and moved forward into the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea. The stranger crossed the threshold, stepped out into the road, and headed back toward the river.
Behind him, trailed the entire contents of Freddy's, joined along the way by anyone else left in town. Down the road they went like rats into the gullet of Beauboi Road, still humming the demon song. Then wordlessly, with only the music as direction, Sammy or Samuel or whoever guided them off the path, down the bank, and to the waters edge. I watched in horror as he led them all like the Pied Piper of Hamlin into the crystaline blackness of the river and to their deaths. I screamed in vain, trying to break the man's spell. But any attempt to break this dark reverie fell silent against the ever-loudening music that snaked from his squeeze box like the tentacles of some ancient evil.
In a state of mental exhaustion, I collapsed there at the river's edge. When I woke up, it was nearly dawn. I ran into town and began banging on doors, hoping it was all a dream. But the nightmare persisted. There was no sound anywhere. Not a soul in sight. Even Leroy and Deleetha's infant couldn't be found. I realized in horror that she must have taken the child into the darkness with her.
As I stumbled from their home, I spotted a lone figure ambling down that country lane. Reverend Collins. He was clutching his large, black bible with a look of horrored confusion etched into an ashen face. He needn't have ask the questions lodged in his open mouth. It was clear: What happened? Where is everyone? Who did this? Was that man a mesmerist? Was this all some mass hallucination? Was it like those suicide cults you sometimes read about?
I'm sure he was going to be looking to that book for answers. Oh, but something told me he wouldn't find them in there. Something in my gut whispered that whoever--whatever--led the town to their doom was far older than that Bible Collins clutched so fiercely.
I can't help but remember a legend my own grandfather told me about the Pascagoula Indians in these parts who worshipped an angry god in the river that made them all drown themselves. He would say that if you went down to the river at night when all was still and listened very closely, you could still hear them Indians singing softly from deep within their muddy graves.
I suspect--and this is why I have never returned to find out--that if I went down to the river on a still night and listened closely, I would hear the awful, horrible truth: that my neighbors and friends had all joined the ghostly chorus that sings to some unnamed heathen god. And I bet if I listen even closer, I'd hear the feverish wheezing of an old squeeze box.
December 29, 2012
Legend of the Lost Lovers' Mine
The following was first published in the now-defunt Nashville American [1894-1910] newspaper (it later merged with another Tennessee paper). The tale circulated throughout the country at a time when the newly-minted State of Oklahoma was being mined for its long-held legends of Spanish gold, outlaws, and the secrets of the still quite mysterious tribes that populated the former territory.
Quest of Lost Lovers' Mine.
Strange Adventures of Trapper Who Found Cave of Gold and His Thrilling Rescue.
The story of the most wonderful gold mine in the world and the treasure of some ancient race is regarded by at least ten men who live in the Indian Territory as gospel truth, others allowed it some degree of credit, while many laugh at it as a myth of the flimsiest character. Many lives have been lost and thousands of dollars have been spent in searching for this lost treasure of the lost lovers. Those who are best informed on the subject and who are firm believers in the existence of the mine and treasure are convinced that its location is known to two noted Indians.
About two years ago a party of hunters were returning to old Ft. Still when they made a very startling discovery. Moans of distress were heard coming from a location not far from the trail. An investigation was made and the hunter found an Indian girl and a white man staked to the earth writing in agony and very near death. It was nearly night and the boys pitched their camp, hoping to save the lives of the suffering people.
The captives were unbound and when restoratives had been sdministered and the dirt washed from their faces both of them were recognized by several of the hunters. the white man was John Lawthorn and the girl was Oneda, the pretty daughter of old Gotebo. As soon as Lawthorn could find strenght to talk he explained that they had been suddenly attacked, knocked senseless and bound. This occurred about daylight.
Lawthorn said that he had been unting about 100 miles farther west in a lofty range of mountains. He believed that he was in a region usually avoided by Indians and known to the various tribes under several names, such as "Ghost Mountains," "Devil Mountains" and "Death Mountains."
One day he followed a wounded bear into a narrow canyon, where the walls of rock on either side rose to such an immense height that the rays of the sun hardly penetrated the dark gorge.
"It was a gloomy, forbidding-looking place," said the hunter, "and when I came up with the crippled bear I dispatched it at once, hoping to get away as soon as possible. After sticking the bear I went down to the little stream that roared through the gorge to wash my knife and slake my thirst. While resting a moment on the bank, I saw some little particles of gold in the bed of the stream, and being and old prospector, I glanced around and it was easy for me to see that the rocks spelled gold in every direction. Several leads of gold bearing quartz were in plain view.
"My fortune's made!" I exclaimed, and was in the act of rising to make a closer examination when I noticed a lot of rectangular openings in the wall oppostie my position, reminding me at once of the cliff dwellers of Arizona. I farily ran across thes tream to look into one of these openings in the wall. It was dark as midnight inside, and, of coufse, I could not see anything until I had struck a match. then I saw nothing but an empty vault that had evidently been chisled in the solid wall by some one who belonged to a race that passed away long ago.
"The room was something like the cell of a prison. it was about eight feet one way and six the other, and the ceiling was not high enough to allow a six-foot man to stand erect. I soon discovered that there were several rows of these rooms in the wall. There was one row above another until the top row was located at a dizzy height--possibly 200 feet from the base.
"I was amazed and highly elated at the wonderful discover I had made. I knew that it would create a big sensation among archaeologists and other scientists. At the same time I was confident that I had found a bonanza of gold. I was about to return to my bear when I noticed one opening a great deal larger than the others. Over this door there were hieroglyphics and the gifure of a god in bas-relief. Upon entering this place I found it much larger than the others. It was about 40 feet in width and length, while the roof was almost beyond the reach of the rays of my flickering matches. On the farther side there was a great stone altar. It was four feet high and large enough for the priests to have accomplished the slaughter and sacrifice of a victim six feet in length. Behind this were towo smaller doors opening into small vaults. One of these I entered to find it different. There was a great heap of something against the wall. I held a match over it and it glittered like gold. Agitated to desperation, I broke several matches before I calmed myself sufficiently to examine the stuff closely.
"It was gold. I had had long experience and I knew gold.
"Trembling like one with a small child, I looked at the heap of gold dust in amazment. Why, there are two or three bushels of it, i whispered. I determined to go back to my bear and camp, hoping during the night to devise some plan to move my great find to my home. Thrusting a big handful of the glittering gold dust into one of my pockets, I turned to leave the room.
"My foot struck something soft at the base of the altar, and when I placed my handon the rock for support I found that it came in contact with something sticky. Rather astonished, I struck another match. Then i was almost crazed with the scene before my eyes. The altar was wet with blood and a child 2 or 3 years old was lying dead at its base. The poor little infant's breast had been ripped open and the vital organs of its bosom were exposed.
"Shuddering with terror, I fled out into the open air. I was so badly frightened I hardly knew what to do, but I determined to get away from that region as fast as I could. I ran to the bear for the purpose of gathering my accouterments. being nearly famished from hunger, I concluded to cut a slice from one of the bear's hams to carry with me.
"While I was bending over the animal I was seized from behind by a strong man and pushed forward on my face. though I struggled with desperation, I was quickly bound hand and foot to a tree with my face toward the earth. I could not and did not see my captors. I could hear them moving about and talking in whispers, and I judged that there were two men and a boy. I was right as to the men, but mistaken about the boy. It was a girl, and she is here to confirm all I am saying. They made a fire and I could smell the roasting bear meat.
"You can imagine how my blood thrilled with emotions when I ralized that some one was noiselessly cutting my bonds. When I was loose I turned over as easy as I could, and by the light of the stars I recognized Oneda. She had long been my sweetheart. We had planned to marry in the near future. Amazed to find her standing over me in that wild region. I was in the act of speaking when she put a finger on my lips.
"Fortunately Oneda had brought my revolver and my sack of provisions. We traveled night and day, and when we reached this locality so near home I thought that we could safely camp and rest, for we were nearly dead from hunger and fatigue.
"Last night while we slept sound we were again assaulted, bound and staked out on the plains to die of thirst and terror. Of course, it is easy to understand who did this, and one wonders why they did this, and one wonders why they did not slay us at once. The reason is to be found in the fact that it is unlawful for a medicine man to shed a drop of blood of his people. Again, they desired to torture us. Dboutless they sat not far away all day yesterday and enjoyed our moans and cries for aid.
"Now, gentlemen," said Lawthorn, "you have heard my strange story. Every word of it is true. I promis you that is you will go with me to those old ruins in the Death Mountains, as Oneda calls them, we will find two or three bushels of gold dust and in the old temple one of the riches gold fields in the world--a place where there is a big fortune for each and every one of us."
The young man had hardly ceased speaking before half of those who had been listening were on their feet eagerly offering to follow him back to the mountains and recover the treasure that he had discovered. Cooler council prevailed and a company was formed on the spot and officers elected.
They returned to the fort, where two good men were appointed to shadow the Kiowa priest and his comrade. Lawthorn and Oneda were married, and, after a great feast the company set out to search for the great treasure.
The caravan camped in high glee. They were confident that the evening of the next day would be spent in dividing heaps of gold dust and staking rich placer claims or locating bonanzas of gold-bearing quartz. They sat up till midnight singing, dancing, and planning a future roseate with golden dreams.
The company collected about the place where Lawthorn and his wife had slept.
"Why, all their clothing, boots, shoes and hats are here. If gone, they went naked," said Ferris. The boys stood gazing into each other's faces in blank amazement. Lawthorn and his wife had certainly disappeared, leaving not a sign or trace.
The old ten who first heard Lawthorn and Oneda tell the story of the sacrifice of the child and the finding of the great treasure believed every word uttered by the lovers, and they will search for that gloomy canyon and the pile of gold dust as long as they are able to walk the earth. Each of these ten men wears a gold cross made from the dust Lawthorn brought from the temple.
----
The story seems to be complete fabrication. The narrative style hints at it, but for me it is the inclusion of details that don't quite match up with the topography described--mainly these mountains 100 miles to the west. There are NO mountains 100 miles to the west, certainly none that would be described as 'lofty'. The nearest Mountains to Ft. Sill are the Wichita Mountains, but the fort is practically at their doorstep. One might as well say the it is IN the Wichitas, so I'm inclined to dismiss them. Beyond that are the nearby Quartz Mountains, but they are so close as to almost be the same range. So, either the narrator hasn't a clue how far 100 miles is or the story is an utter fabrication because beyond these two ranges of hills, nothing significantly montane can be found to the west for 500 miles. These are, after all, the Great Plains.
Moreover, I'm not sure about the geneaology hinted at in the story concerning Gotebo (or Kau-Tau-Bone, as he is known to fellow Kiowa), his daughter and Lawthorn. This also isn't surprising given that I can't find more than a cursory biography on the sub-chief for whom the town of Gotebo is named. As well, I can't find a connection between John Lawthorn and Gotebo, through a daughter or otherwise.
Likely this is yet another fantastic tale spun to sell papers or, as was sometimes the case, to entice settlement to a given area.
Quest of Lost Lovers' Mine.
Strange Adventures of Trapper Who Found Cave of Gold and His Thrilling Rescue.
The story of the most wonderful gold mine in the world and the treasure of some ancient race is regarded by at least ten men who live in the Indian Territory as gospel truth, others allowed it some degree of credit, while many laugh at it as a myth of the flimsiest character. Many lives have been lost and thousands of dollars have been spent in searching for this lost treasure of the lost lovers. Those who are best informed on the subject and who are firm believers in the existence of the mine and treasure are convinced that its location is known to two noted Indians.
About two years ago a party of hunters were returning to old Ft. Still when they made a very startling discovery. Moans of distress were heard coming from a location not far from the trail. An investigation was made and the hunter found an Indian girl and a white man staked to the earth writing in agony and very near death. It was nearly night and the boys pitched their camp, hoping to save the lives of the suffering people.
The captives were unbound and when restoratives had been sdministered and the dirt washed from their faces both of them were recognized by several of the hunters. the white man was John Lawthorn and the girl was Oneda, the pretty daughter of old Gotebo. As soon as Lawthorn could find strenght to talk he explained that they had been suddenly attacked, knocked senseless and bound. This occurred about daylight.
Lawthorn said that he had been unting about 100 miles farther west in a lofty range of mountains. He believed that he was in a region usually avoided by Indians and known to the various tribes under several names, such as "Ghost Mountains," "Devil Mountains" and "Death Mountains."
One day he followed a wounded bear into a narrow canyon, where the walls of rock on either side rose to such an immense height that the rays of the sun hardly penetrated the dark gorge.
"It was a gloomy, forbidding-looking place," said the hunter, "and when I came up with the crippled bear I dispatched it at once, hoping to get away as soon as possible. After sticking the bear I went down to the little stream that roared through the gorge to wash my knife and slake my thirst. While resting a moment on the bank, I saw some little particles of gold in the bed of the stream, and being and old prospector, I glanced around and it was easy for me to see that the rocks spelled gold in every direction. Several leads of gold bearing quartz were in plain view.
"My fortune's made!" I exclaimed, and was in the act of rising to make a closer examination when I noticed a lot of rectangular openings in the wall oppostie my position, reminding me at once of the cliff dwellers of Arizona. I farily ran across thes tream to look into one of these openings in the wall. It was dark as midnight inside, and, of coufse, I could not see anything until I had struck a match. then I saw nothing but an empty vault that had evidently been chisled in the solid wall by some one who belonged to a race that passed away long ago.
"The room was something like the cell of a prison. it was about eight feet one way and six the other, and the ceiling was not high enough to allow a six-foot man to stand erect. I soon discovered that there were several rows of these rooms in the wall. There was one row above another until the top row was located at a dizzy height--possibly 200 feet from the base.
"I was amazed and highly elated at the wonderful discover I had made. I knew that it would create a big sensation among archaeologists and other scientists. At the same time I was confident that I had found a bonanza of gold. I was about to return to my bear when I noticed one opening a great deal larger than the others. Over this door there were hieroglyphics and the gifure of a god in bas-relief. Upon entering this place I found it much larger than the others. It was about 40 feet in width and length, while the roof was almost beyond the reach of the rays of my flickering matches. On the farther side there was a great stone altar. It was four feet high and large enough for the priests to have accomplished the slaughter and sacrifice of a victim six feet in length. Behind this were towo smaller doors opening into small vaults. One of these I entered to find it different. There was a great heap of something against the wall. I held a match over it and it glittered like gold. Agitated to desperation, I broke several matches before I calmed myself sufficiently to examine the stuff closely.
"It was gold. I had had long experience and I knew gold.
"Trembling like one with a small child, I looked at the heap of gold dust in amazment. Why, there are two or three bushels of it, i whispered. I determined to go back to my bear and camp, hoping during the night to devise some plan to move my great find to my home. Thrusting a big handful of the glittering gold dust into one of my pockets, I turned to leave the room.
"My foot struck something soft at the base of the altar, and when I placed my handon the rock for support I found that it came in contact with something sticky. Rather astonished, I struck another match. Then i was almost crazed with the scene before my eyes. The altar was wet with blood and a child 2 or 3 years old was lying dead at its base. The poor little infant's breast had been ripped open and the vital organs of its bosom were exposed.
"Shuddering with terror, I fled out into the open air. I was so badly frightened I hardly knew what to do, but I determined to get away from that region as fast as I could. I ran to the bear for the purpose of gathering my accouterments. being nearly famished from hunger, I concluded to cut a slice from one of the bear's hams to carry with me.
"While I was bending over the animal I was seized from behind by a strong man and pushed forward on my face. though I struggled with desperation, I was quickly bound hand and foot to a tree with my face toward the earth. I could not and did not see my captors. I could hear them moving about and talking in whispers, and I judged that there were two men and a boy. I was right as to the men, but mistaken about the boy. It was a girl, and she is here to confirm all I am saying. They made a fire and I could smell the roasting bear meat.
"You can imagine how my blood thrilled with emotions when I ralized that some one was noiselessly cutting my bonds. When I was loose I turned over as easy as I could, and by the light of the stars I recognized Oneda. She had long been my sweetheart. We had planned to marry in the near future. Amazed to find her standing over me in that wild region. I was in the act of speaking when she put a finger on my lips.
"Fortunately Oneda had brought my revolver and my sack of provisions. We traveled night and day, and when we reached this locality so near home I thought that we could safely camp and rest, for we were nearly dead from hunger and fatigue.
"Last night while we slept sound we were again assaulted, bound and staked out on the plains to die of thirst and terror. Of course, it is easy to understand who did this, and one wonders why they did this, and one wonders why they did not slay us at once. The reason is to be found in the fact that it is unlawful for a medicine man to shed a drop of blood of his people. Again, they desired to torture us. Dboutless they sat not far away all day yesterday and enjoyed our moans and cries for aid.
"Now, gentlemen," said Lawthorn, "you have heard my strange story. Every word of it is true. I promis you that is you will go with me to those old ruins in the Death Mountains, as Oneda calls them, we will find two or three bushels of gold dust and in the old temple one of the riches gold fields in the world--a place where there is a big fortune for each and every one of us."
The young man had hardly ceased speaking before half of those who had been listening were on their feet eagerly offering to follow him back to the mountains and recover the treasure that he had discovered. Cooler council prevailed and a company was formed on the spot and officers elected.
They returned to the fort, where two good men were appointed to shadow the Kiowa priest and his comrade. Lawthorn and Oneda were married, and, after a great feast the company set out to search for the great treasure.
The caravan camped in high glee. They were confident that the evening of the next day would be spent in dividing heaps of gold dust and staking rich placer claims or locating bonanzas of gold-bearing quartz. They sat up till midnight singing, dancing, and planning a future roseate with golden dreams.
The company collected about the place where Lawthorn and his wife had slept.
"Why, all their clothing, boots, shoes and hats are here. If gone, they went naked," said Ferris. The boys stood gazing into each other's faces in blank amazement. Lawthorn and his wife had certainly disappeared, leaving not a sign or trace.
The old ten who first heard Lawthorn and Oneda tell the story of the sacrifice of the child and the finding of the great treasure believed every word uttered by the lovers, and they will search for that gloomy canyon and the pile of gold dust as long as they are able to walk the earth. Each of these ten men wears a gold cross made from the dust Lawthorn brought from the temple.
----
The story seems to be complete fabrication. The narrative style hints at it, but for me it is the inclusion of details that don't quite match up with the topography described--mainly these mountains 100 miles to the west. There are NO mountains 100 miles to the west, certainly none that would be described as 'lofty'. The nearest Mountains to Ft. Sill are the Wichita Mountains, but the fort is practically at their doorstep. One might as well say the it is IN the Wichitas, so I'm inclined to dismiss them. Beyond that are the nearby Quartz Mountains, but they are so close as to almost be the same range. So, either the narrator hasn't a clue how far 100 miles is or the story is an utter fabrication because beyond these two ranges of hills, nothing significantly montane can be found to the west for 500 miles. These are, after all, the Great Plains.
Moreover, I'm not sure about the geneaology hinted at in the story concerning Gotebo (or Kau-Tau-Bone, as he is known to fellow Kiowa), his daughter and Lawthorn. This also isn't surprising given that I can't find more than a cursory biography on the sub-chief for whom the town of Gotebo is named. As well, I can't find a connection between John Lawthorn and Gotebo, through a daughter or otherwise.
Likely this is yet another fantastic tale spun to sell papers or, as was sometimes the case, to entice settlement to a given area.
December 25, 2012
Bring Back The Holiday Spirits
There has long been a tradition of telling ghost stories at Christmas. In the US, this tradition has largely fallen by the wayside. I think it is high time we resurrect this practice. In the "spirit" of Christmas, I'll recount the following:In the Summer of 1916, The Washington Post recorded a story out of Elkhart, Indiana. Apparently a well-known haunted rectory was slated to be razed due to the fact that no one would live in the structure.
The rectory, property of St. John's Episcopal Church, was by all accounts in good repair but had sat unused for a number of years because none would stay even a single night.
The final occupants were Reverend W. W. Daup and his wife, the latter of whom was driven to nervous exhaustion, thus cementing the rectory's reputation.
A medium was brought in at one point. Through her investigation, she learned the spirit was that of a former rector's daughter who killed herself in the home.
