Cognizant Hauntings: A Psychological Ouroboros?

So this might seem like a complete departure from some of my other blogs where I spend most of my time postulating the existence and the source of many of the phenomena that we talk about on our show. It would seem that way because it is. The reason for this? Well, life has a way of forcing us to peer into our souls at times and just like the abyss, when we stare too long into them, they have a tendency to stare right back.

I am convinced that hauntings exist across the board in many different forms, each having their own varied origins, some in science, some in the as-of-yet undiscovered sciences. I am convinced as well that there are “temporal anomalies” that result in the double exposure of our reality, allowing us to see people and events from by-gone and future eras. They are going about their daily chores as we are ours, each party sneaking a brief glimpse at the other, should they know when and where to luck, if not by purpose, then by accident. I am then thusly convinced that some hauntings are cognizant of their own existence, being neither a repeat of the past or a glimpse of the future, but a soul at unrest. It is this cognizant haunting that troubles me the most, not because of its religious implications, although there are many, but because of a message largely ignored.

To say that life is fragile is to equate a great egg to a great omelet. The initial statement has merit, but we largely miss the weight and impact that a commentary on our time on this planet has. Sadder still is the idea that our neglect of our condition and the lack of desire to better it will leave us repeating our mistakes, and sometimes dooming us to ponder them in what can only be described as the ethereal “in-between”.

The paranormal world, or better yet, the paranormal “industry” has its strife, its rivalries, and its standing feuds. Researchers often critique their peers with unabashed malevolence, forgetting that the “right” answer might be wrong in its very context when dealing with the unknown. It is a subjective field that many have come to conclude exists in a state affected by our very perceptions, sometimes altering the very phenomena itself in how it is observed and conceived. The human element, however, persists, and open forums are wrought with jealousy, bigotry, hatred and ignorance. We study the dead with an air of indignant righteousness, holding our own sparks aloft so high and haughty that they would appear immortal of the flesh.

We look at cognizant hauntings and we are brought to the ground zero of human depravity; a stain on reality spurred by cocktails of murder, violence and sadness, yet still we seem to miss the point. We seem to look over the glaring mistakes of our ancestors, our idols, our recently departed and declare ourselves victors of the human condition by clinging to life, where our subjects no longer could. What can we learn? What we already know. That life, in its simplest of commentaries, is fragile. We are all walking phantoms unless we absolve ourselves and seek to enrich and better the lives of those around us. The message might very well be this: Exorcise the demons of your today, lest we be the ghosts of our tomorrow.

Ash

Nine Tenths: 3rd Installment

“Do we look like thieves to you?” Garret asked. It was a rhetorical question. One scan of the three travelers showed them to be in remarkably good shape save for the lifeless limb hanging on the younger man. “You have a Watcher with you. She’s strong enough to keep herself and the others with you hidden. I need to see her.”

The boy was genuinely puzzled and offered a reply. “ I don’t even know what a Watcher …,”

Garret cut him off before he could finish opening his hand and gazing at the gun on the boy’s lap. The boy turned the handle of the gun towards his interrogator and willingly gave him the weapon back. “Time is short for both of us, son. You have one among you that can read minds, dream of things that happen days later, things like that, right?”

This time the boys eyes looked toward the ground as he spoke and the tell was obvious to everyone in the room. “No. No, we don’t”

Garrett had to keep himself from smiling the wry smile that had a knack for making everyone in the room nervous. “You really can’t lie for shit, but I respect you for looking after your own. Now, normally I’m a fair man…um…what’s your name.”

The boy replied almost instinctively, “Kevin”, then put his hand to his mouth; an embarrassing afterthought.

Garret leaned in and put the gun into its holster. “Kevin, I’m a fair man, when I have the time, but right now I have eight minutes. Eight minutes doesn’t give a man time to be fair. In eight minutes the things you have been hiding from will be here, and without your friend’s gifts we, you me, my friends and yours, will die.”

Garret was looking the young man in the eyes; eyes that still had hope even if it believed it remote. The boy sighed and returned Garret’s stare as he hesitantly opened his mouth, painfully searching for the words to betray his own sister. He was spared the humiliation as a low moan filled the room. It sounded inside their heads and a million miles away at the same time. It could have come from a child or a mad animal but either way, it sought to disorient it’s audience, displacing itself like a ventriloquist’s stage trick. Joe tilted his head and brought a small vial of yellow brown liquid out from inside of his overcoat. He raced to a nearby window, it’s stained glass long broken and replaced with the ugly black rot of old wood. He winced as he shifted his weight to stand on the tips of his toes bringing the small glass to catch the moonlight. “ Five minutes, brother. They’re making good time tonight!”

Garret looked down at his watch, shook his head and turned toward the now empty pew. “That went well. “ He could see the outline of the boy racing down the hall, back towards the safety of the basement retreat. The teen was so thin that his clothes hung off of him as though they weighed more than he did. Chris thought he resembled a marionette, almost defying gravity as if the air itself supported his frame. One thing was for sure though, he was quicker than the three had given him credit for and they were almost out of time.

The vial had begun to pulsate an unearthly green when the moonlight had struck it but the glow now subsided as Joe gave it toss, caught it, and swung it into his inner pocket in one deft movement. He threw his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the hallway and said, “I’ll go get him, he’s just scared.

Garret shook his head disapprovingly and grabbed the twin pistols from his belt. “No time. We make our stand now.” He was worried, but he had lived worried ever since the incident. It was one thing to know that death is the wild card in the race, it was another to hear the pounding of his cleats against the track every waking moment of your life. Garret chased off his fear and uncertainty with routine as he checked the clips of the 9 mms. Death was moving to the inside and gaining on him. He looked up at Joe who was doing his best with one arm and whistled between his teeth to get his attention. “ I don’t suppose our neighbors downstairs had any brownbottle on them, did they.”

Joe hung his head, he knew what was next. “If I asked, I can’t remember. After the boobytrapped door and the smell that came with it, I sorta lost focus...” He was remaining calm, but the thought of what lay ahead twisted his stomach and churned his nerves.

“That’s too bad.” Joe was as tough as any 22 year old could be, but everyone had their limits, and endorphins could only get you so far. He stepped toward the younger man, still checking the clips, his head down, but steady. Joe took a deep breath and turned towards the window. Somehow he knew if he saw the man do what he had to do, he would learn to hate him. Pain was often a catalyst for hate in Joe’s world and he didn’t want to hate this man. Joe managed a false grin and a half-chuckle, “Guess we best get it done then, eh?”

Garret put his pistols away and put a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “I guess we best.”

A voice blasted from the back of the room and both men turned as the boy named Kevin entered, a young girl with a cream colored nightgown to his left, an older boy in his late teens to his right, and a man presumably in his sixties trailing a few paces behind the group. “Jesus Christ!!! Is that a bone coming outta his arm?”

Garret glared out the boy and nodded, “Yes.”

If You Were Abducted By Aliens...

I know everybody thinks "oh, it would be so cool if I were to get abducted", but how would you really feel? Something comes to your house and takes you against your will and begins doing strange tests on you. I guess what it would mostly boil down to would be the temperament of the aliens that were abducting you, but what about the time before you would even get to that?

First would be the feeling of confusion, what is going on? Where am I and how did I get here? Then there would be almost immediate fear once you realize that you don't recognize your surroundings, fear for your life because you do not know if you are in danger, you do not know who has kidnapped you. You will not even think that you are on an alien vessel. The first thought at this point would most likely be "Who has done this to me and what do they want?" and think that you were in a Silence of the Lambs type situation of a crazy person that wants to torture you.

Once the initial panic has passed you would probably begin looking around trying to find clues as to your whereabouts. You may be loose in a large room or you may be strapped down to what appears to be a hospital bed. You would start to look around and maybe see a language that you do not recognize. In your mind you would see this and possibly rationalize it as an East Asian language because you are not thinking of the possibility of it being alien.

About the time that you calm down and come to terms with the fact that you are in a situation that you have no control over, the first one enters the room. You recognize the familiar shape from movies, stories, and cases that you were never sure if they were real or not and now you get a slap of reality right in the face. At this point I ask, how would you react to it?


Mark