#ghost river brewing company

[inthecityofgoodabode]

April 2023: Beer, Wild Flowers & New Land

A lot of folks from many different cultures, faiths & traditions are celebrating this weekend as something special. For all of you, I hope the divine grants you peace & prosperity but, above all, wisdom & forbearance. For those who see this a just another weekend, I wish the same.

Cheers!: 

Seen while walking: 

On this week’s episode of dog toy or sex toy...: 

Free range chickens. That rooster crowed every time I passed by letting me know not to mess with his harem: 

This blackberry bush has been mowed down so many times that it starts blossoming & trying to set fruit at three inches or so tall. A reminder that just because something is surviving doesn’t mean it’s thriving: 

Second strawberry of 2023: 

We got good news this week. The guy in the plot next to us gave up this year so we were able to pick up Plot 419 in addition to Plot 420. We spent Easter getting the fencing expanded to incorporate Plot 419. For future posts, I will refer to the combined plots as Plot 420 out of tradition: 

[starsofang]

Change of Heart

hitman!ghost x f!reader / part 3

previous part

tw: alcohol use, brief mentions of suicide, soft ghost <3

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you're too stubborn to bail out.

Day six.

You made it another day in your deal with Ghost, and it was supposed to feel good. The entire point was to prove to him and yourself that you didn’t want to die, that you could figure out the demons in your head and summon them out, but it was proving to be a much more difficult task than you thought.

Waking up on the morning of your sixth day didn’t feel all that good like you thought it would. Ghost hadn’t returned to your apartment since he stayed to see you make it to day five, and you weren’t sure when he was coming back.

It wasn’t clear why you were taking a liking to his company. Maybe you were lonely, maybe you just needed a friend, and he happened to be there in the right place at the right time.

The thought of it scared you, though. You hadn’t let anybody into your life since your ex-boyfriend, and you always preferred it that way – keeping a distance meant you wouldn’t get hurt again, and certainly, this masked man would eventually do the same thing to you if he decided to stick around.

You wanted to call the deal off. Not because you still wanted him to kill you, not because you wanted your life to end, but because you didn’t want to grow attached, just for you to not have a change of heart in the end.

It would be fucked up of you if you allowed a bond to form between you and Ghost, only to take it away through an act of death after the deal was up. That would just be plain selfish.

So, you tried distracting yourself instead.

It was a nice day today, and the weather, albeit chilly with that slight bite of cold wind, was an almost perfect excuse to take a night off and have fun by yourself in a bar. Surely, that doesn’t count as you going against Ghost’s deal of self-healing bullshit if it’s just for fun, right?

That’s exactly what led you to appear at a local bar downtown. Ironically, it was right down the street from the coffee shop where you first met Simon in the meeting to discuss your self-proclaimed suicide mission. You passed it on your walk to the bar, and a slight feeling of guilt tugged at your heartstrings as your eyes drifted to it, even as it was already behind you.

Shaking the guilt away, you continued on your journey along the sidewalk. There was no reason to feel guilty. You owed nothing to Ghost, and you were still technically keeping up your end of the bargain. A harmless night of fun was something you needed to shoo away those demons, at least that’s what you told yourself.

The bar wasn’t packed, which you didn’t mind. After all, it was only a Thursday night and most people had work the next morning. Lucky for you, that meant the bar wouldn’t take a long time for your drink orders, so you wasted no time in diving in, conversing with the bartender as the night went on.

About four drinks in, you could feel the weight of the alcohol lay heavy on your mind. It made things a bit hazy, like a brewing fog was beginning to loom over you. Your arms rested comfortably on the bar counter, head slightly bowed down as you attempted to keep yourself upright. Being an ex-alcoholic (you absolutely were not an ex, you just loved to float down the river of denial), alcohol was unpredictable in the way it affected your body.

Sometimes, it forced you to loosen up and have fun.

Other times, it made the weight of your issues much heavier.

Right now, it was an awkward middle, like your body was torn between wanting to enjoy this moment of serene relaxation, and wanting to plop right into bed and sleep your worries away, pretending they never existed in the first place.

The sound of somebody plunking themselves down on the stool next to you forced your head to lift, and when you came in sight of that damned mask, you wanted to stand up and let your legs lead you right to the bar’s exit.

Ghost sat unbothered, ordered himself a bourbon from the kind bartender. She flashed him a polite smile, throwing me a slight glance, and when you gave her a shrug, she left the two of you alone after retrieving Ghost’s drink.

“You a stalker now or something?” you grumbled in feigned annoyance, letting your head loll back down on the counter with a huff.

Ghost’s hand wrapped around the glass of bourbon while the other lifted his mask enough to reveal his mouth. You noticed instantly that he wasn’t wearing his gloves, and you stared at the littered scars on his hands as well as the veins that ran up from his knuckles and beneath the cuff of his hoodie sleeve.

Swallowing, you forced yourself to look away from them, opting on his eyes.

“Somethin’ like that,” he hummed, tipping the glass to his mouth to take a sip of the bitter alcohol. You wrinkled your nose up at it, not quite fond of dark liquor (though, who were you to be picky, seeing your collection of scattered bottles that consumed your home?).

“‘M not gonna kill myself, y’know,” you slurred out in defense, rolling your head so your cheek rested flat on the counter as you stared at him with what you hoped was perceived as disapproval.

“I know, love. Wouldn’t hire me if you were.”

Touche.

Frowning to yourself, you observed the way his lips parted to allow more of the murky liquor to pour into his mouth and down his throat, your eyes dropping to see his throat bob as he swallowed. The small scar on his lips caught your eye, and you couldn’t help but stare at it for a moment more, taking in the slight curve of it over his top lip, the scar tissue white in contrast to the light pinkess of his mouth.

“Why are you here?” you managed to ask, having to practically pry your eyes away from him.

The alcohol must’ve been getting to your brain too much, because you had the brief thought that he looked pretty. Gosh, half of his face was still covered by the mask, what was wrong with you?

“Went by your place. Saw you weren’t there.”

“You mean broke into my place,” you corrected, and you swore you nearly saw stars from the way his lip curled up in amusement.

“Mm. Maybe that,” he agreed with a careless shrug.

He leaned one of his arms on the counter, tilting his head in your direction. You could feel his eyes taking you in, studying you as always, as if you were a book he was analyzing every time he saw you. They stare at your cheeks, flushed from the alcohol. Your hair, which was lazily falling in your face from where your head lay. Your mouth, which was pulled into a mix of a frown and a pout that you clearly had no intentions of wiping off.

“Why are you here?” He repeated the question back to you, and you gave him the same shrug he had given you.

“I can’t have fun?”

“This fun to you?”

“...No.”

He chuckled out a laugh that rumbled you to the core, and you blinked stupidly at him as he downed the rest of the bourbon.

“Thought so, sweetheart. It’s a bit dingy in here, innit?”

You shifted your eyes to take in the bar, and sad to say, he was right. The bar itself wasn’t all that great, though you didn’t necessarily come because it was lavish. It was pretty old and outdated, with wooden counters, old floors, and stools that creaked under every movement. But hey, they had a pool table and a dart board, so it wasn’t all that bad.

“Maybe just a bit,” you sighed out, and he smiled at you.

“Right. So why are you here?” He asked again, and you stared at him for a moment before sighing again.

“Figuring myself out like you wanted me to,” you offered, and he raised an unimpressed eyebrow under the balaclava.

“Figurin’ yourself out with half a dozen vodka cranberries isn’t somethin’ I see as helpful. Weird choice in drink, by the way.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but promptly shut it, because damn it, vodka cranberries really weren’t all that good.

His fingers tapped mindlessly along the empty glass in front of him, and you found your gaze once again drifting to take in the rough pads of his fingers and healed cuts on the back of his hand. For a moment, a very, very brief moment, you wished you could reach out and take hold of it, just to feel what it was like to hold somebody else’s hand again.

It had been a long time since you’d had any sort of touch, both innocent and intimate, and your ex-boyfriend certainly wasn’t the type of man to hold your hand like delicate glass and place kisses along the back of it.

Ghost let out a long sigh through his nose as he took note of your mental absence. “That pretty head of yours is always runnin’ around.”

Pretty head. He always said that, and now, it caused a weird clench in your chest.

“You’re pretty,” you blurted out drunkenly, and when Ghost stared at you in silence, you prayed that the floor would open up and swallow you whole. Never in your life had something so embarrassing happened, and you weren’t even sure why you said that.

You’d met Ghost a total of three times, and it wasn’t under normal circumstances. Most people meet a man on dating apps or at a damn park where they accidentally bump into one another and have a moment of love at first sight. You met Ghost off of the fucking dark web.

“You’re pretty too, sweetheart.” He chuckled in amusement, seemingly unbothered by your sudden display of admiration, and you felt your cheeks warm.

You aggressively turned your head away from him, plopping your other cheek on the counter so you wouldn’t have to look at him. He made no move to stop you, which you were thankful for.

“Think it’s ‘bout time you start goin’ home and get yourself ready for day seven, yeah?”

Ghost’s voice sent a buzz through your already fuzzy body, and instead of protesting, you found yourself nodding despite him being unable to see your face.

Yeah, home sounded good. Your bed sounded good. Sleeping this shame off sounded good.

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, and when you felt a hand lightly rest on your shoulder, you picked your head up to look at him.

His mask was back over his mouth, but his eyes crinkled in a familiar smile as he gestured his head to the bar door.

Oh. He wanted to walk you.

You stood on legs of jelly, lightly swaying as you gained your balance. His hand reached out to grab hold of your elbow, and when you met his soft gaze, you felt small underneath it. Tall was what he was, towering over you, but instead of feeling intimidated like you did in your first meeting, you felt a wave of security.

Ghost had somehow knew you would be here, drinking away your sorrows, and he showed up with no judgment. Now he was offering to walk you to your apartment, even though he barely knew you.

Were hitmen always this sweet? Or was it just Ghost?

You let your mind run astray as he gently guided you out of the bar and on the sidewalk of downtown, keeping a light grip on you the entire way. No words were said, but none needed to be. The silence was comforting, and it allowed you your moment of serenity while you processed just how much this man was doing for you on his own free whim.

You expected Ghost to simply drop you off at your door and leave you to go inside, but when he fumbled with the doorknob and led you into your home, you realized he wasn’t that kind of asshole and he wanted to make sure you made it to bed instead of a heap on the floor.

His hand remained on your elbow as he took you to your room. The sight of your bed was one that could’ve brought you to tears, and you happily crawled into it, curling up in a ball the moment your head hit the pillow.

Ghost stood by your bedside as he waited for you to get comfortable, before stepping out of the room. At first, you thought he left you without saying goodbye.

Your mind plagued you in those futile seconds. Was he mad at you? Did you disappoint him by going out and drinking again?

Then you heard the tell tale signs of him rummaging around in cabinets, and you could only guess he was in the kitchen. You continued to lay there patiently while he proceeded with whatever task he busied himself with, eyes staring into the darkness that filled the room.

When he returned, he was holding a glass of water, which he set carefully on the nightstand near your head.

You didn’t understand. Nobody had ever shown you such kindness before. Life had only ever given you the hands of people who would use you up until you were wrung dry. People always expected things in return, and your fear was making you wonder if that was what Ghost was expecting.

To make things worse, you practically invited that idea into his head by saying he was pretty.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. It came out in a tone that revealed your hidden uncertainty, and he instantly took note of it from the way his eyes softened beneath the fabric of his mask.

“You’re drunk. Not goin’ to just leave you there to dehydrate.”

“No.” You shook your head, frowning up at him. “I mean, why are you doing any of this? The deal, helping me, watching me, I– I don’t understand. I can’t give you what you want.”

“And what is it that I want, sweetheart?” he asked you, crouching down by your bedside so he could be eye level with you. You wanted to look away, you should’ve looked away, but you had never seen such gentle eyes before.

“I… I don’t know. Sex? More money? Isn’t this all some sort of trick?”

“Sex? A trick?” His tone was slightly offended, perhaps even hurt, and you instantly wanted to take your words back. “No, sweetheart, that’s not why I’m doin’ any of this. I’m doin’ this ‘cause I care.”

“But why?”

The air filled with silence as we competed in a staredown, and the sobering side of you was regretting every moment of this conversation. Stupid girl, always ruining good things, why can’t you ever keep your mouth shut–

“I see myself in you,” he confessed, and you shut your mind up. You didn’t respond, only continuing to stare at him, waiting for him to continue. “You’re hurtin’. I can see that. Life’s treated you real bad, hasn’t it?”

His words felt both like salt being poured into your open wounds, while simultaneously placing a bandaid over them with loving hands.

“You’re the only person who’s ever tried to hire me to kill themselves. Couldn’t just leave you high ‘n dry like that, not when you’re hurtin’ that bad. I don’t want to kill you, sweetheart.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“But… you will, if I end up deciding that’s what I want, right?” You weren’t sure if you were convincing yourself or convincing him.

Ghost stared at you, eyes flickering over your face that was dimly lit up from the stray rays of moonlight peeking in through your sliding door of your balcony. Your eyes were slightly glossed over from both the alcohol and unshed tears that threatened to spill, and he wanted nothing more than to wipe them away, to encourage you to let them fall.

“Don’t know if I have the willpower to do that to you anymore, sweetheart.”

He stood up from where he was crouched beside your bed, and your eyes followed, staying locked on his.For a pause in time, the two of you said nothing, and the room filled with a deafening silence that made it hard to breathe.

It was broken when he carefully lifted his hand, reaching to your face to brush a stray hair that was hanging over your eyes. The rough pad of his finger lingered, tracing along your eyebrow and tracing out the feature before promptly pulling back.

“Get some rest,” he said, voice soft and quiet, but still with the tinges of gravelly undertone that made it sound like a sweet lullaby.

Your nod was confirmation for him to leave, and as he stepped out of your bedroom, you called out to him.

“Thank you for bringing me home, Ghost,” you thanked with a grateful smile.

He looked at you for a moment before smiling himself, evident in the way his eyes wrinkled.

“Call me Simon, love.”

[palmbleeder]

with a taste of a poison paradise,

when: sunday, 7pm.

where: marina funeral home - the morgue.

who: mourad ramzi.

status: oops!

content triggers: poisoning, religious guilt & general pondering, death (in relation to) grief, needles.

Myria had always made all too fun - even more than it usually was, at times. Mourad would hear the music first, softened by the walls separating them in other rooms he's working on and know she'd started her day. Danced along to it when he couldn’t keep her company or when she didn't require assistance in the labs where she takes charge for the most part; Mourad's own work mainly having much to do with directing and presentation.

Tonight and the nights prior since, he had honored her wishes by having Britney provide ample entertainment to her unlively audience and partly himself. He never minded it, however when it came to his own work ethic regarding handling the dead, Mourad's was a little different. He preferred the silence; wishing not to disturb them in the eternal slumber they've succumbed to in ways natural or recently, obscenely unnatural. It also came with personal veering on spiritual views, particularly when it came to handling those of his own religion; a crucial reason why he'd considered an associate degree in mortuary science, he figured the places he'll be in could always use more Muslims in their staff. that included Marina.

Half-jokingly, he'd taught River how to wash him if it was his time to go — ‘I wouldn't want it to be anyone else.’ but what he meant is that it couldn’t be anyone else, as the religion that added a deeper layer to their already-profound bond prohibits anyone else. He'd also reminded himself to keep contact with others capable, in case river couldn't go through with it. It's already so much he would have to do, having to lift him into his grave, all the way back home. he'd already notified his mother that he'd like to be buried there - not France, but home. in Cairo, where her late husband and his father lay, all the way in Egypt. right where it all started; his first life, their first loss. She wasn't too comfortable and half participated in those morbid conversations he'd start casually on occasion but so long as he made his intentions clear, he figured, and cut those with a joke aimed at both his mother and river, ‘Ah, and you'd also get to have me in white for once! isn't that what you've always wanted of me?���

Humming along to Toxic - banger, he'd say if he was normal - Mourad wheeled the second to last cadaver back into its locker and returned to his station with another, tirelessly preparing the body through the easier processes from inspections to wiring jaws and securing lids shut, pouring the embalming fluid into the machine (sweetly named the Cauldron) that stood waiting to roar to life. Just then, the door to the morgue chimed in. They'd hung a bell above as a joke to clock running spirits desperate for a second chance at a life and knowing he wasn't meant to be with company, Mourad peered over his shoulder thinking they'd found their first ghost friend.

Not quite, but a puzzling visit all the same, it seemed.

“I... didn’t think I’d be having a guest over or I would've tidied up, hello." Mourad laughed in his confusion, his brows drawn together, a playful glint in his eyes at his the familiar figure. “What are you doing here? you seem lost, my friend.”

He'd found himself in stranger encounters, he thought, and on a whim suggests the unwise when he piped up; rather rushed, seeing the time.

“Shit. I have to get done here. Just... you don't mind hanging back here, do you? — Yes, perfect! So long as you can stomach all of this, of course - but please careful not to touch anything.”

Almost comical, how they'd barely found a rhythm, how all has gone eerily quiet the second the Cauldron started brewing, even as Britney sang away in what seemed to be the longest song ever compared to what befell him and his living company of the night, how the sensation he'd grown accustomed with to his right is now closer behind, when Mourad felt a rather harsh stab into his neck.

"Ah... Fuck, what the.." Dumbly and slowly, he stumbled back, his hand flying to the offending spot and then everything rushed back; the context, the bodies, Myria, this cursed town. Too late when his side hits the station and he winced before instinctively grabbing at a flying hand latching onto his jaw.

"St...op, what the hell are you doing? What did you do-" confusing himself by his own interrogation in his panic, his heartbeat already racing in trampling, arrhythmic steps made worse by the adrenaline. what else are they doing, Mourad? Their grip on his jaw tightened, almost to keep him quiet but then strangely pulling his jaw apart; open, inviting to something he hadn't known until the other arm came in, holding the tube attached to the machine. No.

It took too much effort left in him to push off; a breathless struggle that he realized, a little after he'd finally managed to send them slamming into the cupboard behind and then leaving him there, that he'd been struggling that entire time. that he was no longer pulling in air into his body, that he'd been fighting a losing battle anyway.

The strangest he'd felt, like a hole sucking inwards into his chest, trapping him in, doubling him over, dragging him knees first onto the ground. His head lulls to the side and there it was, the needle in his sights. Emptied out into his neck what could only be what they'd conjured for the Cauldron. Mourad frowns, This is it, his palms lock onto his neck and he's punching out a few breaths he desperately needs when he remembered, Oh, fuck.

Ash-

Mourad tried to say it. tried to establish the line between himself and his maker, tried to get there. How could he forget?

Ash-h... Shit, shit, shit.

His hands flex as he struggled to draw out more air. His shoulders shake, mourad doesn't realize he's sobbing now. He'd imagined it all so differently; so peaceful, a slumber lowering him into the ground to wait until he's called over. A complete circle of a checkered life, that he'd made amends and made it all better - and he couldn't achieve it now, far too suffocated and overwhelmingly exhausted. An instilled fear he never realized would come to him this way, never thought he'd forget; If you can't say your Shahada, you will never find peace.

No - You have to, Mourad. this is for you and your father, for River to carry you over. His shoulders shake as he renews his resolve. C'mon, die as you lived.

Ash-hadu alla ilaha illa Allah, wa ash-hadu anna anna Muhammadan Rasulullah

Relived, Mourad slumped back and let himself fall way away, his mind swirling; his initial fear overpowered by a last sliver of joy that he did utter it. Not think it, not pray that counts in his slipping mind but that he did say it.

He did say it.

Au revoir. All is well.

Right?

[akajustmerry]

okay here are some reads I really enjoyed and found thanks to booktokers recs of niche and marginalised authors!

Leech by Hiron Ennes (they/them) - gothic body horror set in a distant future in which a doctor is dispatched to a Baron's manner to investigate a murder and discovers a parasite! Great read if you loved A Cure For Wellness

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon - science fiction set on a generation ship that's an allegory for the antebellum south where a civil war is brewing between the upper and lower decks.

Frankenstein In Baghdad by Ahmed Sadaawi - (I only just started this, full disclosure but I already KNOW it's brilliant). A retelling of Frankenstein set during the US occupation of Baghdad in which a young Iraqi collects body parts to make into a single body so the US soldiers will allow a burial.

The League of Extraordinary Women series by Lebanese Swedish author Evie Dunmore about 4 outcast women attending Oxford in the 19th century finding love and saying fuck you to establishment. If you're looking for something light!

Lakewood by Megan Giddings - psychological thriller about a young Black woman who takes a mysterious job in the top secret company town of Lakewood to pay off her debts, but she starts to suspect experiments are being done on her.

These are favourite booktok finds I've read/started reading. I have way more on my tbr :)))

booktok definitely has done some damage to literary culture as a whole and like with any subculture there's sooo much racism and ableism tied up in it etc etc HOWEVER. I'm really fortunate to have found some of my favourite reads in the last few years from niche booktokers of colour who are really dedicated to championing lit from marginalised authors and encouraging people to read outside of what they're used to. so, while I do think, there's a tonne to discuss when it comes to how booktok culture is changing how people engage with lit and not always for the better I think there's also room for discussing that there are a LOT of really smart and dedicated book bloggers who are helping a lot of people pick up a book for the first time in years!!!

[ghostsandgetaways]

7 Destinations for a Spooky Summer Vacation

Summer is upon us and many of us will venture out to tropical destinations for some rest and relaxation. Some of us though will look for something a little less tropical and a little more supernatural (but who says you can’t have both?).

Below are 7 destination with plenty of paranormal history to satisfy any paranormal enthusiast. Grab your audio recorder and an EMF meter…………and let’s go!

Haunted Places in Savannah, Georgia:

The Marshall House: This historic hotel served as a hospital during the Civil War and two yellow fever epidemics. Because of its history, it is rumored to be haunted by spirits of Civil War soldiers and yellow fever victims. Guests have reported disembodied voices, shadow figures, flickering lights, and unexplained noises.

Sorrel Weed House: One of the most haunted houses in Savannah, the Sorrel Weed House is said to be visited by multiple spirits, including Matilda Sorrel, a young girl, and a woman that is seen and heard crying. Visitors have reported hearing disembodied voices and crying, and footsteps.

Bonaventure Cemetery: This picturesque cemetery is not only a popular tourist attraction but also a hotspot for paranormal activity. Established in 1846 and originally known as Evergreen Cemetery, this cemetery has over 100 acres of paranormal potential. Visitors have reported seeing shadow figures, the feeling of being touched, hearing disembodied voices, and finding EVPs in their evidence.

Moon River Brewing Company: The life of this historic building is quite interesting. It all began as a hotel but it also housed this brewery, a bank, a bar, a lumber and coal warehouse, and the United States Post Office. It is believed to be haunted by multiple spirits, including a ghost named Toby and the spirit of James Stark who was killed on the stairs going to the 2nd floor. Visitors have reported the feeling of dread, footsteps, apparitions, and the feeling of being touched and pushed.

Haunted Places in Edinburgh, Scotland

Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland, is a city rich in history and folklore. It is also known for its numerous haunted locations that attract paranormal enthusiasts from around the world. Here are some of the most famous haunted places in Edinburgh:

Edinburgh Castle: This iconic fortress is said to be haunted by several ghosts, including hearing phantom bagpipes, a headless drummer and a young phantom piper. Legend says back several centuries ago a tunnel was discovered under castle rock. The opening was small but it was big enough for a child. A young piper boy was sent in and told to play his bagpipes so the people above could track his progress. Everything went fine until the music suddenly stopped. Despite multiple attempts to rescue the boy, no sign of the boy could be found. When there was no longer hope of a rescue, the tunnel was sealed. Since then, people claim to hear the music of the lonely piper boy still waiting to be rescued.

The Real Mary King's Close: This underground network of streets goes back to the 17th century. Ravaged by the plague, this tightly populated area saw death and devastation. It is rumored to be haunted by the ghost of a little girl named Annie who became sick and was abandoned by her family. It is said that her family left her to die when they realized she no longer had a chance of recovery. Visitors have reported hearing her voice and laughter, feeling someone tug on their clothing, and hearing the pitter patter of little feet.

Greyfriars Kirkyard: This cemetery is infamous for violent poltergeist activity associated with the tomb of Sir George Mackenzie. The Mackenzie Poltergeist is said to haunt the graveyard, causing unease and fear among visitors. Be sure to check out the memorial for Greyfriars Bobby, a terrier who reportedly guarded his master’s grave for 14 years and was cared for by local police.

South Bridge Vaults: Located beneath the South Bridge, these underground chambers have a chilling reputation for being haunted. Many people suffered from illness and died. The location of your living quarters somewhat matched socioeconomic status…..the lower the level on which you lived, the lower your “station in life.” It is no surprise that disease ran rampant among the poor that lived below the South Bridge due to small cramped living quarters and poor conditions. Visitors have reported hearing whispers, disembodied voices and laughter, and footsteps. Visitors also report the feeling of being touched and shadows wandering about the vaults.

Haunted Places in New Orleans

If you're looking for a city steeped in paranormal history, look no further than New Orleans. This vibrant city is known for its rich culture, delicious cuisine, and of course, its haunted locations. Here are some of the most famous haunted places in New Orleans:

LaLaurie Mansion: This infamous mansion was once home to the evil socialite Madame Delphine LaLaurie, who tortured and killed many slaves in the 1830s. The atrocities she committed were well hidden until a fire broke out and everything was revealed. Firefighters and authorities discovered slaves that were chained and had been horribly mutilated. It is believed their tortured souls still haunt the premises. The mansion is a private residence and not available for tours.

St. Louis Cemetery No. 1: The oldest cemetery in New Orleans, St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 is home to over 700 tombs, and is the final resting place of voodoo queen Marie Laveau. Visitors have reported seeing her spirit and others wandering among the tombs.

The Sultan's Palace: This mysterious mansion in the French Quarter is said to be haunted by the ghost of a Turkish sultan and others who were murdered there one stormy night in the 1836. The morning after the massacre, a man walking down the street came upon the residence and saw blood trickling down the front steps and into the street. Once the authorities were summoned, they discovered dead bodies scattered about. Some had limbs missing, others were flayed open. As they investigated, bodies were found throughout the house and the Sultan was found buried in the courtyard. It is believed he was buried alive and that his spirit still roams the halls. A private residence now, this location is not available for tours.

The Old Ursuline Convent: Built in 1752, this historic building is said to be haunted by the spirits of the French nuns who once lived there. Visitors have reported seeing shadow skulking about, apparitions of nuns, and hearing phantom footsteps and whispers in the halls. There is also a legend that a group of young women known as the Casket Girls brought vampires into the area who then devastated crops and killed people all around town. The Casket Girls lived on the 3rd floor of the convent until the nuns kicked them out and sealed off the 3rd floor.

Haunted Places in Transylvania

Bran Castle: Known as "Dracula's Castle," this iconic and infamous fortress is said to be haunted by the spirit of Vlad the Impaler, the inspiration for Bram Stoker's Count Dracula. In reality it seems he did not live there but stories continue about ghosts wandering the halls of the castle.

Hoia Baciu Forest: Often called the "Bermuda Triangle of Transylvania," this forest is notorious for unexplained phenomena including ghost sightings and UFO encounters. The forest seems benign when hiking to through it but there is a large circular area in which no trees or plants grow. Only grass grows in that part of the forest and, according to various articles found online about multiple tests run on the soil, it is unknown why nothing grow there.

Corvin Castle: Built in 1440 as a fortress, this glorious castle offers plenty of dungeons and corridors to explore. The towers often held prisoners of war as well as criminals. It is alleged that the castle held a bear pit where prisoners were thrown and mauled to death by wild animals. The spirits that are believed to lurk within the castle said to be those prisoners and criminals. Guests have reported seeing shadows and apparitions, hearing footsteps, and disembodied voices.

Salina Turda: This stunning mine dates back the 1271. As you descend into the depths of this underground salt mine, be on the lookout for the ghostly miners that are said to still working hard in the shadows. their phantom presence felt by visitors.

Haunted Places in Gettysburg

Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, is known for its rich history and storied past, especially its significant role in the Civil War. The town is also famous for its many reported ghost sightings and haunted locations. Here are some of the most haunted places in Gettysburg:

1. Gettysburg Battlefield: The battlefield is perhaps the most haunted location in Gettysburg, with numerous reports of ghostly apparitions of soldiers still fighting the battle. Visitors have experienced hearing phantom gunshots, drums, and war cries. We tried to investigate on our last trip in April 2024 but it was cold and raining so we will have to go back.

2. Jennie Wade House: Jennie Wade was the only civilian killed during the Battle of Gettysburg. Her house, where she was fatally shot, is believed to be haunted by her ghost. The door still has scars and bullet holes in it from the war. Visitors have reported seeing apparitions and hearing unexplained noises in the house.

3. Sachs Covered Bridge: Located just outside Gettysburg, Sachs Covered Bridge is said to be haunted by the ghost of a Civil War soldier. Visitors have reported seeing a figure in old-fashioned clothing walking across the bridge, only to disappear into thin air.

4. Haunted Orphanage in Gettysburg: The haunted orphanage was a place of sorrow and despair for many children during the Civil War. The orphanage was a place in which the children were allegedly not treated well. In fact, it is alleged the children were outright abused and the orphanage now stands as a chilling reminder of its dark past. Visitors have reported hearing voices and cries, as well as encountering shadowy figures wandering about. Some have even felt invisible hands tugging at their clothes or hair, sending shivers down their spines.

Haunted Places in Tokyo

Tokyo, Japan is a city with a rich history and vibrant culture, but it also has its fair share of ghostly legends and haunted locations. If you're a paranormal enthusiast looking for a spooky adventure, here are some places in Tokyo that are rumored to be haunted:

1. Aoyama Cemetery: Established in 1872, this cemetery became Japan’s first public cemetery in the 1920s. While many cemeteries have peaceful and serene vibes, Aoyama Cemetery is said to be a hotspot for ghost sightings. Visitors have reported encountering shadow figures wandering among the tombstones, and hearing voices and inexplicable sounds.

2. Tokyo Tower: This iconic landmark is a popular tourist attraction that is rumored to be haunted by a woman who tragically fell to her death from the observation deck. Some visitors claim to have seen her ghost wandering around the tower, looking lost and confused. Reports of paranormal activity also come from the elevator.

3. Akasaka Weekly Mansion: This apartment building is known for its high incidence of paranormal activity, including strange noises, flickering lights, and objects moving on their own. Some residents have even reported being touched or pushed by an unseen entity. There have been a few suicides on the property…..maybe that is why the property is haunted?

4. Okiku's Well: Located in Himeji Castle in Tokyo, this well is said to be haunted by the ghost of Okiku, a servant who was unjustly accused of a crime and thrown into the well to die. There is another story in which Okiku was killed when her employer became enraged over a broken dish. It is believed that her ghost still lingers near the well, seeking justice for her untimely death.

Haunted Places in Barcelona, Spain

Barcelona, known for its stunning architecture and vibrant culture, is also home to a number of haunted locations that will send shivers down your spine. Explore the eerie side of this enchanting city by visiting:

Poble Nou Cemetery: Be sure to check out the “Kiss of Death” sculpture when you visit this cemetery. This cemetery is said to be haunted by the spirits of those buried here. Visitors have reported hearing voices, seeing shadows darting about, and feeling cold spots as they wander among the tombstones.

Palau de la Musica Catalana: While known for its beautiful music and exquisite architecture, this concert hall is rumored to be haunted by a former musician who tragically died during a performance. Some have claimed to hear phantom melodies echoing through the halls.

Castle of Montjuic: This ancient fortress overlooking the city has a dark and bloody past, including being a site of executions. It has seen plenty of war in its lifetime, and has been taken and lost many times. Visitors have reported seeing apparitions wandering the grounds, a feeling of dread, hearing footsteps, and hearing disembodied voices.

Bar Marsella: One of the oldest bars in Barcelona, Bar Marsella is rumored to be haunted by the ghost of a former patron. Bartenders have reported bottles moving inexplicably and hearing disembodied laughter late at night. Some visitors believe they have seen the ghost of Hemingway because he was known to be a frequent patron.

**********

Adding a paranormal twist to your next trip will create unforgettable memories. Pack your bags, muster your courage, and let's embark on a journey through the supernatural side of summer! If you aren’t quite ready to go it alone, please join us on our next haunted trip. Until next time……..make this beautiful day count!

Annette

[its-spooky-bitch]

Moon River Brewing Company is a brewery based in Savanah Georgia. Although they are known for their beer, they are even more well known for their hauntings. The brewery is located in the building which used to be the City Hotel. After the hotel the building became other things such as a warehouse and a office supply store before being bought by the brewery. It is said that at one point the building was used as a makeshift hospital during the Yellow Fever outbreak of 1876. According to locals the building is haunted. There are legends of a lady in white who walks around the upper floors of the property. Another spirit is a ghost in the basement named Toby by the staff. Toby is known to hide in the shadows and is known to make visitors uncomfortable when they enter the basement. The second floor or the brewery is haunted by James Stark, who was shot and killed on the staircase after an argument about gambling. He is seen on the second floor near the stairs, he is also seen on the main floor. Reports of bottles flying off shelves, people being pushed and disembodied voices are also common in the brewery.

[myhauntedsalem]

Moon River Brewing Company Savannah, Georgia

One of the most haunted places in Georgia is the Moon River Brewing Company. The famous microbrewery once served as the first guest house in Savannah – City Hotel.

The hotel opened back in 1821 and it was the scene of a wide variety of very unsavory behavior including, but not limited to violence, brawls, beatings and even shootings. This probably explains why the building now houses so many aggressive spirits who have been known to push patrons and even cut in line at the bar!

The basement is said to house a spirit who the staff have dubbed ‘Toby’. He is often seen in the basement area creeping through the shadows. There are cold spots and visitors often feel uncomfortable and claim to hear voices whispering in their ears!

The second floor also has spirit connected with it. This one is said to be the ghost of James Stark. The shooting of James Stark by town physician Philip Minas is a famous one and depending on who you ask he died right there on the stairs or in the kitchen.

Either way, his spirit is frequently seen on the second floor.

Other hotspots include the women’s rest room in the dining area where female customers often find themselves unable to leave the cubicle because of an unseen force holding the door closed.

Female diners have also claimed to have had their legs touched by unseen hands while eating. The upper floors are said to be the domain of a Lady in White who pushes people down the stairs.

Construction crews have also been chased out of the building by unseen forces. The building is so haunted that they even offer ghost tours from time to time.

[ghostghoul]

12 Haunted Places in Savannah That Will Scare You Silly

12 Haunted Places in Savannah That Will Scare You Silly

Looking for spooky places in Savannah, Georgia? Here are a few of the city’s most haunted hotels and restaurants (complete with map below). Eat, sleep, and be scared in America’s Most Haunted City!

17Hundred90 Inn

The 17Hundred90 Innwas originally three separate residences but is now one of the oldest inns in Savannah. According to local legend, a young woman named Anna committed suicide after…

[ghxstadvxntxres]

GHOST ADVENTURES SEASON 2 (June 5, 2009—July 24, 2009)

[inthecityofgoodabode]

Heliades’ Tears, Dog Fears & Magic In Motion

At the intersection of my love of beer & mythology (In this instance, Greek mythology): 

According to myth, the tears of the Heliades turned to amber. Everything is here except for the trapped insect. My queen enjoyed this beer with its fruity finish:  

Silverback is brave but the thunder is his kryptonite. With the thunderstorms today, he spent a few hours in my lap: 

My queen working some magic: 

[paranormalhousewife]

Podcast: Haunted Savannah

This is the transcript and sources for the podcast that just dropped this morning on Paranormal Housewife Podcast. You can listen to it on any streaming service you listen to your podcasts on. Please subscribe to my show to be alerted to when new episodes drop. Please let me know in comments what you thought about today’s episode!  Hi and welcome back to the Paranormal Housewife Podcast! Welcome…

[sinceileftyoublog]

Live Picks: 7/13-7/14

Sima Cunningham and Macie Stewart of Ohmme; Photo by Ash Dye

BY JORDAN MAINZER

7/13: Junius Paul/Tomeka Reid Duo, MCA

Tuesdays on the Terrace, free jazz performances (as in it doesn’t cost any money, though there’s definitely sometimes free jazz) at the MCA, is often one of the summer’s brightest music series here in Chicago. Tonight offers bassist Junius Paul and cellist Tomeka Reid in an improvisational duo. The two have played together before both live and on records, Reid appearing on Paul’s excellent ISM, for instance. Advance reservations are “sold out,” but you can line up starting at 4:30 PM to ensure your spot for this can’t-miss performance.

7/14: OHMME & V.V. Lightbody, Rockwell on the River

New local distillery? Might as well celebrate with some local bands. Rockwell on the River, the grounds where you can rent kayaks and drink Metropolitan Brewing lagers, is welcoming some new American whiskey makers Judson & Moore with a show with art rock masters OHMME and folk pop singer-songwriter V.V. Lightbody aka Vivian McConnell. Since we last interviewed OHMME, they’ve released their sophomore record, the terrific Fantasize Your Ghost, and a few singles. Their original drummer, Matt Carroll, will be playing with them, so it happens in town from Europe coinciding with this show. (Maybe they’ll play something from Macie Stewart’s just announced solo album Mouth Full of Glass?) A $15 suggested donation supports the bands; other vendors include Black Dog Gelato, Metropolis Coffee Company, Soul & Smoke, and Sparkling Botanicals.

Girl Loves Me b/w Some Kind of Calm by OHMME

[sweet-by-and-by]

Baptized In Your Name - Arthur Morgan x Charlotte Balfour

summary: The rugged stranger who found her at her lowest turns back up on Charlotte Balfour’s doorstep, offering help as she navigates her new life in the remote wilderness. Determined as hell, she lets him teach her a thing or two about guns, and finds herself offering her own help in turn. But as questions of his past bubble to the surface, will she find the man she believes him to be, or will she learn of a darker side? word count: 3819 pairing: Arthur Morgan x Charlotte Balfour

AO3

The Northern air had always been healing. Arthur took a deep breath in, the fresh air from the Northern Kamasana River calming and crisp.

He had travelled across the Eastern Grizzlies after his ride with Rains Falls. He decided to take the long way back to camp, needing some time away after all his talk of ghosts. Away from Dutch, from John, from everyone who reminded him of everything he had lost.

The painful memories played in his mind as he rode through the mountains. He rode down into Roanoake Ridge, stopping as he approached the fork in the road at Doverhill. He chuckled at the memory of the mad scientist there, a frown settling across his face as he recalled another life lost. He wondered if he was cursed, if to meet him was to meet the angel of death itself.

It had been a few days since he found the widow of Willard’s Rest, Arthur thought to himself as he hesitated at the crossing of pathways. He eyed the road to his right, the one that would take him back to camp. His frown deepened at the thought of seeing Dutch just yet, and he spurred his horse Eastward.

It didn’t take long before he was turning off the main path towards Charlotte’s cabin. He savoured the beautiful scenery, idly watching a buck stand guard over his family as they sipped from the river’s edge.

He startled at the sound of gunfire, his attention drawing towards the sound. He reached for his holster, ice running through his veins as he realized the gunshots were coming from Willard’s Rest.

He dug his heels into his horse’s side, the loyal beast sensing his panic and darting off towards the cabin. Visions of robbers and bandits danced across his mind, fearing what he would see when he rounded the bend up towards the cabin.

He pulled his horse to a stop as he crossed through the gate, eyes scanning the homestead to assess the situation. His brows furrowed in confusion when he saw that Charlotte was alone, and he quickly holstered his weapon before she could take notice.

“Oh, it’s you!” she exclaimed as he swung out of the saddle. His worries drained away at the tone in her voice and the beaming smile she wore as she turned to greet him.

He took in the state of her, his confusion only deepening at the rifle in her hands. He tried to focus as she thanked him again for the rabbit, doing his best to keep his concern off of his face. He had only just met the woman, but he found himself worrying for her already.

He listened as she told him of her plan to shoot at some bottles, his heart lifting at the excitement in her eyes.

He offered his tips, his heart racing as he leaned in close to her. He shuffled slightly as he adjusted her stance, begging his hands to stay steady as he pointed down the barrel to guide her aim.

They worked together to improve her shooting, and by the end of their session Arthur was impressed. She may not be taking on Annie Oakley anytime soon, but he could see she took pride in her gained skills and her determination was infectious.

“Thank you for everything,” she smiled, her melodic voice drowning out his thoughts. “Would you join me for a meal? It’s the least I can do.”

Arthur nodded, not daring to speak as his chest tightened. His heart hammered at the invitation, hammering against his ribs. He followed her into the cabin and glanced around her home. The solid wood logs were familiar to him, but the decorative touches screamed of rich inhabitants. Arthur felt starkly out of place against the backdrop of luxury. He awkwardly took a seat in the ornate dining chair at Charlotte’s prompting.

He looked around and took in the rest of the cabin, and could practically hear Hosea scolding him for his gawking. Her home was full of beautiful items, the likes of which Arthur had never seen in a cabin in the woods.

He whipped his head around at the sound of the stew pot slamming down on the table, Charlotte’s hiss at the heat drawing his eyes to her. He smiled politely as she dished up his dinner, passing it to him with a “bon appetit”.

“Huh?” he slipped out before he could stop himself, and he quickly cursed his muddled response. Charlotte spoke of Aristotle with grace that would have Dutch draped at her feet, and here Arthur was sounding like some back country hick in Murfree territory.

“Please, enjoy,” she said, her eyes casting downwards in embarrassment. Arthur felt himself flush at the realization he thought it was cute, casting his own gaze down to a spoonful of stew. “And thank you again, for everything. I really am grateful.”

“Ah, it was nothing,” he dismissed, scraping his spoon against the porcelain bowl to keep himself busy.

“You’re a good man,” Charlotte said decidedly, turning away before she could see him react. He was taken aback by her conviction.

“Oh, you don’t really know me,” he murmured, his conscience heavy with the weight of misleading a poor widow. He thought of his deeds, of the list he could give her to prove his case.

“I know enough,” she retorted, busying herself around the kitchen.”There’s always more to find in ourselves, you helped me to see that.”

“My husband Cal was such an optimist,” she said fondly as she took her seat across the table from him, “I found that to be quite contagious. We were both born with the silver spoon...banquets, butlers, valets,” she trailed off.

“Sounds awful,” Arthur chuckled, a cough working its way through his chest. His ears rang and his vision wavered as he tried to suppress it. He blinked to clear his eyes, listening pointedly as Charlotte told him of her father and her fear of being crushed by the wilderness.

“Well, I reckon you’re gonna be just fine,” he coughed, struggling against his labouring breath.

“Are you alright?” Charlotte asked, her worry evident. His coughing worsened but he waved her off, rising to his feet.

“I’m fine,” he stammered, rising to his feet. The spell he was under broke, and he realized the risk he was putting her at by having come in for dinner. He rushed to get himself out the door, out of her home and away from her with his disease. The angel of death had forgotten his place, let himself enjoy Charlotte’s company and foolishly put her in danger.

“Thank you for this,” he struggled, staggering forward as the room spun around him. He forced himself to keep going, splatters of blood peppering his fist as he coughed even harder. “I think,” he wheezed, “it’s best if I just-”

And he was down on his knees.

He heard Charlotte rush towards him as he collapsed to the floor, trying to keep her back as his body shook. His lungs burned and his abdomen ached, rendering him helpless as he curled into himself.

“Stay right there,” he faintly heard, “it’s going to be okay.”

The melodic promise carried him away as darkness swallowed him.

--

He startled awake, another cough bringing him back to life. This one was less debilitating, just the usual tickle through his chest and throat.

He propped himself onto his elbows, looking around to register his surroundings. He forced himself to roll onto his side, pushing himself to a seat with a groan. He shook his head and ran his hand down his face, stopping to wipe blood from the corner of his mouth. He glanced around again and noticed a note at his bedside, ignoring the pain in his ribs as he leaned forward to reach for it.

“My Dear Arthur,” he read, blinking at the words before him. His face sunk as he recalled his letter from Mary just a few days before, the same greeting pulling at his heartstrings.

He smiled as he read the rest of the letter, fought through the confusion from the sleep-addled fog that still clouded his mind. He admired her penmanship, her decorative sprawl surely a result of her higher education.

He scowled at her words about the money in the jewelry box. He knew she had plenty, but his stomach turned at the idea she thought his visits were for some kind of payout. He tucked the letter away, reaching around the jewelry box for his hat. He stood, glaring at the box that stashed the bills as he pushed past the door and into the main room.

True to her letter, Charlotte was out hunting. He took another chance to gaze around the room, no memory of Hosea’s reprimanding stopping him this time. A fire roared in the great stone hearth, warming the cabin from the slight chill in the morning air. This far North the chill lingered late into Summer, and Arthur was grateful as a shiver crept down his spine.

Though he wasn’t sure the cold was to blame for that.

He looked at the fine furniture, wondering to himself how much they had brought from Chicago. He was sure it wasn’t purchased around here, though he supposed it could have been shipped up through Annesburg.

He looked at the pictures in their frames, photographs and paintings decorating the dark wooden walls. He was struck with a longing to stay, to hang his own photos alongside her relatives.

His heart ached as he continued to look around the cabin. He imagined a life here, of coffee brewed on cold mornings and conversation shared over breakfasts. The fancy furniture would take some getting used to, but he could easily see himself settling into it. Could even imagine the patter of small feet running across the floors, the chime of a child’s laugh bouncing off the walls.

He shook his head to clear that thought, the echo of ghosts rattling in his skull. He turned to the door, walking towards it as he left those images behind. There was no point in pining for something so intangible. All just hopelessly romantic dreams of a life he stopped deserving long ago.

He pushed the front door open and stepped out onto the porch. His eyes adjusted to the brightness of the sun, and he faintly wondered how long he’d been out for. A misty fog hung low in the air, the weather seeming to reflect his somber thoughts.

Arthur sighed and stepped down from the porch, greeting his horse from across the homestead. He strolled down the path at a leisurely pace, trying to savour the last few moments before mounting up and heading back to camp. He approached his steed with a pat on the neck, wiping away some dirt from their journey. Arthur noticed the horse’s trepidation to his touch, his own hair rising on the back of his neck. He was suddenly overwhelmed by an encroaching feeling of being watched.

He reached into his saddle compartment and pulled out his rifle, gripping it tightly as he checked the chamber. He looked for cover, but found nothing useful in sight.

“Well look who decided to make an appearance!” a voice cried out from the woods. Two men on horseback emerged from the thicket, guns already drawn and aimed.

Bounty hunters.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” Arthur warned, “payday ain’t worth the risk you’re about to take.”

“I dunno,” the other one snickered, “they really seem to want you. I reckon we could get ‘em to ten thousand if we brought in that lovely lady of yours too, I bet she’s got all kinds of things to say.”

The first man hummed, his eyes darkening, “If we even hand her over,” he smirked devilishly.

Arthur growled, his fists clenching around the cool metal of the rifle. His lips cured up in a snarl as rage rushed through his veins. Before he could think, his barrel was pointed between the man’s eyes and a bullet ripped through the air. Arthur quickly dispatched the other one, whose bolt was still half-cocked in loading when his body slumped down the side of his horse.

Arthur heaved as his rage coursed through him, snorting furiously and spitting at his feet. He fought back another cough, not willing to let his victory be spoiled by another fit.

He watched as their horses took off, throwing their heads back and whinnying as they galloped away. He sighed and shook his head, slinging his rifle across his back as he went to get rid of the bodies.

He whistled for his horse, who met him dutifully as he hoisted the first bounty hunter up. He slung the body over the horse’s rear, the man’s arms and legs dangling morbidly as he hung from the beast. He reached down to lift the other hunter over his shoulder, and he whistled again for his horse to follow him.

They walked the bodies down to the water, stashing them behind a rocky coverhang at the base of the waterfall. He quickly washed the blood from his coat in the pool of the river, hoping it wouldn’t stain. He wasn’t sure how much laundry the girls were doing anymore, not that he would be in camp long enough to have it washed anyway. His stops there were getting shorter and shorter between Dutch’s errands, the state of the camp only adding to his souring temperament.

Once he was satisfied with his cleaning, deciding it wouldn't get much better than this, he walked back up the hill to Willard's Rest. He wanted to make sure there was no trace of the bounty hunters left, get their horses good and gone before Charlotte returned from hunting. He held back another cough, frustrated by the ache in his lungs. He had barely done any heavy lifting, nothing that would even have him breaking a sweat a few months ago, but now he could feel himself on the edge of exhaustion.

He passed under the wooden arch and paled when he spotted Charlotte standing on the front porch. She held a hat and a pistol in her hands, remnants he had missed from the bounty hunter’s corpse. He sighed and cast his gaze down to his feet, keeping his eyes hidden beneath the brim of his hat as he approached her.

She turned to look up at him, her confusion evident as he drew nearer. Her mouth opened as if she was going to speak, but no words came.

"Mrs. Balfour," Arthur murmured, stopping when he reached the steps of the porch. He kept his head dipped, resting his hands on his gunbelt and waited for her to speak.

"Please, it’s Charlotte" she said, looking between him and the hat in her hand, "is everything alright? I found this by the gate, a-and there was blood in the dirt…"

Arthur said nothing, just refused to meet her gaze.

"Did something happen? Are you alright?" she asked, her tone more insistent. Arthur heard worry in her voice, foolishly hoping she was afraid for him, not of him.

"I'm fine," he muttered, "some...some men came lookin up here, tryin' to find somethin'."

"Oh my," she gasped, "did you chase them away? What on earth would they be looking for up here? Perhaps it was Cal's relatives, I wrote to them regarding his...incident."

Arthur almost smiled at the innocence in her eyes, but the weight of the situation kept him serious.

“No,” he drawled, shifting uncomfortably where he stood, “they-uh. They were lookin’ for me. Bounty hunters,” he admitted after a long pause.

He watched Charlotte’s expression shift as she realized what he was saying. He waited for the moment she kicked him off of her porch, shooed him away like the mangy dog he was.

“You’re a criminal,” Charlotte said simply. Her tone was dangerously even.

“I told you, you don’t really know me,” he warned, “I’m not a good man.”

He cringed as Charlotte unconsciously took a step away from him. The action cut through him, made his shame swell and his chest ache. He knew he deserved it and so much more..

The two of them stood there for a moment, tension hanging thick in the morning air. Arthur turned away, clenching his hands into fists at his side and hung his head as he walked away from the cabin. “You don’t want me,” he said forcibly. “I’ll leave. You won’t have to worry about seein’ me no more.”

“What kind of outlaw would just leave?” Charlotte called out, and Arthur froze at her words.

“What?” he gaped. He turned to face her, finally looking up.

“Should I expect to go in and find that you’ve robbed me blind?” she asked.

“No,” Arthur said slowly.

“And will you turn your gun on me and force me to lie with you?”

“No!” Arthur sputtered, appalled that she would even suggest it.

“Well, I’m not sure you’re quite the bad man you seem to think yourself,” she said, her face set with that same determination that he admired so much. She stepped down from the porch and walked slowly towards him. “In the city, everything is painted so black and white. But out here,” she gestured to the forest that surrounded them, “I see clearly now that there are so many shades of grey.”

She closed the last of the distance between them and reached out to rest her hand on his arm. He felt himself relax at her touch, noticing the sweet scent of her perfume that mingled with sweat from her hunt.

She placed her other hand under his chin, dragging his gaze up to meet hers. “You’re a good man,” she said, the steadiness of her voice and the fire in her eyes almost too convincing, “I can feel it in you.”

Arthur didn’t dare to move, barely dared to breathe. Worried that at any moment he would wake to see the waxed canvas of his tent and find that all of this was just some far-fetched dream. His eyes searched Charlotte’s, looking for some kind of trickery or deceit. All he could see was kindness, and he found himself leaning forward against his better judgment.

He startled when his lips pressed against hers, surprised by their softness. It had been some time, but he didn’t remember it feeling this easy in the past. Not even Mary, whose secret, stolen kisses always gave him such a rush.

He was shocked to feel Charlotte return his affections; kept waiting for her to push him away. Instead, she met him with a soft passion that entranced him, made him unable to stop himself from running his tongue along her bottom lip and deepening the kiss.

She opened to him willingly, wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in close. Their tongues danced, the taste of coffee on her lips swirling around the cigarette smoke that lingered on his. Nothing else existed in that moment; not bounty hunters or wolves or even Dutch and his plans. Nothing mattered but the taste of her on his tongue, the soft fabric of her shirt beneath his fingertips.

She pulled away after what felt like eternity, leaning her forehead against his. He ducked his head to steal one more chaste kiss in case this was the last chance he had.

He drew back when he felt a teardrop against his cheek. He opened his eyes to see Charlotte’s brimming with tears, silently crying as she squeezed her lids tightly. Arthur reached up to cup her cheek, wiping away the falling teardrops gently with his thumb.

“I-I’m sorry,” he said lowly, his voice all whisky and honey, “I shouldn’t’a- I mean I-” he stammered, returning to his senses. He stepped back and pulled his hand away like it had been burned.

“No,” she choked, “it’s not that. I wanted it- I do want it. I just...,” she hesitated, hiding her face in her hands as more tears flowed, “it’s Cal.”

Arthur’s stomach dropped, a wave of guilt and shame washing over him at the reminder. Widow or not, Charlotte was a married woman. And here he was, stepping right over her husband’s grave to make his move.

His mouth tasted bitter, no longer of coffee and cigarette smoke or the underlying hint of her. He stepped back farther, putting even more distance between them.

Not knowing what to say, he stood aside as Charlotte cried. He forced himself not to reach out to comfort her. He didn’t trust himself not to take, not to hold her in his arms and will everything else to fade away again.

“I make a terrible widow,” she laughed humourlessly, “my husband is barely ten minutes into the grave and I’ve already fallen for the first handsome stranger that crosses my threshold,” she shook her head, her voice catching in her throat.

She smoothed her skirts and wiped away her tears, straightening herself to try and regain composure. She looked to the sky and smiled sadly.

“I think it’s best if I go,” Arthur said, adjusting his hat.

“I wish I could say that I didn’t agree,” Charlotte replied, “but just for now. I’d like to see you back soon, though perhaps without the bounty hunters next time.”

Arthur frowned as the guilt returned. Charlotte stepped forward to place a kiss on his cheek, resting her hand on the other side of his face to draw him in.

“I don’t care what you are,” she whispered against his skin.

“I ain’t got long,” he replied, his head swimming with thoughts of bounty posters and doctors and Pinkertons.

“Once a widow, always a widow,” she joked, “at least now I come with some experience on the matter.”

Arthur laughed, wondering how such a fine society lady could have such humour. Before he could think on it for too long, she was backing away to return to her porch.

“Goodbye, Arthur,” she said, “Arthur Whoever-You-Are.”

“Morgan,” he said, “but, uh, don’t go lookin’ it up. Please.”

She nodded in understanding. He took in the sight of her one last time, trying to memorize each detail of her for his journal. He stared as she reached for the door handle, opening the heavy wooden door and disappearing into the cabin.

Arthur sighed and whistled for his horse, swinging himself into the saddle as he prepared to ride away. He turned back to look at the cabin, his mind racing. He tried not to let himself hope, but he felt lighter than he had in years. So maybe, just for now, he could let himself believe that things would work out. That he could find something he needed at Willard’s Rest, and he could be something in return to the widow that lived there.

[echo-three-one]

Chapter 36

THE ROAD SO FAR

The TEN Kilometer River

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

Site Hotel Bravo, Afghanistan

The moment Gary was tasked to pull the lever, he had no choice but to follow. Whatever was running in his Captain's mind must be of good reason. The alarm blared and the whole facility was placed on high alert as troops from everywhere started to act more vigilant.

They heard earlier that Gold Eagle would be on the move and the base was to be left to the scientists. Gary believes that Shepherd had no idea they're here, but why ring the alarm?

"Roach, follow me! I could see Shepherd's getaway from outside, we need to stop him!" He muttered, plowing through hordes of enemies that were also surprised to see them. Gary assisted in taking them down, as they moved slowly to the exit.

The trails of the huge plane were still visible when they exited, Price attempted to shoot the vehicle but it looked like it only made a few dents.

"Roach! Man that speedboat! We're chasing after them!" Price ordered. Gary nodded and they hurriedly descended the stairs on their way to the river.

But the enemies didn't know how to give up. Some of them rode jet skis while some of them had speed boats with them, all free riders targeting their weapons on Gary and Roach's vehicle.

Price lied down for cover, only peeking when he's free to shoot or when nobody else is shooting. It was a great tactic and Roach wanted to observe more of it, but he had to focus on the river.

His main target is the plane that's flying dangerously low on the ground, readying itself so Shepherd can jump and fly off to safety, but Price didn't want that to happen.

Whenever he saw Shepherd move from afar, he sprayed bullets to their direction making the general hide back to safety. It was a great stalling move but it didn't quite last long as the river expanded.

Shadow company guard posts were positioned on places where the elevation is quite high and Roach is forced to evade areas with patrols. This made Shepherd's plane angle differently, making it hard for Price to aim at them.

"Roach, we're losing him! Move faster!" Price yelled and Roach navigated them to Shepherd. They couldn't go any faster so the best option to build up speed is to go forward without bumping on to something. This was a river and they were going with the current, so it was a lucky thing.

The plane ascended and the duo was almost in shock that Shepherd made it through it was impossible.

"Sir! They're not yet escaping!" Roach yelled and pointed to the Plane that soared high to evade the ravine.

"A second chance!" Price muttered as Gary braced himself for a narrow river, they carefully maneuvered the narrow river all while evading Shadow Company as they filled both sides with men holding weapons.

Price used his grenade launcher to topple assembling troops by the ravine. Luckily, guard outposts contained explosive barrels adding an explosion upon impact, causing guards to fly across their outposts into the raging river.

Gary was all focused on the speedboat ahead of them, Shepherd must not escape.

"I'm on my last three rounds!" Price roared as he hid for cover while water splashed on them as bullets hit the river. Gary used one hand to toss his rifle, giving the Captain a fresh 10 rounds of grenades to be launched.

"Nice. Let's light these bastards up!" He cheered and shot the two speedboats pursuing after them, sending them to the air as their engines exploded.

"Hell yeah!" Gary cheered as they exited the cave, the plane once again descended as the area became open for exfil once again. By this time, Price only had 8 rounds to distract their escape.

In hopes for the engine to rev more, Gary squeezed his grip tighter as he heard the engine struggle giving them the maximum speed possible.

"Let's end this." Price mouthed, Gary barely heard his Captain but he knew what it meant.

Their boat speeded up quite faster than he had imagined as they were quickly catching up to the extraction. And as soon as they were close, Price fired the launcher at the huge plane, the explosion toppled the three vehicles sending them to the raging river.

Gary quickly ascended to the surface as soon as he dipped on the water, helplessly swimming against the current, down toward a high waterfall. The last thing he could remember was the impact on the ground, a loud crash towards the water before he lost consciousness.

The next thing Roach knew was that he was coughing up river water by the shore, his vision slowly recovered as he looked beyond him. Not far from him was black smoke he assumed that came from the crashed plane.

He struggled to crawl his way to the site, slowly getting up and limping, exhaling a heavy sigh.

He needed to hurry as the sandstorm started to brew up and might obstruct his already blurry vision.

A few more steps. Gary thought to himself as he felt the adrenaline rush, causing him to stand up and endure all the pain of the landing. A temporary boost to finish the fight. From the distance, he already spotted his target, leaning on a broken car, also catching up with his breath.

He carefully approached the General and tried to constrain him by grabbing on his arms, but he never expected the man to be aware of his presence. With one swift swing of his arm on Gary's throat, he found himself choking and gasping for air as he kicked him off, sliding against the sandy ground.

"What is your deal with me!" He growled, grabbing a knife by his pocket and approached Roach, who was still catching up with his breath.

"I did my very best to keep you out of my business, but you really have to find me? For what? Justice?!" Shepherd knelt on Roach's side, raising his hand and stabbed Roach by the chest. Even with the shortness of breath, Roach exhaled longer that he'd expected.

"Shit." he muttered, gasping as Shepherd dug the knife deeper while Roach tried to prevent him from doing so, this couldn't be the end of the line for him. He still wanted to live. There are many more things he could do.

"This is what you get for foiling my plans. I wasn't teaming up with Nero. I was trying to gain the upper hand. And your death could serve as a lesson for everyone in your squad to double check all intel before jumping into battle." He almost chuckled just before a figure sent him flying away from Roach.

This took Roach the moment to endure all pain as he pulled off the knife, blood sputtered from the deep gash on his chest as he quickly stopped the pressure with his hand. He wanted to live. He must survive this injury.

His head lazily leaned to the battle beside him. Price and Shepherd were engaged in hand to hand combat, overpowering one another. They looked very even and if that was the case, Roach wouldn't be alive to see the end of their battle. He blinked and as soon as he opened his eyes once again, Price was already pinned down as Shepherd gave him a heavy beating, taking advantage of his position. Roach felt the ground shook as the two also were distracted. This gave Price the chance to strike back and knock him off on top of him as he struggled to get up.

Neither one was willing to give up their cause and it was such a shame that it was all some sort of messed up misunderstanding, but nevertheless, Shepherd was still wrong. He knew full well that exchanging the IP Address for an advantage placed the world at more risk than it already had.

Roach's ears grumbled as the ground heated up. The rocket already launched and was on it's way to wherever the fuck Shepherd wanted it ro go. Did Alex and Jack not make it? Gary wondered as he leaned back to Shepherd, who was now pinned and tied on the ground. Soap already tied him up while Price approached Roach.

"Can you get up?" Price asked as he lifted Roach up and helped apply pressure to his wounds.

"Hang in there Roach. You can do this!" His words of encouragement were the last words he heard, as after those exact words, the sky turned white and a loud ringing noise filled the desert sky. Alex and Jack did it. They successfully detonated their charges.

The next thing Roach knew was he was already in a chillier place, his back was on a softer platform and the sky was nothing but a swinging lamp.

Everything else was painful as he tried to get up and failed. It seemed like he could only move his bed. He leaned to his left and saw only a white wall while his right side was two more beds where Alexandra and Ghost slept.

Alexandra. She was alive. Roach couldn't help but chuckle at the idea of her surviving. Turns out his optimism was useful this time.

He looked at his chest as the slow rising and falling of his breathing urged him to check on it. He was wrapped in bandages that were still red from the blood and it also looked like he was given a few bags. He was thankful that he made it out of that situation and he was given yet another chance to live again.

"Glad to see you're awake." Soap said as he entered the room, with a bag of frozen peas on his forehead.

Roach wanted to thank him, but he couldn't say any word yet. Any effort of doing something only resulted in pain.

"In case you're wondering. What you did out there was fruitful. Shepherd gave us the bomb maker's name. He called him Volt. Honestly the puns aren't suitable for villains, but he chose well." Soap commented, trying to cheer up the fellow sargeant.

Guess Shepherd already gave up. And he was glad he did. Because somewhere deep inside his mind, Gary believed that Shepherd slightly hesitated on his stab. If he was serious enough, he might've been dead now.

This meant that the key to ending this war is now solely upon the death of Nero.

Next Chapter : The NINE Engines

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