by Shea Meadows
A half hour later, they were in a 2002 blue Ford Escort in the airport parking ramp car rental area. There was just enough room for them and their luggage.
“Okay,” Dylan said as he unfolded the map they’d picked up. “We are going to Serene Nest Farm Inn. David has a friend who pulled some strings. The whole place is ours.” He studied the directions. “Looks like it’s about 85 miles from here. Have to follow the road signs to Interstate 85 North.”
“Gotcha!” Jessica said as she started the car and followed the signage that guided them to Interstate 85 which would be their road for the next 25 miles.
“So Beth Ann, you never told us about your out-of-body trip. Did you get to hang with Moon or the whole tribe of advisors?” Dylan asked.
Beth Ann, sitting in the back seat lowered her head and tears streaked down her face, ruining her newly -applied makeup. She sighed and gave Dylan a smile, patting the hand he extended from the front passenger seat.
“I hugged her, you guys. It was wonderful. I’ve missed her so much. We’ve been friends for the last fifteen years. Ricky is amazing, considering that she knew nothing about any of this two months ago, but Moon……” A sigh and more patting of tears. “Moon can’t ever be replaced, and she plans to stick with us as long as they let her, at least until we get a handle on the identity of the Soul Stealer.”
“So it was just you and her?” Jessica asked.
Beth Ann beamed. “I got to meet the whole support team, as well as my spirit guide Sansha. I’d heard my guide many times, but this was the first time I saw her. What a treat. I was surprised when Shri Kria Baba showed up. I thought he was traveling from India to come with Ricky, but if I can pop out during a plane trip, no reason he can’t do the same. It was a pleasure to meet the man who programmed the stones that have allowed us to move forward so quickly.”
Jessica smiled as she switched lanes to be closer to the lane that would allow her exit to state road 316. “I am so jealous. Occasionally I get a glimpse of Moon but nothing that seems so real.”
Beth Ann nodded. “It was my first visit to their meeting place, and believe me, it was unintentional. I was dreaming about eating a chocolate éclair then suddenly I was sitting in their circle. They said they called me. Wanted us to be extra cautious, they feel a lot of chaotic energy building in Athens. We have to stay focused but calm. Fear will cripple us like no other emotion. They all gave me hugs and the addresses I told you. We’ll wait until Ricky and the others arrive before checking them out.”
Dylan was turned toward the backseat and watching Beth Ann as she spoke. “Wow, do you realize your nose didn’t twitch while you talked? Usually the more anxious you are, the more your inner bunny shows up.”
“Really? I didn’t notice. I’m so used to it that it never registers. All I know for sure, I’ve felt a lot calmer since that experience. I know we are working with real beings and Moon is still there. I don’t have to take Ricky’s word for it, or some vague feeling that I’ve had when Moon is around. I saw her, talked to her, and hugged her and all the guides as well. It makes a gigantic difference.”
Soon the trio was on 316 and moving quickly through traffic following the road into Athens, exiting on to the 10 East loop of Athens Perimeter Highway, taking exit 6 which was the way to the Botanical Gardens and the University of Georgia then going east on Route 15. They turned left on Whitehall Road then right again on Serene Road. A large antebellum house loomed before them as the only residence on the street. An acre or so behind it were a collection of barns, fowl houses and outbuildings, all in good repair, with animal corrals that housed horses, goats and very large snorting pigs.
The three got out of the car to a smell that was very thick and intense and magnified by the stillness of the air, the humidity and a temperature in the low 80s. “Wow, I think we’re in the country,” Dylan said, his face wrinkled and his hand covered his nose.”
“It’s a lovely house, but they did say it was on a farm. I never considered the smell,” Beth Ann said, her nose again twitching. “Let’s hope for air conditioning.”
Jessica stretched her long body, smiled and reached for her luggage in the trunk. “I’ve lived near worse. This smells more like chlorine than animals. Almost like some strange new fertilizer. Used to live across the street from a stockyard when I was a kid, so I know the difference. This place at least looks well-cared for.”
Beth Ann, Dylan and Jessica divided up their baggage and carried it up the long walkway to the house which was framed by flowering bushes on either side. The mansion was painted a flawless white, with green shutters and a generous wood-plank porch complete with rocking chairs, gliders and baskets of greenery hanging from the cross-beams above it. A hammock on a separate stand hung from one end of the porch with its other end attached to a flowering crab tree. If not for the intense smell, it would have been idyllic.
The wide green door, inset with a stained-glass tree swung open as they neared the house. A tall man with a thick red beard and shaggy red hair blending in with his sun burned skin, dressed in overalls bounded out. He scooped up their luggage and mumbled an apology. “Sorry, y’all are a mite early, was exercisin’ the horses.”
A sleek woman with milky white skin, who looked like she weighed less than a hundred pounds, smiled from the doorway. She was dressed in a black yoga exercise suit, had smooth, straight black hair, a pointy nose and chin and narrow lips. As she stepped out on the porch her face became red with embarrassment.
“Y’all must think we’re jus’ awful, after you rented the whole place and we didn’t give you a proper welcome,” she said. “I’m Cynda Lu and I’m the manager, that’s Jeff, who’s our handy man. You’ll meet the rest of us as soon as you get in out of the smell and the heat.”
Beth Ann, Jessica and Dylan didn’t hesitate as they moved into the entry way just beyond the door. Confederate era portraits lined a long, cool, thankfully sweet -smelling hallway. Cynda Lu sniffed the air. “Oh, you so came at the right time; Maggie is bakin’ cinnamon rolls. These are unlike any you’ve tasted. Melt in your mouth.”
The door swung open behind them and everyone turned toward it. Ricky, George, Shri Kria Baba and David had arrived. The two groups hugged and chatted, while Cynda Lu and Jeff looked on with bemused expressions. After a few moments, Ricky walked over to their hosts and put out her hand.
“Hi, I’m Ricky Banner, thanks for allowing us to stay here. I know this is a busy time of year for you.”
Cynda Lu smiled and clasped Ricky’s hand. “Your friend Stan made us an offer we couldn’t refuse. Have to apologize for the smell outside. It’s so strange. We are a farm but the house is far enough away from the animals, and unless we jus’ spread manure it usually smells pretty fresh around here. Jeff here looked aroun’ tryin’ to find the source. Smells chemical, sort of like a swimmin’ pool, so it’s really confusion’. No luck as to the source. We even searched the house from top to bottom without discoverin’ where it may come from but it was obvious it was inside too.”
“Would you mind if a couple of us a look around?” Ricky asked, with a nod toward Shri Kria.
“This is so embarrassin’” Cynda Lu said, wringing her hands. “Guess you have a right to, considering what y’all are payin’.”
“What are the places that smell the worse, starting with inside first?” Ricky asked, as she extracted an etheric emerald from her pocket and looked around the entry way.
Cynda Lu’s shoulders slouched and she hesitated. “Guess I better tell you about the ‘hants’ that have been seen here-abouts. There are all sorts of stories about this part of Georgia. This house was built in 1840 so it has a long and glorious history. We’re in the mystery corridor of the state, lots of hauntings around here. Lots of battles fought during the war for southern independence; lots of violent dyin’.
“This house had a problem with stench about a hundred years back. Stories centered around the attic and one room on the third floor, guess you should go to those plac
es first.” She turned to Jeff. “Could you have Erna take the rest of our guests around to pick out their rooms?” She turned back to Ricky; “or should we wait until y’all are sure you’re stayin’?”
Ricky smiled and patted Cynda Lu’s shoulder. “Erna can help settle the rest. I have a feeling my friend Shri and I can clear up the problem.”
“Where first, Ricky?” Shri said with a bow of the head.
“Moon is saying the attic,” Ricky replied.
“Do you need someone to guide you?” Cynda Lu asked with a perplexed look on her face.
“No, we’ll just follow the trail.”
Ricky put the etheric emerald near her heart, made the intention to see the signs clearly, and looked at what the stone revealed. There was a dense cloud of spirit-web that filled the hall and proceeded up the stairs that branched off to the left. Shri and Ricky maneuvered around the rest of their group who were following a beautiful mocha skinned girl with a radiant smile to the second floor of the house. David gave Ricky a concerned look as they passed him and started to speak, but she put her finger to her lips in a gesture of silence and smiled reassuringly.
The spirit-web continued up to the next branch of the stairs after a walk to the north side of the house that brought Shri and Ricky to another set stairway leading to the third floor and a group of much smaller bedrooms that probably were used by staff. The spirit-web on that hall led to the south end where they found a long wooden lever protruding from the ceiling. Ricky was just tall enough to grab the end of the lever and pull, releasing a folding wooden staircase that extended down to the third floor hall and settled securely on a rubber pad at its foot plate. Shri reached over and shook the ladder to be sure it was stable.
“It appears to be safe and of recent construction. Moon is saying we should proceed,” Shri commented.
Ricky nodded, put the stone in the pocket of her khaki Capri pants, straightened her peasant top, adjusted her fanny-pack, took off her flip-flops and started up the ladder. Shri stopped her. “In this case, I will be the leader. You have learned much in the last two months, but I have been doing things of this sort for decades.”
Ricky stepped back to the floor and followed Shri as they ascended to the attic. The spirit-web was so thick it became difficult for them to see the opening, but it was easy to smell where they were going. The closer they got to the attic, the stronger the odor, like a thousand rotting animals caught in a giant bubble of bleach. Ricky asked for a filter and a bubble of fresh air was supplied by one of the guides that lessened the stench to a slight degree.
When Shri pulled up into the attic hatch, Ricky was able to see what caused the odor: two groups of ten men each, dressed in the remnants of either rebel or union uniforms. Some of them could easily be mistaken for living people with only smaller wounds on head, face or limbs. Others had only part of their bodies, such as arms missing, only half a face, and one without his lower half. Even in such dire circumstances, those from the north clustered together on one side of the attic, and those from the south glowered at them from the opposite wall.
Ricky stood beside Shri, both examining the ghost-troops, and were in turn examined by the soldiers who looked surprised to see them, but remained in their clusters, muttering together about the woman in trousers and the man in a dress.
“It’s a surprise to see y’all sittin’ up here,” Ricky said, putting on a southern drawl. “Since y’all are here together, you’re obviously not hidin’ from one another.”
A tall union ghost, with scraggly black hair and wild eyes, who was not as damaged- looking as the rest stepped toward them and cleared his throat. “Pardon the intrusion, mam. We are done with the war. Last thing we all knew was we were dead on the battle field just north of Atlanta. Everyone here has reported a cloud of foul smelling mist that lifted them from the ground and deposited us in this place. Are we in an attic? We seem confined to this space, and some of our number are embarrassingly falling apart.”
Shri Kria Baba smiled. “We can help you with that by sending you to the world of spirits where you will heal and have time to decide on the next step of your journey. Would that be to your liking?”
Several of the less damaged rebel ghosts started to object, but held their peace when the others in their group moved toward them. “We’d appreciate that, Sir. What can we do in return?”
“Can you tell us more about the mist?” Ricky asked “Did it seem like someone was controlling it or did it seem random?”
The ghosts conferred for a moment, and the rebel ghost with the missing lower body answered for them. “There was a howlin’ sound and a deep male voice that seemed to be havin’ a conversation. Something like, ‘let us get a good assortment of both so the smell stays strong’. Then there was big whoosh and those that’s here floated off the ground, whirled around in some place with flashes of light, then landed. By the way, where is here?”
“Athens, Georgia, in the year 2002, in the attic of a big house west of the city. One more question, did anyone see who was talkin’?” Ricky inquired.
Most of them looked at each other and muttered, but one of the rebel ghosts who looked like he had been a teen when he died, timidly hopped forward on his one good leg. “It’s the future where we landed? We’d be obliged if you’d get us out of here. I don’t know anyone. My family is long gone now. And yes, I saw the man who was talkin’. He wore a rebel uniform with the patches of a captain, but he sounded like a northerner.”
Another rebel ghost piped up. “He was a hant for sure, mean one. Had a black beard and a bare head with sparse hair and a big hooked nose, tall and lean. I could see him, but some of the others say they didn’t hear or see anyone.”
Ricky nodded, a glimmer of an idea forming. “We want to thank you for your help. It is time to send you on. Be assured those who will be helpin’ you wish you well and will do their best to make you comfortable. The smell should leave soon, along with the pain of war. Do y’all wish to go?”
The dissenters had given up their protest and all nodded in agreement. Ricky turned toward the rebel ghosts, and Shri toward the union ghosts and both extended the etheric emeralds. A large tunnel of light formed between the groups, and in orderly fashion, the soldiers took turns moving into the tunnel, some being carried by the others. Within two minutes the room was clear of both the spirit-web and the stench.
As Ricky watched their departure, Moon was speaking to her and Shri, directing them toward a room on the third floor.
The room in question was the third down on the left side of the hall near the attic stairway. The spirit-web still lay in billows outside the door with the room being the source. Cautiously, Ricky tried the door knob and found it locked. “We’ll have to ask for the key.”
Shri smiled and sent a zap of energy to the lock and it clicked open easily. “One of the tricks I’ve learned over many life-times.” He swung the door open to reveal a very dusty, empty room with a single bed with a saggy mattress and a tattered quilt, a straight-backed chair and a nicked-up dresser with a warped mirror. All looked like items that had been around for a hundred years with no attempt at care or restoration. A narrow window was bare of dressings and the woodwork was scratched and dented by years of use. Considering what they had seen in the entry way, this room most have been neglected on purpose.
“Okay, the web is here but no stench. Obviously ghosts have been here on and off throughout the years. Does it have anything to do with the ghost army in the attic?” Ricky asked.
You are getting beyond the need for traveling stones, we can use the emeralds for exploring the answer to that question,” Shri replied.
Ricky nodded and took out an etheric emerald from her fanny pack as Shri removed one from his pocket. Both lay down on the floor with the stones near their hearts.
“I propose we travel back a hundred years in this room and move forward from that point. Cynda Lu told us that there was stench in this room a hundred years ago. Perhaps the same being has returne
d,” Shri postulated.
“Sounds like an excellent idea. I have an intuitive nudge of who might be responsible, but this way we’ll know for sure,” Ricky agreed. “The ghosts in the attic died elsewhere in Georgia during the Civil War which was fought from 1861 until 1865. This house was built in 1845, according to the information Stan Jacobs sent us. There were no actual battles near here, but the house was built by a wealthy Georgia attorney who became a Major-General in the Confederate army. He often extended hospitality to officers who served with him. He let them bring their families to spend a day or two away from the war. The person the ghosts are talking about might have been one of his officers or someone pretending to be one.”
“Yes, a good path to explore. We start the journey in 1861 and watch who shows up in the room? We will stop only if someone matching the description of the ghost’s captain shows up and hopefully have a conversation,” Shri responded with a smile.
“That’s if they see us,” Ricky replied.
They linked hands and made the intention to travel to 1861 in the third floor room they now occupied. Ricky remembered the sensation from her first trip with the traveling stones. When going to other dimensions it was a rather straight-forward process. The higher vibratory bands simply left the physical body behind and the traveler’s essence shifted to its higher frequencies. When taking the body along through time and space, the physical flew apart and then realigned in the new place and time. At least in this instance, the place would be the same. Hopefully, with the size of the room, they might avoid occupying the same space as the furniture.
Flashing lights surrounded them as they moved backwards through a tunnel of shifting images, beginning with a much newer looking version of the room. A highly varnished chair and dresser and bright patterned set of curtains around the window and pristine woodwork polished to a shine. They glimpsed the startled expression of a maid, stretched out in the bed, wet with fever.
