After staying a while, they began to head back to their cars, and Bart silently thanked Brenda, the caretaker, for leaving the doors open for them. It was a nice gesture, but not altogether unexpected, as Brenda is one of their greatest supporters and knew they came down on opening night.
As one of the last to leave the site, Bart closed the doors to the unlocked buildings as best he could; he couldn’t lock them since the padlocks were already locked.
The next night, Brenda and her husband came to the outdoor performance. Afterward, Bart approached her to thank her for her thoughtfulness.
“Brenda, I want to thank you,” Bart began.
She got a puzzled look on her face. “For what?”
“For leaving the buildings open last night for our ceremony.” Her face dropped.
“What?” she answered, looking puzzled. And then she told Bart she hadn’t!
“But the padlocks were on the loops—locked—and the doors were open!” Bart told her.
“We locked them, Bart, just the same as we always do.”
Confused, Bart knew this was impossible because the padlocks were locked on the hinges!
When he explained this, Brenda smiled again and told Bart they hadn’t left them unlocked. Then she added that the locks had been locked correctly when they’d arrived there that morning! Brenda said she wouldn’t even have known about this at all, except for Bart telling her. Bart was shocked. Then suddenly he knew—he knew for sure, that they were with them that opening night—the massacred villagers. Bart knew they weren’t just imagining their presence that night. The massacred villagers were there for the actors that night, and Bart knows now that they really do appreciate their respect.
Bart smiled, still touched by the spirits’ gesture that opening night.
“I believe they unlocked the buildings for us.” Bart thought for a moment and then began to tell me another story of the massacre site.
A lady who came down to the site one day was a descendant of one of the massacre victims. She’d traveled a long way to finally see the spot where her relative met his end all those years ago. But she told the caretakers she’d been having a dream, over and over, about a flower. This was late winter, and our area had just had a large snowstorm. Because this woman had traveled so far, the caretakers walked through the snow with her, pointing out various points of interest, until they all finally arrived at the massacre site. Beside an old tree, sticking up through the snow was the flower the visitor had seen repeatedly in her dreams, and just as in the woman’s dream, the flower was in full, beautiful bloom! This was a seemingly impossible event in the dead of winter. The descendant believed that this is where her ancestor had fallen, and somehow this was her ancestor’s message to her.
Bart believes the spirits of the victims still make themselves known, and he also thinks they still walk the area around Schoenbrunn. Bart told me that up in the woods behind the outdoor drama site, the horses spook a lot for no reason at all. Many times, while on a horse up there, Bart could feel the horse getting fidgety and edgy, and when he’d look around—it’s all wide open up there—there was never anything there. Bart said there was one horse that wouldn’t go into that area at all. One night, while Bart was playing a Native American, he was on the horse backstage (backstage is actually a hill leading into the forest with a flat clearing at the top) and Bart wasn’t really paying attention. The horse threw him off. He had to go after the horse pretty quickly, as his next cue was coming, and he needed to ride the horse back down the hill and onto the stage. But that horse simply would not enter the clearing. He had thrown Bart as they’d approached the clearing together, then afterward, the horse ran to just the other side of the clearing and stopped—waiting for him! Bart could not get him to cross back over the clearing. And when playing Native Americans, the actors ride bareback, so there’s nothing to grab onto. Bart laughed at recounting his dilemma that night.
Bart explained that many people hear things up there too. Some have heard screaming, and one person saw a figure running through the woods. Once they remember that this is the area where all the massacre victims once walked, it begins to get to everybody a little bit. The location is just across from the village of Schoenbrunn, not even a mile away.
I mentioned that Bart seemed to be very intuitive himself, very open, from what I was sensing. This may also be part of the reason Bart has had so many experiences.
“Yes, I think I am,” he agreed. “From the time I was a young child, I’ve had various things happen around me.”
Bart was always afraid of his bedroom, so he slept in the living room. His mom used to get mad at him because of it, but that’s where he wanted to sleep—period. He just would not go into his room.
Bart remembered one night when he was in the sixth grade, something woke him up while he was sleeping in the living room. He got up to get a drink in the kitchen, and when he turned around and looked toward his room, he saw a little girl walk into his bedroom. Bart dropped the glass and it shattered. He never saw her again.
Bart told me he now owned his childhood house and that his mom had passed away there too. She passed away in that same bedroom—Bart’s old room, the one that he used to be so afraid of. Bart had just told his mother it was okay to go, that he’d be okay, and then she fell asleep and peacefully passed away about forty-five minutes later. I told Bart I’d just interviewed others who told similar stories about their parents.
Bart believed his mom came back a few times too. All Bart’s friends loved his mom, and they often played cards together. In the kitchen was a radio cassette player—Bart, his friends, and his mom would all sit in the kitchen playing cards and listening to it. Bart’s mom always turned the radio on because she liked to hear it while they played. After his mom passed away, Bart’s friends were in town, and they got together at Bart’s house. They started playing cards that night. Suddenly, the radio turned on by itself. Bart’s friends nervously glanced at him, so he got up and turned it off. Bart sat back down again, picked up his hand, and the radio came back on! Bart’s friends just stared at him, shocked. “It’s Mom,” he told them, and he just knew that it was. And they knew she was letting them know she was there. After that, Bart’s mom would also open the doors a lot, and Bart thought it was so he would know she was around.
Bart’s mom had had a necklace he’d given her that had been lost for years. His mother couldn’t find it anywhere and it upset her greatly. After she died, Bart decided to give some of her things to those he thought would like
to have them. He went to her jewelry box, opened it up, and lying right on top like it was placed there for him to find was that necklace! It had been missing for years and she’d hunted everywhere for it. Bart thinks that after his mom died, she found out where it was and put it there in the jewelry box for him to find.
Bart is a true believer in our loved ones coming back to reassure us that they are still aware, and still here for us. I thanked Bart for all the great information, and we said our goodbyes. As I made my way out, I remembered another story a friend recently told me about the Schoenbrunn area. This friend lives just a little way from Schoenbrunn Village, just on the other side of the river.
I ran into him one day at the store, and we somehow got to talking about my favorite subject. He told me that several times he’d woken up to a white-haired man with a long beard at the foot of his bed, staring at him with a scowl on his face. The strangest thing about this man is that he was dressed in the clothing and knee breeches of the late eighteenth century, just as the missionaries and the Christian Indians would’ve dressed. My friend also keeps finding his back door open—even though he keeps it locked. He will feel it getting cold in his living room and then go check, and sure enough, the back door is open again.
I believe this ghost in knee breeches may very well be one of the early inhabitants of Schoenbrunn. This spirit probably wonders who this stranger
is, camping here by their river, and encroaching upon their land. To them, it’s still 1782 in Schoenbrunn.
[contents]
12
Till Death Do Us Part?
I set up an interview to meet Al, the golf partner of a man who had worked part time for me. Al and his wife, Chris, were a middle-aged couple married for more than forty years. They’d had one of those lifelong love affairs you sometimes hear about. Their love had lasted throughout their entire marriage—and went on to survive Chris’s death.
Chris had been a big believer in the afterlife and in ghosts and spirits. The couple had attended a psychic fair once and had been told that they were brother and sister in another incarnation, which caused a lot of hilarity on their more amorous nights.
When Chris’s mother passed away years earlier, Chris believed she’d been sent a sign. That first year after her mom died, Al and Chris stayed up late one night watching a movie and then each fell asleep in their recliners. They awoke to a strange sound coming from somewhere in the house, but they couldn’t determine its location. Finally, they traced the sound to the kitchen, and Chris recognized it. She owned a plate that played “Happy Birthday,” which the family used for their cakes at birthday celebrations.
Chris’s birthday was the following day, and as she dug deep in the cupboard for the plate, knowing it was impossible to turn the plate on without physically doing so, she wondered if her mom might’ve been involved. At the same time, she said aloud, “I might’ve thought Mom was telling me happy birthday if she’d only waited one more day!” Al looked at his watch and said, “Chris! It’s after midnight! It’s your birthday!” Chris just smiled as she realized Al was right! Then she thanked her mom, knowing her mother had somehow turned the plate on to send her birthday wishes. The plate never again played by itself.
Al had his own experiences with the paranormal return of loved ones. Al’s father had clinically died years earlier and was revived, literally brought back to life. After that, he was never afraid to die, stating that it was a wonderful white light. Al’s dad lived many more years after that. Finally, time passed, disease and illness took their toll, and Al’s father neared death again. He had been in a coma for six months before he passed away, and Al’s mother went to visit him every day. One cold winter’s night, Al was home, asleep in bed. Suddenly something woke him up, and as he lay there wondering what it was, a huge blast of ice-cold air blew through the house, almost as though a window had been opened in the wintry weather. That’s Dad! Al thought. A moment later, the telephone rang and it was Al’s mother calling to tell him that his father had just passed away. “I already know, Mom,” Al told her.
More recently, Al’s mother died, and Al believes she too came back to let her children know she was okay. The week before his mother went into her final coma, she told Al’s sisters she’d dreamt of a beautiful banquet with flowers, food, and a table set with the finest silver and china. She said she’d never seen anything so gorgeous and perfect. The hospice nurse told Al’s mom that maybe it meant they were preparing it for her, that maybe soon it was her time to go be with her husband. But Al’s mother said no.
“It’s only for men this time,” she told her daughters and the puzzled nurse. “No women are going.”
Al’s sister grabbed the paper the next day to look at the obituaries, and sure enough, only men had died that day in their large city!
Al’s sisters had been their mother’s primary caregivers along with hospice, and they were all staying at their mother’s house. When the brothers and sisters were kids, they had a rule at home that whenever any of them went anywhere, they were to call home, let it ring once, and hang up, so as not to lose their dime in the pay phone. That was their code that they had arrived safely at their destinations.
Al’s sister walked into their mother’s room just as his other sister told her she thought their mom had just passed away. As they stood there trying to discern if their mother was still breathing, the phone rang once! They knew then that their mom had arrived safely and was letting them know.
Al and his wife, Chris, had been high school sweethearts, and once their children were grown, they began enjoying their midlife years together. Both Al’s and Chris’s favorite activity was a vacation cruise to the Caribbean, where they could snorkel, enjoy the ocean, and savor the fabulous food. Chris felt it was the best holiday any woman could have, and Al went along with her wishes.
The year of Chris’s death was no different. She and Al had been looking forward to escaping the cold weather for the balmy tropics. The trip began uneventfully enough until the third day, when the ship was anchored on the open sea, and Al and Chris went snorkeling. It was a beautiful morning as usual in the region. A large catamaran filled with a group of like-minded cruise-ship guests steered Al and Chris a distance away from the ship. The catamaran was large enough to hold quite a few passengers and even had a bar for the guests’ enjoyment.
The blue water was warm, the sun was shining, and the fish were plentiful. There was a lot to see. Al and Chris enjoyed their favorite hobby together on a near-perfect day. Al had an underwater camera that he liked to tinker with each time they went diving. It was a good one that took great pictures both in and out of the water.
After snorkeling a little while, Chris said she was tired, and Al asked if she was ready to quit.
“Yes, I think I’m going back to the catamaran to relax and have a drink,” Chris told her husband.
“All right. I think I’m gonna stay out just a little while longer, and I’ll see you back there soon.” This was unusual because Al had always called it quits once Chris was done snorkeling.
Al watched Chris swim away, heading for the catamaran. On impulse, he began to snap a few pictures of his wife with her mask and vest on as she swam back. It was about 10:00 in the morning.
Al continued to snorkel for a just little while longer and then swam back to the catamaran. As he tried to come onboard, he was told there had been a medical emergency and he would have to wait. So Al went back out to snorkel a bit more. Soon, someone from the crew called out Al’s name, and he swam back and was allowed onboard. There was a major commotion on deck, but all he could see was a group of people gathered around something. Suddenly, he saw that they were gathered around Chris, giving her CPR! The crew told Al that Chris had no sooner climbed back onboard than she’d been felled by a major heart attack. The crew and others worked on Chris for a long time, but were unable to revive her. Apparently she had died instantly.
Of course for Al, this was a nightmare scenario of epic proportions. He spent the rest of the cruise sitting with his wife’s body each night in the ship’s morgue. Although the captain said they would bring a helicopter to pick Al up, Chris’s body would have to be shipped, and Al just didn’t want to be separated from her. It made for some uncomfortable moments with the other guests onboard, but Al didn’t care. He decided to wait, along with his wife’s body, until the cruise was over and he could accompany Chris home. His friends thought it was pretty morbid, but Al thought Chris would’ve wanted him to stay. Little did
Al know that the pictures he’d snapped of his wife that day were her last moments of existence on earth.
Al’s grief was as deep as anyone would expect after the sudden death of a soul mate. And it was bittersweet for it to happen in such an idyllic setting where the couple had shared so much and had so many good times. Al told himself that Chris had died doing what she loved with the person she loved most in the place she loved best. And Al tried to move on as best he could—alone. Six months had passed by the time Al finally got around to giving the film from that fateful day to his son to get developed. One night a while afterward, Al’s son came to him and asked if his father had seen the pictures he’d dropped off at the house. Al hadn’t. He didn’t want to be reminded, so he put them away without looking. His son got them from the drawer.
“Look at this one.
What do you see?” Al’s son asked. It was the picture of Chris swimming back to the catamaran, the one Al had taken mere moments before her death. A white opaque shape was rising up out of her body and heading into the blue sky above—with what appeared, almost, to be wings sprouting from it! Al felt that somehow this was Chris’s spirit leaving her body. I explained to Al what many in the paranormal world believe. In some deaths where there is pain involved, such as a heart attack or an accident where someone burns to death, many believe that the soul is taken from the body beforehand, so no pain is felt. The body continues to move and act as it normally would, but the spirit is gone. I told Al he may have caught Chris’s spirit moving on to the light that day she died.
Somehow, Al got through Chris’s death, her funeral, and the aftermath, and he grieved along with family and friends. That fateful cruise and Chris’s subsequent death had been in early November, and Al dreaded the upcoming holidays. But Chris had loved the holiday season, especially Christmas Eve—the night their whole family got together and celebrated, with hors d’oeuvres and a big meal. Chris had always planned the details of their get-together.
Al decided the best way to honor Chris’s memory was to continue the tradition—with one exception. They had always teased Chris mercilessly about the fact that each year, no matter how early she planned to serve the hors d’oeuvres on Christmas Eve, they always ended up being ready at the same time as dinner. This first year without Chris, only six weeks after her death, as the entire family stood around talking after they’d arrived, Al brought up Chris’s traditionally late hors d’oeuvres. This little foible of Chris’s had been the source of much merriment in their family over the years.
“Chris, this year, I’m in charge, so we are having hors d’oeuvres at 6:00!” Al joked. As soon as Al announced his early hors d’oeuvres time schedule, the lights flashed! Al’s son, daughter-in-law, and everyone else there grew very quiet. And then the lights went completely out. Finally, they came back on.
The Dead are Watching Page 10
