Quinn Noll's Blog, page 2
September 2, 2022
Bizarre Mysteries: Psychics Who Solve Crimes
There are things in this life that are shrouded in mystery. Things that defy explanation and push our ‘rational thinking’ to the limits. Stuff like ‘Why would God create gnats?’ ‘Does anyone really listen to Justin Bieber anymore?’ ‘Why don’t cereal companies use Ziploc packaging?’
But perhaps one of the greatest mysteries involves the psychic mind. I’ve heard and read about hundreds of instances where psychics called into police investigations were uncannily accurate in their predictions or the ‘unknown to the public’ information they shared. Don’t get me wrong…for every legit seer out there, I’d wager there are a hundred or more charlatans. People who pray on the weak, the grief-stricken, simply to make a buck.
I’m looking at you, Sylvia Browne👀
Disgusting humans, the lot of them.
But what of the true psychics? The ones who ‘see’ a crime, a body, a child lost in a forest? They do exist. There are too many stories, too many examples shared by law enforcement, to believe it a fluke. In this month’s episode of ‘Holy crap, that’s freaky!’ (also known as Bizarre Mysteries) we will explore several cases where there remains little doubt that something, some higher power or innate ability, accomplished what no one else could—the successful resolution of a police investigation.
Image credit: Istock photo
First up, we travel to a place near and dear to most of my family and friends…New Jersey. The murders of Amie Hoffman and Dierdre O’Brien, two young and beautiful woman whose murders had us all double-checking our doors and coming home before dark. I actually remember this case well, mostly because the victims were close to my age, and I was a year into a marriage with a police officer who worked in Morris County.
In 1982, then 18-year-old Amie Hoffman left her job in a large Jersey mall but never made it beyond the parking lot. Her car was found the next day, in the same place she’d parked it the day before, but Amie was no where to be found. After police came up with no leads, they brought in a psychic from the area, a woman named Nancy Weber.
Nancy had worked other cases with success and, with nothing to lose, police decided to give her a shot. She not only came up with the killer’s first name (James) but also knew he was of Polish descent, and his last name had a hard ‘K’ in it. Additionally, she mentioned he had lived in and done time for murder in Florida and currently worked in a garage. Lo and behold, murderer James Koedatich , a mechanic who had done time in Florida for second degree murder, was arrested. Shortly after killing Amie and dumping her body in a reservoir, he stabbed Deidre O’Brien to death in a rest area in Warren County.
Nancy Weber had a starring role in yet another NJ homicide, this one in Belvidere, NJ, a town close to my former home. In 1987, a nurse named Elizabeth Cornish was beaten to death in her bedroom with a hammer. The Cornish family brought in Nancy to help give authorities a starting point. High on the suspect list was Cornish’s boyfriend, as well as a man who lived in the apartment above her.
When taken to the apartment, Nancy was adamant that Elizabeth’s killer was not her boyfriend, but the man who lived above her. She gave a location of the murder weapon, a physical description of the perpetrator, as well as his initials, J.R. As it turned out, that man, John Reese, had both an alibi and had passed a polygraph, virtually eliminating him from the suspect list.
***Important to note here that his alibi correlated with the coroner’s time of death.
But Nancy would have none of it. She insisted Reese was not only the killer, but the coroner was off on the time of death by four hours. Insistent, the medical examiner’s office finally agreed to revisit the time and death, and eventually amended it.
To four hours earlier.
Reese’s alibi fell apart and he confessed to the murder. Yay, Nancy! You stick to your guns, girlfriend!
In another Jersey mystery, thirty-year old John DeMars boarded a train in the evening to his home in Nutley. When the train stopped, however, DeMars was nowhere to be found. After several attempts to locate him by authorities, they brought in psychic Dorothy Allison, a woman who, some say, helped to solve a number of missing person cases. Her detractors called her a fraud. Be that as it may, in the case of John DeMars, Ms. Allison seemed to be spot-on.
At their wits end searching for John, Dorothy told them she saw him falling from the train into water below and subsequently drowning. Although she could not pinpoint where this happened, she could tell them it was an area where she saw a bow and arrow. She also said she saw the numbers 2,2,2. Police couldn’t figure out what all this info meant.
Then, two months later, on February 22nd, (2,2,2) his body showed up in shallow water. Right next an arrow belonging to a man who was bow hunting with his son. Police theorized that DeMars, having fallen asleep, was disoriented during an unscheduled stop and stepped off the train to the icy water below.
For decades, police and lay people alike have employed psychics for various reasons. Take the case of Penny Serra of New Haven, Connecticut. In 1973, the 21-year-old was found on the floor of a parking garage, dead. She’d been stabbed over 20 times. In an era before forensic technology would advance enough to change investigative techniques, police hit a dead end in the search for her killer.
Enter “time walker’ (admittedly a term I’d never heard of) Mary Pascarella Downey. A time walker is a psychic who connects to spirits through the past and collects clues from them. Which kind of sounds like what a ‘regular’ medium does, quite frankly. Maybe it’s similar to a garbage collector who says he is in ‘waste management’, or a bounty hunter who calls himself a ‘recovery specialist’. (No shade on our much needed waste management crew or Dog the Bounty Hunter wannabe’s!)
Image: Mary Pascarella Downey
Anyway, back to it. So Downey told authorities a few things that, at the time, left them scratching their heads. She said the killer would not be caught for almost 30 years and that he was a mechanic. She saw blue coveralls, smelled gasoline, and saw a grease-stained hand. She also had a flash of an embroidered nametag on the coveralls. The name started with the letter ‘E’.
Lastly, she gave an ominous four word warning… “Only blood can tell.” Yikes😳
Decades went by. Finally, using DNA analysis available in 1997, an arrest was made—using blood collected at the scene. Because, ‘only blood can tell’. In 2002, mechanic Edward Grant was convicted of the murder of Penny Serra.
Shazam!
Meanwhile, our friends across the pond have had successes of their own. Well-known psychic Dennis McKenzie of Cambridgeshire, England, found himself involved in the case of a Limerick, Ireland resident in 2006. When seventeen year old Richard Kelley went missing, his mother contacted Dennis for help. Unfortunately, all McKenzie picked up on were terrible images of Richard’s body. He saw a slab of concrete nearby, a bridge and two words….Bodyke and Brigid.
Richard’s skeletonized and dismembered body was found a year later, in a lake named Lough Brigid, near Bodyke, County Clare. He had a chunk of concrete tied to each of his legs.
Image Credit: Udra11/Shutterstock
Freakish.
That wraps it up for this month’s “the more you know” episode! Hope you enjoyed it!
Do you know of a crazy case, instance, or have you witnessed, any psychic abilities? If you have come across something you think we should explore further, drop me a note at Quinnnoll@gmail.com or leave a comment on this blog. Maybe we can do a follow-up special regarding a bunch of different psychic phenomena!
Until next time, keep your eyes open, your head on a swivel, and a psychic’s phone number in your pocket!
Later, gators
—Q
August 5, 2022
Bizarre Mysteries: Legendary Ghosts of the US, Part One
That’s right, kids! Even famous people, it seems, have unfinished business. The next few blogs, we will discuss some well-known folks who are said to haunt people, places, or even things. The list is long, the tales fascinating…which means we will need to make this a two or three part series!
And, once we uncover the ghosts of the US, we will cover some famous ghosts of other countries. Some you may have heard about, some will be new. But all will leave you fascinated and wanting to know more.
That’s the hope, anyway!
Let’s start with some ghosts you may have heard of as a child. Spooky fodder for ghost stories around the campfire or tales to scare the hell out of a sibling right before bedtime. Not that I know anything about that, you understand.😉
One such name you’ve undoubtedly heard of is Bloody Mary. The ghost, not the drink. Sure, sure, you look into the mirror, spin a few times, and see the scary image of the woman known as Bloody Mary, right? But was she, in fact, a real person?
Mary I…Image credit: History.com
It appears so. Unfortunately, since there are so many variations to this legend, it’s impossible to tell who truly wears the title of ‘Bloody Mary’. Was it Mary I, daughter of Henry VIII? This gal, told to be frumpy and plain and a little nutso, ordered the deaths of many Protestants when she took the throne, believing that unifying her kingdom entailed killing Non-Catholics. So, in that sense, she was ‘bloody.’
Another theory is that Bloody Mary is actually the ghost of a woman, thought to be a witch, named Mary Worth. This Mary was a suspect in the disappearance of several young girls (this all took place in the 1500’s, by the by) and the town’s people thought she’d had a hand in the disappearances. She’d already been accused of practicing black magic so kidnapping, I suppose, was not a stretch.
She was burned at the stake, vowing to destroy anyone who looked in a mirror before stealing their children. Or something like that.
Yeah, you don’t have to tell me twice. I happen to like my children.
Another Mary (what’s with all the Mary’s?) is Resurrection Mary. This one is your classic “beautiful hitchhiker turns out to be a ghost,'“ tale. The story goes that sometime in the 1930’s, a young lady (Mary) was out ballroom dancing with her beau. The two got into a lover’s quarrel and she left the dance club—in her pretty white dress— and started walking the streets of Chicago.
Soon after leaving the club, she was hit and killed by an unknown driver who left the scene of the accident.
Mary’s battered body was discovered by her parents. She was buried in Resurrection Cemetery (why did I just get a flash of Stephen King’s Pet Sematary?) a few miles south of Chicago, in Justice, Illinois. Since the alleged incident (alleged because, as with all legends, there is probably a mixture of truth and folklore in there somewhere) reported sightings are in the dozens. A few people claim to have spoken to her, given her a ride as she hitchhiked, even danced with her in the same dance hall years after her death. In each instance, the witnesses turn away for a brief minute and she vanishes.
Like some sort of ghost or something.😜
Here is one for ya: Near the Boston Harbor entrance in Massachusetts sits historic Fort Warren, home of the ghost of Mrs. Melanie Lanier. Known as ‘The Lady in Black’, her story begins during the Civil War, when her husband, a confederate soldier, was captured and sent to Fort Warren. Once Melanie got the word that her sweetheart was imprisoned, she concocted an elaborate plan to free him.
Image credit: The Uncertainist/wordpress.com
Donning men’s clothing, she snuck into Fort Warren, reunited with her love, and they set about tunneling under the Fort’s walls, using a pick-axe she’d brought with her.
Important to note here that she also brought with her a handgun.
The Union soldiers discovered Mr. and Mrs. Lanier as they ran to escape and cornered them. There was a stand-off, Melanie brandishing her gun, trying to protect her husband. In the ensuing scuffle, the gun discharged, the bullet hitting her husband. He died in her arms. (Man, this would make a great book or movie!)
Melanie was sentenced to hang for treason. Her ghost has been seen by dozens of people, starting with the very soldiers who executed her. She walks the Fort in a black dress, mourning her husband, angry at the fate visited upon the young couple.
But, man-o-man, what a wife, am I right? Melanie Lanier sounds like my kind of people❤️ I may make a trip to Fort Warren, just to let her know that.
And, speaking of ‘Warren,’ the famous demonologist couple, Ed and Lorraine Warren, have told many ghostly stories over the years. But none, I think, hold a candle to the spooky vibes of a doll known simply as ‘Annabelle.’
Full disclosure here…it takes a lot to scare me. But anything to do with creepy-ass, animated dolls or other toys sends me screaming through the house.
Remind me to tell you about the remote control car that seemed to have a life of its own at our house…with no controller. And no batteries.
Anyhoo, back to Annabelle. According to the Warren’s, Annabelle started out as a gift from a mother to her 28-year-old daughter (which is already kind of creepy, right?) The daughter, a nurse, was thrilled with Annabelle and took her to her apartment she shared with another young nurse.
At first, everything was groovy. Annabelle sat on the sofa, content to be a part of the décor. Eventually though, the young women noticed that the doll began to move around the apartment. If they put her at the dining table, they would come home and she would be in the bedroom. Or on the lounge chair. Or in the kitchen, making a PB&J.
Okay, I made the last part up, but you get the picture.
Then, the young nurses began to find messages, written on parchment paper they didn’t have in the home. These messages said simply, “Help Me.”
Which would be my cue to skedaddle. 😳
But, of course, they didn’t leave. Instead, they contacted a medium who told them the doll was possessed by the spirit of Annabelle, a seven-year-old girl who died on the property. The medium swore the ghost was benign. Later, though, the Warren’s would become involved in the case, claiming that the doll was a demonic force seeking a human host.
Image credit: ATI/ Inside the real Annabelle’s Doll Tale of Terror
Yikes.😮
The young women held fast to the medium’s claim and forged ahead, standing strong through teleportation events (meaning the doll moving on its own), the notes, even an attack on one of the girl’s boyfriends, who ended up with three scratch marks on his torso.
Which any dolt knows means the ‘mark of the beast.’ And these bubble-headed broads simply said, “I think Annabelle just needs love.”
Yeah. And Vladimir Putin is just misunderstood.😳
Eventually, the girls were able to get Ed and Lorraine involved and they set up an exorcism of sorts. The Warrens theorized that a demonic entity was manipulating the doll. They claimed that Annabelle was responsible for several near-fatal accidents and one motorcycle accident that left the driver dead.
Apparently, the poor guy crashed right after he and his passenger on the bike were laughing, making fun of the doll.
Following the recommendations given during the investigation, the girls reluctantly surrendered Annabelle into the care of Ed and Lorraine Warren. To this day, Annabelle remains enclosed in a glass case in the Warren’s museum, the wooden front of the box inscribed with the Lord’s Prayer.
Image credit: ATI/The real Annabelle behind the glass.
And, there you have it! Part One of the Legendary series. Next time, we will learn about some famous people (folks like Lennon, Presley, Monroe) who are said to haunt the places of their death.
Until then, look out for vanishing hitchhikers along the highways. And keep those creepy-ass dolls locked up!
Later, gators 😉
—Q
July 1, 2022
Bizarre Rituals: Bring Out Yer Dead!
Funerals. You hate em, right? I hate em myself. All that death and sadness leave no room for sarcasm and fun. Bummer.
But fear not, kind people! For today, I bring a smile to your face and a gratitude to your hearts! A sort of “thank you, Lord,” for not letting me die in the Papua, New Guinea region! Why, you ask? Well, because many years ago, certain tribes would eat their dead in order to vanquish the fear surrounding death. I mean, nothing says “dying is A-OK” like having a friend for dinner on an island in the Pacific!
Of course, eating your dead doesn’t hold a candle to digging them up every seven years and having a dance party! Just ask the Malagasy people of Madagascar! After disinterring their loved ones and wrapping them in sacks sprinkled with wine (because, let’s face it…those dead for seven years are a little ripe) they would wrap them in cloth and dance the night away. The ritual was called the ‘Turning of the Bones’ and, I don’t know about you, but I hear that sack cloth come out and my feet start tapping!
Oh, here’s a good one! In Ghana, some people choose to be buried in a coffin that depicts what they did in life. So, there are boats for fisherman, planes for pilots, fancy cars for the rich.
Does make you wonder what vessel a proctologist would choose.🤷♀️
In Tibet, your dead body used to be (or still is? 😳) cut into bite-sized chunks (I like to call them fun-sized pieces) and left on a hill for vultures and other birds to feast on.
Circle of life, my friends.
Image Credit: Wikipedia
Here’s another fun one out on Papua, New Guinea. If a loved one died, the woman and children of the family had to cut off some of their fingers to ward off evil spirits. (You were pretty much screwed if you had a large family!) The practice is, thankfully, banned now.
Good thing, too. Whenever someone called out ‘Hey, Stumpy’, literally everyone turned around.😜
Image Credit: Netclique
A people in the Philippines called the Tinguian would dress up their dead in the departed’s fanciest clothes, sit them down, and put a lit cigarette in their mouth. I mean, it’s not like smoking at that point is gonna kill them, right?
Such a fun group.
And, in the northern area of the Philippines, a people called the Apayo simply buried their dead beneath the kitchen floor. I don’t know what kind of flooring they used in their kitchens, nor if they had a particular appliance they choose to bury them beneath.
“Uncle Joe? Yeah, he’s right there, to the left of the microwave. Just walk three paces beyond Aunt Millie and you’re there.”
This one is gold. In Iran, there is a religious people who practice one of the oldest religions in the world. Called Zoroastrianism, practitioners of this religion would wash the loved one’s corpse with bull urine and place it atop the ‘tower of silence.’ (Because, call me crazy, but I assume there isn’t a ton of noise amongst a dead guy washed in bull peepee.) Once sitting on the tower, the vultures would come and have a grand old feast.
Again, circle of life I suppose. Hakuna matata, my people.
In Taiwan, extravagance at a funeral has always been considered a mark of true wealth. Some families go all out (even beyond their means) to prove their social status. So, how do they do this, you ask? Easy. They hire electric cars, complete with mini-stages, and employ strippers for entertainment all the way to the graveside.
I tried to find a way to say ‘Party on’ in Taiwanese. All I could find was 派对.
Don’t ask me to pronounce it.
In the Amazon (the place, not the online shopping giant) the Yanomami tribe will resort to cannibalism to keep their loved one’s spirit alive. After cremation, they mix their ashes into a soup and everyone eats some of it as a way to honor the dead. It’s actually considered a delicacy. As an aside, though, I am fairly certain the Campbell’s Soup company is safe from this competitor.
Can you imagine? What would that soup be called I wonder? Cream of Akiwe? (Although, Yanomami culture dictates that to use a person’s name, particularly a man’s name, is an insult. So, we can call the soup Cream of Akiwe, but just not out loud.) Hearty Human Jambalaya might be the safest bet.
Good to the last drop.
Friends don’t eat friends. Unless they are Yanomami. Image Credit: Tripfreakz
And, how about those Vikings? Norse traditions meant brave fighters went out in a flame of glory. Literally. Vessels would be packed full with delicious food and booze and rare trinkets. You know, all the stuff one would need on the long journey to Valhalla. Of course, once the ship was ready to be launched at sea, they would set it on fire. It was the considered the ultimate honor for an elite fighter.
Say hallo to Odin for me.
I would like to finish up with something that has fascinated me for years, ever since we lived in a Victorian Home for a while. Part of my decorating style in that 1899 home was old pictures. I’m not talking about relatives or friends, but photo’s of perfect strangers from decades ago (because someone has to love them, right?) Anyway, as I scoured antique stores looking for my ‘recycled’ relatives, I came across a few family portraits that seemed off. Upon further inspection, it was obvious at least one person in the picture was deceased.
That’s right, folks. This gal right here is obsessed with the long-ago practice of death photography.
Back in the day, before polaroid’s and digital camera’s and the like, it took a long time to take a picture (not to mention a ton of money.) Most families could not afford to get family pictures taken. However, because many children during the Victorian Era lost their lives to disease (measles, diphtheria, scarlet fever etc.) people understood that a photograph was the only way to ‘see’ their loved ones again.
Sibling photo where child on the left is deceased and propped with a stand. Image Credit: BBC News
Enter the art of death, or post-mortem, photography.
It would take hours of staying in one position to get that perfect portrait. Often times, the living models actually came out blurrier in the picture than the dead (because, yeah, they were moving some, breathing and such). If they could, stands would be sometimes used to prop up the deceased to create a more ‘natural’ pose.
Of course, the painted pupils on top of the eyelids were a dead giveaway—pun intended— that there was nothing natural about the picture.
Painted eyes on the left vs natural death pic on right. Image Credit: Ann Longmire-Etheridge Collection.
The part that really gets me, though, is that family members would be asked to take pictures with their departed loved ones. These sessions took HOURS, countless time spent standing or sitting next to your deceased loved one. Children were set up on couches and posed with dead siblings or asked to stand behind their deceased mothers, arms around their necks, and stay that way until the photographer had completed the process. Talk about rough.
The art of death photography, or post-mortem photography, took its last breaths —again with the puns—once snapshots and digital photography were invented. At that point, family pictures became affordable to most and people were able to take their portrait shots while everyone involved had a pulse. As an added benefit, the introduction of vaccinations meant children were living longer, thus giving families time to save up for those precious pictures.
To this day, although I no longer live in that Victorian Home, I still search antique shops for images of the dead. I hope to someday have another old Victorian home. Hopefully, this one will be beachfront and come with a maid and a cook.
Girl’s gotta dream, right?
Until next time, my beautiful people! Have a great July and stay away from the soup offered by the Yanomami tribe!
—Q
June 3, 2022
Bizarre Rituals: Medieval Torture Devices
So, you may be asking yourself, what is ‘the Rack?’ How does the ‘Judas Cradle’ work? Why does the ‘Choke Pear’ sound more like a tasty fruit or a fancy necklace than a torture device?
And, most importantly of all, how does she come up with this stuff?😥
Well, I’m here to answer your questions, my friends! (Except the last one—no one knows how these ideas form in the black abyss that is my mind!) I warn you, though, some of these (ok, all of them) are difficult to stomach. Man’s inhumanity to man is truly astonishing sometimes. Thankfully, these cruel devices are relegated to the ‘would you believe’ section in history museums or are the subject of spooky stories by the fire at Camp Wauconda.
Well, that’s the camp Ghostbuster Ray Stantz went to as a child, but you get the idea. 😉
Let’s explore these ‘inhuman bringers of pain’ now, though, and give you fodder for your next cookout! We start with perhaps the most well-known device of all—The Rack. The object of this device was…well, plain and simple, to torture someone into confessing to a particular crime. The unfortunate victim’s ankles would be secured at one end of this device, his wrists, to the opposite end. A wheel-type mechanism was then cranked, stretching the victim’s limbs inch-by-inch, eventually dislocating their bones and ligaments at the joints. This would continue until the poor sap either confessed or was literally torn ‘limb from limb.’
Image: The Rack. Wiktionary.
Like some kind of freakin’ elastic man. No, thank you.
The Rack not your speed? No worries. There was no dearth of devices to choose from back in the day. Ancient Persia had a particularly inventive way to torture a victim to death: Scaphism. I admit I’d never heard of this one. It is, literally, the act of being eaten alive. The condemned would be placed in a hollow tree or boat and force-fed milk and honey until their bowels reacted (read massive diarrhea here.) Afterward, they were made to sit in there own waste while covered with more milk and honey. Eventually, insects would be drawn to the victim and begin to feast.
Chomp. Chomp. And these individuals soon succumbed to sepsis or gangrene.
What’s next? How about Rat Torture? A person suffering from Rat torture was restrained while a rat was placed on their naked body and then covered by a container, preventing it from escape. Heat was applied to the area and the rodent, desperate to escape the heat, would begin to dig, burrowing into the victim with it’s sharp claws.
Burrowing into their body. Slowly. Until a major artery was hit and, mercifully, death came.
Talk about your horror movie themes!
Another inventive torture method, one that made me flinch when I read about it, is the Choke Pear. As the name suggests, this was a metal, pear-shaped contraption, with four sharp ‘leaves’ surrounding it. The tool, used on suspected adulterers and homosexuals, was inserted into an orifice (in females, the hoo-hah and in males, the anus) and expanded until mutilation.
And you thought your gyno’s speculum was medieval!
Of course, along the lines of capitalizing on the most sensitive areas of the body, you’d be hard pressed to find another like the Judas Cradle. It’s pointed, pyramid shape sat on top of a few poles (kind of like a tri-pod) and the condemned would be lowered onto it until it impaled them via one of the tender orifices at the ‘nether’ regions.
Image Credit: Wiktionary. Judas Cradle.
Seriously, who thought of this stuff?
But wait—as they say on TV—there’s more!
The grossest one, the one that gave me nightmares reading about it, was the Saw Torture. (I would like to add that these barbaric men, though imaginative in the various ways to torture a body, lacked the ability to develop a creative name for each act. Rat torture, Saw torture, the Rack? What a snore fest. Why not ‘The Saw of Doom, the Rack of Despair, the Burrowing Beast?
Anyhoo, where was I? Oh, right, the Saw.
Image credit: Explore the Archive; Saw Torture
Damn.
In this torture scenario, the victim was hung upside down because, even back then, executioners knew that blood to the head meant an oxygen supply, which meant the victim stayed alert and awake longer.
To, you know, get more bang for the buck.
The torturer would begin to saw between the victims legs and the unfortunate individual would remain awake and conscious, aware of what was being done to them. It wasn’t until the saw severed the public bone and reached their torso—and a major artery—that the person would pass out and eventually bleed to death.
I was legit surprised that there are so many to explore. As such, it’s not possible to hit them all in one blog. Perhaps we will have a Part 2, if our stomachs allow. But, I will leave you with one last one to digest.🤢
And prove to you that, somewhere and at some ancient time, there was someone having a much worse day that you might be having right now 😆
For the females among us, this one is for you…the Breast Ripper. Yeah, like I said, the simple name tells the tale. Much like the Choke Pear, this device was used on women suspected of adultery, lascivious behavior, or abortion. It was claw-like, made of metal, and would be heated before using it to shred and rip apart a woman’s breasts. (You’ll notice there doesn’t seem to be a device to shred a man’s bits, right? No justice, I tell ya!)
Thankfully, and as far as I know, none of these medieval torture devices are in use today. Although, in all honesty, I wouldn’t mind bringing some back to try on some of societies vilest predators. 😉
Until next time, friends.
—Q
May 6, 2022
Unsolved and Haunting Occurrences: The Lemp Mansion
The setting: St. Louis, Missouri. The place: The Lemp Mansion, a former brewery that some consider one of the top ten haunted buildings in the US. The stories of heartache and tragedy that occurred for one family reminds us that while money can provide us with a lavish lifestyle, it really can’t buy happiness.
Lemp Beer Label, 1892
We begin in 1838 when the patriarch of the Lemp family, Johann, came to St. Louis from Germany and opened a small store, selling goods and beer. His lager became well-known and soon, he found the demand exceeded his room to brew. He expanded his operation to include a cave nearby where he created and stored his beer. The cave provided him not only more room, but gave him the ability to keep his beer chilled.
Photo credit: Legends of America
Yum.
Fast forward to 1862 when, following Johann’s death, his son William took over the family business. William, a man with big plans and fancy aspirations, expanded the brewing operation, eventually buying property in a five block radius. He also began a massive expansion on the Lemp home, turning it into a Victorian Mansion. During this time, as refrigeration became available, he created a tunnel from the mansion to the brewing cave. He then began renovating the cave, turning it into a sort of ‘man cave,’ complete with an inground pool and a theater.
Unfortunately for William, though his success with his business was impressive, he was dealt some tragic blows in his personal life. His son, Frederick, said to be William’s favorite son (although, why would he tell people that? Rude!) died in 1901 at the age of 28 and it devastated poor William. Shortly afterward, in January of 1904, William’s bestie also died. A month later, physical and mental health declining, William Lemp took his own life with a shot to the head.
After his death, William Jr. took over operations of the family brewery. Married to Lillian, a woman known for having lavender colored everything, William was known for being a bit of a spender. Actually, that’s not entirely true.
Picture an eight-year-old in a candy store with a pocket full of cash. That was Will Jr.
Word on the street was that he was a player who grew tired of his lovely wife. He would give her a thousand clams at a time (probably to keep her occupied while he ‘entertained’ other women) and would state that if she didn’t spend it all that very day, she would get no more money from him.
What a horrendous burden for her😆
Rumor had it that the result of one of his dalliances with a prostitute produced a child with Down Syndrome. The poor child became known as “Monkey face boy” (how awful) and was locked in an attic for most of his life.
I don’t know about you, but this Will dude is really starting to piss me off.
Eventually, in 1908, Lillian and William divorced and she retained custody of their child, William III. (I assume, at this point, that the child in the attic remained there 😥) William found himself in financial trouble because, let’s face it, the guy was a tool. Soon, he traveled the path of his father and, despondent, shot himself through the heart in the same house as his father did.
There would be a few more suicides before the Lemp family line had vanished, namely sister Elsa and another Lemp son, Charles. The ‘boy in the attic, only known as Monkey Face Boy, died at thirty in the family home.
So, all these violent deaths, all these horrible actions to a defenseless boy, and it’s no wonder the joint is a haunted hotspot. Most of the activity began—surprise, surprise—when new owners began renovating the property to turn it into a restaurant and inn. During that time, several workers left after seeing apparitions, hearing disembodied voices, and witnessing doors lock and unlock themselves. There were even reports of bar glasses flying across the room and a piano playing itself.
People swear they see something in the mirror in The Charles Lemp room. And a few orbs, as well. Photo credit: Kathy Weiser-Alexander.
In addition, there have been sightings of ‘Monkey Face Boy’ in the attic. In the hall near William Sr’s room, frantic footsteps followed by the sound of a door being kicked have been heard. Interesting to note here that William Jr, on having heard the shot that killed his father, ran up the steps to find the door locked, William Sr. inside.
So he began kicking the door, trying to break it down to reach his father.
Yikes.
In the basement, which staffers have termed the “Gate to Hell”, apparitions, tapping, and a general feeling of ill will abounds. This is the area where the cave connected via tunnels to the main house. And there is even a haunted bathroom, where guests have reported seeing a man peeking over the shower stall.
William Jr. I’m guessing. A perv even in death.
Nowadays, the Lemp Mansion is a tourist destination. You can dine in the restaurant, stay in a room at the B&B, or take in a mystery theater show.
Oh, and I understand they still do a fine beer.
Until next time, guys and gals…peace out.
—Q
April 1, 2022
Unsolved and Bizarre Mysteries: The People in the Floor.
(Buckle in, my people. This is one I’d never heard of and one that would make an excellent addition to a horror story! Author ears perk up here😆)
Yes, my friends, you read that correctly. Faces. In the floor. Staring, wide-eyed, occasionally winking at you.
Okay, I made that last part up. There was, as far as I know, no winking involved. But the faces did change position, morph into different features. And it all started with, what appeared to be, a mysterious stain.
(Cue creepy music here…)
It was the summer of 1971 and Maria Gomez Pereira of Belmez, a village in Spain, noticed a dark stain had developed on her concrete kitchen floor. It was odd, as no one in the family could recall spilling anything.
Maria: “Miguel? Is this stain your doing, son?”
Miguel: No, momma! I’m in my room, praying to our Mother and contemplating my sins!”
Because I firmly believe that Miguel was a good boy.
Anyhoo…
Despite Miguel’s denials, the stain grew darker over the hours. Maria scrubbed and scrubbed until the stain had vanished.
Or so she thought. (More creepy music here. I’m thinking Vincent Price-like tones😉)
Over the next week, the stain reappeared, turning into the unmistakable image of a face. So, probably beyond disturbed by this, poor little Maria began scrubbing again. But this time, the face— like an pesky gnat or a whining kid—would not leave.
Belmez Faces: Wikipedia
Eventually the family, feeling watched and getting leg cramps from hopping over the face, took action. They grew bored playing “step on the crack and you’ll break your mother’s back.” Only this time, it was more like, “step on the cheeks and your name, the devil speaks.”
Well, that’s what I heard—in my mind, anyway.
At the very least, it would be considered rude. And at the most? An act of disrespect and aggression, dealt with by several years of bad luck and lost fortunes.
Maybe even a broken back.
So, Maria and the gang decided to rip up the flooring. Using a pickaxe and some good, ol’ fashioned grunt work, they chopped up and discarded the current concrete floor and replaced it with another. Things were groovy for about a week. Then, a different face appeared.
Clearer, lighter, scarier than the first. Yikes.😳
Now, Maria, it seemed, fancied herself a bit of a psychic; a spiritual medium who didn’t scare easily. Unfortunately, because she had a history of hosting seances and such, many of the townsfolk blamed her, believing Maria herself was somehow responsible for the appearance of the face.
So, to save ‘face’ and rid themselves of this creepy image, back to the pickaxe they went, laying down yet another concrete floor.
By this time, word had really spread in the tiny town of Belmez. People came from all over, lining up outside to get a glimpse of the face in the floor. Eventually, the mayor of the town ordered the face to be removed and studied.
Being the obedient residents that they were, they dug up the floor yet again (imagine remodeling your kitchen three or four times in months!) carefully preserving the face. But, during the excavation— in a moment that surely screamed ‘Fix me, Jesus!’— they discovered several skeletons beneath the kitchen floor. Even more disturbing, many of the skeletons had no skulls.
Headless remains? Where’d they go? And, if there are no heads, how the blazes are did their faces form? This is the stuff that keeps me up at night.😜
As far as the composition of the picture, detailed analysis of the concrete could find no reason for the image’s appearance. Several samples were taken but those revealed no evidence of paints, stains, or dyes that would explain the image.
The age of the headless remains found were over 700 years old and believed to be part of a long-ago cemetery. Once disinterred, the bones were laid to rest in a Catholic cemetery not far from the home.
Never did say where those skulls went.
Maria and company, relieved that the face (and the bodies) were gone, filled in the excavated hole and poured a new cement floor. In a few weeks—you guessed it!—another face appeared. Check that…not another face. Instead, there appeared many faces. That’s faces. Plural.
Double yikes!
The faces seemed to move, change position. They crowded together, melding into almost one, many of the images depicting women and children. As a result, another investigation was launched by authorities. One German television group, part of the investigation and intrigued by the mystery, had the family vacate for awhile, sealed the house and windows with wax, and preserved the image on the floor with a foil-like covering. Their goal was to ensure a hoax-proof, impenetrable building.
When they returned months later, although no signs of tampering were found, the faces had not only multiplied, but evolved.
At this point, it would be a kindness to tell Maria to get the hell outta dodge. I mean, the victims in horror movies are always the ones who steadfastly refuse to leave their house, shaking a fist in rage and screaming ‘this is MY house!"‘
However, since this incident occurred decades ago, poor Maria is no longer with us. Which is an important plot point, so tuck that away.
By now, the world was going wild. Police, psychics, journalists and priests all flocked to the home to witness the phenomena. All the while, exhausted and heartbroken that her life was in such upheaval, Maria remained blissfully unaware her troubles were about to multiply.
It all started when those non-believers I spoke of earlier suspected her of perpetrating a ‘hoax.’
Way back then, and even now I suspect, there are those who subscribe to the theory that these images were conjured by Maria during a psychokinetic process called ‘thoughtography.’
Not exactly an original sounding word, but there it is🤷♀️
Thoughtography involves projecting a picture onto a surface using only the mind. One could say that ‘proof’ of this possibility lay in the fact that Maria was always present when the faces appeared. When she was out and about, the faces faded.
Of course, since she died in 2004 and the faces continued to appear, that pours a big ol’ cup of ‘loser’ on the foreheads of those investigators.😁
Told ya to tuck that ‘Maria’s dead’ tidbit under yer hat!
And investigators? There were a few. (But then again, too few to mention. Sorry, couldn’t resist that one!) In truth, there were a staunch few to be sure, various researchers who went to extremes to either document the phenomena or disprove it. One such man, a Professor in psychic research named De Argumosa, paid to seal off the kitchen once again in order to continue his investigation. In return—and on his own dime— he paid to have another room built that could be converted into a new kitchen.
This made me happy. After all, how long was Maria supposed to live without a kitchen and mouths to feed?
During construction, Professor De Argumosa conducted several Electronic Voice Phenomena sessions (EVP’s) and was said to have captured on his recorder both a child’s voice and sounds that were ‘a mixture of hell and a brothel.’
Hell and a brothel. Well, you don’t hear that every day. But, even after hearing the stirring sounds of ‘Hellboy and his Bitches’, crooning near the fridge, Maria and her dopey family were still steadfastly refusing to leave the home. Go figure🙄
So, back to the new kitchen Professor ‘D’ commissioned. After completion and within a short period of time, more faces appeared, this time on the newly-laid stone floor of the replacement kitchen. In all, there were countless witnesses, including some researchers, who swore they actually watched faces forming before their eyes.
Freaky.
Who these ‘people in the floor’ were, how they appeared in little Maria’s kitchen, and why the devil she didn’t switch to linoleum, may remain one of life’s unanswered mysteries.
As late as 2014, a forensic team, with the permission of the current owners, extracted samples from the floor of some of the faces. Analysis verified the results of the exam taken years prior. There was no “external manipulation” found, and the faces were not made from paint. In addition, one analyst attempted to construct a similar image using various solvents (alcohol, lacquer, dyes etc.) without success.
The failure to successfully replicate a face of any kind was, in the analyst’s words, “an absolute bewilderment.”
So, there you have it, ladies and gents. Everything you wanted to know about “The House of Faces,” but were afraid to ask. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to scrub my bathroom floor. While I can’t be sure, I think I see a dozen eyes near the bathtub, just staring at me.👀
Bet you a beer and a steak ya’ll will check your floors tonight!
Peace out, my people❤️
—Q
March 4, 2022
Unsolved and Haunting Occurrences: The Motherland
With St. Paddy’s day right around the bend, I though it would be fun to do some spooky, unsolved mysteries of the country of me ancestors, Ireland! Along the way, we will learn all kinds of ‘must know’ slang from our UK people. It will be ‘grand!’ By the by, grand is one of the most used slang terms in Ireland. Note the following imaginary conversation for reference:
Me: “I just got me hair done.”
Random Irish dude: “Looks grand.”
Me: “My daughter finally won the spelling bee.”
Random Irish dude: “That’s grand.”
Me: “I think I just swallowed a cockroach.”
Random Irish dude: “How grand.”
You get the idea. Irish slang aside, we will also explore some weird Eire mysteries that remain unsolved.
We begin with The Vanishing Triangle. In the 1990’s, in the province of Leinster, eight woman went missing over a span of five years. Police believed they were victims of an unidentified serial killer, one who may have been responsible for several unsolved murders in Eastern Ireland years earlier. Speculation is that the woman are buried somewhere in the woods or bogs of the Dublin mountains. What makes it even more eerie is that, to this day, no witnesses have come forward, despite the fact that several of the women went missing in broad daylight.
Search parties start off to look for missing woman Annie McCarrick. Image credit: Rollingnews.ie
There have been no clues to their whereabouts and no trace of them has been found. Like the case name states, they simply vanished.
Speaking of vanishing, we have the sad case of six-year-old little Mary Boyle. On March 18, 1977, while visiting her grandparents in County Donegal, Mary was following an Uncle across a field after the two had called on a neighbor. On their way back to Granddad’s house, Mary, walking about 500 yards behind her uncle, disappeared. She now has the unenviable distinction of being the longest missing persons case in Ireland’s history.
Personally, if I were investigating, I’d be looking at that uncle. But that’s just me.😉
The field where Mary Boyle disappeared. Image credit: istock.com
Meanwhile, over in County Sligo, we have the mysterious death of a man who called himself Peter Bergmann, an identity that was later determined to be false. In June, 2009, “Peter” checked into a hotel in Sligo with, what police believe, was the sole intention of erasing his identity entirely. His bizarre behavior in the days leading up to the discovery of his body on a beach only added to the mystery.
Authorities uncovered CCTV footage that showed Peter leaving his hotel room no less than 13 times, each time carrying a stuffed, full sized, purple bag. Oddly, each time he returned, he was empty-handed. (Here is where my author brain kicks in, thinking ‘He’s disposing of body parts!’)
He was also seen buying several postage stamps (perhaps to mail the dismembered body to a jilted lover?) but never shipped or mailed anything. Additionally, witnesses saw him doing a recon trip to the beach he where his body was eventually found (perhaps to meet a secret lover? A drug king-pin? A member of the Irish mafia who was crafting his phony passport? Somebody, please stop me!)
Weirder still is that the luggage he arrived with at the hotel was never found in his room (or anywhere for that matter).
Investigators originally believed he died from drowning. He was wearing a pair of purple-striped swimming trunks (this guy obviously liked purple) with his underwear on TOP of them and a blue shirt tucked into both. Hmmm. (Author brain here again…was Petey skinny dipping when he encountered a killer, who took his life and then, in a panic, dressed him hastily so it looked like a natural death? Mistakenly putting the clothes back on in the wrong order because he was interrupted by an attractive woman walking her small dog on the beach, her blonde hair swaying in the breeze? )
It’s hell to live inside my mind sometimes🙄
But, if I bet on that scenario, I would be wrong. Instead, it seems the old chap was dying from cancer. But that’s not what killed him on that overcast day. As it turns out, Peter had a bad ticker and died, quite naturally, of a heart attack.
Saddest of all, he never got to encounter an attractive woman on the beach with her little dog and her hair waving in the wind. Maybe if he did, he would have died a happy man.
His identity remains unknown as, despite a large-scale campaign, no one ever came forward to either identify him or claim him. He is buried in Sligo in an unmarked grave.
Image credit: Alan Betson
Poor, poor Peter. Some may have said he was ‘acting the maggot’, which, in Irish slang, means behaving foolishly. I’m sure there were those convinced he was guilty of something, anything, and hoped that he ‘be afflicted with the itch without benefit of the scratch.’
Others may have felt badly for his situation and assured him that, ‘Tis only a stepmother would blame you.’ And his closest friends (if he even had any, poor bastard) would proclaim, “Well, shite in a bucket, me boyo! You be needin’ the BlackStuff!”
Which, obviously, refers to a pint of Guinness. Speaking of….
I never knew how many terms the Irish use for being drunk. Here in the States, we have toasted, polluted, hammered. I’m quite sure I am missing a few. But in Ireland? In Ireland, you’re fluthered, langers, locked, on a tear, ossified, plastered, write-off stocious (don’t ask🤷♀️) rat-arsed, shitfaced, pissed, off yer face, bollocksed, and battered off yer tits.
Especially love that last one.
But don’t get the wrong idea. It’s not like all we Irish do is drink. (We also do jigs, eat only white potatoes, and spend our lives looking for four-leaf clovers and the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.) Seriously, though, generations of my family have been devout church goers all their lives.
Especially after getting ‘wankered.’
And that’s a grand thing.
Until next time, I leave you with this blessing. “God is good, but never dance in a small boat.”😜
And…”May you live as long as you want,
And never want as long as you live.”
Sláinte, my friends.🍀🍀
—Q
February 4, 2022
Unsolved and Bizarre Mysteries: The Death of Elisa Lam
You’re welcome, cause, the more you know.😉
So what is the name of this creepy hotel? Is it a vile, frightening name that conjures up images of evil and mayhem? Nah. The name is actually the Cecil Hotel. I know, I know, it sounds like a character on the Muppets, right? But the terrifying occurrences in this particular hotel are anything but cute and cuddly. Case in point…the mysterious death of Elisa Lam.
True story…Elisa’s case is so odd, they made a Netflix movie about it.
Image credit: Facebook
Elisa was a 21-year-old Canadian who decided to take a hiatus from her studies in Vancouver to travel the West Coast. On January 26, 2013, she arrived in Los Angeles and checked into the Cecil Hotel. Because she had a history of bipolar disorder, her parents were not exactly fans of her traveling alone. To ease their minds, Elisa agreed to call them every day and detail her adventures.
When January 31st came and her parents hadn’t heard from her, they became alarmed and contacted the LA police department. Officers conducted a search of her room and the hotel without success. Soon after, authorities released discovered video footage of Elisa Lam on January 31st, the day she went missing, and the mystery deepened.
Elisa can be seen in an elevator, frantically pushing all the floor buttons before stepping into and out of the elevator car. At one point in the video, she hurries back inside the elevator (the doors remain open like, forever) and hides in a corner. Then she is seen peeking out and looking up and down the corridor, eventually leaving the elevator and standing to the side of the open door, just out of frame. By her arm and hand movements, it appears she is having a conversation.
But no one is there. At least, no one in view of the camera.
There are amateur sleuths who have watched the footage hundreds of times and swear they see a shadow in the background. While I haven’t watched it hundreds of times, I did go through the reel about a dozen times and didn’t see a shadow. Full disclosure? Here on my blog page, we don’t try to push a square space into a round hole. If the evidence isn’t there, or it’s questionable, it gets tossed like yesterday’s bologna sandwich. (Cause, let’s face it…bologna is one of those things you gotta eat fresh. )
The images are pixelated and grainy, so any ‘shadows’ that appear can be explained by the quality of the video. Still, the footage is creepy AF.
Two weeks after the police made the video public, a worker in the Cecil went to the roof to check the hotel’s water tanks. Guests were complaining of foul-tasting water and low pressure from the faucets and shower heads. Grabbing a ladder (because, again, the tank was ten-feet tall) he scaled the side and found the 20 pound lid partially opened. Inside, floating naked on her back, was the body of Elisa Lam.
Explains the funky water.🤢
The story goes that the fire department had to drain most of the water and then cut a hole through the side of the tank to pull her out. Sitting at the bottom, like a macabre mockery of what this poor janitor guy found, were Elisa’s hotel keys and the clothes she was last seen wearing. Her cell phone has never been recovered. Weird, considering that, up until January 31st, she was calling her family every day.
So, where’s that stinkin’ cellphone?
Upon questioning the hotel staff, it was determined that Elisa was always alone and never seen in the company of another. The last person who saw her alive, a bookstore owner ( the name of the store was The Last Bookstore😳Gulp), related that Elisa had purchased books and music for her family and was planning on returning to Vancouver.
Autopsy results suggested the young woman had been non-compliant with her medication regime. The levels they expected to see in her blood of prescribed medications were lower than expected, leading authorities to believe she was skipping her scheduled doses. Conversely, and despite her bizarre behavior in the elevator, toxicology reported no alcohol or illegal drugs in her system. There were also no signs of trauma that could have contributed to her death.
So, what does this all tell us? Logic would say that this is a case of a mentally ill woman, one who was not taking her meds properly, who spiraled into a manic episode that included delusions and hallucinations. Investigators speculate that, during a particularly rough hallucination and/or delusion, Elisa believed she was being chased by someone (or something), and climbed to the roof where she entered a water tank to hide from her ‘attackers’. Unable to climb out again, she drowned.
Image credit: KTLA
Just a horrible, sad, and unfortunate accident. Or was it?
I have questions. So many questions. Probably the biggest one is ‘how did she climb into the tank?’ Those tanks were at least ten feet high (as you can see in the photograph) and the hotel maintenance worker checking them needed a ladder to climb up to the lid.
Important point here...there was no ladder anywhere on the roof. If she used one to climb inside by herself, where was it?
In addition, the tank lid was said to weigh at least twenty pounds. Lam was a petite girl. It would have been extremely difficult, but not impossible, for her to move the lid.
To be fair, I will admit that she could have found a way. After all, the mind is a force to be reckoned with, especially when it’s in turmoil.
But what of the roof alarm?
What alarm, you say? Well, it seems that the doors leading to the roof are all alarmed when they are opened. It’s a safety measure, an added level of security to protect both the hotel and its guests. Yet the staff denies hearing an alarm—alarms that, in theory, could only be deactivated by a staff member. In addition, the unfortunate worker who found Elisa swore that he needed to take the elevator to the 15th floor, climb a ladder to the roof, and then climb on the platform that housed the tanks. From there, he used a ladder to climb to the top.
And yet, we are to believe all of this was done without anyone noticing. Hmmmm.
Another weird thing (and this one is for those folks into conspiracy theories) is that at the time of her death, there was a TB drug being studied in a facility near the Cecil. Guess what the drug’s name is? Go on, I dare ya!
Stumped? Holy Hannah and pass the biscuits, it’s a tuberculosis drug named Lam-Elisa. You read that right…Elisa Lam, backwards.
Mind. Blown.
Need more weirdness? Since the hotel opened in 1927, there have been 18 unexplained and unnatural deaths in the hotel. Additionally, over the years, there have been countless stories and experiences that could only be described as ‘paranormal events.”
But wait, there’s more! (she said, like some kind of late-night infomercial dude).
There is additional, disturbing history in the Cecil Hotel. Apparently, in the past it was a hot-spot for serial killers. The Night Stalker, Richard Ramirez, killed dozens of people in California in 1984-1985. His residence during the killings was the Cecil Hotel. He would kill, strip off his bloody clothes, and parade, naked, through the lobby to his room.
And no one found this weird?
Another killer, a guy from Austria called The Vienna Strangler, was also a resident of the hotel at one point during his killing spree.
Elizabeth Short, aka The Black Dahlia, was seen having drinks in the bar at the Cecil only a few days before her mutilated corpse was discovered. That case remains unsolved and will surely be the subject of another blog😳
So, what actually happened to Elisa Lam? I believe this may be one of those mysteries along the lines of Jon Benet Ramsey, where we may never know the answer. Authorities continue to insist it was a tragic accident, brought on by paranoia, hallucinations, and delusions.
Maybe.
But there is no getting around that the hotel has been home to suicides, homicides, and other unexplained deaths. There are even some supposed photographs floating around of apparitions caught on camera. Admittedly, the ones I saw were not clear and definitely not ones that scream ‘Look at me! I’m a ghostie!’
Still, the Cecil Hotels checkered past and spooky history has made it one of the most disturbing, most haunted, hotels in California.
And one that, obviously, is on my bucket list.
Later, gators😉
—Q
January 20, 2022
Unsolved and Bizarre Mysteries: The Dyatlov Pass Incident
Every now and again, I come across one of those unsolved mysteries that begs us to sit up and say, “What the fudge?” One such mystery is the unexplained deaths of nine hikers in the mountains of Soviet Russia.
These are their stories. (Sorry. I always wanted to say that😜)
In the Northern Urals of Russia, on January 1959, 23-year-old Igor Dyatlov led a group on a journey to the peak of Otorten Mountain. Young Igor and a team of eight, all experienced hikers from the Polytechnical Institute in Ural , left for their adventures intending to send friends a telegram when they were safely back from the mountain.
In happier times. Image taken with one of the hikers, Yuri Krivonischenko’s camera.
That telegraph never came. Weeks later, a search party found all nine dead, in different locations on the mountain. They all were scantily clothed despite the frigid Soviet temperatures. A few of the victims were missing eyes; another, her tongue. One individual’s injuries seemed created by such force, it was as if they were struck by a speeding car. Baffled and repulsed, investigators originally concluded that all nine died as a result of an avalanche.
Poppycock, I say.
Soviet investigators swiftly changed their minds when questioned, instead claiming that all nine had died from hypothermia. They postulated that the physical changes caused in extreme cold causes one to become convinced they are hot instead of cold, and they shed their clothes. Below, I will give you the evidence and circumstances, as well as the current theories among investigators, as to what happened to the Dyatlov party.
And maybe, together, we can solve a mystery 63 years in the making.
They hikers traveling on February 1, 1959, the date said to be their last. Photo credit: Public Domain..
Investigators believe that, on February 1st, the group, having been blasted by hostile weather as they headed to Otorten, became disoriented. Instead of hitting the base of Otorten Mountain, they switched direction and headed for Kholat Syakhl, a nearby mountain whose name translates to ‘Dead Mountain.’
Rut roh, Rorge.
When there was no communication by February 20th, volunteers gathered to search for them but found only their campsite. Despite the freezing temperatures, searchers found shoes and clothes scattered over the area. Most interesting, the tent they were staying in was cut open with a knife
From the inside.
Unable to locate the climbers, the military police were sent in. On February 26th, 1959, the entire group of hikers were discovered dead.
The condition of the tent on investigators arrival. Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons
Near the tent, investigators found nine sets of footprints (all made either in stocking feet, with only one shoe, or shoeless).
As if the tent’s occupants left in a hurry. Yikes.
A mile away, they found the first two bodies, shoeless and clad only in underwear. The next three bodies (one of whom was Igor Dyatlov, the head of the group) were found several yards away from the first two near a cedar tree. One of the three had gray foam coming from the mouth and his skin was brownish-purple in color. The other two victims had serious head injuries and lacerations on their hands consistent with frantically pulling at the tree branches of the cedar tree.
As if trying to pull off the branches. Or trying to climb the tree.😳
The last four bodies, found a half-mile from the cedar tree, displayed violent and horrific injuries inconsistent with either an avalanche or hypothermia alone.
One of the four, Nikolai Thibeaux-Brignolles, had significant skull damage. Two others, Lyudmila Dubinina and Semyon Zolotaryov, had evidence of chest trauma comparable with the force you would see in a car crash. The remaining hiker, Alexander Kolevatov, was found with the other three but without evidence of serious trauma.
Lyudmila Dubinina, found on her knees, her chest pressed against a rock, had the unwanted distinction of meeting the most violent end. Her tongue was missing as were her eyes and part of her lips and facial tissue.
Oh, and a piece of her skull bone. Hypothermia? I laugh at you.
The final four victims were wearing clothing that belonged to the first five hikers found, indicating that they died sometime after the others. Additionally, radioactive material was discovered on the clothing of two victims.
Just keeps gettin’ weirder and weirder, don’t it?
So, what are the theories? Early in the investigation, Soviets suspected the deaths were committed by a local tribal people, the Mansi’s. That theory was quickly discounted as some of the injuries were so severe, it was thought impossible for a human being to commit that type of blunt force trauma. Also, the Mansi tribe were known as a docile and non-violent group of people.
So, yeah. Leave my Mansi peeps alone.
The theory of an avalanche was also discounted. Although it could create enough force to cause the injuries present, there was no evidence found that suggested the area had experienced an avalanche…no excess snow or landscape damage. Additionally, local townsfolk explained that the area, now known as ‘Dyatlov Pass’, had no history of avalanche activity.
Other theories were that an argument occurred among the group and preceded the violence, but, again, the injuries were much too severe to be dished out by mere humans. So, as each theory of natural or man-made disaster were shot down over the years, people were left with theories of the unnatural.
Or the supernatural. (Cue spooky music here.)
One such explanation is that the hikers encountered a ‘Menk’, which is the Russian equivalent to a Yeti or Bigfoot. This could account for the damage done to the bodies, as well as the missing body parts and ravaged face of poor Ms.Dubinina.
Another theory is that the climbers happened upon the testing of a secret weapon and they were killed to ensure their silence. This would explain the radioactive clothing and the panic they obviously experienced. I mean, they fled the warmth and security of their tent to go scrambling from their campsite barefoot.
Had to be a compelling reason for that, right?
This ‘secret weapon’ idea remains popular to this day because it’s been somewhat corroborated by another hiking group that was camping nearby. This group spoke of strange orange orbs in the sky over Kholat Syakhl on the night of February 1st. People speculate that an unknown force or weapon caused blasts which created orange orbs in the sky, sending the climbers into a panic. As they scattered in every direction, the second group to die came upon the first deaths (probably the fastest runners in the group?) and, after seeing them dead, decided to head head back to camp, perhaps for supplies.
That second group never made it back and succumbed to hypothermia themselves. Then, the last four of the climbers( obviously the slowest runners?) stumbled upon the second group of unfortunates and took their clothes to keep warm. Eventually, the theory goes, those four died when hit with a new blast from this secret weapon.
Fair enough. But what about Lyudmila’s face? Did a blast rip out her eyes and remove her tongue? Nah, not buying it.
In the end, it remains unsolved and we are left with more questions than answers. A few things stand out to me. Why cut your way out of a tent instead of going through the flap? Unless the danger was inside the tent preventing you from escaping. Did they split up when leaving or were they forced to go in different directions? What’s with the radioactive clothing and why on only two of the climber’s clothing? What could possibly explain Lyudmila’s injuries and the blunt force trauma of the other two? If they were all exposed to the same threat, how can the injuries be so different?
And, most importantly, who names their child Semyon?
Personally, I am leaning toward the secret weapon theory. Perhaps the Dyatlov crew saw or heard something they weren’t supposed to and were hit with a tremendous blast that pummeled their bodies and produced orbs in the sky. And that blast drew in a Yeti… who was maybe under some kind of mind control and wore their shoes.
A beastly Yeti who loves cuddles and long walks on the beach and eating people’s faces off.
Then again, that could just be my overactive author imagination. Or, maybe not.😉
Until next time, my friends. Stay warm, wear your shoes, and stay away from Dyatlov Pass.
—Q
December 3, 2021
Exploring the Unknown: Can Our Furry Friends See Spirit?
Mr Beauregard and Frankie
I get it…dogs can be goofballs.They are dopey and clumsy and as easily distracted by lint as they are by a frisbee. And don’t get me started on their arch nemesis, those crazy ass felines. You do realize that there is a solid theory going around that cats are plotting to take over the world, right?
But all that aside, there is a question that begs exploring here…do our pets come back as ghosts? Can they see apparitions that we cannot? Will my dog ever come when he’s called without me using my ‘mean’ voice? Let’s dive in and see!
First, let me be abundantly clear here—we are going to talk about dogs and cats, beloved pets, not angry Hellhounds (for those who don’t know, Hellhounds are nasty creatures tasked with guarding Hell. If encountered, do NOT feed them! Or is that Tribbles? Gremlins?)
But, as always, I digress. My brain sometimes swats at dozens of thoughts at once, not unlike swinging at gnats on a warm summer’s evening. Where was I? Right, animal spirits. Have you ever had a dog or cat that stares for hours at nothing? Gazes intently at one corner of the room or up the stairs, even when no one is up there? Have they suddenly refused to descend the basement steps or taken to hiding behind your leg? How about barking or hissing at nothing? If you answered yes to any of these, your pet may have seen a ghost!
Or, they could just be neurotic. Pick one.
The theory that animals can sense the otherworldly is not a new one. Since the beginning of time (or at least the last few centuries), history has regaled us with the possibility that our pets possess some kind of paranormal radar. In speaking of dogs (because that was my research focus😉), canines, along with the other five senses, possess the ability to feel if something is wrong or ‘off’.
Call it a sixth sense or a second sight, but, even if they cannot see what they perceive is different, they go with their instincts. They stare or bark or protectively stand in front of us. The biggest difference between a human’s sixth sense and a pet’s? Our four-legged friends go with their gut, while we analyze and rationalize everything to death, talking ourselves out of any possible paranormal explanation.
So, then, if we take away the freaky, how can we explain it? How can we explain how dogs have detected earthquakes or tornadoes or other weather events, long before they occur?
Okay, okay, yes. I admit it… atmospheric pressure plays a role. And indeed, animals have much better hearing. And the olfactory nerves in their noses are amazing. But how about dogs who can detect a seizure before their owner has one? Or cancer or low blood sugar or migraines? Can that all be chalked up to the air or to their sense of smell?
I’m not convinced on that one.
Here are two first-hand accounts from personal experience. I would love to hear from you guys as to what kind of experiences you may have had with pets acknowledging spirit. Or your recollections of a special visitor after the death of a beloved pet. For me, there are a few that come to mind.
First and foremost…ghost cat. Yeah, we have had a kitty ghost for many, many years, one who only makes himself known a few times a year. Hell, we don’t even know who this dude is, let alone if he is one of our many cats. He comes, he goes; he ignores us most of the time.
Just like a flesh and blood cat, really. Assholes.
Anyway, in this same house that the ghost cat hangs out, I’ve had a beloved dog visit me right after he died. My pup’s name was Memphis, and he was just the most beautiful, wonderful Shep in all the world (except for my boy, Kodi. But don’t tell Memphis that!)
Memphis used to sit next to me, pushing against my leg, as I stood at the kitchen sink doing the dinner dishes. It was a comforting “I feel your pain, let me help,” kind of vibe.
Of course, dogs don’t have opposable thumbs so, no washing of dishes. Or drying, for that matter.
Shortly after we lost him, as I stood elbow-deep in Dawn, lamenting our loss, the most incredibly thing happened. I felt that dog lean against my left leg, felt the warmth of his fur. In fact, it was so real, I looked down and half- expected to see his beautiful face looking up at me.
Of course, that didn’t happen. But oddly, I wasn’t sad. In truth, I felt an overwhelming calm and peace blanketing me, telling me that my boy was okay.
It was a wonderful gift.
Another time, I saw my brother Jim’s dog, Doogan—who was the light of his life— in a ‘dream’ that was much to vivid to be a dream. It was a visit, I’m sure. In this dream, Jimbo’s dog was running in a field greener than you could ever imagine. As I watched this beautiful dog run, I saw the arm of a man, clad in a plaid flannel shirt and with a football in his hand, wind up and throw a perfect spiral.
I never saw the man’s face…only his arm. Doogan and another beautiful dog both went after the ball and then, an instant after the throw, I heard the words, “Did you really think I wouldn’t take care of him?”
It was the voice of my brother’s best friend, Kyle, killed in a tragic accident years earlier. They were words I instantly knew were meant for my brother, still grieving his best friend, and not for me.
To this day, I believe the other dog belonged to Kyle.
So, how do we know if we’ve been visited by our deceased pets? Well, I do have a few ideas about that.
You knew I would 😉
I’ve read that animals who return will return to the place they lived rather than the place they died. Further, they will be found in the area of the home they felt most comfortable. So, that warm spot on the bed, that mysterious jangling of ID tags, or the soft sound of padded paws on the linoleum, may be a sign your furry friend has come to visit.
Our pets are indeed our family. Why would we ever think that Aunt Gert from the Bronx would drop in, but not our most trusted companion? Our animals have a soul. They experience grief and joy and love, just as we do. It’s no wonder that, if they can, they will return to us.
Not for a final goodbye, but for a ‘see you later.’
And, in the end, if we truly believe and it brings comfort, it matters little if we know for sure.
We just know.
Please, please love your furballs with abandon and unconditionally. If you have a tale to tell, email me! Perhaps we will do a series on animal visitations!
Until next time, my friends…life is terminal at best. So, live your best life!
Later, gators…..Q
