A Thanksgiving Wish

Really want to wish all of you a very happy Thanksgiving.  I hope you have a wonderful day.  Please put out a vacant place setting for any friends or relatives who may want to stop by and share this time with you once again.  Hope your day is warmed by the presence of those who have gone on before and chose to come home to be with you on this family day!

–  ashanta

 

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The Haunted Half Mile

There is a certain area on a local dirt road where I’ve heard of several people that have had paranormal experiences. The one thing that really got my attention was their stories were very similar to something I have experienced myself and written about before.

I have spoken to some of these witnesses and found all of their stories have at least one thing in common: a feeling of being followed by something from the forest along the side of the road when walking. I believe this is likely a spirit or, at least, something out of place, possibly from another realm-dimension.

I had been planning for a few months to check it out and had decided the best time to try and make contact would be at Samhain, when the veil between life and death grows thin. I was going to bring a small group with me, so as to get everyone’s input, but as things worked out it wasn’t to be. So, I gathered up my K2 meter, recorder, and laser grid pen and started out on my adventure alone.

The information I had gotten from various people about where their experiences occurred covered an area of about a half mile in length along a particular road. My plan was to walk this section of road, see where and if I felt anything, and, if I did, set up my circle of protection to work from.

I arrived at the location in the late afternoon, a bit before dusk, and got out of my car to begin the walk. As I started walking my imagination started taking over. I then realized what was happening and had to stop to ground myself before continuing. I did this because I wanted to be sure that anything I picked up on was not tainted in any way that I could help. In the beginning all I noticed was a dog barking in the distance, but then something seemed just a little different to me. I can’t describe exactly what the difference was, but somehow it was as if I were isolated in my own space separate from the area around. As if I were in a bubble.

I stopped for a moment, noticing how silent things seemed, and really listened hard, but this intense silence persisted. I had the feeling that if someone were nearby yelling to me I would still hear nothing. I live out in the country and can tell you it is often quiet at night, but never like this.

As I continued on things gradually returned to normal and nothing more happened as I reached the end of that half mile stretch and turned around to return to my vehicle. I didn’t have that experience of extreme silence on the way back, although I stopped numerous times to try and recapture it.

Near the end of my walk I felt I was being watched. I didn’t get a feeling of being menaced, just observed. I stopped to the side of the road and pulled out my K2 meter to try and get a reading. There was a spike for a few moments, but that was all. I heard no answers to my questions when I played back the recorder, but the battery had died shortly after I started using it. The thing was I had replaced the batteries just before leaving the house. Were they defective? Maybe, but I don’t believe so.

I got back to where I was parked and decided to cast a circle of protection about 20-30 yards down the road to work from as I attempted to communicate with any spirits or other beings in the area. I surrounded myself with protective energy as I reached out and let my mind open to discover what I could, and hopefully communicate.

I received no information other than feelings of sadness, loss, and anger, but mostly sadness and loss. I decided to leave then. When I started my car, as I looked down the road I saw someone walking towards me. I continued watching for a minute and then turned on my headlights. No one was there!

–  Bran

Cryptids in Connecticut Part 2: The Melon Heads

In the rural back woods of Southwest Connecticut a group of outcast creatures characterized by small, sickly physiques and topped with unusually bulbous heads are said to lurk in the shadowy sidelines, possibly waiting for the next unwitting or lost hiker to enter their grasps…and, later, their stomachs.

Known as “Melon Heads”, locals have reported sightings of these strange humanoid beings around Fairfield and New Haven Counties since the late 1960’s. Milford, Trumbull, Shelton, Oxford, Monroe, Seymore, Weston, Southbury, and Stratford, Connecticut have all been said to be home to Melon Heads, but what or who are they?

One story is that there was an asylum for the criminally insane in Fairfield County which caught fire allowing some inmates to escape. These (presumably) men and women decided that roughing it out in the wilderness, despite the harsh New England climate, was still better than imprisonment and took to the surrounding woods. But, Old Man Winter is no kind soul and the prisoners found themselves eventually resorting to cannibalism. The survivors, outcasts who were mentally deranged and unfit for society, established themselves deep in the Connecticut woods. Years of inbreeding and cannibalism is said to have caused these people to de-evolve. Mental deficiencies and physical abnormalities including hydrocephalus, a condition which enlarges the head due to fluid retention around the brain, were widespread producing a sickly population with a shocking bobble-headed appearance. Locals and the occasional thrill-seeker spot their diseased descendants to this day. The unlucky ones, urban legend says, may end up in the Melon Heads dinner pots.

Another version describing the origins of Melon Heads claims that a colonial family from Shelton-Trumbull was accused of witchcraft and run out of town. This ostracised family were forced to set up camp far away from civilization. Deep in the woods they were forced to provide for themselves by subsiding on whatever they could forage or trap. Harsh winters and rugged terrain led to poor nutrition, and possibly cannibalism. (Banishment) led to incest and over time compromised genetics led to a group of regressive, humaniod beings who still dwell in the forest.

Oddly enough, Connecticut is not the only state to harbor the Melon Head legend. Similar stories are also found in Michigan and Ohio.

–  Moonchild

 

Not Gone and Not Forgotten

We were asked to investigate a house in Eastern Central MA a bit of years ago.  The people had lived there for about five years and had noticed, what could have been, paranormal activity,  but it wasn’t anything bothersome.  All the noise seemed to concentrate on the second floor of the home.  There was nothing aggressive or frightening about it.  It was just something that was always present and persistent.   It wasn’t until they started talking about doing some renovations to the place that concerning things started to really kick into action.

The most perplexing things were loud, pacing footfalls in the upstairs.  The area around the hallway where the staircase went to the second level seemed heavy and that’s where most of the noise came from.  There was also a lot of rapping on the two bedroom walls.  The people occupying both bedrooms thought the raps were on their specific inside walls.  But, if one person in one bedroom tapped on their inside wall the person in the second bedroom, next to it,  didn’t hear it and vice versa.

We decided to try and contact anyone who could be upstairs. We got a response from the energy who identified he was a man, but he wouldn’t give his name.  He did say he wasn’t happy with his situation and he wanted people to know he was there.  He also said he couldn’t seem to find his way out.

With little else to go on, we started examining the house.  There seemed to be an anomaly in the upstairs space.  It didn’t match the downstairs house in the amount of living area being used.  The knocking always sounded like it came from the middle of the house just above the staircase.  After listening, walking around, and measuring, we came to the idea that how the two middle rooms were situated they really didn’t abut one another.  There seemed to be an empty space between the two bedrooms that was unaccounted for.  Since we had no intention of knocking down walls or breaking holes into them, that seemed like all about we could do at that time.

The owners decided to have an engineer and a construction expert come in and evaluate the house’s structure. Both of them concurred that there must be an empty space between the two bedrooms.  The owners wanted answers and the work began.  The outside wall facing the staircase was taken down.  There they found another room between the two rooms being used.  It was another bedroom.

The oddest thing about it was that it was left just the same as if someone might still be using it.  The bed was made, the bureau had personal items on it and the drawers were full.  The closet was ready for the occupant to get up, get dressed, and start his day.

After getting over the shock of that discovery and taking care of the situation, the owners said the house seems happier now.  And so are they!

—  ashanta

A Haunted Historical Site – Keystone Arches

One of the things I love about the area I live in is that there are more than a few haunted locations in the Chester, Middlefield, and Becket areas of MA. One of the places that come to mind most people have probably never heard about – even though it has an important place in American history.

The story begins in the mid-19th century. Boston could no longer compete with New York in the transportation industry because of the Erie Canal, which had opened in 1825. New York offered traders and manufacturers access to the expanding Western frontier by way of the Great Lakes. To remain relevant, Boston had to overcome the main obstacle between itself and the young nation’s interior, the Berkshires. The mountains blocked any reasonable chance for a rival canal.

Railroad technology was still young, but the promise was evident. So for dreamers, planners, and engineers, the challenge boiled down to one question: through the mountains or over them?  Investors conceived another route that would utilize the natural gorge cut by the Westfield River on the eastern slope of the Berkshires and the path of the Housatonic River on the west. Investors decided to go over them and build a railroad access.  A series of 10 bridges had to be erected in the rough terrain to create a suitably straight route along the Westfield River. The project was agreed on and started in 1839. It was completed in 1841.

What happens next is what, I believe, leads to the activity some people experience now if they visit the Arches. To accomplish this massive project, the railroad had to employ large numbers, (up to 3000), of laborers.  These men were mostly Irish immigrants who were sought as they were very poor and willing to do the hardest, most dangerous labor, for very little pay. Research tells me those brave men were paid approximately $10 to $15 a month for work no one else wanted or dared do.

Living conditions for these workers were bad as they lived in quickly erected shanty towns also known as squatter areas. Their shelters were constructed of any scrap materials they could gather. Often times during construction workers died either accidentally or due to illness. These deaths were never reported.

Many times while hiking to view these lost stone arches, I have personally experienced what sounded like hammering, and shoveling, and I’ve heard voices mumbling.  Could these men still be working and living in those terrible conditions hoping to leave soon?

–  Bran.

 

A Haunting or A Lingering Energy?

We’re still fairly new to the Quiet Corner of Connecticut.  This area got its nickname because this is a fairly rural area.  It’s a very rural area if you’re used to suburban living with everything you need just down the street from where you live.  Around here, groceries can be half an hour away.  We’ve found, also, that some of the ‘quiet’ comes from the fact that unless you’re born around these parts, you’re always an outsider.  Conversations are kept polite and stories about ‘happenings’ only come from other transplants that still haven’t been completely taken into the fold.

We bought this place out of necessity.  Our other house sold quickly, we had to move out even faster, and there wasn’t a lot of inventory on the market at the time.  The first time we saw it in person is when we moved in  —  Unless you find an exceptional real estate agent,  not motivated only by the vision of commissions dancing in their head,  this method is not recommended.

The surroundings here are quaint and quite pretty.   Wildlife, and I mean the forest kind, is abundant.  And crime is low on the scale – which is a nice thing.  The energy here, though, is odd.  It doesn’t have a good flow and it’s not an even flow…there’s a strangeness about it.  It’s something that was difficult to put your finger on until a couple of months ago when something may have become plausible.

Someone from another town told us of an accident that happened many years ago somewhere in the vicinity of this house.  If it wasn’t our house, there are only three others it could have been.  We’re all lined up on the same side of the street.

A child was on her bike and started heading down the driveway.  These houses sit on the side of a mountain and as such, the driveways are a nasty pitch upward from the street out front to the rear of the houses.  The road out front is the only major route connecting area towns to major highways.  The child could not stop at the bottom of the driveway and careened out into traffic.  Traffic couldn’t stop in time.

In the short time we’ve been here there have been three or four major crashes right around the front of these houses.  Two have hit our retaining wall that abuts the sidewalk.  The last one split the utility pole next to our driveway into two pieces.  A truck flipped over on its side in front of the next house down from here.   Our neighbor right next door, who we partially share a driveway with told us that a couple of years ago a car took out three utility poles right in front of both our houses….

I can’t help but wonder if the tragic event that took that little girl’s life so many years ago didn’t create an area of negative energy that precipitates other accidents.  Negative energy could certainly be created by such an horrific situation that affected so many lives.  The child may not know how to leave the area or find her way to a different plane.  When she feels she is able to pull someone to her that may be able to help, another accident happens.

I also wonder if this negative pocket of energy hasn’t existed in this particular part of town for a very long time causing many accidents over decades that go unremembered or recorded.  This thing almost feels as though it waits and claims what it wants when its energy starts getting low.

I’m not sure if the little girl can be helped or if any of this energy can be mitigated, but have decided to try and reach out to both and see where it goes from there.  It’s a start.

–  ashanta

 

A Cigar-Shaped Craft

Stafford  isn’t far from Bradley Field in CT, so air traffic is a fairly frequent occurrence.  But one afternoon in late November 2017, it wasn’t a Boeing or an Airbus that made an appearance.  While sitting in a shopping center parking lot, waiting for her husband, a woman saw a large, cigar-shaped, metallic craft emerge from the Northeast.  There were no apparent wings or tail structure.  The object was drifting rather low above tree level and didn’t make any noise.   She looked around the parking lot to see if anyone else was noticing it, but anyone who was outside seemed focused on their shopping bags, vehicles, and/or cell phones.

She continued to watch the craft’s trajectory toward the Southwest.  It continued on and went behind a stand of tall trees and out of sight.  She kept watching, expecting it to re-emerge from the other side of the copse, but that didn’t happen.  The object never re-appeared.  There was no apparent place it could have landed and there wasn’t any kind of a crash anywhere.  It simply vanished.

I have neither heard nor read about any other account of this sighting.  I did check on Peter Davenport’s National UFO Reporting Center website, (nuforc.org), in the state of Washington and found eight UFO reports for central MA and six UFO reports for northern CT within a week or so of this sighting, but found nothing from the Stafford area.

How many people look up a lot these days to gaze at the stars, watch the clouds, or even take in a beautiful sunset?  Ancient peoples studied the heavens to determine and plan their cycles of life.   In the twenty-first century, people study the horizon of their cell phones, glued to mundane messages that don’t foretell much past the next few coming hours.    We miss so much and don’t seem to care if we are in touch with our greater universal existence or not.

– ashanta

AI and the Paranormal

Is AI a paranormal subject?  I can’t give a definitive answer to that question, but I do know that it certainly isn’t normal.  If it is paranormal, it is the only paranormal entity that scares me – a real lot.  When the elitists and power-grabbers start infusing machines with the minds of humans, the question of whether ghosts are real or not won’t have to be discussed.  They won’t be.  And – those greedy for power, (under the name of science and technology),  started their subtle quest to conquer humanness into the body of a robotic back in the early 1960’s. After their first attempts to conquer space, NASA figured out that man could not make years-long travels to other destinations in space without changing biological structures as they presently exist.   Even after a few days of weightlessness in space, man starts losing both bone and muscle mass.  It became clear that mechanical intervention has to happen.  But how much is considered necessary?  Now 50-odd years later, the push is on to gain general acceptance for AI and so is the hypnotic rhetoric to the walking sheeple.

Movies like Bionic Man, Wonder Woman,  etc. started making appearances in many flics over the next decades.  This genre has since increased in frequency and great effects like those seen in Arnold Swartznegger movies and others help introduce and romanticize the effects of implanting and sharing human qualities with machines.  This ploy, I think, is meant to lull the masses into acceptance and eagerness to participate in this great new venture.  If Hollywood does it – it has to be good.

The proponents of this technology offer eternal good health, immortality, and the ability to know all you want to know about everything, and do what you want to do forever.  But, will you still want to know? Will you still want to go skiing, biking, to bars, to restaurants, still love your hobbies?  After your mind is sucked into a machine what happens to your enthusiasm for your passion about something or someone?  Does passion still exist?  Passion, dreams, goals to aspire toward, enjoyment, and other emotional drives that make us who we are would no longer be exist within the framework of techno-bionics.   You may be able to live eternally, but who will you be?  Will you be able to recognize yourself?  Will you care?  And, if you do care – what kind of prison have you allowed for yourself to become trapped within?

The fusing of mankind into machines  —  AI  —  Accepted Imprisonment.    It would be nice if this new technology would be used for the betterment of humanity, advancements for the environment,  and general well-being for the concommitance of existence we live within, but who determines and governs what measures of integrity will be accepted and enforced?  Does integrity still exist today?

–  ashanta

And – Cryptids in Connecticut

Part 1: The Black Dog of West Peak
Do you believe in harbengers of fortune? The Black Dog of West Peak is believed to be one.
In the area of Meriden, Connecticut there has been tale of of a small black beast believed to forecast man’s future. He silently emerges from the forest with his onyx coat and intensely sad eyes. When you see him he may even wag his tail, but don’t be fooled, he is not to be confused with any ordinary dog. He now holds the key to your fate and no matter how comfortable you become with his company you best hope when you part ways you never see him again.
Tales of this prophetic canine have circulated the Hanging Hills area for as long as the late 1700’s. Residents past told tale of a mysterious Black Dog. He makes no sound, be it bark or stride, leaves no track in dirt or snow, who appears out of nowhere and, if spotted, “…once, it shall be for joy; and if twice, it shall be for sorrow; and the third time he shall die.”
W. H. C. Pynchon was a geologist from New York who set out on a geologic survey to Meriden to study the unique outcroppings of the Hanging Hills which were formed over 200 million years ago by volcanic activity. The area is rugged and rural with an unforgiving terrain of craigs and fishers that can be trecherous even today.
While out collecting samples for study on the West Peak, Pynchon was surprised as he looked up from his work and saw that he had been joined by a medium size black dog. He spoke to the animal and it seemed to acknowledge him, but was just as happy investigating the terrain as Pynchon was.
Throughout the day the dog followed his wagon and stopped with him at each stop to examine the area, just as W. H. C. did. As the night drew in Pynchon, in need of dinner and lodging, began the trek back into town. The dog kept close and even followed ahead for a while, but stopped at the spot Pynchon first saw him and “quietly vanished into the woods.” He had grown quite fond of his new companion’s company and thought warmly of the beautiful day they had shared together.
Some time later Pynchon returned to the Hills to collect more samples and data. Along the way he ran into an old friend and colleague, Herbert Marshall of the United States Geological Survey.
After some catching up the topic of conversation turned to the legend of the Black Dog. Both men had seen him before, but were still not convinced that it was anything more than a quiet, friendly tramp. Pynchon as a man of science dismissed the warnings as pure superstition and folklore. Marshall had seen him 2ice, but was adamant that he did not believe in bad omens and they made plans to set out for West Peak the next day.
It was winter and the ground was covered in a thick layer of snow. The cold was bracing, but the men were entheusiastic and looking forward to reaching the summit of the peak. Despite their good humors the terrain was difficult and the ascent, which was physically exhausting, went at a slow pace.
Nearing the top Pynchon took a rest to catch his breath and steady himself. When he looked up he saw his companion Marshall, who was in lead, stone still, speechlessly pointing toward the top of the cliff. He followed his gaze and to his shock he saw the Dog, Stygian black against the white snow, staring intently down at them. He glanced back at his friend. All color had drained from Herbert’s face and he was now shaking in terror, “I did not believe it before, I believe it now; and it is the third time.”
As Marshall uttered the last sentence the outcrop of stone on which he was standing crumbled beneath him and he fell to his death.
W. H. C. Pynchon’s story ends both in his belief in the legend of the Black Dog and his acceptance that this will also be his fate. His account is followed by an excerpt from the New York Herald detailing his death at the foot of West Peak very near where Marshall’s body had been found.
Even today there are still accounts of people seeing the Black Dog and tempting their fates with the possibility of encountering him too many times.
In 2006 Connecticut Windows On The Natural World published an article on their blog that featured an interview with a man named Michael Anatasio, an ex-marine from Meriden, who claimed to have seen the Black Dog and showed his photo of it.  (Link HERE):
Judging by the comments that followed he was not alone.
Unearthly dogs have been described in many cultures around the world.
In Scotland and the Hebrides there is the Cú-Sith, a mythological hound similar to the famous “Hound of the Baskervilles” from Sherlock Holmes. This giagantic wolflike creature is said to be dark green or white and shaggy. It is a harbinger of death and similar to a Banshee it wails. By it’s third call you will die and it will carry your soul away. Similar Dogs exist in Welsh and Irish folklore.
Does the Black Dog of West Peak really exist? Could he be the American relative of the Cu-Sith who immigrated with America’s first settlers? Are his eyes so mournful because of his burden to warn Man, his best friend, away from his fate?
                      –  Moonchild