31 Ghosts – Day 22: The Winery

Last night I bartendered for a venue I’ve worked at a number of times. The winery is off of 101, north of Cloverdale up where the freeway devolves into a curvy highway of rolling hills. Coming into town the road narrows and late at night you’d reasonably expect a story about a phantom hitchhiker — this isn’t that story.

I’m not going to say the name of the winery or the town that it’s just outside of, but suffice it to say it’s a fairly notable destination with not just vineyard and a tasting room but sprawling grounds, restored barns, orchards, and even a demonstration kitchen overlooking a pond on the property. You can understand why it’s sought-after for a destination winery wedding even if it’s outside of the traditional Napa/Sonoma region. The grounds are situated just east of the still-tiny Russian River, not too far from its source and were originally part of the land the Pomo Indians inhabited until the Governor of Alta California, Manuel Micheltorena, granted the huge swath to Fernando Feliz in 1844. The Pomo name for the lush valley meant “sweat lodge” because the area held special significance in their spiritual life. For that reason alone, it’s thought that some of the Pomo never left the Sanel Valley. While the Pomo generally lived too far north of the northern-most Spanish Mission in Sonoma to fall under their capture, err, I mean forced conversion and coerced labor, once Feliz took control of the valley he put an end to the Pomo’s use of their ancestral spirit land.

Once you pull off the main road, the driveway winds through vineyards until you reach the main parking lot. From there, it’s a short walk to the tasting room and main barns on the property. Beyond that, though, are a series of lush gardens and orchards. Paths run through the endangered apple and pear orchards as well as the lavender garden, and skirt the vegetable garden, out to a walnut orchard. Within the gardens is a small bar that wedding planners often use for a post-ceremony cocktail hour before guests saunter through another apple orchard to a Tuscan-style garden with pergola and open lawn that’s perfect for dancing. The orchards and gardens are dense, expertly maintained, and absolutely Edenic… while the sun is up.

After the last call and the DJ plays “Don’t Stop Believing,” or “Sweet Caroline” guests almost always file out to a waiting party bus to take them to either an after party or their hotel accommodations – usually bypassing the dark and now-foreboding gardens. Then it’s cleanup and breakdown and the florist vans, rental furniture trucks, and the catering trucks eventually depart. The last of us to leave would wander through the dark, unlit paths of the garden in pairs, if we’re lucky, or more often in my case, alone.

While convenient around the house, nothing demonstrates the utter inadequacy of iPhone flashlights by utter consuming darkness.

My first time working the venue I was tasked with breaking down the cocktail bar in the heart of the dark orchards while the guests danced in the Tuscan garden only a hundred yards away. They might as well have been on the moon. I positioned my iPhone flashlight to be as useful as possible for packing up the glassware and mixers, the light swallowed up beyond my little area. I heard someone coming up the main path, their gait slow but certain moving on the gravel. Despite the warm night, the cicadas in the immediate vicinity fell silent, their buzz replaced by the distant drone of the DJ, sounding even more remote by the immediate lack of noise – except for the footfalls of the visitor coming up the path. I looked up from the little bar and couldn’t see anything beyond the wan light of my phone. I picked it up and shone it as far as it could illuminate the pathway, succeeding mostly in casting eerie shadows of the low overhanging branches and leaves. Empty. I went so far as to take a few tentative steps out of the bar area to throw the flashlight beam further down the pathway – the lane the footfalls had come from just moments before remained bereft of any visible guest. I retreated to my bar and kept working, but now I could feel someone watching me. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, but the fear of chastisement over an unfinished job overrode my fear of an unseen visitor, so I put it out of my head and doubled my efforts to get out of there. A few minutes later I heard footsteps from the direction of the music and moments later one of my coworkers appeared out of the orchard. “Need some help?” “You have no idea.”

Talking to one of the servers, she recounted a time leaving the garden when she distinctly heard footsteps behind her. She stopped, the footsteps stopped. She shone her phone’s light behind her to reveal no one. But the footsteps continued to follow her just out of sight. She started running, and the footsteps receded… and then gained on her. Tired from working, but terrified she picked up the pace and flat sprinted the distance to the welcome lights of the barns. Another coworker said she ended taking a wrong turn and getting lost for twenty minutes in the garden pathways. Despite leaving quite some time after her, I arrived at the parking lot just as she finally managed to get to her car, visibly shaken.

Just last night the guests all occupied themselves on the dancefloor and I had a moment of peace at my bar. But again, that feeling of someone watching me came over me. I turned around… and someone was there – one of the property managers. I laughingly told her I felt someone behind me, and I mentioned that I’ve often felt that in the gardens after dark. She didn’t laugh at that. She recalled a number of different instances of errant guests in the dark catching glimpses of unexplained shadows, or hearing footsteps from empty pathways like I heard. She went on to explain some reports of white figures being spotted in the gardens occasionally. She explained that she locks up the kitchen by the pond after everyone else has left and then always takes a golf cart back to the barns – “I’ve heard and seen too much walking through that orchard at night. I’d much rather go around in the golf cart and leave whatever is in there alone.”

I welcome the next time I work the venue because, from a practical standpoint, it remains one of the best thought-out locations in terms of flow. Also, I’ve upgraded to bringing a bright LED gooseneck light for cleanup and a high-lumen flashlight for the long lonely walk out. But I know that even if I don’t see anyone,  I never walk the dark garden paths completely alone.

31 Ghosts – Day 21: Spare a Moment?

Keeping it short on Saturdays!

“Pardon me, sir? Are you from around here? I’m a bit lost…” the young woman asked Dave.

Dave looked at his watch anxiously, then at the light about to change. If he hurried he could still make it on time…

“Sir? Please?”

He spared a glance and saw a woman who looked vaguely familiar. In her winter coat and pants he couldn’t quite place the blonde hair or the smooth skin, but the eyes were the same blue flecked with gold he remembered from his mother. In hindsight, that’s probably why he responded.

“Yes, where are you looking for?” Behind him he heard the screech of tires and a car careened directly behind him and slammed into a parked car just mere feet away with an explosion of shattered glass and crumpled metal.

He looked at the skid marks and instantly knew if he hadn’t turned around to talk to the woman he would have been directly in the cars path. He turned to the woman and she was completely gone.

31 Ghosts – Day 20: Ghostbluster, Part 2

If you missed part 1, it’s right here

“…Then the bed seriously levitated two feet off the floor,” Karen took a sip of her second dirty martini.

“Oh my God,” Ming said, “And you’re telling us you weren’t scared?”

“No, I was definitely scared. I was scared the bastard wound dent the hardwood when he inevitably dropped the bed. Which, of course, he did.”

“Kar, seriously, why don’t you listen to him and move out?” Louise asked. “He gave you, what? A week? And you’ve been there more than a month.”

“Six hard fought weeks,” Karen corrected then finished her drink in a big swallow and signaled the bartender for another.

“Okay, six weeks – that’s longer than even the month you said he gave you originally. You won. Why don’t you take that victory and walk away while you have your sanity and your life?”

“Because… It’s my goddamn house, Louise. You know how hard I worked to afford my own place. I’m not going to leave just because some ghost wants me to.”

“Umm, some verified homicidal demon ghost.”

“Thank you, Ming,” Karen nodded and took her martini from the bartender, “just because some homicidal demon ghost.”

“Just so we’re both,” Louise gestured to Ming and herself, “on record saying this is a monumentally shitty idea, yeah?”

“Duly noted,” Karen nodded.

* * *

Ming pulled her Mustang to the curb in front of the Dale house. She could see a light wink on in an upstairs bedroom. She craned her neck and leaned over Karen just in time to see the curtain peel back and the sharp features of an older man peer out. “Oh my God, I think he saw me,” she shrieked, flattening herself against her chair.

“Ming, you’re good. He’s only got eyes for me. Glowing red demon eyes, but…”

“Karen,” Ming turned in her chair to face the other woman, “You don’t have to stay here. Why don’t you come stay at my place tonight? Then… I don’t know, we could look for a place to live together – you can leave this place. It’ll be like college!”

“You have a selective memory. You forget we almost killed each other after two weeks. I’m a tough person to live with,” she smiled. “Right now I’m being John Dale’s pain in the ass,” she shrugged. “…And vice versa,” she amended as she turned to regard the house through the window. The curtain dropped back in front of the upstairs window and the light upstairs went out. She picked up her purse and opened the car door and squinted against the dome light flooding the cabin with yellow light. “Thank you, Ming,” Karen turned and smiled. “I really appreciate the sentiment. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Ming said, then added, “leave the lights on.”

“I wish that helped,” Karen closed the door. She opened the mailbox, took out a handful of envelopes and closed the little door. She turned and walked up the walkway to the front door as Ming started off. She wasn’t even at the door and she could feel the negative energy of the place wash over her. She sighed then put her hand on the door knob (she didn’t bother locking up – she had the greatest alarm system imaginable).

She turned the knob and pushed the door open. She had barely a moment to dodge the bloody corpse swinging on the noose towards her. More casually than one would think possible, she stepped inside as the lifeless corpse swung back inside. She pressed the light switch button as she dropped her keys in the bowl on the small table next to the door. She timed the swinging of the lifeless body to close the door. On the backswing, the body came to a stop against the door with a sickly wet thud.

“A little welcome home gift,” Dale called down from the top of the stairs.

“You’re too kind,” Karen said without looking up. She flipped through the mail as she asked, “Friend of yours?”

“Ah, no, friend of yours!” he replied menacingly.

“You know, Dale, you really missed the mark by not having a mustache to twirl menacingly.” For the first time she looked up at the corpse dangling and saw it was Ming’s mutilated body. Panic started to course through her veins, but she instantly and deliberately put the kibosh on that feeling. “Nice trick,” she said flatly. “If I hadn’t seen Ming leave a moment ago I might have bought it.”

“Shit,” he said, starting down the stairs. “I knew I should have used Louise instead. But she’s got that particular bump in her nose, you know? That’s really hard to capture in a convincing corpse.”

“Her Dirty Dancing Jennifer Gray nose?” Karen nodded. “And you’d best not mention that to her because she’d go all exorcist on your ass for that. Seriously, though,” Karen studied the faux-Ming corpse, “If you disfigured the face a bit more I’m sure you could get around the bump.”

Dale stood opposite her and regarded the body, “Yes, but it’s a fine line – too much and you wouldn’t recognize her and where’s the shock then?”

“Good point,” Karen said, taking an object from her purse before hanging the purse on one of the set of hooks above the door side table. “I got you something, too.”

“Oh?” He waved a hand and the corpse, noose and all, dissolved into a puddle of ectoplasm.

“You might remember this,” she said and held up a gnarled stick with a small circular drum attached to the end. The drum was covered by some hide yellowed with age, sinew cord zig-zagging the circumference holding the skin taught.

Dale’s eyes went wide and he took an involuntary step backward. “Where the hell did you get that?!” he demanded.

“I had a meeting with a medicine man today,” she said and experimentally twisted the stick causing some beads inside the drum to rattle.

The effect on Dale was immediate; he didn’t move across the room as he instantly appeared on the other side of the room. “Put that thing away. You do not know what you’re holding!”

“Actually, I do,” she said, cradling the drum in both hands careful not to rattle it. “According to my new Miwok friend, it’s an artifact of profound evil. Enemy of my enemy, and all that…”

“You have no idea!” Dale started up the stairs.

“No, really I do,” she nodded emphatically. “You want to stay upstairs tonight then?”

Halfway up the stairs, Dale stared down on her, “You keep that foul monstrosity down there and I’ll stay up here tonight. Deal?”

“Sweet dreams,” she smiled crossing to the couch as she rattled the drum a little more. Dale let out a squeal then disappeared upstairs. Karen slid out of her wedges, sat on the couch, delicately set the drum on the coffee table and reached for the comforter draped over one arm of the couch. She reflected on the danger of the artifact as she undid the clasp of her bra, kicked her feet up on the couch, pulling a pillow under her head and drawing the comforter over her. The drum, she knew, was a calculated risk – and a temporary one at that. She’d have to return it tomorrow. But that was tomorrow and for now she closed her eyes and slept the most luxurious night so far in her house.

* * *

Karen let the warm water sluice over her and reached for her poof and body wash. Before she had time to lather up the poof, the hot water turned to blood. “You asshole,” she yelled out of the shower. She couldn’t hear his self-satisfied laughter over the rush of the blood shower, but she imagined she could hear it. She fought her gag reflex back, telling herself the blood was just an illusion. She lathered up the poof and forced herself to start soaping herself up with the blood water. After a few minutes her effort paid off and the blood turned back to water – though she knew intellectually it was always water.

She toweled off and crossed out to her room, opening a dresser drawer for her underwear. That’s when the cobra shot out at her face, fangs bared. Karen turned just enough to let the reptile shoot past her face. Karen knew it would disappear as soon as it left her sight. She pulled on her jeans and top then moved back to the bathroom to do her makeup. Closing the mirror of the medicine cabinet she stared at her face, but aged, wrinkled and cracking like dried mud. She sighed at the sight as her nose cracked and fell into the sink. “So it’s going to be that kind of a morning, jerkface?” This time she did hear his laughter as she looked at her mummy face. “Natural look today, then.” She said.

“No makeup today?” Dale tsked at the foot of the stairs, hand on the banister. He shook his head admonishingly as she started down the stairs, “Not very ladylike, are you?”

Karen came even with him at the base of the stairs without saying a word. She met his gaze and exchanged a stare. Without breaking the gaze, she smoothly withdrew the dagger from her back pocket and stabbed it through Dale’s hand, pinning it to the banister. He bellowed in pain as she walked past him and took up her purse and keys. “Blessed obsidian dagger, bitch,” she said and left him cursing after the closed door.

* * *

Karen pulled into the driveway and regarded the shadow that darted past her headlight. For a moment, she thought Dale was up to something. No, she was outside of the house. This wasn’t Dale’s work. For the first time in months she really was scared. She reached into her purse and took out the pepper spray and pulled out the safety ring. With a deep breath, she pulled her keys out of the ignition taking the keys between her clenched knuckles, claw-like. She pushed the car door open scanning the space ahead of her for the shadow she saw when she pulled in.

That’s when she felt the sharp cold steel press against her neck. “Drop the pepper spray, bitch,” the voice said into her ear. She steeled herself as she tossed the canister onto the seat of the car.

“Take my wallet. Just let me go,” she said as steady as she could manage.

The second man stepped out from in front her car – the shadow she’d seen earlier. “We’re gonna take your wallet, bitch,” he said moving close to her. “And we’re going to have some fun, too.” He looked around and motioned to the man holding the knife, “Let’s take this bitch back here behind the house.”

Karen fought back panic as the knife-man maneuvered her around the car and towards the lightless yard behind the house and blocked from the street by the detached garage. She remembered something from an old Oprah episode or was it a This American Life podcast? Try to humanize them, she recalled. “Look guys,” she started, “You don’t have to do this…”

“Oh, yeah, we do,” the man without the knife said. “Hold her,” he said starting to unbuckle his belt. Then he froze.

The knife at Karen’s throat fell to the ground as she heard a sickening crack. Without the knife, she spun with her key-fist ready, but the lifeless body of her attacker collapsed to the ground. Behind him stood a man in tight black trousers and a red jacket over a tan vest with glowing red eyes.

The other attacker started backing away, but he shouldn’t have bothered. In a heartbeat he slammed against the side of the house, his feet dangling two feet off the ground as his hands clawed at the invisible hand pinning him there.

“You’re a terrible person,” Dale said, walking towards the struggling man. “I mean she’s halfway evil,” he gestured behind him at Karen, “but you and your compatriot…. You’re truly terrible. I want you to see this,” he said, turning towards the prone body of the knife-man.

His form twitched… no, not his body… a glowing shadow in the shape of his body twitched and stood up. Karen could see through his translucent body to her car behind. His spirit slowly stood up and regarded his corpse, silently mouthing “What the…?” The spirit looked up catching sight of Dale.

“Mine,” Dale said simply. The man’s spirit swirled into a shower of bluish sparks. Dale pointed at the ground in front of his feet and the sparks streaked down into the earth. Dale looked back at the man pinned to the wall, his face a mask or terror. “His soul is mine. And now,” he swirled his hand again, and blue sparks coursed out of the man against the wall. As the lights exited his body he sagged against the invisible hand. “So are you,” Dale gestured at his feet again and the earth absorbed the streaming sparks of the other man’s soul. Dale turned towards Karen and the invisible hand released letting the lifeless body  fall to the ground with a thud.

Dale extended a hand to Karen, “Are you okay?”

Karen regarded his hand. “You’re just going to do the same to me – if not now, then maybe tomorrow, or in a week, or a month,” she said flatly, defeat in her voice.

Dale smiled a genuine smile. “I meant it when I said earlier that you were halfway evil. That’s pretty much the best compliment you’ll ever get from me.”

“So?”

He sighed, “You intrigue me, Karen. I’ve never encountered a human like you. You’ve done more than purchase this house, you’ve earned it.”

“What?”

“Oh, don’t think I’m going anywhere – and don’t think I won’t continue to fuck with you. But I’m not going to let these…” he sought the word, “Lesser beings mess with you.”

She stared at him.

“Please,” he said extending his hand again. “Let’s go inside.”

“Inside, like… the house, right? Because I’m not interested in that soul-disappearing-into-earth thing.”

“Our house.”

Karen took his hand.