Chapter 1
Dedicated to that motley crew of mine, the Heartland Paranormal Facebook group…
“…hey, Nathan, how’s it going over at the UK’s haunts, huh?”
“Hey, one of my kids was just over there!”
“Really?”
“Yeah…Scotland…she didn’t say anything to me about any ghost stories or urban legends when she got back, though.”
“It’s the UK, Shae; your daughter must have not asked!”
Laughs…Bubbles of smiles, hearts, and thumbs up clutter the social media commentary section of the livestreaming video toward the bottom. Truncated exchanges scrolled in the same area.
“Ok, Chris…I think we’ve waited long enough for everyone to join in who wants to…Welcome, all, to another installation of the Rust Belt Paranormal! As promised, we’ve finally made it back to the grand, Paul Ruster State Park—”
“—And Cemetery!”
“—and Cemetery! Out in Indianapolis, Indiana…Now, this installment is more for the boots on the ground, as it were, since Chris and I had done more of the homework part of the investigation that last time we were here.”
“ ’Sup, Clair!...Montel…Bagsie…wow, they’re coming out of the woodworks for tonight’s investigation, Shae!”
“Awesome-toast…Ok, so, you already have the foundation of what we’re—looking for? Searching for…?”
“What’s the difference, Bro?”
“We’ll, to me, if we’re looking for something—that’s your keys. You know you have house and car keys that you use every day and you know that you usually put them by your microwave…out here, we don’t know if we’ll find John’s spirit…”
Iconic handclaps…bubbles of thumbs up and stylized smiling, yellow caricatures—whoz John?
“Oh—hey, Maxine; welcome to the Group, by the way…like Shae said before, some weeks ago we came here for our prelim’ research. Little boy named John W. King is said to have been hit by a train out in this area of the woods back in 1893…”
“Yeah, and if any of you, sisters and brothers, start hearing someone blowing away at a harmonica, seriously, dude, message us like crazy and we’ll get it on tape!”
“And our equipment—”
“—and our equipment. I guess part of the folklore is, he must’ve liked playing a harmonica. That’s when you know you’ve affirmed a sighting! One last thing, and I guess we should be a little more serious here…”
“…What…? The—oh…”
“Since we first came out here weeks ago as a team, there was a body discovered here…”
Caricatures somber; some with tears…
“…here, as in, the woods. The article I read online about it didn’t go in too much details—cops probably still investigating the circumstances of the body.”
“So, we don’t know if said-body was a victim of foul play or a suicide?”
“—Or natural causes.”
“—yeah, that’s possible, too…”
Enchantments, prayers, and sad caricatures in bubbles and texts…
“Ok, Chris…let’s get this investigation going!”
“Ok…I’ve got the conjure boxes and the board. Just—”
“Chris…! Come on, man…the board?”
Deep-amber, frowning caricature faces bubble as a pearl necklace. Admonishing texts…
“Shae…seriously; let’s not do this now, please…I’ll, just—keep it in my satchel, ok? Alright…I’ll follow you—”
“—let’s put it to our sisters and brothers of the Community, Chris. Everyone, you know our social media rules and ethics from when you first signed up to join…this is one of those times when your posts mean the most! To be clear, I have no personal objections to them, but I try to make it a point to not bring Ouija boards to any of livestreaming investigations out of respect for those who do…should Chris bury the Ouija board, right now, into the wood’s grounds, or should we take the board with us—in case we decide to use it?”
“One minute—”
“And we’ll give you all one minute to vote!”
Bubble-storm of thumbs up, yellow smiling caricatures, iconographs of clapping hands…texts: Yes, yass, take w/, tread carefully…oui…
“Ok, Chris…the Rust Belt Paranormal Group hath thus spoken!”
“Always seems more official when you throw in some Latin—”
“Actually, that’s Old English, but…ok, we’re going in deeper toward the general area that’s believed where that poor kid-John King died…Chris, could I have one of those EVPs? Thanks, dude.”
“Since you have the ’VP, I’ll go ahead and put on that new app we tried out a couple of days ago.”
“You posted everything you did on that trial to our blogging page, right? That way everyone can just look it up whenever they want to—”
“For sure, Shae…Shouts to Ellen out from Colorado…Esmond from Israel…Tosha from Ukraine…what’sup, Sudan!”
“Wait…!”
“Ok, everything’s running, Shae…just need to know why we’re stopping so soon?”
???; shrugging caricatures; texts reading, What’sup guys? Problem? What’s going on? Uh oh…
“Shae, man, what’s the word up there…?”
“Ok…no bs’ing, ok?”
“Alright! What’s wrong—”
“Check your satchel…”
??! Confused caricatures. No bubbles…
“…my…my Ouija board’s gone! I better go back—”
“Chris…it’s right in front of me…”
An explosion of warnings and entreaties!
“Shae—we’re going. Now!”
“Wait! How do we know you didn’t leave it here by accident—”
“Three weeks ago, Shae? And besides, I’m the one who packed it into my satchel…let’s go, Mr. Brown!”
“Ok, but I don’t feel comfortable leaving it out in a public park where others could be exposed—”
“I’ll contact my shaman-friend! Let’s go…”
“Yeah…I’m here behind you…”
Wait…that sound too young to be Shae! Huh? Oh…I didn’t know either of you has a younger brother!
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