600
28 October 2012
R. Linda:
Gather the kiddies around, I have a ghost story for you. On second thought don't gather the kiddies around. A true story it be and I got it from Cruella. It happened to her and I have it in her own words.
Back in 1974, Cruella was newly married. Her husband came from a family of clock lovers and collectors, and she said having dinner at the in-laws was always a loud occasion. They'd arrive at 6:30 for a half hour of cocktails before dinner was served. As they sat down at the table, all the hundreds of clocks would chime in, or bong in, or tinkle in, or talk in the hour. The first time this occurrence happened to her, she was in the middle of seating herself when the craziness nearly burst her eardrums. No one said anything as she was the last to sit, and all acted as if nothing had ever happened.
In time she got used to all the ship bells, grandmother and grandfather clocks, cuckoo clocks, French and English mantle clocks, electronic talking clocks, German Black Forest wall clocks, carriage clocks, etc. going off at once. I cannot imagine!
Shortly after her marriage, it was no surprise when her new husband voiced his wanting to try his hand at building . . . a clock! Well, he was good with his hands at woodworking and he had a knowledge of intricate clock workings (I bet he had), so he researched a place where he could buy everything he needed and just happened to find the Oysterville Clock Company, in Oysterville, Massachusetts (that be out on the Cape it be).
Why not take a weekend and drive up and get the workings instead of waiting weeks for shipping? Why not, Cruella thought, she loved Cape Cod, she'd never been there in the off-season, and it was November a few weeks before Thanksgiving, kind of pilgrim-ish to go up there around that time. So he made the arrangements and off they went.
Now because this was 1974 Black Sabbath was a popular band. So popular that as they travelled to the Cape, all the radio stations were playing Ozzy's songs and they were depressing to Cruella, but her husband rather liked them so she said nothing. The day itself was cold, cloudy and windy. The kind of day you want to wrap yourself in a warm blanket and sip hot cocoa in front of the fire she said. As they came into Buzzards Bay, it started to rain further leading to more of a dreary day. The farther onto the Cape, they drove, the fewer people they saw. "It was obvious this was a summer community because everyone had left. The houses were dark and silent, the businesses were boarded up and padlocked, there was hardly a soul there."
They arrived in Hyannis around 4:30 and it was dark (remember the Cape sticks way out in the Atlantic from the rest of the U.S. so night comes before the rest of the country). The only place they could get reservations was Howard Johnson's.
Upon entering their room the complimentary newspaper was sitting on the writing desk, it said something about "Woodshole axe murderer still on loose" or something near to that. Now at the time, there had been a terrible murder in Provincetown and to this day it is referred to as The Lady of the Dunes Murder. A young girl walking her beagle on the dunes came across the chopped-up body of a young woman, who has never been identified. Cruella thinks this is what the paper was alluding to, but she can't make the Woodshole connection. Anyway, a chill ran through Cruella, and she mentioned it to her husband to the effect, "We picked a great time to come up here."
Well, he wasn't one to get the hebbie-jebbies, he was hungry so getting the luggage in and taking a bathroom break was all he cared about. So while he was doing that Cruella looked around the room. The drapes were open to reveal the darkness outside, but that newspaper headline bothered her. She sat huddled in a ball on a chair until he was set to go.
They found a restaurant, a little hole-in-the-wall she called it, outside Hyannis and had pattie melts. By then the fog was rolling in off the ocean and it was downright spooky. Now her husband had never seen the Kennedy Compound and being it was night, Cruella figured there would be no one there, they could actually get down to the compound. Now an aside here, there were sentry posts located at the top of Scudder Avenue, and while you could see the houses in the compound you couldn't walk down to them. Well, lo and behold there were no sentries, everything was dark, and they were able to drive right down to the compound. They got out and walked in the yard and looked around.
"I can feel them," Cruella said. "I can almost see Bobby and Jack standing over there with a football for a game of touch." She giggled nervously thinking she really could see them.
"Yeah, it's odd like they are over there in the mist." Her husband pointed to a place that amazed her because that's where she thought she saw images. They both went toward the place but the images shimmered and were gone!
That was enough they were out of there. They discussed the strange phenomena all the way to the hotel.
"I didn't want to say anything, you'd think I lost it," she said with a shiver.
"Me too!" Her husband whispered. The experience had really given them the willies.
When they got back to the hotel, the first thing Cruella did was close the drapes. As she pulled the cord the drapes unfolded revealing a huge bloodstain or what looked like a bloodstain. Dried it was, but she said it looked as if someone had pounded a piece of meat, and the blood spatter looked very much like what she saw on the drapes. Her husband saw it too. He walked over looking hard at the stain.
"Wha . . .wha . . .what is that?" Cruella said moving back from the closed drapes.
Her husband pulled the fabric towards him and looked at it.
"Looks like . . . no, couldn't be." He said dropping the drape like it was a live scorpion.
"WHAT?" Cruella demanded her eyes big.
"Blood. It looks like blood, dried blood." He said turning to her.
"What do we do?"
"Well, it looks old," he said looking at the stain. "I would suppose they know about it, and just haven't cleaned or replaced the drapes yet. Maybe it isn't blood, but ketchup."
"Really? How can they put people in a room with a drape full of blood? Or, what looks like ketchup?"
"It isn't like it's fresh. Don't worry about it. Let's go to the bar and get a cocktail."
And that's what they did. They ignored the fact that they were staying in a room with a bloodstained drape. And they actually went back without saying anything to anyone and slept there. I tell ya, I'd be up all night! Better, I would have pointed it out to management and got another room with bloodstain-free drapes I would!
So the next day dawned deep blue sky, not a cloud in it. They packed up and checked out, got to Oysterville, bought the clock parts and returned home without any Black Sabbath playing on the radio, no wind nor flying leaves dancing across the highway, no storm clouds, nothing memorable.
But this all led to questions. Just what did they see at the Kennedy Compound? Was it really a blood splatter or was it coffee or ketchup some guest had dropped where it left such a stain? But she said the stain was large, and that would have to be a lot of ketchup, but coffee? Maybe, but she didn't think so. However, she is not an expert on stains to be absolutely 100% sure that was a bodily fluid. There was the fact of the newspaper headline that was quite stark, that could have been playing on their minds. A chopped-up body . . . would splatter . . . I'm just thinking out loud.
The fog at the compound was swirling that night from the wind off the water. The idea they were at a home where two murdered men spent happy times of their short lives, coupled with the newspaper headlines could very well have set them up to see what they wanted to see. Yet, neither wanted to be scared, and neither would find seeing either dead man's ghost as a good experience, but to me, that just sets the scene with the wind, rain, and fog at a place that is somewhat hallowed ground.
The fact they listened to the dirge-like sounds of Black Sabbath on a cold, windy day while driving many miles without speaking, could subconsciously work on them. Whatever the reason, Cruella and hubby had a very Halloween-ish experience.
Just passing it on. Yup, food, or in this case, candy corn for thought.
Gabe
Copyright © 2012 All rights reserved
28 October 2012
R. Linda:
Gather the kiddies around, I have a ghost story for you. On second thought don't gather the kiddies around. A true story it be and I got it from Cruella. It happened to her and I have it in her own words.
Back in 1974, Cruella was newly married. Her husband came from a family of clock lovers and collectors, and she said having dinner at the in-laws was always a loud occasion. They'd arrive at 6:30 for a half hour of cocktails before dinner was served. As they sat down at the table, all the hundreds of clocks would chime in, or bong in, or tinkle in, or talk in the hour. The first time this occurrence happened to her, she was in the middle of seating herself when the craziness nearly burst her eardrums. No one said anything as she was the last to sit, and all acted as if nothing had ever happened.
In time she got used to all the ship bells, grandmother and grandfather clocks, cuckoo clocks, French and English mantle clocks, electronic talking clocks, German Black Forest wall clocks, carriage clocks, etc. going off at once. I cannot imagine!
Shortly after her marriage, it was no surprise when her new husband voiced his wanting to try his hand at building . . . a clock! Well, he was good with his hands at woodworking and he had a knowledge of intricate clock workings (I bet he had), so he researched a place where he could buy everything he needed and just happened to find the Oysterville Clock Company, in Oysterville, Massachusetts (that be out on the Cape it be).
Why not take a weekend and drive up and get the workings instead of waiting weeks for shipping? Why not, Cruella thought, she loved Cape Cod, she'd never been there in the off-season, and it was November a few weeks before Thanksgiving, kind of pilgrim-ish to go up there around that time. So he made the arrangements and off they went.
Now because this was 1974 Black Sabbath was a popular band. So popular that as they travelled to the Cape, all the radio stations were playing Ozzy's songs and they were depressing to Cruella, but her husband rather liked them so she said nothing. The day itself was cold, cloudy and windy. The kind of day you want to wrap yourself in a warm blanket and sip hot cocoa in front of the fire she said. As they came into Buzzards Bay, it started to rain further leading to more of a dreary day. The farther onto the Cape, they drove, the fewer people they saw. "It was obvious this was a summer community because everyone had left. The houses were dark and silent, the businesses were boarded up and padlocked, there was hardly a soul there."
They arrived in Hyannis around 4:30 and it was dark (remember the Cape sticks way out in the Atlantic from the rest of the U.S. so night comes before the rest of the country). The only place they could get reservations was Howard Johnson's.
Upon entering their room the complimentary newspaper was sitting on the writing desk, it said something about "Woodshole axe murderer still on loose" or something near to that. Now at the time, there had been a terrible murder in Provincetown and to this day it is referred to as The Lady of the Dunes Murder. A young girl walking her beagle on the dunes came across the chopped-up body of a young woman, who has never been identified. Cruella thinks this is what the paper was alluding to, but she can't make the Woodshole connection. Anyway, a chill ran through Cruella, and she mentioned it to her husband to the effect, "We picked a great time to come up here."
Well, he wasn't one to get the hebbie-jebbies, he was hungry so getting the luggage in and taking a bathroom break was all he cared about. So while he was doing that Cruella looked around the room. The drapes were open to reveal the darkness outside, but that newspaper headline bothered her. She sat huddled in a ball on a chair until he was set to go.
They found a restaurant, a little hole-in-the-wall she called it, outside Hyannis and had pattie melts. By then the fog was rolling in off the ocean and it was downright spooky. Now her husband had never seen the Kennedy Compound and being it was night, Cruella figured there would be no one there, they could actually get down to the compound. Now an aside here, there were sentry posts located at the top of Scudder Avenue, and while you could see the houses in the compound you couldn't walk down to them. Well, lo and behold there were no sentries, everything was dark, and they were able to drive right down to the compound. They got out and walked in the yard and looked around.
"I can feel them," Cruella said. "I can almost see Bobby and Jack standing over there with a football for a game of touch." She giggled nervously thinking she really could see them.
"Yeah, it's odd like they are over there in the mist." Her husband pointed to a place that amazed her because that's where she thought she saw images. They both went toward the place but the images shimmered and were gone!
That was enough they were out of there. They discussed the strange phenomena all the way to the hotel.
"I didn't want to say anything, you'd think I lost it," she said with a shiver.
"Me too!" Her husband whispered. The experience had really given them the willies.
When they got back to the hotel, the first thing Cruella did was close the drapes. As she pulled the cord the drapes unfolded revealing a huge bloodstain or what looked like a bloodstain. Dried it was, but she said it looked as if someone had pounded a piece of meat, and the blood spatter looked very much like what she saw on the drapes. Her husband saw it too. He walked over looking hard at the stain.
"Wha . . .wha . . .what is that?" Cruella said moving back from the closed drapes.
Her husband pulled the fabric towards him and looked at it.
"Looks like . . . no, couldn't be." He said dropping the drape like it was a live scorpion.
"WHAT?" Cruella demanded her eyes big.
"Blood. It looks like blood, dried blood." He said turning to her.
"What do we do?"
"Well, it looks old," he said looking at the stain. "I would suppose they know about it, and just haven't cleaned or replaced the drapes yet. Maybe it isn't blood, but ketchup."
"Really? How can they put people in a room with a drape full of blood? Or, what looks like ketchup?"
"It isn't like it's fresh. Don't worry about it. Let's go to the bar and get a cocktail."
And that's what they did. They ignored the fact that they were staying in a room with a bloodstained drape. And they actually went back without saying anything to anyone and slept there. I tell ya, I'd be up all night! Better, I would have pointed it out to management and got another room with bloodstain-free drapes I would!
So the next day dawned deep blue sky, not a cloud in it. They packed up and checked out, got to Oysterville, bought the clock parts and returned home without any Black Sabbath playing on the radio, no wind nor flying leaves dancing across the highway, no storm clouds, nothing memorable.
But this all led to questions. Just what did they see at the Kennedy Compound? Was it really a blood splatter or was it coffee or ketchup some guest had dropped where it left such a stain? But she said the stain was large, and that would have to be a lot of ketchup, but coffee? Maybe, but she didn't think so. However, she is not an expert on stains to be absolutely 100% sure that was a bodily fluid. There was the fact of the newspaper headline that was quite stark, that could have been playing on their minds. A chopped-up body . . . would splatter . . . I'm just thinking out loud.
The fog at the compound was swirling that night from the wind off the water. The idea they were at a home where two murdered men spent happy times of their short lives, coupled with the newspaper headlines could very well have set them up to see what they wanted to see. Yet, neither wanted to be scared, and neither would find seeing either dead man's ghost as a good experience, but to me, that just sets the scene with the wind, rain, and fog at a place that is somewhat hallowed ground.
The fact they listened to the dirge-like sounds of Black Sabbath on a cold, windy day while driving many miles without speaking, could subconsciously work on them. Whatever the reason, Cruella and hubby had a very Halloween-ish experience.
Just passing it on. Yup, food, or in this case, candy corn for thought.
Gabe
Copyright © 2012 All rights reserved
