Once back at the house, Ronnie, Bobby, Sam and Dean all tromped inside, once she wrangled her dog outside. Not an easy feat, considering the dog was curious about the visitors and weighed as much as she did.
"Don’t worry about Gallahad here," she cooed, rubbing the dog behind the ears as she shoved him inside the library. "He’ll be alright."
Bobby looked at the enormous beast skeptically. "Are you sure that’s a dog?"
"Wolfhound. Responsible for ridding Ireland of wolves back in the day. No bigger or better protector."
"So what exactly do you need protecting from?"
"I’ve got more supernatural creatures stomping through my backyard than I can handle. Gallahad here has a sense for them, gives me a heads up. Leprochans, vampires, zombies, you name it, I’ve seen it. Worst of it are the demons. They are all over the place lately. People are starting to notice too."
"Like how many are we talking?"
She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. "I’d say about twenty-seven."
Bobby choked. "That’s a few."
She nodded. "Yeah. And that’s just since last Tuesday."
Bobby shot a look at Sam and Dean.
"But hey. It’s late, and you guys have to be exhausted. There are three rooms upstairs if you want them. There will be hot breakfast in the morning and you can get a fresh start."
Bobby gave her one of his rare smiles. "Ronnie, that’s the entire reason I came."
"Bribery with a home-cooked meal?" She smiled and shook her head. "I should have thought of that sooner."
Sam and Dean headed upstairs. Bobby watched as she poured herself a mug of coffee.
"A bit late for that, don’t you think?"
She bit out a short laugh. "Yeah, well sleep has been little more than a distant memory lately. Usually I’m up to greet the sun."
"So how long has it been?"
She took a tentative sip from the steaming mug. "I was still in high school the last time you were up here, Bobby."
"True. How time flies. But I meant how long has your dad been gone?"
She stilled, met his eyes, and leaned forward in her seat. "Almost two years now. He went out one night and never came home."
"What about your brother Brian? Where’s he when you’ve got this mess?"
"He’s gone too, Bobby. It’s just me now."
Bobby gave her a hard stare. "So you are by yourself and you didn’t think to tell anyone? All those times on the phone you could have just said, ‘hey, by the way?’"
"And what? There was nothing to do. Nothing anyone could do." She nodded towards the steps and the Winchesters upstairs. "Word gets around. I know what you have been up to, what you’ve been up against. I didn’t get the notice to the papers, Ok?"
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Sorry. I know you and Mom and Dad were close. I guess part of me was hoping Dad would stroll right through the front door, near to bursting to tell the tale of his latest adventure."
"So, Brian too. What happened?"
"After Dad was gone, Brian stayed close for a while. Then just like Dad, one night he doesn’t come home. I knew it in my gut."
Bobby measured his next words carefully. "You ever … find them? Take care of things?"
She nodded. "Yeah. Sent them off, nice and proper. The full Hunter’s funeral and the works." She took another sip of coffee.
"A while back I had a bit of an accident. Had time to think, to watch. I started noticing things."
Bobby’s eyes never left her face. "So all those phone calls. What, you decide to pick up the family trade?"
"Come on, Bobby. You know this isn’t a game for amateurs. I know enough not to get dead."
"True. But you’re hardly an amateur. How many?"
"What?"
"Don’t try to fool me, girl. How many kills?"
She took a deep breath. "Forty-three, give or take."
Bobby rubbed his eyes.
"Twenty in the past two and half months."
He stared at her.
She gave him a sheepish shrug. "Like I said, things have been a little crazy around here. Figured it was time to call in the pros."
"Forty-three," he repeated.
She nodded.
"Pretty good for a rookie."
"You know Mom and Dad never wanted this life for me, Bobby. I’ve been lucky."
He nodded. He was silent a moment.
"Christ, girl. You ain’t no lucky rookie. You’re a hunter."
Dean slowly awoke to daylight streaming in through frilly lace curtains in the bedroom. Soon he was aware that the bed he was on was adorned with a ridiculous amount of lace and ribbons. The walls held not-as-faded areas where he imagined were once adorned with rock band posters and photos. Shelves were covered with stuffed animals and romance novels. A girl’s room.
"Fantastic," he grumbled.
Then he was keenly aware of something else. Food. Warm scents of cinnamon, butter and bacon beckoned from the doorway and down the hall. His mouth watered.
He dressed in record time, and collided with Sam in the hallway. They scuffled their way into the bathroom, washing up before crashing into each other all the way down the stairs. Bobby sat at the kitchen table already, shaking his head. Of course, it was a matter of survival to get in front of these two when it came to food.
The kitchen table was heaped with bowls of scrambled eggs, muffins, platters of pancakes, pitchers of orange juice, and plates of bacon.
"It’s like Christmas," Dean muttered in awe, before seating himself down. "I tell you, I’d marry a woman who could cook like this. You available, Edna?"
Edna twittered. "The mister might have something to say about that." She shot a grin to Ronnie.
Ronnie was busy trying not to choke on her muffin and balance a cup of coffee. "Help yourself, guys. Edna here will help keep the food coming. I’ve got to open the store."
She bussed the older woman’s cheek. "Thanks for helping out here, Edna."
"No problem, sweetie. It’s been a while since I’ve had a house full of men to feed. Or you either, for that matter." She winked.
Ronnie rolled her eyes, and grabbed her keys and her bag. "Gotta go." She let out a low whistle and Gallahad loped after her.
Dean watched her go. "So what’s her deal?"
Bobby waited until Edna left the room. "Raised in the life. Mom and Dad were both hunters. Her brothers too. Her dad wanted something better for her and tried to keep her out of it. Now they are all gone and she’s smack dab in the middle of it."
"They’re all gone?" Dean asked. "How?"
Bobby shrugged. "Keith was the oldest. Died in a car accident. Her mom died of cancer a while back. Her dad apparently went out one night and never came home. Brian was the youngest. Survived a couple of tours overseas to die in a hunt. Now it’s just her."
"She any good?" Sam asked around a mouthful of pancakes.
Bobby shrugged. "She’s kept it quiet until now. I think you’ll find she can hold her own. I take it you didn't notice that there are only three bedrooms in this place. While we were all sleeping of sunshine and kittens, she was down here, keeping watch. I'm thinking she hasn't had a nice, long sleep in a good while now. "
Dean reached for another muffin. "Former cheerleader, huh? She have some sort of Buffy complex?"
Bobby gave them a thoughtful look. "I’m thinking maybe she’d knock Buffy on her ass."
"I need your help."
It took a second for Dean to get his breath back after nearly choking on his orange juice. Edna finished cleaning up and headed out for the opening shift at the restaurant. Bobby had just left the room to make a phone call, and a second later he saw a trench coat in his peripheral vision. He never seemed to get used to Castiel popping in and out like that.
"Cass. Good of you to drop in. Muffin?"
Castiel gave him an odd look. "No thank you. I hear they are delicious though. I need you to find someone."
"Can it wait? We’re kinda just starting something here."
"No. Her name is Veronica. She is special and needs to be protected. I’ve gotten word that there are plans to harm her."
"Popular name around here. Why can’t your angel friends handle this?"
"She’s hiding from us. I’ve tried to talk to her, but she won’t listen to me. She must not come to harm."
"Why is she hiding from angels?"
Castiel sighed. "We were protecting her, but we failed. Now she doesn’t trust us. She thinks we have forgotten her."
"Forgotten?"
"Somehow she was lost – forgotten. Because of our mistake she was injured gravely. Now that we have found her again she must be protected. Crowley is after her."
"Great. So where do we find her?"
Castiel tilted his head. "Right here. This is her house."
"Ronnie?"
"I’ve heard she sometimes goes by that name. I need to go." And poof – he disappeared.
Dean turned to Sam. "What the hell?"
Sam shrugged. "What do angels want with Ronnie?"
Ronnie was stacking can goods on a shelf when she caught Sam staring at her for the dozenth time in the past few hours.
"You know," she began, "you guys never did say why I suddenly need a baby sitter."
"Just a hunch," he answered. He was quiet a while, then started the staring thing again.
She sighed. "What?"
"You and Dean. You two meet before?"
Ronnie moved to the wall to stack more boxes on the shelf. "You could say that."
"And?"
She paused. "Yeah. Your brother and I kinda crossed paths a couple of years ago. You weren’t together. It didn’t go well."
"Did you and he …"
She snorted. "No! God, no." She paused. "What did he say about me?"
Sam shrugged. "Nothing. He says you are familiar, but he doesn’t remember how you met."
"He doesn't remember." Her voice was flat. She paused, her thoughts far away. "Alright. Fine. Let’s just say it was bad and it may be best all around if he never remembers."
The front door chimed. Sam looked up in time to see her turn to greet the customer. She froze, a stricken expression on her face. The next instant, it was gone. Sam half wondered if he imagined it.
"Hello, Mrs. Cavanaugh," she said softly.
Sam was shocked at the look of pure hatred the older woman radiated. If looks could kill…
Mrs. Cavanaugh spat out her words. "Still here, I see. Wyatt said there were federal agents talking to you. I suppose it was too much to hope for that this town was rid of you at last."
"’Fraid not," Ronnie smiled tightly. "I’ll get Frank to help you today."
As Ronnie turned to go into the store room to find Frank, Mrs. Cavanaugh hissed, "You are an abomination. Why can’t you just disappear like your father?"
Ronnie only faltered a moment before continuing on. "I’m afraid I’m not my father. Frank will be right out."
Sam came up to her later, after Frank had taken care of Mrs. Cavanaugh. "What was all that about?"
"Leave it alone, Sam."
"Better yet, why were you taking it?"
"Sam—"
"Ronnie?" He wasn’t going to let up. One look at his expression told her that.
She let out a heavy breath. "Mrs. Cavanaugh’s son went to high school with me. He died, and she blames me."
"You? Why?"
"Because I was with him when he died."
Ronnie pulled up two stool and gestured for Sam to take one. She went to the mini fridge and grabbed two beers, tossing one to Sam. She opened the bottle and took several long swallows before she continued.
"After I got kicked out of Catholic school, Dad had me enrolled me in public school here. This is a small town, and the gossip mill here runs faster than most. Word got out and I was a hot topic for quite a while people tried to come up with a reason why I thrown out. Meanwhile, there was a rash of demon possessions that was making its way through the athletic department at the high school. So I tried out for the cheerleading squad."
Sam was doing his best not to make a face, but she saw it.
She smiled. "Yeah, I know. But I wasn’t making any friends anyway, so I figured what the hell. Cheerleaders have access to all the sporting events.
"It was football season, at the Homecoming game no less. Chris, Mrs. Cavanaugh’s son, had been acting odd for a few days then. Not himself. At halftime he disappeared under the bleachers. I followed him. I got there just as he was about to kill a girl in the color guard."
"He was possessed?" Sam asked.
Ronnie nodded. "Anyway, we fought. I got him tangled up in a devil’s trap under the far end of the bleachers."
"Good planning," Sam said. "Did you exorcise him?"
She nodded again. "What I didn’t realize at the time was that Chris had been stabbed and the demon used his weakened state to possess him. He was dead within minutes."
Sam rested a hand upon hers. "You know there was nothing you could have done, right?"
"Yeah, I know. It still sucked. Anyway, he died and I was found with his body under the bleachers."
"And his mom blamed you."
"Can’t really blame her. Between the rumors about me and the dozen witnesses that saw me with the body, I would have blamed me too."
"How did you get out of it?"
She gave him a sad smile. "Autopsy showed he’d been dead for days, even though the entire student body saw him score two touchdowns and an interception during the game."
Sam shrugged. "That will do it. Can I ask you one more thing?"
"Sure."
"Why did you get kicked out of catholic school?"
She let out a strangled laugh. "My grandmother."
"Your grandmother got you kicked out of catholic school?"
"Yep. For my sixteenth birthday, she hauled me down to the local tattoo parlor and got me a tattoo."
Ronnie pulled her hair to the side and moved the collar of her shirt away from her neck. There at the base of her neck was a familiar design. He and Dean had similar ones tattooed to their chests.
"Wrecked havoc with the dress I was going to wear to the semi-formal that fall," she continued. "Even if I had wanted a tattoo, I pretty much would have gone a different one. A unicorn maybe. Probably something to really irk the old man. Gawd, there were times I really hated being from a family of hunters."
Sam laughed. "I bet. What did you do?"
"The nuns got wind of it and I was promptly kicked out a week before the big dance. Apparently early Christian symbols based upon pagan lore are frowned upon. That and my date turned out to be a vampire and my dad cut his head off. My social life has kinda been in the crapper ever since."
"I think I know what you mean."
That night Ronnie came home to a command center. Newspapers, maps and print outs littered every flat surface. Laptops and extension cords crisscrossed her floors. At some point during the day, weapons were cleaned and the dirty rags were strewn everywhere. An occasional beer bottle left rings on her tables. And as a crowning touch, the sink was full of dirty dishes. Fantastic.
"Hi, honey, I’m home," she muttered.
Dean called over to Sam. "Did you bring some pie?"
"Diner closed at eight, man."
"Man," Dean whined. "Small towns suck."
He caught Ronnie’s expression. "Sorry."
She shook her head. "How could I possibly take offense at that?" She opened the refrigerator to survey the damage. "Any food left in the house?"
Bobby gave her a sheepish shrug. "You said make yourself at home."
"I know. I just forgot what it was like with my own two brothers around. Thanks for knocking off the sugar coating off that memory." She grabbed her keys.
"Luckily I have a deep freezer in the garage with extra supplies. Be back in a jiff." She turned to glare at Dean. "Extra veggies for you."
Bobby followed her out. "I’ll give you a hand. These guys can eat a lot of food."
She shrugged. "Suit yourself."
Dean watched her leave, and shivered. "I swear the temperature drops ten degrees whenever she does that."
Sam chuckled. "Dude, what did you do to her?"
Dean stared out the window into the night. "I wish I remembered."
Bobby followed Ronnie out to the garage, watching as she surveyed the contents of the deep freeze. His gaze rested on a mangled pile of wood that looked suspiciously like a massive old oak dining room table. Jagged slices marred the splintered wood and an axe jutted out from a table leg.
"That looks like your folks’ old kitchen table."
She never looked up. "It broke."
She pulled out several tin foil containers and shoved them into his arms. "So, what did you want to ask me about?"
Bobby shrugged. It was clear she wasn’t going to talk about the table.
"The other employees at the hardware store. How well do you know them?"
"Well enough. I trust them, Bobby. More importantly, they trust me. They kinda adopted me."
"Adopted you?"
She let out a short laugh. "Yeah. After Dad and Brian were gone, I had nobody left. I think people kinda felt sorry for me. Anyway, after I popped back up, Frank was the one who found me half out of my mind on the side of the road and took me to the hospital. After I got out, I bought the hardware store to have something to do. Frank needed a job. Turns out he makes a good manager, so bonus for me when a job comes up.
"I came across Willy on a job. He had lost his best friend and room mate to a ghoul and I was looking into it. He ended up being good in a fight and started hanging around. He started poking his nose into what I was doing. So I took him in to keep an eye on him so he didn’t get himself killed, and he ended up having my back with human trouble."
"Wyatt Sheldon?" he asked.
She nodded. "Yeah. That’s the thing about human trouble. You can’t just shoot them. Makes the neighbors anxious. Anyway, I met Edna and her husband when they were having a problem with a poltergeist at the diner. They just bought the place, used their life savings, but with the poltergeist chasing away customers, they were about to go under. So to thank me, Edna and Rick make sure I have a decent meal when I’m on a job."
She nodded towards the stacks of foil containers in both their arms. "Apparently she thinks I work up quite the appetite."
"Well, it’s our gain. Why did you pick up the job?"
She faltered. "Before, there was always someone else to go chasing things out of the dark. Now Dad is gone, and my brothers too. Things were happening – bad things – to good people. I just couldn’t keep passing the buck."
"That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?"
She shook her head. "No. Nobody missed me when I was gone. No missing persons report, no nosy neighbors, no one noticed the papers piling up on the front porch, nothing. Now, for whatever reason, I’ve got people that for whatever reason seem to give a damn about me."
"Sorry. I didn’t know."
"I know. You kinda had your hands full with the whole wheelchair and end of the world thing. You didn’t need my piddly problems heaped on top of it."
"Ronnie, I don’t know what you think, but you do matter."
"Thanks, Bobby. But now its time I earn it."
Before long the inside of the house smelled of home-cooked comfort food, reheated anyway. Biscuits, chicken and noodles and mashed potatoes. And an extra large bowl of green peas.
"Ronnie said most of her sightings have been here on the property, near the bog," Bobby said, pointing to an area on the map bought at the gas station. "What I can’t figure is why they are centered here."
"Are they gathering here? Some big boss demon coming to town?" Dean asked out loud. "Cass mentioned a certain one."
"What do you have so far?" Ronnie asked.
"We got this," he shot back, waving her back into the kitchen. "Just let us do our thing."
Bobby looked over just in time to see an expression cross her face that he could only guess that meant she was sorely tempted to dump the entire container of mashed potatoes on Dean’s head. Then she sniffed the air, rushed over to the oven and pulled out two trays of biscuits.
"Supper’s ready," she bit out between clenched teeth.
No response.
"For cryin’ out loud," she muttered.
She marched over to the table and gestured to the three laptops. "Move ‘em. Now."
They all took in her expression and promptly picked up the computers.
She leaned down to turn a lever hidden in the woodwork of the table leg, and promptly flipped the table top over, scattering the papers everywhere.
On the backside of the table top was a topographical map of the area with the farm highlighted in red. Notes framed the outer edge with dates, names and various other info. Next Ronnie went to the wall, pushed at a seam in the wainscoting and the wall slid in two sections to reveal newspaper articles, weather info and other pieces of research. Basically the entire case in a nutshell, easily accessible and yet could be hidden at a moment’s notice.
"Dad bought this place because he thought it may be handy to have a hunter living basically right on top of what he thought was a gateway. The town has a history of odd happenings and what better way keep things locked down than to have a sheriff in the jailhouse. With mom sick and all, he didn’t want to leave home for long periods of time with us kids growing up. Thirty years ago the town was nearly wiped off the map due to what officials then credited to brush fires from lightning strikes. That plus the missing persons reports from that time period, weather data and what have you, makes it pretty clear to me that there were other things at work.
"Dad traced most of the more recent activity down to an up and coming demon. Working on getting his street cred, I suppose. I’m pretty sure you guys already know him as Crowley."
The guys all went very still at once.
"Yeah, I can’t stand him either. Now to add to the mix, I’ve got angels stomping all over the place, leaving their little toys all over my bog. Honestly, I don’t care to deal angels any better than the demons, but that’s what I’ve got. The most recent stuff I’ve got tagged and flagged on the map here in front of you. Notes are on the sidebar."
She flipped the table back over, revealing smooth wood once again. "Now that you are all up to speed, take five minutes, eat something before it gets cold, then get back to ‘doing your thing.’ Gallahad needs his walk." She spun on her heel and marched out of the room, grabbing the leash hanging on a nail by the doorway on her way out.
"Wow," was all Sam said after a moment.
Bobby chuckled. "Does the phrase ‘backwards and in high heels’ mean anything to you boys?"
Friday, January 17, 2014
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Supernatural Pt 1 - Fan Fic
For those who have not experienced the awesomeness that is Supernatural, here is a rundown of the cast of main characters:
A hunter is a person who hunts evil things and destroys them. Ghosts, vampires, demons, all your monsters of the week that go bump in the night.
There are angels, but they are not necessarily the good guys. Quite frankly, they can be jerks and are not exactly team Free Will. Except for Castiel. Castiel is on Team Winchester and this has caused all sorts of trouble for him.
Demons. Demons are always bad news. Crowley is the current King of Hell. He is charming and smooth, the inventor of red tape and all sorts of diabolical madness. Never trust a demon.
One more thing about Supernatural. If you die, you do not necessarily stay dead. The Winchesters have died several times. Dean was pulled from hell by the angel Castiel. Sam too, but with consequences.
So here we go:
Supernatural Fan Fic: Ronnie
Ronnie sat down wearily on the stool in the barn, keeping the shotgun close at hand. She was bone tired, dirty, and pretty much ready to call it a day, except she had one hell of a clean up ahead of her.
She pulled out her cell phone and dialed. It went to voice mail.
"Hey, Bobby. It’s Ronnie. I need to call in a favor. I’m knee deep in stuff over here, and if you know of anyone in the area, I could use a little help. Thanks." She disconnected.
She let out a heavy sigh, pulling herself to her feet. And wondered how in the world she was going to get rid of fifteen demon carcasses on a Friday night.
Sam and Dean Winchester motored down yet another highway crisscrossing the Midwest in Dean’s black 1967 Impala. Dean glanced over at this brother as Sam picked up the call, putting it on speaker.
"What’s going on, Bobby?"
"I need you two to check in on someone," the crotchety voice growled over the line. "Ronnie Churchill. Daughter of a hunter. Her dad is an old friend of mine, but he’s gone off the grid. She called last night, and she’s asking for help."
"What, we’re doing babysitting service now?" Dean asked.
"Hardly," Bobby snorted. "She’s as sharp as I’ve seen them. She’s not a hunter, but she was raised in the life. If she says she needs help, something’s going on.
"You’re about four hours away. I’ll be there in eight."
Dean stared at the phone. "Wait. You’re coming off the reservation?"
"She called in a favor. Now I’m asking one of you."
The brothers traded looks. Bobby only asked favors if it was a big deal.
"You got it, Bobby," Sam replied. "Give us an address." He scribbled the address on his note pad while Dean urged the car a bit faster down the highway.
"Where is this place? We’ve been driving around for hours," Dean grumbled. "I’m half expecting the children of the corn to start walking down Main Street."
Sam held up his cell phone, moving it side to side in front of him. "No GPS signal out here either. Let’s try the hardware store."
"Civies or Feds?"
Sam grinned. "Well, we haven’t had Agents Tyler and Perry out for a while."
After a quick change of clothing into the dark suits they used to impersonate federal agents, they walked into the hardware store, founding it typical for a small town. A little bit of everything. Lumber, household supplies, auto parts, even the kitchen sink. Dean paused beside an enormous display of rock salt.
Sam shrugged. "Hard water, maybe?"
"Be right there," came a muffled voice.
A few moments later a figure emerged from the back. She was clad in baggy coveralls, smudged with everything from paint to motor oil. Her long brown hair was tucked up under a ball cap and pony-tailed down the back. Her name tag read P. Benatar.
"What can I do for you today, fellas?"
Dean turned on the charm and smiled. "I’m Agent Tyler, and this is Agent Perry. FBI." They flashed their badges. "We are looking for and address and are having a little trouble with our GPS. Can you tell us where we can find 205 Linden Drive?"
Her gazed narrowed curiously at the two of them and she leaned back against the back counter. "That’s Ronnie’s place."
Dean pulled out a note pad from his pocket. "Yes, ma’am. One Ronnie Churchill. Can you tell us where she is?"
She appeared unimpressed. "Hmm. Sounds serious. What do the feds want with Ronnie?"
Dean tried a more stern approach. "That is confidential, miss. Do you know where we can find her?"
She gave them both an appraising look, then shrugged. "The Churchill residence is just off County Line road. Just take Main Street here and take a left. I believe she’s working right now, but she will be home around seven."
"Where does she work?" Sam asked.
"Oh here and there. Sometimes she takes odd jobs. Works here time to time. You just never know with Ronnie."
"Thanks." Sam and Dean turned to leave.
"Oh, and Agents?"
They stopped and turned to look back at her.
"If you have time to kill, you might want to try the diner. They have great pie."
Fifteen minutes later, they found the house, a nondescript old white farmhouse on the edge of town. Two minutes later they were back in the Impala after confronting an enormous dog in the drive. Seeing as there were no cars in sight, and well, the dog, they decided it best to return to town. And a piece of pie.
Dean pointed his fork at Sam. "That was no dog. That was a woolly horse."
"So what do you think? Big dog, big problems?" Sam asked, glancing away from his laptop screen.
"A girl living alone in the middle of nowhere." Dean shrugged. "Hard telling. Either she has nothing to hide, or everything. I do know one thing though. This is some kind of pie. Auntie Mae’s pie, or something."
"Mm. Dean? You know the hardware store? According to public records, one Veronica Churchill purchased the business a year ago. Could be our girl."
Dean stared into space. "Veroncia. Totally made the Archie comics for me."
The bell on the door of the hardware store chimed.
"Be right out," Ronnie called out. She took a deep breath and tucked the six inch hunting blade into the sheath hidden under the sleeve. Then she grabbed the Glock for good measure, tucking it in the side holster hidden by the coveralls.
The security monitor showed three men in the store. Unfortunately, she knew them well, enough to know they were up to no good. The fact that they were blatantly ignoring the no-contact order was proof of that.
Hence the reinforcements.
She came out from the back room, careful to keep the counter between her and the three men.
"What do you want, Sheldon?"
Wyatt Sheldon tsked, flanked on either side by his mute flunkies. "That’s some customer service you got there, Ronnie. Kinda makes a man feel unwanted."
She gave him a thin smile. "I would have thought the court order would have been your first clue. You’re not supposed to be here. One hundred feet and all that."
Sheldon gave her an appraising look that made her skin crawl. "This is the only hardware store in town, babe. You and I have unfinished business."
"Sheriff O’Conner says differently."
"O’Conner is taking his afternoon siesta and won’t be back for at least an hour."
"Last warning, boys. Take a walk or-"
"Or what?" he sneered.
She pulled out the shotgun from below the counter and cocked it. "Your move, ace." The heck with subtle. Sometimes matters called for bigger props.
The front door chimed once again. "There a problem here?"
Ronnie looked up to see the two agents from that morning. Great. Maybe the odds just went in her favor, or her luck just fell in the toilet. It had been that kind of week.
"None of your business," Sheldon sneered. "I suggest you move along."
Sam ignored him. "Everything OK, miss?"
"Agents Tyler and Perry, right? Perhaps you can explain to these yahoos what a no-contact order means."
Dean gave them his full attention. "Usually means it’s time to leave. Why don’t you fellas run along now?"
Sheldon leaned in over the counter. "Careful, Ronnie. The Feds. Maybe they got wind of what you’ve been doing up there at the farm."
Ronnie leaned in too, leading with the muzzle of the shotgun. "They don’t worry me. I am, however, going to have to explain why you have buckshot in your hide if you don’t turn around and get out of my store. Final warning, boys."
Sheldon blew her a kiss. "Later." He turned and headed back out the door, his two cronies trailing behind him.
"Not if I can help it." She uncocked the shotgun and engaged the safety.
"Pretty gutsy move," Sam said. "Aiming a gun while in the presence of federal officers."
"Not as gutsy as lying to federal officers though," Dean interjected. "Right, Ronnie? Or is it Ms. Benetar? Sometimes I get confused."
She clicked the safety back off, and recocked the shotgun. "What about impersonating federal officers? Really, thanks for the help guys, but if you’re feds, I’ll eat my hat. No way feds drive your ride instead of the usual POS. Tyler and Perry? Maybe you know our employees of the month, Hagar and Van Halen."
"Just take it easy-" Dean began, slowly advancing towards her..
She aimed the shotgun right at his chest, bringing him to an abrupt halt. It was a fluid movement and told him this girl knew her way around the shot gun. The look in her eyes told him she would use it if necessary too.
"All I want is to be left alone. Now who sent you?"
"Ronnie!"
She shot a quick look at the figure in the doorway, giving way to the urge to double take. "Bobby?"
"Yep. These two nincompoops are with me."
She lowered the shotgun. "Well, hell, Bobby. Couldn’t you have just called first?"
She uncocked the gun once again, dropped the gun onto the counter, and all but ran around to the front, throwing herself into his arms.
"You look good, girl. All grown up."
She snorted, extracting herself from a bear hug. "God, I hope so. The last time I saw you I was still shaking my pompoms at the high school football game."
Sam and Dean exchanged a glance.
Bobby nodded towards the brothers. "And these two-"
"-Are Sam and Dean Winchester. I know. I just didn’t realize they were with you."
She gave warm smile to Sam. "Hi, Sam." She then turned to Dean. "Dean."
The way she spat out his name, Dean was pretty sure she was thinking of another four letter name beginning with the letter D. It was as if a cold front just blew through. Which usually meant one thing. They had met before, and she was none too happy to see him again. Crap.
She was all sunshine and smiles as she turned back to Bobby. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you."
"So tell me why we’re here."
Her smile lost some of its brilliance. "Not here. They think I’m nutty enough in town. There’s plenty of room at Dad’s place to put you guys up for the night."
 |
| Dean Winchester. Older brother. Hunter of bad and evil things. A force to be reckoned with. Likes to physically kick some ass, but is brilliant in his own way. |
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| Sam Winchester. Younger brother. Also a hunter. More cerebral of the pair. Computer whiz, research expert. As a team, the Winchesters are considered two of the best in the biz. (I forgot - am I a Dean-girl or a Sam-girl again?) |
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| The Impala. 1967 black Chevrolet of awesomeness. Home away from home and the main source of transportation. |
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| Bobby Singer. Father figure to the Winchesters. Hunter and home base resource center/touch stone while dealing with the supernatural. |
A hunter is a person who hunts evil things and destroys them. Ghosts, vampires, demons, all your monsters of the week that go bump in the night.
There are angels, but they are not necessarily the good guys. Quite frankly, they can be jerks and are not exactly team Free Will. Except for Castiel. Castiel is on Team Winchester and this has caused all sorts of trouble for him.
Demons. Demons are always bad news. Crowley is the current King of Hell. He is charming and smooth, the inventor of red tape and all sorts of diabolical madness. Never trust a demon.
One more thing about Supernatural. If you die, you do not necessarily stay dead. The Winchesters have died several times. Dean was pulled from hell by the angel Castiel. Sam too, but with consequences.
So here we go:
Supernatural Fan Fic: Ronnie
Ronnie sat down wearily on the stool in the barn, keeping the shotgun close at hand. She was bone tired, dirty, and pretty much ready to call it a day, except she had one hell of a clean up ahead of her.
She pulled out her cell phone and dialed. It went to voice mail.
"Hey, Bobby. It’s Ronnie. I need to call in a favor. I’m knee deep in stuff over here, and if you know of anyone in the area, I could use a little help. Thanks." She disconnected.
She let out a heavy sigh, pulling herself to her feet. And wondered how in the world she was going to get rid of fifteen demon carcasses on a Friday night.
Sam and Dean Winchester motored down yet another highway crisscrossing the Midwest in Dean’s black 1967 Impala. Dean glanced over at this brother as Sam picked up the call, putting it on speaker.
"What’s going on, Bobby?"
"I need you two to check in on someone," the crotchety voice growled over the line. "Ronnie Churchill. Daughter of a hunter. Her dad is an old friend of mine, but he’s gone off the grid. She called last night, and she’s asking for help."
"What, we’re doing babysitting service now?" Dean asked.
"Hardly," Bobby snorted. "She’s as sharp as I’ve seen them. She’s not a hunter, but she was raised in the life. If she says she needs help, something’s going on.
"You’re about four hours away. I’ll be there in eight."
Dean stared at the phone. "Wait. You’re coming off the reservation?"
"She called in a favor. Now I’m asking one of you."
The brothers traded looks. Bobby only asked favors if it was a big deal.
"You got it, Bobby," Sam replied. "Give us an address." He scribbled the address on his note pad while Dean urged the car a bit faster down the highway.
"Where is this place? We’ve been driving around for hours," Dean grumbled. "I’m half expecting the children of the corn to start walking down Main Street."
Sam held up his cell phone, moving it side to side in front of him. "No GPS signal out here either. Let’s try the hardware store."
"Civies or Feds?"
Sam grinned. "Well, we haven’t had Agents Tyler and Perry out for a while."
After a quick change of clothing into the dark suits they used to impersonate federal agents, they walked into the hardware store, founding it typical for a small town. A little bit of everything. Lumber, household supplies, auto parts, even the kitchen sink. Dean paused beside an enormous display of rock salt.
Sam shrugged. "Hard water, maybe?"
"Be right there," came a muffled voice.
A few moments later a figure emerged from the back. She was clad in baggy coveralls, smudged with everything from paint to motor oil. Her long brown hair was tucked up under a ball cap and pony-tailed down the back. Her name tag read P. Benatar.
"What can I do for you today, fellas?"
Dean turned on the charm and smiled. "I’m Agent Tyler, and this is Agent Perry. FBI." They flashed their badges. "We are looking for and address and are having a little trouble with our GPS. Can you tell us where we can find 205 Linden Drive?"
Her gazed narrowed curiously at the two of them and she leaned back against the back counter. "That’s Ronnie’s place."
Dean pulled out a note pad from his pocket. "Yes, ma’am. One Ronnie Churchill. Can you tell us where she is?"
She appeared unimpressed. "Hmm. Sounds serious. What do the feds want with Ronnie?"
Dean tried a more stern approach. "That is confidential, miss. Do you know where we can find her?"
She gave them both an appraising look, then shrugged. "The Churchill residence is just off County Line road. Just take Main Street here and take a left. I believe she’s working right now, but she will be home around seven."
"Where does she work?" Sam asked.
"Oh here and there. Sometimes she takes odd jobs. Works here time to time. You just never know with Ronnie."
"Thanks." Sam and Dean turned to leave.
"Oh, and Agents?"
They stopped and turned to look back at her.
"If you have time to kill, you might want to try the diner. They have great pie."
Fifteen minutes later, they found the house, a nondescript old white farmhouse on the edge of town. Two minutes later they were back in the Impala after confronting an enormous dog in the drive. Seeing as there were no cars in sight, and well, the dog, they decided it best to return to town. And a piece of pie.
Dean pointed his fork at Sam. "That was no dog. That was a woolly horse."
"So what do you think? Big dog, big problems?" Sam asked, glancing away from his laptop screen.
"A girl living alone in the middle of nowhere." Dean shrugged. "Hard telling. Either she has nothing to hide, or everything. I do know one thing though. This is some kind of pie. Auntie Mae’s pie, or something."
"Mm. Dean? You know the hardware store? According to public records, one Veronica Churchill purchased the business a year ago. Could be our girl."
Dean stared into space. "Veroncia. Totally made the Archie comics for me."
The bell on the door of the hardware store chimed.
"Be right out," Ronnie called out. She took a deep breath and tucked the six inch hunting blade into the sheath hidden under the sleeve. Then she grabbed the Glock for good measure, tucking it in the side holster hidden by the coveralls.
The security monitor showed three men in the store. Unfortunately, she knew them well, enough to know they were up to no good. The fact that they were blatantly ignoring the no-contact order was proof of that.
Hence the reinforcements.
She came out from the back room, careful to keep the counter between her and the three men.
"What do you want, Sheldon?"
Wyatt Sheldon tsked, flanked on either side by his mute flunkies. "That’s some customer service you got there, Ronnie. Kinda makes a man feel unwanted."
She gave him a thin smile. "I would have thought the court order would have been your first clue. You’re not supposed to be here. One hundred feet and all that."
Sheldon gave her an appraising look that made her skin crawl. "This is the only hardware store in town, babe. You and I have unfinished business."
"Sheriff O’Conner says differently."
"O’Conner is taking his afternoon siesta and won’t be back for at least an hour."
"Last warning, boys. Take a walk or-"
"Or what?" he sneered.
She pulled out the shotgun from below the counter and cocked it. "Your move, ace." The heck with subtle. Sometimes matters called for bigger props.
The front door chimed once again. "There a problem here?"
Ronnie looked up to see the two agents from that morning. Great. Maybe the odds just went in her favor, or her luck just fell in the toilet. It had been that kind of week.
"None of your business," Sheldon sneered. "I suggest you move along."
Sam ignored him. "Everything OK, miss?"
"Agents Tyler and Perry, right? Perhaps you can explain to these yahoos what a no-contact order means."
Dean gave them his full attention. "Usually means it’s time to leave. Why don’t you fellas run along now?"
Sheldon leaned in over the counter. "Careful, Ronnie. The Feds. Maybe they got wind of what you’ve been doing up there at the farm."
Ronnie leaned in too, leading with the muzzle of the shotgun. "They don’t worry me. I am, however, going to have to explain why you have buckshot in your hide if you don’t turn around and get out of my store. Final warning, boys."
Sheldon blew her a kiss. "Later." He turned and headed back out the door, his two cronies trailing behind him.
"Not if I can help it." She uncocked the shotgun and engaged the safety.
"Pretty gutsy move," Sam said. "Aiming a gun while in the presence of federal officers."
"Not as gutsy as lying to federal officers though," Dean interjected. "Right, Ronnie? Or is it Ms. Benetar? Sometimes I get confused."
She clicked the safety back off, and recocked the shotgun. "What about impersonating federal officers? Really, thanks for the help guys, but if you’re feds, I’ll eat my hat. No way feds drive your ride instead of the usual POS. Tyler and Perry? Maybe you know our employees of the month, Hagar and Van Halen."
"Just take it easy-" Dean began, slowly advancing towards her..
She aimed the shotgun right at his chest, bringing him to an abrupt halt. It was a fluid movement and told him this girl knew her way around the shot gun. The look in her eyes told him she would use it if necessary too.
"All I want is to be left alone. Now who sent you?"
"Ronnie!"
She shot a quick look at the figure in the doorway, giving way to the urge to double take. "Bobby?"
"Yep. These two nincompoops are with me."
She lowered the shotgun. "Well, hell, Bobby. Couldn’t you have just called first?"
She uncocked the gun once again, dropped the gun onto the counter, and all but ran around to the front, throwing herself into his arms.
"You look good, girl. All grown up."
She snorted, extracting herself from a bear hug. "God, I hope so. The last time I saw you I was still shaking my pompoms at the high school football game."
Sam and Dean exchanged a glance.
Bobby nodded towards the brothers. "And these two-"
"-Are Sam and Dean Winchester. I know. I just didn’t realize they were with you."
She gave warm smile to Sam. "Hi, Sam." She then turned to Dean. "Dean."
The way she spat out his name, Dean was pretty sure she was thinking of another four letter name beginning with the letter D. It was as if a cold front just blew through. Which usually meant one thing. They had met before, and she was none too happy to see him again. Crap.
She was all sunshine and smiles as she turned back to Bobby. "You have no idea how glad I am to see you."
"So tell me why we’re here."
Her smile lost some of its brilliance. "Not here. They think I’m nutty enough in town. There’s plenty of room at Dad’s place to put you guys up for the night."
Practice
I have two WIP going that have been out there with me for forever. One is a fan fiction off my much loved TV show Supernatural. The other actually predates it, and yet seem timely now that vampires, angels, demons and werewolves are all pretty mainstream now days.
In a way, they kind of go hand in hand. While I was writing Sanctuary, I discovered this little show called Supernatural. I was having trouble getting my fix on my hero. I kinda knew what I wanted, but I just couldn't put a finger on it. Then I discovered Mr. Jensen Ackles.
Yup. Spent an entire bonus from work just to make this happen. Soooo worth it, by the way. Although to my dear husband's amusement, the first thing I said coming out of the photo op was, "Hey, Cliff (the bodyguard) winked at me!" Got to give the husband extra credit for holding my purse while I spent a good chunk of change to get a 5 second photo with someone that wasn't my husband.
Ok. Back to writing. If I could just stop squeeing every time I look at that photo ...
The next few posts are going to be in need of some serious polish, so be forewarned. It may not be pretty. It may be bare. It may be dull and lifeless. I've been with these scenes for so long that I need fresh eyes on them to help me see where it needs polish. Heck, it may even need a crash cart.
So feel free to comment. Just be constructive. Mean people suck worse than dead bears.
Saturday, August 17, 2013
My weekend with Ghost Hunters
Growing up, I vividly remember being influenced by my Dad's television choices. Star Trek, M*A*S*H*, Son of Svengoolie, WKRP in Cincinnati, etc. I'm pretty sure I've seen every episode of most of these. I remember one show that captured my attention in particular: In Search Of, hosted by Leonard Nimoy.
The premise of In Search Of, was a mystery of the week. UFOs, Big Foot, the Bermuda Triangle, Amelia Earhart and of course, Ghosts. Little wonder then that I am fascinated by such mysteries as an adult.
I was on vacation this past week, kinda one of those stay-cations I've heard about. I accomplished absolutely nothing. Well, part of that was a stomach bug that hit me mid-week, but really the only thing I did was laundry and watch an entire season of Pretty Little Liars. I'm sure I'll have more to say about PLL another time.
So Friday and Saturday Dear Husband and I drove north to the thriving metropolis of Monticello IN, home of the local amusement park Indiana Beach, Lakes Shafer and Freeman, and the Shafer Queen. Side note, the Indiana Beach slogan is "There Is More Than Corn In Indiana." Yep. I live here, and I while I can tell you that is true, it's not by much in this part of the state. Unless you want to drive a bit, then Lafayette and Indy have some attractions.
Despite the endless cornfields of the area, they managed to put together a Paranormal Convention, held at the Brandywine Hotel and Conference Center. Its main focus was to bring awareness to a charity called Lost Limbs Foundation, great organization dedicated to providing financial assistance to families of children who need medical and prosthetic assistance.
This event was first brought to my attention by a Facebook and Twitter post from Jim Beaver, one of my favorite human beings on the planet. Yes, I met him and I still feel that way. He's a great guy. Not only did he play Bobby Singer on my favorite TV show on the planet Supernatural, but he is an author, film critic and historian, and expert on Superman.
Jim kindly posted a link to the convention info and much to my delight, this was nearly in my backyard. Monticello is only about an hour away from my house. Yay!
Then I noticed Steve Gonsalves from Ghost Hunters was going to be there. Be still my beating heart. I've been a fan of Ghost Hunters since the first episode nine seasons ago. I love the fact that they are less "woo woo" and more about trying to find logical explanations for things. What can't be explained is then investigated as a possible paranormal event.
As an added bonus, there was a ghost hunt. At Indiana Beach. At night. Nope, nothing creepy about that.
So this is how it went.
Friday night was the VIP party. DearHusband and I headed that way as soon as he returned home from work. My sister watched the dogs, so we were good to go.
First bonus - front row parking at the hotel. Woo Hoo!
The convention was held in a gymnasium. In the summer. In Indiana. So basically it was hot and humid even indoors. Good times. I'm hoping I lost a few pounds along the way. I had dehydration cramps only once.
VIP party. For those of you who have never been to one, they are the best way to meet famous people without fighting your way through hundreds if not thousands of other fans. If you have the chance and the money, DO IT. It's fun in a totally fangirl kinda way.
Honestly, this was my first one. I had no idea what to expect, how to dress, or if we were getting fed. So of course I tried to wear something middle of the road. A summer sweater was NOT the way to go. And I made my husband wear long pants vs. the shorts he wanted to wear. I'm still hearing about that one.
We enter the gym and promptly meet Mike Couch, founder of the Lost Limbs Foundation. Very nice guy. He immediately made me feel better about not having any idea of what I was doing or where I was going. And I got to meet his mom, who was helping out at the desk. I love when families help out together.
And so we go in and sit. We say hi to our fellow VIPers and exchange pleasantries. I notice most are dressed cooler than I am. Then they start to arrive.
Eep.
Honestly, I do not remember who arrived first. I was in full-blown fangirl mode by this time. I was hanging onto my folding chair like a small child spying on Santa Claus.
There was a lady standing behind me that was speaking to her friends. When she turned around and saw Jim, I believe her words were, "Oh My God, It's Jim Beaver. I ... Can't ... Aaahh...!" I was so glad I wasn't the only one.
Then we were mingling.
We said hello to Jim Beaver first. After all, he was main reason I wanted to go and it was his post that told me about the event being in my area. Super great guy to talk to. We spoke for about 10 minutes. I have no idea what we talked about. And yet it was still awesome.
Then people started getting photos taken. My husband and I both got pictures with Jim.
(Sorry for the blurriness.)
Next we cornered Steve Gonsalves and Josh Gates.
I remember that they had the longest line :)
At this point, I had to go to the car. I left my good camera and a bag with two books for autographs in the back seat. Because I just didn't know. When I returned, it was time for the official part to begin. Dorothy Salvo Davis was the Event Coordinator and introduced Mike, followed by each of the special guests.
Now since no good party is complete without cake, we celebrated Jim and Josh's birthdays. The cakes were really cool. Jim's Beatle's cake even tasted amazing. If anyone knows how to contact the baker of these cakes, please let me know. I need to thank him/her personally.
It is an amazing book. Read it, if you can. My sister was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma last year, and I read it when I was looking for anything I could get my hands on to try and get a handle on things. Jim asked how she is doing. When I told him she kicked it in the butt and is on the verge of an all clear, he gave a little jump of celebration. It meant a lot to me.
Through the rest of the night, we met the rest of the special guests, including members of the ghost hunting team going on the hunt Saturday night. The group is the Wabash Paranormal Research Society, lead by James Holsclaw. I could not wait to go there.
We met Cassidy Rae, who I instantly adored. We spoke with her several minutes before I know two things. 1. She is young. Like younger than my kid young. And 2. She is a medium.
I've never met a medium before. I've been curious, but never either made the effort or found the time. I tend to be a little less on the "woo woo" side of things, but I do believe some people have that talent. No crystal balls, dramatic voice inflections or chicken feet. To my relief, she appeared to be every bit your average teenager. Who just happened to see dead people. I would love to see her again.
As an added bonus, the Mystery Machine was there. A real, live van done up just like the one in the Scooby Doo cartoon and actually used for promotional gigs by Hanna Barbera. I have to admit, that was a fun addition.
Josh is an entertaining guy. Meeting him turned me into a fan. Check out Destination Truth if you can.
Ok, time for a ghost hunt.
After grabbing a bit to eat of real food (sorry, but the concession stand of hot dogs, nachos and popcorn wasn't cutting it), those of us going on the hunt assembled in the parking lot of the hotel and caravanned our way over to Indiana Beach. The idea was to break our semi-large group into three smaller, more manageable group and visit four different locations, three at the park and a fourth off site.
First, let me clarify something. The hunt itself does not mean Indiana Beach is haunted. It simply means that there have been some reports of some unexplained events. Any place that has been around for some time is going to have a history. For Pete's sake, there is nothing demonic going on (that I know of). It's a family place. Honestly, I was surprised that the hunt was going to take place on the grounds. I did a little (ok, very little) amateur sleuthing online and did not see anything that jumped out saying, "Oooo. This place is haunted." There are a lot of other locations in the area that are a whole lot better known for paranormal activity. In fact, I had joked with my boss that the only thing I could imagine finding was the ghost of all the money parents lost to their kids playing games in the arcade, or the giant carp in the lake big enough to swallow a small child whole.
I admit it. I made a crack about Carpnado. It was timely. Seriously, after years of scarfing down popcorn, some of those fish are freakishly large.
Site #1: The Hotel/Rooms/Dormatory Area
First thing I learned: I need parental supervision. Sure, you watch eight, nine seasons of people ghost hunting and you think you know what you are doing. In my case, nothing could be further from the truth. So there we, armed with our mini LED flashlights and me with my TAPS app on my phone and I was completely clueless. I stomped around dark hallways, peering curiously at mounds of debris, looking for cold spots, checking for EMF spikes, thinking I was so glad I was never one of the summer interns that lived in these rooms. Don't get me wrong. I'm sure once they were cleaned up, they were quite serviceable.
Luckily we were able to latch onto to some great folks who actually have done this a few times and were eager to do all the stuff we see on TV, letting us observe. There were people conducting EVP (electronic voice phenomenon) sessions where they were asking questions aloud to try and identify any spirits in the area. The fun part is when you play back the recording and someone has answered back. I had the chance to observe my favorite, what I call the Flashlight Game. Basically, you set out a flashlight that twists on and off. The flashlight is set to were it is almost turned on but not quite, and it is set down. Questions are asked aloud and the spirit is invited to indicate their answer by turning the flashlight on and off. Cassidy was along for this location and it was interesting to observe her and hear her take on the location.
The main drawback was that the park was still open. I found it challenging to accept any finding as "paranormal" when dozens of screaming children were playing Whack-A-Mole nearby downstairs and running amok, causing vibrations on the floors where we were working.
Site #2: The Ballroom
Since my sister asked, no, Slimer wasn't there, circling the chandelier. This spot had shadow activity reported. At this point, I was getting really tired. So I sat and observed. The park was just closing. As an added bonus, there were fireworks. Also, the ballroom was situated near the lake, and boats cast lights and shadows into the area. I was getting punchy at this point and asked DH if he thought ghosts could see fireworks and if so, if they liked them. At some point we were supposed to switch off to other areas of the ballroom with other little groups, but that never happened. Again, I need parental supervision because I sat this one out.
Site #3: The Cabin
The park has a number of buildings for people to rent while they stay at the park, an alternative to the handful of motels in the area. It makes it nice when entire extended families go to the park together. There is one cabin in particular that used to be the home of one of the park workers. I believe this was Harold's cabin (if I have this wrong, someone please let me know). The story goes that Harold was a long time employee of the park and still hangs out there. Since this was a working cabin, complete with beds, chairs and sofas, this was the most comfortable location to observe.
Two notable events occurred here. First, I lost my husband. Sigh, I know. The building was barely 500 square feet, but it did form an interior circle. And it was dark. At some point, he found a chair and sat down. So there I was, fumbling around in the dark, apologizing to everyone's session I was stomping through. Trust me, it's difficult to be observant when some idiot is tripping through, saying, "Pardon me. Excuse me. Oof. Sorry about your foot. Coming through ..." It wasn't terribly long before I found him. Just long enough to start getting that uncomfortable feeling. And thinking I watch entirely too much tv. I found him sitting in the chair. "Hi." He had a big cheesy smile, waving like a little kid at me. To which I replied, "You're such a dork." At this point, the poor guy sitting behind me at the opposite end of hall, who had front row seats to the whole thing, burst out laughing.
I avoided the creepy basement.
The second thing wasn't paranormal at all, but it was one of my favorite things. Steve joined our group and we all ended up in the living room area, talking. People were sharing their experiences both that night and previously. Some asked questions. Others told stories. A few had worked at the park as a teenager and had legends to share. I had the chance to ask about something I'd been curious about for years - whether the area by the old Belle Gunness home was considered haunted or if anyone had investigated the area. Turns out there is a new(er) home on the property and the current owners do not want people ghost hunting on their property. For those of you who don't know, in LaPorte County, a woman by the name of Belle Gunness moved here, married several times and when each groom outlived his usefulness, she killed them, chopping them up, burying them in the back yard. A relative of one of the husbands grew suspicious and started nosing around. Next thing, the house burned down and allegedly Belle perished in the fire, except the body found might not have been hers. Quite a few additional bodies were recovered buried in the yard as well. I don't know if the museum still has the same exhibit from my childhood, but there used to be an entire display dedicated to the ghoulish tale of one of first noted female serial killers, complete with an axe and a piece of wood splashed with red paint. Great school field trip for the kiddies.
Here's where I wimped out. Next up was the farmhouse, off-site. It was around midnight, 12:30ish. We had just a handful of hours of sleep the night before. The heat during the convention was draining. To top it all off, I did not make the best food choices throughout the day. I am diabetic and at this point I was hot, tired and my blood sugar levels were all to crap. I made the call to call it a night. There was no way I could do one more location with any sense of consciousness and still drive home safely (again, should have booked a hotel room). I can't do Monsters or Redbull and caffeine has a limited effect on me. So with great disappointment, I let Dorothy know we would not be going on with the group to the farmhouse and said goodbye. She was very sweet and gave us both hugs goodbye.
Here is what I learned. I went into this thinking I have an overactive imagination (hello, writer). What I found out is that I am a skeptic. While I did not experience the heebie jeebies, I probably would if I came across something leaning towards the unexplained. The topic of ghosts and the paranormal is endlessly fascinating to me and I would do it again in heart beat. There may be a few ghost hunts in my future.
A huge thank you to all who attended, participated, and organized the convention. A part of me wishes more had taken part in the event to make it a huge success in the eyes of the organizers. The selfish part of me is glad it was exactly the way it was, allowing me the thrill of getting to close and actually speaking with a number of people I think so highly of.
As always, if I got something wrong, please let me know so facts can be corrected.
The premise of In Search Of, was a mystery of the week. UFOs, Big Foot, the Bermuda Triangle, Amelia Earhart and of course, Ghosts. Little wonder then that I am fascinated by such mysteries as an adult.
I was on vacation this past week, kinda one of those stay-cations I've heard about. I accomplished absolutely nothing. Well, part of that was a stomach bug that hit me mid-week, but really the only thing I did was laundry and watch an entire season of Pretty Little Liars. I'm sure I'll have more to say about PLL another time.
So Friday and Saturday Dear Husband and I drove north to the thriving metropolis of Monticello IN, home of the local amusement park Indiana Beach, Lakes Shafer and Freeman, and the Shafer Queen. Side note, the Indiana Beach slogan is "There Is More Than Corn In Indiana." Yep. I live here, and I while I can tell you that is true, it's not by much in this part of the state. Unless you want to drive a bit, then Lafayette and Indy have some attractions.
Despite the endless cornfields of the area, they managed to put together a Paranormal Convention, held at the Brandywine Hotel and Conference Center. Its main focus was to bring awareness to a charity called Lost Limbs Foundation, great organization dedicated to providing financial assistance to families of children who need medical and prosthetic assistance.
This event was first brought to my attention by a Facebook and Twitter post from Jim Beaver, one of my favorite human beings on the planet. Yes, I met him and I still feel that way. He's a great guy. Not only did he play Bobby Singer on my favorite TV show on the planet Supernatural, but he is an author, film critic and historian, and expert on Superman.
Jim kindly posted a link to the convention info and much to my delight, this was nearly in my backyard. Monticello is only about an hour away from my house. Yay!
Then I noticed Steve Gonsalves from Ghost Hunters was going to be there. Be still my beating heart. I've been a fan of Ghost Hunters since the first episode nine seasons ago. I love the fact that they are less "woo woo" and more about trying to find logical explanations for things. What can't be explained is then investigated as a possible paranormal event.
As an added bonus, there was a ghost hunt. At Indiana Beach. At night. Nope, nothing creepy about that.
So this is how it went.
Friday night was the VIP party. DearHusband and I headed that way as soon as he returned home from work. My sister watched the dogs, so we were good to go.
First bonus - front row parking at the hotel. Woo Hoo!
The convention was held in a gymnasium. In the summer. In Indiana. So basically it was hot and humid even indoors. Good times. I'm hoping I lost a few pounds along the way. I had dehydration cramps only once.
VIP party. For those of you who have never been to one, they are the best way to meet famous people without fighting your way through hundreds if not thousands of other fans. If you have the chance and the money, DO IT. It's fun in a totally fangirl kinda way.
Honestly, this was my first one. I had no idea what to expect, how to dress, or if we were getting fed. So of course I tried to wear something middle of the road. A summer sweater was NOT the way to go. And I made my husband wear long pants vs. the shorts he wanted to wear. I'm still hearing about that one.
We enter the gym and promptly meet Mike Couch, founder of the Lost Limbs Foundation. Very nice guy. He immediately made me feel better about not having any idea of what I was doing or where I was going. And I got to meet his mom, who was helping out at the desk. I love when families help out together.
And so we go in and sit. We say hi to our fellow VIPers and exchange pleasantries. I notice most are dressed cooler than I am. Then they start to arrive.
Eep.
Honestly, I do not remember who arrived first. I was in full-blown fangirl mode by this time. I was hanging onto my folding chair like a small child spying on Santa Claus.
There was a lady standing behind me that was speaking to her friends. When she turned around and saw Jim, I believe her words were, "Oh My God, It's Jim Beaver. I ... Can't ... Aaahh...!" I was so glad I wasn't the only one.
Then we were mingling.
We said hello to Jim Beaver first. After all, he was main reason I wanted to go and it was his post that told me about the event being in my area. Super great guy to talk to. We spoke for about 10 minutes. I have no idea what we talked about. And yet it was still awesome.
Then people started getting photos taken. My husband and I both got pictures with Jim.
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| DH and Jim |
(Sorry for the blurriness.)
Next we cornered Steve Gonsalves and Josh Gates.
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| Steve, me and Josh |
I remember that they had the longest line :)
At this point, I had to go to the car. I left my good camera and a bag with two books for autographs in the back seat. Because I just didn't know. When I returned, it was time for the official part to begin. Dorothy Salvo Davis was the Event Coordinator and introduced Mike, followed by each of the special guests.
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| Josh and Steve |
Now since no good party is complete without cake, we celebrated Jim and Josh's birthdays. The cakes were really cool. Jim's Beatle's cake even tasted amazing. If anyone knows how to contact the baker of these cakes, please let me know. I need to thank him/her personally.
Since I wasn't done stalking Jim yet, I had him sign my copy of his book, Life's That Way. It is an amazing book. Read it, if you can. My sister was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma last year, and I read it when I was looking for anything I could get my hands on to try and get a handle on things. Jim asked how she is doing. When I told him she kicked it in the butt and is on the verge of an all clear, he gave a little jump of celebration. It meant a lot to me.
Through the rest of the night, we met the rest of the special guests, including members of the ghost hunting team going on the hunt Saturday night. The group is the Wabash Paranormal Research Society, lead by James Holsclaw. I could not wait to go there.
We met Cassidy Rae, who I instantly adored. We spoke with her several minutes before I know two things. 1. She is young. Like younger than my kid young. And 2. She is a medium.
I've never met a medium before. I've been curious, but never either made the effort or found the time. I tend to be a little less on the "woo woo" side of things, but I do believe some people have that talent. No crystal balls, dramatic voice inflections or chicken feet. To my relief, she appeared to be every bit your average teenager. Who just happened to see dead people. I would love to see her again.
As an added bonus, the Mystery Machine was there. A real, live van done up just like the one in the Scooby Doo cartoon and actually used for promotional gigs by Hanna Barbera. I have to admit, that was a fun addition.
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The whole gang. Josh Gates, Jim Beaver, Cassidy Rae, Mike Couch,
Phil Summers and Steve Gonsalves.
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| Here's Josh with his designated driver, Scooby. |
Then it was time to rest up because Saturday was going to be a long day. How long, I had no idea. But I'll get to it.
Here's a tip. Even if it's local, spring for the hotel. I live an hour away and that was too far.
Saturday.
After falling into bed about 1 AM (our fault - we were wired from the VIP party), we were back up at the convention center at 10 AM. There were raffles for door prizes, of which I promptly won one. Turns out I won an item that I sell at the store where I work. DH and I got a good laugh out of it.
There was a vendor area and concessions. There were ghost hunter groups, authors, autographs for the special guests and a few others. Fun find: The Crawfordsville Jail had a group there and the jail is notorious for not only being haunted but the fact that John Dillinger escaped from there. Yeah, I'm going to have to go on the tour.
Next were the special guest presentations. First up, Lost Limbs founder Mike Couch.
You can not help but admire anyone that finds something to be passionate about and then does something with it. Having a prosthetic himself, he is only too aware of the emotional and financial burden that comes with the process. The fund's mission "is to provide financial assistance to the families of amputee children who are in need of medical and prosthetic assistance." For an adult, a prosthetic leg can cost around $60,000. Rarely is it a one time event. With children, they are still growing and there are often medical issues to deal with on an ongoing basis.
So yeah. A good cause to become involved in. Especially with Boston still lingering in everyone's hearts and minds and bringing it all home.
The panels were a lot of fun, despite the heat and the acoustics of the racketball court. Most were a lot of personal anecdotes from their experiences and it was well balanced with Q&A from the audience. It was small, intimate and I sincerely hope everyone felt it was a great way to get up close and personal with these great guests. I've been to a few conventions now and this just doesn't happen. Yeah, I'm talking to you, Supernatural Chicago Con. I love you, but I could never have had a conversation about Chicago style pizza with Jensen Ackles like I did with Jim. Ok, I'd still like to give it a shot, but I won't hold my breath.
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| Josh Gates |
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| Cassidy Rae |
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| Jim Beaver |
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| Steve Gonsalves |
Ok, time for a ghost hunt.
After grabbing a bit to eat of real food (sorry, but the concession stand of hot dogs, nachos and popcorn wasn't cutting it), those of us going on the hunt assembled in the parking lot of the hotel and caravanned our way over to Indiana Beach. The idea was to break our semi-large group into three smaller, more manageable group and visit four different locations, three at the park and a fourth off site.
First, let me clarify something. The hunt itself does not mean Indiana Beach is haunted. It simply means that there have been some reports of some unexplained events. Any place that has been around for some time is going to have a history. For Pete's sake, there is nothing demonic going on (that I know of). It's a family place. Honestly, I was surprised that the hunt was going to take place on the grounds. I did a little (ok, very little) amateur sleuthing online and did not see anything that jumped out saying, "Oooo. This place is haunted." There are a lot of other locations in the area that are a whole lot better known for paranormal activity. In fact, I had joked with my boss that the only thing I could imagine finding was the ghost of all the money parents lost to their kids playing games in the arcade, or the giant carp in the lake big enough to swallow a small child whole.
I admit it. I made a crack about Carpnado. It was timely. Seriously, after years of scarfing down popcorn, some of those fish are freakishly large.
Site #1: The Hotel/Rooms/Dormatory Area
First thing I learned: I need parental supervision. Sure, you watch eight, nine seasons of people ghost hunting and you think you know what you are doing. In my case, nothing could be further from the truth. So there we, armed with our mini LED flashlights and me with my TAPS app on my phone and I was completely clueless. I stomped around dark hallways, peering curiously at mounds of debris, looking for cold spots, checking for EMF spikes, thinking I was so glad I was never one of the summer interns that lived in these rooms. Don't get me wrong. I'm sure once they were cleaned up, they were quite serviceable.
Luckily we were able to latch onto to some great folks who actually have done this a few times and were eager to do all the stuff we see on TV, letting us observe. There were people conducting EVP (electronic voice phenomenon) sessions where they were asking questions aloud to try and identify any spirits in the area. The fun part is when you play back the recording and someone has answered back. I had the chance to observe my favorite, what I call the Flashlight Game. Basically, you set out a flashlight that twists on and off. The flashlight is set to were it is almost turned on but not quite, and it is set down. Questions are asked aloud and the spirit is invited to indicate their answer by turning the flashlight on and off. Cassidy was along for this location and it was interesting to observe her and hear her take on the location.
The main drawback was that the park was still open. I found it challenging to accept any finding as "paranormal" when dozens of screaming children were playing Whack-A-Mole nearby downstairs and running amok, causing vibrations on the floors where we were working.
Site #2: The Ballroom
Since my sister asked, no, Slimer wasn't there, circling the chandelier. This spot had shadow activity reported. At this point, I was getting really tired. So I sat and observed. The park was just closing. As an added bonus, there were fireworks. Also, the ballroom was situated near the lake, and boats cast lights and shadows into the area. I was getting punchy at this point and asked DH if he thought ghosts could see fireworks and if so, if they liked them. At some point we were supposed to switch off to other areas of the ballroom with other little groups, but that never happened. Again, I need parental supervision because I sat this one out.
Site #3: The Cabin
The park has a number of buildings for people to rent while they stay at the park, an alternative to the handful of motels in the area. It makes it nice when entire extended families go to the park together. There is one cabin in particular that used to be the home of one of the park workers. I believe this was Harold's cabin (if I have this wrong, someone please let me know). The story goes that Harold was a long time employee of the park and still hangs out there. Since this was a working cabin, complete with beds, chairs and sofas, this was the most comfortable location to observe.
Two notable events occurred here. First, I lost my husband. Sigh, I know. The building was barely 500 square feet, but it did form an interior circle. And it was dark. At some point, he found a chair and sat down. So there I was, fumbling around in the dark, apologizing to everyone's session I was stomping through. Trust me, it's difficult to be observant when some idiot is tripping through, saying, "Pardon me. Excuse me. Oof. Sorry about your foot. Coming through ..." It wasn't terribly long before I found him. Just long enough to start getting that uncomfortable feeling. And thinking I watch entirely too much tv. I found him sitting in the chair. "Hi." He had a big cheesy smile, waving like a little kid at me. To which I replied, "You're such a dork." At this point, the poor guy sitting behind me at the opposite end of hall, who had front row seats to the whole thing, burst out laughing.
I avoided the creepy basement.
The second thing wasn't paranormal at all, but it was one of my favorite things. Steve joined our group and we all ended up in the living room area, talking. People were sharing their experiences both that night and previously. Some asked questions. Others told stories. A few had worked at the park as a teenager and had legends to share. I had the chance to ask about something I'd been curious about for years - whether the area by the old Belle Gunness home was considered haunted or if anyone had investigated the area. Turns out there is a new(er) home on the property and the current owners do not want people ghost hunting on their property. For those of you who don't know, in LaPorte County, a woman by the name of Belle Gunness moved here, married several times and when each groom outlived his usefulness, she killed them, chopping them up, burying them in the back yard. A relative of one of the husbands grew suspicious and started nosing around. Next thing, the house burned down and allegedly Belle perished in the fire, except the body found might not have been hers. Quite a few additional bodies were recovered buried in the yard as well. I don't know if the museum still has the same exhibit from my childhood, but there used to be an entire display dedicated to the ghoulish tale of one of first noted female serial killers, complete with an axe and a piece of wood splashed with red paint. Great school field trip for the kiddies.
Here's where I wimped out. Next up was the farmhouse, off-site. It was around midnight, 12:30ish. We had just a handful of hours of sleep the night before. The heat during the convention was draining. To top it all off, I did not make the best food choices throughout the day. I am diabetic and at this point I was hot, tired and my blood sugar levels were all to crap. I made the call to call it a night. There was no way I could do one more location with any sense of consciousness and still drive home safely (again, should have booked a hotel room). I can't do Monsters or Redbull and caffeine has a limited effect on me. So with great disappointment, I let Dorothy know we would not be going on with the group to the farmhouse and said goodbye. She was very sweet and gave us both hugs goodbye.
Here is what I learned. I went into this thinking I have an overactive imagination (hello, writer). What I found out is that I am a skeptic. While I did not experience the heebie jeebies, I probably would if I came across something leaning towards the unexplained. The topic of ghosts and the paranormal is endlessly fascinating to me and I would do it again in heart beat. There may be a few ghost hunts in my future.
A huge thank you to all who attended, participated, and organized the convention. A part of me wishes more had taken part in the event to make it a huge success in the eyes of the organizers. The selfish part of me is glad it was exactly the way it was, allowing me the thrill of getting to close and actually speaking with a number of people I think so highly of.
As always, if I got something wrong, please let me know so facts can be corrected.
Monday, August 12, 2013
It's Alive!
Blowing the dust off this thing. I need to keep writing.
So here's a recap.
Still married.
Kid is still in Texas.
DSister#2 was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma around March/April of last year. Went 1 round of chemo then radiation. Knocked it on its butt. Currently in a holding pattern. Blood work is looking good. One tiny spot of "activity". Awaiting next scan to see if she is done "cooking" yet. Crossing fingers that she is officially in remission.
Thing I didn't know: cancer can be gone, but there still be a tumor. Which she has. Which sucks because its in a tricky place.
Still have 3 dogs.
My sisters and I are participating in two fundraising walks to fund research for blood cancers this fall. If you have extra change in your couch that you want to give to a great cause, drop me a line.
Those are the basics.
More to come, because I just had a really neat weekend.
So here's a recap.
Still married.
Kid is still in Texas.
DSister#2 was diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma around March/April of last year. Went 1 round of chemo then radiation. Knocked it on its butt. Currently in a holding pattern. Blood work is looking good. One tiny spot of "activity". Awaiting next scan to see if she is done "cooking" yet. Crossing fingers that she is officially in remission.
Thing I didn't know: cancer can be gone, but there still be a tumor. Which she has. Which sucks because its in a tricky place.
Still have 3 dogs.
My sisters and I are participating in two fundraising walks to fund research for blood cancers this fall. If you have extra change in your couch that you want to give to a great cause, drop me a line.
Those are the basics.
More to come, because I just had a really neat weekend.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Long time, no see
Ok, four months between posts is not my idea of a good blog. Sorry, out there.
Truth is, not much exciting is happening. Work, eat, gave the dogs a haircut ... did you really want updates on those?
Truth is, not much exciting is happening. Work, eat, gave the dogs a haircut ... did you really want updates on those?
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