―Fyodor Dostoyevsky
After the business with The Black Sun was laid to rest, I had time to pause and reflect on the experience.
I never saw or spoke with an alien. I can't imagine what it would be like, although Paul Hellyer knows. I saw a Mufon interview with him on You Tube. It didn't fascinate, but instead disturbed me.
I've never been curious about outer space where no human life exists. Robert Frost said it best when he wrote, I have it in me so much nearer home/To scare myself with my own desert places.
Nat tells me a lot of dignitaries and heads of state knew about the presence of The Black Sun living among us and visited their ancient ruins in the Antarctic. Good for them, if it reassures them―as for me, forgive the pun, I find it alienating.
I think aliens will do best to avoid us. It appears The Black Sun have found the Inuit more hospitable than the rest of humanity and I don't blame them. When I think of the crimes of the Aryan Brotherhood, I'm tempted to go to Nunavut and join the aliens, but that's not how it works.
You can't renege on your human passport although I'm sorely tempted to at least resist.
But The Black Sun are safe in Nunavut with neighbours who will allow them to peacefully coexist.
So be it.
Such were my thoughts the day after everything wrapped up. Abe closed his cold cases with a slew of Aryan Brotherhood arrests.
My team completed our inventory of Esther's hellish house, and Abe tells me the ghosts of the past are set to be exorcised when the house is turned into a park.
I was glad our investigation came to an end. It was time for a new project and seemingly on cue, Abe dropped by my office with an interesting case he thought we might like to look into.
I told him I'd have to consult with my team first.
"Sure, take your time, Pal―we've been putting up with this for a few years―I'm sure Mitzi can wait a bit longer."
"Wait a minute," I gasped, "are you saying this is a personal request, rather than police business?"
"That's right, Prof―some things the Swat team just can't handle. This is one of them."
"Okay, Abe, why don't you start from the beginning―what's this all about anyway?"
He flashed me his crinkly-eyed smile knowing damn well I wouldn't turn him away.
"It started three years ago, about the time we finally got our house in the country. Mitzi always dreamed about country life and when we spotted this old farm home on five acres of land it seemed perfect. The price was right and we bought it within days of seeing it."
"So, how old is the house?"
"It was built back in the 1800's by pioneers who were the first to settle in the area. It's near a tiny town called Waterford, but close enough to the highway that I can commute into the city. It's nothing special really. The man who built the house used local field stone and the lumber was harvested by cutting down trees on the property. The whole area is part of a Carolinian forest that stretches up from the Eastern USA into Canada."
I was more than taken back by Abe's tale―I didn't see him as living in the country and from what he told me of Mitzi, she seemed more the glamorous city girl type.
On the other hand, they did have a young family, so I could see a more laid back lifestyle.
I wondered what kind of unusual situation they'd be dealing with out in corn country.
"It's ghosts, Pal, plain and simple. Right up your alley, I'd say."
"You're kidding me," I marvelled, shaking my head in disbelief.
"Well, it's actually one ghost―a young woman about Mitzi's age. She's not threatening―not like a poltergeist or something, but just off-putting. Mitzi's not the type to see spirits or delve into the supernatural, so all the more reason why we're both mystified."
"So, tell me a bit more," I encouraged―where do these sightings take place and when?"
"The ghost always seems to show up outdoors just around dusk. Mitzi will be puttering in the garden or getting something from the shed and she'll see a female figure in the distance, just standing still and staring. Eventually, the vision will fade and finally disappear into nothingness."
"And how does the experience affect Mitzi?"
He thought for a moment.
"You mean her emotions? Well, she always feels melancholic afterwards. She'll tell me about it when the kids are asleep and we're sipping wine by the fire. She'll get this detached, sad look on her face. It's not like her at all―she's usually pretty upbeat and chatty, going on about her day, but when she sees the ghost it makes her sad and reflective."
"I'll tell you what," I told him, "I'll call up the team members tonight and maybe we can come out on Saturday, if it's convenient. You're right―it's something we're familiar with and maybe we can all put our heads together and get a line on what's happening here."
After Abe left, I sat a long time in my office thinking about what he said.
It would be a relief to deal with a haunting after the sordid business with the Aryan Brotherhood and their twisted philosophy.
A few weeks ago I wouldn't have thought that way, but now it was truly the way I felt.
Investigating a ghostly apparition was one thing―staring into the abyss of human evil while dealing with the disturbing presence of aliens was quite another.
A paranormal investigation would be a refreshing change of pace.