Saturday, September 29, 2007, 09:49 AM [
General]
I swaer by all i hold holy every word of this story is absolutely true. Im still getting chills and thrills when i think about. Warning parts of this story are a little twisted and weird. but when I finally added up all that happened I realized that I have had a truely magical and enchanted experience. I have stayed up all night to write this while it was fresh in my mind
Every morning after I take my step daughter to school I stop by the house and collect my two dogs and
we drive across town into the run down industrial edge of the city. Awkwardly jammed between Meat
packing plants and coal burning smoke stacks. There is a little lost oasis of magic. Riverside Cemetery.
Most of the graves date back to before the civil war until the 1960s. The cemetery itself is mostly
abandoned. The caretaker tries to keep the place up but it's a losing battle. Hence the place is
overgrown and wild. There are two ponds on the property and its on about twenty or so acres.
Coyotes Fox Owls hawks Blue herring raccoons and Prairie dogs all call it home and live there
undisturbed. In the summer every species of dragonfly and butterfly found in North America gather to
feast on the wild flowers that have escaped from potted plants left for loved ones over a century and a
half. And in the fall Canadian geese use it as the major staging area for the next leg of there migration.
My dogs love the place as they can run and play and go absolutely nuts in the water and unlike any other
park in the city they don't need leashes. The only other visitors I see to the cemetery is the occasional
weekend historian. And the caretaker. The weekend Historians I usually point to the proper monument
and the caretaker and I wave at each other from a distance. I can think there. I can sort out my plans
and even after a few minutes sometimes I can actually quiet my soul. Some would call it a spooky place
heavy on the atmospherics and the neo gothic set dressing but for me its an enchanted place. Shapes
glimpsed between the tombstones move and flicker and disappear. And the feeling of many eyes
watching your every move is always present. Every person I've brought there has reported the same
sorts of feelings.
I walk amongst the dead. I straighten up toppled stones. Pick up trash I read the epitaphs and think
about who these people might have been . A grave yard is a time machine for the imagination. Sad
joyous and its as much about life as it is about death.
One little thing I do (that I understand is a Jewish tradition) is I leave little stones on certain markers that
I pass every day.
Count Morat. One of the original adventurers who's expedition founded Denver.
Walter S Pigeon A.K.A. Shorty Maynard .A circus Clown in the early 20th century. With the now
defunct Sells Flotto Circus. And one of the few survivors of the great circus train wreck 1929
Forrest Flood The actor who died in 1879 .His monument is a marble podium with a closed copy of
Shakespeare's hamlet Lying on a stone cloak.
And last but not least Nannie Shubert..I haven't been able to find the remotest reference to her in my
search. Her grave stone in black marble flecked with silver mica. It has no birth date but simply says she
died in 1899..The grave stone faces east under the shade of a twisted and gnarly old Elm tree. When
My dogs and I get tired we always make our way to the tree. and rest..It really is a classic definition of a
magic tree. With its deep knot holes and easy climb branches. Giant toadstools sprout up at its base. and
wild flowers sprinkle the ground between clumps of Prairie grass.
About a month ago Im resting under the tree when out of the blue I get this urge to read the grave
markers facing away from me. I get up and walk around the stones. And sitting at the base of Nannie's
marker is a tiny resin cast statue of a flower faerie. It has faded in the sun and the glitter on its wings has
grown sparse and patchy. .You see nobody leaves wreaths and flowers and small offerings at the older
graves so I thought it was a little odd. Still Fannie was added to my list and I left a stone in front of the
faerie and forgot about it. A few weeks pass and Now I've left enough stones that I can shape a ring out
of them forming a faerie circle.
The next day I see that the caretaker has run over my little circle and sent the faerie flying with his rider
lawn mower./ Its not his fault the place is so big .and I just know he is underpaid. I retrieve the faerie
and decide to stick the faerie in the crux of where three branches join. In the tree. She fits like she was
made to go exactly there.
A few days later I return and now I see the faerie statue has company. Somebody has placed two
more faerie statues in the branches. So not to be out done I go to the craft store and make strands of
silver tinker bells to throw into the higher branches of the tree. A day or two later somebody has taken
ribbons from old funeral wreaths that are strewn about the cemetery and tied them on other branches.
The place was quickly becoming the brightest spot in the graveyard.. The place was taking on a such a
positive beautiful whimsical feeling.
Then something very strange happened...............
Two days ago I go to place my daily stone on the repaired Faerie circle over Fannie's head and it is
destroyed. I don't mean run over again or simply kicked around by careless feet. The stones are all over
the place and there is hole right at the base of the marble tombstone in the dirt. It looked like some
animal probably a fox or one of the skittish hungry coyotes and dug into the earth after something. I can
see sticking out of the hole a shredded plastic bag. From a local grocery store chain. Something feels
very bad. Something oppressive and evil The eyes of the graveyard on my back .Crowded just a little
too close. Something is very wrong. I lift up the flap of the bag. And I can see the shiny silver lid of a jar
buried in Fannies grave maybe a foot in the earth.
I don't want to touch the jar .but Im just really damn curious. So I pulled it out. Its full of dark liquid .I
turn to face the sun and hold it in the light. The stuff in the big mason jar is red. And I know its blood. .A
a lot of blood and worse yet something is floating in the thick goop. Something I had no intention of
opening the jar to find out what. I set the jar down and backed away. I called my dogs and packed them
in the car.
I drove towards the caretakers office. And much to my surprise the cops were already there. >I thought
It was very customer service oriented to be waiting for me. Two cop cars and the Sheriffs SUV. Wow!
Turns out they were answering a false alarm set off in the offices. I tell them about my discovery and they
are looking at me like im crazy. I can understand that .When my outward appearance meets a cops lack
of imagination and humor. A wall goes up. That day I was wearing black pants a huge poets shirt with
lacy sleeves and collar and a black micro fiber London fog tench coat. You know really casual.
I can tell the sherif thinks Im just a fucking whack job and he blows me off telling me the two patrol
officers will follow me back o the grave. And I can show them. The two beat cops are equally
patronizing and uninspired. But I take them to the grave and show them my discovery. One cop thinks it
may be blood the other says it cant be blood because it would coagulated. I can tell they think they
suspect I was responsible so I didn't tell them that blood in sealed jar buried in the cold earth in the dark
probably wouldn't coagulate..I also didn't tell them that the tomb stone was facing east which would
make it of particular interest to Black Witch. I didn't point out that Fannie died in 1899 "eighteen". 1
plus eight equals nine or 999 which upside down is 666. I don't tell them that Black witches like fetish
trees with big knots and holes and that if they looked they might find further evidence. At this point I
simply shut up. And nodded. They made me wait there while other cops arrived to look at the jar. Some
certain it was blood and others offering other guesses to the jars contents. Finally after an hour the
county coroner arrives. and he takes one look and says yup thats blood.! Well duh. He takes the jar
away for tests and finally the cops let me go. The cops who didn't think it was blood leave with out a
word to me. The cops who thought it was blood are all condescending and official thanking me for
reporting this. And have a good day................ Flatfoots!
Even if the blood was not human .There is still the crime of desecrated grave. And crimes like these are
jumping off points for career sickos. Animal mutilation digging in graves. Hadnt these jerks ever heard of
John Wayne Gacy.
I went home sincerely shook up. I felt dirty and tainted and completely wrong.. I had touched something
very evil and the feeling it left me with told me that I wasn't understating the malevolent presence that
followed me home. Something profane and unclean had touched my beautiful little spot. And I felt like it
was ruined.
But then I began to think about it a little more. I thought about the black magic that had been done
there. I thought about what ever the curse was it probably was directed towards some bad end. Very
bad and hardcore. Like an infected splinter. Under the skin. of the cemetery. I thought about the hungry
coyote smelling the blood and digging under the full harvest moon that is now waning Exposing the
infection for me to find. I thought about my mysterious codecorator of the fetish tree and now im sure
that my unseen friend who was helping me decorate the Faerie tree. Was not Human at all. Like I said
few visit Riverside. Only a resident could have been there right after me :everyday day after day with out
me seeing them. Sooner or later. And the gates close at 5:00 PM ..
Leaving our little offerings had drawn the Older fae magic to that spot and the cemetery had simply
expelled the infection from the place. The unseen fae The spirits .had drawn me to Fannie right from the
beginning. I was now part of that place. They knew what I would do They counted on it. So yesterday. I
go to the store and I bought some potted flowers and I went to the cemetery.. I walked up to Fannie's
grave. The cops hadn't touched a thing. They didn't even fill in the hole.. The plastic bag was still in it.
I pulled the bag out and made another discovery. There was another bag buried next to the jar. I pulled
out the bag. And its got something hard inside. I simply upturn the bag and dump the contents on the
grass. Even before The contents hit the ground I knew what it was. Melted black votive candles.
Crusted with dried blood. I gathered the candles with the bag trying not to touch them I planted the
flowers in the hole and covered up the hole with earth. I watered the plant with a bottle of water
I said aloud. " Im sorry Fannie. Rest In peace and ill see you tomorrow. "
I walked back to the car. And looked back at the grave with the clump of pretty purple flowers and the
tree with the faerie's and the ribbons and bells in its branches and It just felt right again.
