The Haunting of Isola Forte di Lorenzo

by Sherlyn Colgrove

  “That isn’t fair to the other teams. Besides, I’ll be fine,” she assured.

  Matt wasn’t fully convinced, but in his five year friendship with Jorden, he knew when to argue and when not to, and now was not the time. “All right,” he ceded. “But if you need to stop for any reason, let me know.”

  “I will.”

  Matt didn’t believe her, but stepped out from in front of her and allowed her to move on, and he followed, this time keeping a close eye on her.

  Jorden’s words worried him; not because of their eeriness, though that was reason enough, but because they reminded him of dreams he’d been having himself. When he was younger, he’d had a horrible experience in an abandoned apartment building that gave him his first experience with the paranormal. It wasn’t something he’d ever spoken about to anyone, not even Jorden or his ex-wife, but lately, the memories of that night were coming back to him in nightmares, and he knew that they were warning him against something, but just what he wasn’t sure. In any case, when he coupled his dreams with Jorden’s, he was left with a deep, uneasy feeling that wasn’t likely to go away any time soon.

  Refectory - 1:05 am…

  “We’ve been all over this place in the last few hours and found nothing. What are we looking for exactly?” Ana questioned as she looked through the small monitor of her camcorder.

  “Shadow people,” Syd said briefly, holding an EMF reader above his head, hoping to find an electromagnetic field above their base reading of point-zero-two. A spiked reading could mean the presence of a disembodied entity…or not.

  “Right. With so many of them popping up I forgot where exactly we were looking for them.”

  It was a good thing that it was dark and Ana had her light pointed forward, and couldn’t see the smile on his face. She was right when she said, in so many words, that sightings of “shadow people” were over reported. It was easy to catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of the eye, and depending on the circumstances and the surroundings, the glimpses could just as easily be misinterpreted. Since joining SCP, Syd noticed that the most debunked phenomenon they faced next to orbs, “unexplained” floating balls of light that more often than not turned out to be dust or bugs, were “shadow people”. Still, there was the one time they could neither debunk nor confirm a single report of a shadow person, and because of that, they had to give every claim a certain amount of validity; that is until they were able to find a more corporeal explanation for them. And then there was the picture. From the moment they entered the refectory both Syd and Ana had done several experiments with positioning of cameras, flashlights or moving around themselves to catch a stray reflection and nothing could duplicate the photo.

  “You shouldn’t show disrespect, especially now. There may well be something here and you wouldn’t want to offend them,” he lectured after a moment.

  There was just the slightest of pauses. “You’re right,” she capitulated. “I’m sorry. It’s just in the six months I’ve been doing actual investigations I have yet to see a real shadow person. I mean, I know that you guys were unable to debunk one report, but even then there was a possibility that it wasn’t real,” she explained. “I don’t mean to offend any spirits that may be lingering, but I am getting tired of dead end investigations…no pun intended.”

  Syd suppressed a small laugh. “Give it time,” he said just like the father that he was. “Spirits don’t work on a schedule and all of the investigations you’ve been on so far have lasted no longer than seven hours. We’re going to be here for two weeks and I’m sure that you’ll capture your ghost.”

  “Yeah, well, wake me when the time-”

  Ana’s words abruptly ended when a loud bang from the kitchen made both of them jump.

  “What was that?” Ana questioned with a slightly shaky voice.

  “It came from the kitchen,” Syd stated without hesitation.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Without a doubt,” he confirmed. “Follow me.”

  Syd led the way though the barren tables of the refectory. Unlike the stone walls outside, which were overgrown with ivy and other creeping flora, inside it was clean and clear with the exception of a light film of dust. Whatever condition the other buildings were in, it was clear that the caretakers took great care of the refectory. Even the tables were kept clean and polished, though the caretaker did mention something about the spirits wanting the tables kept in pristine condition. Neither the caretaker nor Syd were sure why, but they were kept as such nonetheless.

  Once through the rows of long tables, they crossed a clearing and approached a pair of thick, solid wood swinging doors where they heard another bang, which stopped both of them just a few feet away from the threshold that joined the dining hall to the kitchen.

  “It sounds like someone sifting through the pots and pans,” Ana said just barely above a whisper. “Is anything coming up on the EMF reader?”

  Syd looked at his readings, which remained at the base reading. He shook his head. “We need to go inside.”

  Ana didn’t need to be told more than once, and she pushed through the doors. “Hello,” she called out. “Is someone in here?”

  There was no answer and Syd followed close behind, keeping his light trained on his EMF reader. “It’s going up. I’m reading point-eight,” he informed steadily as he started to walk through the wide space.

  “We’re not here to hurt you. We’re just checking things out for the owners. They want to turn this old monastery into a resort for the rich and privileged,” Ana said, hoping to spark a response. “What do you think of that?”

  Just to be on the safe side Syd translated the inquiry into Italian, just in case the ghostly monk didn’t speak English.

  There was no audible response and the banging had stopped, yet the EMF reader remained steady at one-point-two.

  “I’d understand if you wouldn’t like it,” she continued. “To be honest, I don’t like the idea of it either. Personally I think that all of you should be allowed to live out your…” she fought for the right words, but none readily came to mind, “…eternity, here in peace,” she said finally.

  As Syd looked at the reader, the numbers started to decline. “Whatever is here is leaving.”

  “Don’t go,” Ana pled. “We want to talk to you.”

  “We’re down to point-eight,” he quietly informed.

  “Please don’t leave. Just tell us your name,” she requested.

  “And we’re back down to point-zero-two.”

  Ana exhaled sharply in frustration. “Well hopefully we got something on the recorder or on the IR set up in here,” she said with clear disappointment.

  “Hopefully, but in the meantime we need to continue our investigation. We still need to get up to the mezzanine surrounding the dining hall and check out the attic as well.”

  In the dimness of the light, Syd could see a tight smile crease Ana’s full, red lips and her dark eyes narrowed. “Well then, by all means, let’s not keep the dust waiting.”

  Syd wanted to lecture her about respecting the dead and the island, but knew that it would likely fall on deaf ears. Since she joined SCP, she’d faced one disappointment after another during their investigations and she was growing antsy. Unfortunately, if there was something on the island, her first real find might be an unpleasant one if she didn’t shape up. Hopefully he would be able to talk some sense into her before that happened.

  People’s Church – 2:45 am…

  Saph stepped through the pews and led Tony up to the altar then up to the mezzanine, never once hearing a grunt, let alone a choir of voices singing. Still, she was unwilling to give up just yet and she took a seat on one of the pews. For an abandoned church, it was in remarkable shape, though she understood that of all the buildings on the island, the cottage notwithstanding, the church was one of two places the caretaker kept tidy. Hell, no blasphemy intended, they probably prayed here, that is until one of the daughters was spooked.

 
“Maybe we should try to get some EVPs before we take off for the night,” Tony said. His deep tone was tired and if Saph had to guess, she would say that he was suppressing a yawn when he said it.

  Saph held her recorder out ahead of her. “Is there anyone here with us?” she asked, then paused as though she was waiting for an answer, though she knew that she wouldn’t likely hear one. “My name is Sapphire, but you can call me Saph. Can you tell me your name?” she asked.

  “I doubt that if there is something here it understands you,” Tony said. “You might try Italian or French; after all, they’re the ones who inhabited this place.”

  “There were some English here as well,” Saph defended. “Besides, I only speak English, Spanish and very little Chinese, and about as much Italian.”

  Tony actually did know some Italian, but not enough to make a difference, and knew no French at all.

  “We should have gotten a tourist phrase book,” Tony only lightly joked, but put more truth in it than kidding.

  Saph snorted a slight laugh. Why none of them had thought of it was beyond her, but it was too late now.

  “How long have you been here?” she asked, still holding her recorder out. “How did you die?”

  Saph and Tony waited for anything that could be construed as an answer, though nothing followed the questions, not even a creek.

  “I think that we’re done here,” Saph said, unable to hide her disappointment from her tone.

  “I hate to agree, but I think that you’re right,” Tony said and stood.

  Saph followed Tony out of the church and down the stairs that led to the dirt path that was thickly overgrown with tall grass that stood over four feet high, along with a hodgepodge of flora that surrounded the monastery grounds. At the moment Saph’s feet hit the feral path the investigators were startled by a low murmur that flowed from the church behind them. Neither of them spoke, but did turn to face the church.

  Under the light of the waxing moon the investigators stared at the church.

  “Please tell me that you’re still recording,” Tony said in a whisper so low that Saph barely heard him.

  Of course she hadn’t turned off the recorder; she rarely did, in spite of what Matt said.

  Without any urging on Tony’s part, Saph quickly ascended the stairs and hurried through the rickety doors of the church. She didn’t have to look to know that Tony was hot on her heels; she could hear his shoes hit the wooden steps with claps so loud she wanted to push him back down to the path, but she was in too much of a hurry to get inside the church.

  But just as quickly as the murmuring started, it stopped when Saph opened the doors from the vestibule and exposed the chapel.

  “I didn’t just imagine that…did I?” Saph questioned as she stepped inside.

  There was a brief silence behind her. “Not unless we both did,” Tony said finally. “Think we should stay a while and see if it starts up again?”

  Somehow Saph knew that staying wouldn’t produce any more results than before the murmur started and she wasn’t prepared to spend the night in the old, dusty church just to yield nothing more than a stressed back and stiff neck. “Do you have a recorder on you?” she asked.

  “No,” Tony said half with disappointment, half with disgust. “I didn’t think of bringing one since you had one.”

  “Then might I suggest that we return with a fully charged recorder and set it up for the night. With any luck we’ll be able to catch something from our shy friends,” Saph suggested. “But we’d better do it quickly. I don’t want to take a chance that we might miss something.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Tony agreed. “How do you feel about staying here while I run down to the cottage and get a second recorder? If we both go then the likelihood that we might miss something will dramatically increase.”

  Of course she didn’t want to stay in the creepy, dusty church alone, especially if she wasn’t alone, but at the same time she didn’t want to risk missing anything either. “Just hurry,” she said quickly. “Now, before I change my mind.”

  Before she even finished the sentence Tony was out the door and running down the stairs.

  In the five minutes Tony was gone, nothing happened, and Saph hadn’t expected it to. About the only sound she heard as she waited was the howling of the wind through the drafty building, though a raccoon did give her a bit of a scare for about five or so seconds.

  When Tony returned he placed the fully charged recorder on the altar of the church and pressed record. As they left, Saph had a good feeling that they just might capture something paranormal and a smile filled her face.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Tuesday – Caretaker’s Cottage – 10:05 am…

  Jorden held her mug tightly in her hands and allowed the warmth of her spiced tea to bleed life into her frozen fingers as she took a seat next to Nigel.

  Nigel’s head, which had been cradled in his folded arms that rested on the tabletop, snapped up. “I’m awake!” he blurted then wiped the side of his mouth.

  “I can see that,” Jorden said as she pulled a file from the short stack in front of Nigel. “Were you working on these all night?”

  Nigel ran his fingers through his thick, black hair and rested back in the hard, dining room chair. “Only after we returned from the rice fields,” he said. “You would have thought that the boredom from sitting out there for four hours and catching nothing more than a chilled breeze would have been enough to send me packing off to dreamland, but for the life of me I couldn’t get to sleep, so I thought that I would dig in.”

  She opened the file and shook her head. “We should have had this completed before we got here,” she complained, more to herself than anyone else. She didn’t like being unprepared, but that’s what she was.

  “Don’t beat yourself up love, we gathered the information as quickly as we could, but with all the preparations to be made and short amount of time we had, there was no way we were going to get through it all before we flew out here. We were damned lucky to get through what we could find on the monastery.”

  “Still, we’re traipsing through this godforsaken place not knowing a damned thing factual about it.” She paused as she took a sip from her mug followed by another. “It just makes me uneasy.”

  “If you don’t mind my saying so, you’ve been uneasy since before we started planning this trip,” he pointed out. “What’s on your mind?”

  She thought about telling him, but not knowing how to truly explain it to herself, she was at a loss at how to tell anyone else. Still, that didn’t stop her from trying; not with Matt the night before, and not with Nigel now. “I guess that my only defense is that I’ve had a gut feeling since hearing about this case that something wasn’t right, and being here hasn’t changed anything. If anything, the feeling has grown more intense.”

  “There’s a lot going on here that isn’t paranormal and that’s enough to make me uneasy,” Nigel admitted. “What exactly isn’t sitting right with you?” he asked, now fully awake and fully engulfed in Jorden’s problems.

  She shrugged. “I wish I could say, but like I said, it’s just a feeling.

  Nigel looked away from her and down at the stack of folders. “Well maybe going through this pile will help. Maybe you’re feeling uneasy because you’re going into this investigation blind. Once you know the history I bet that you’ll feel more at ease at being here.”

  He had a point. Without fail, every time they went into an investigation she’d already known what to expect, at least for the most part. She knew the history and had talked to the clients herself, but in this case, Matt made most of the arrangements and he was the only one who had truly spoken with Jonas, the little Q&A session when they got the case notwithstanding. And while she trusted Matt with her life, she still felt vulnerable. “Maybe you’re right,” she admitted finally.

  It was when she looked down at the file folder she grabbed that she realized she hadn’t really been looking through it and she flip
ped the pages over to start at the beginning. The top sheet contained a picture that didn’t help the feeling she had about the island. The picture was just more than twenty years old, the last time the Italian government had allowed tourists on the island officially, and the monastery didn’t look any different now than it did then. There was a description of reported activity, including a tidbit that she wasn’t aware of. During a tour of the monastery, a tourist died of a heart attack. What brought on the attack was a mystery since the woman was only forty-three and in excellent health with no history of heart disease or any other ailment for that matter.

  “Did you find something interesting?” Nigel asked when he noticed that she was stuck on the first page.

  “I thought that Harper said that the island was off limits because of the condition of the structures,” she said.

  “Something like that, though I got the feeling that he wasn’t telling us everything. Why? Did you find something?”

  “It seems that you have good instincts,” she said then turned the page, looking for the source of the report. “According to this, a tourist died here more than twenty years ago while on a tour. The cause of death was a heart attack, and though the woman was reported to be in her forties, she was reported in excellent physical condition. Right after the incident the island was shut down to public tours.

  She handed the folder over to Nigel. “Where did this come from?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “There doesn’t seem to be any bibliographical information here.”

  Nigel’s brows creased and he appeared as confused as she was. “Well without information on the source of the information, we have to look at this with skeptical eyes,” he said steadily. “Though I will make an effort to find out where this came from and find out more about the tourist. Maybe there was an ailment that wasn’t reported and the family was looking for a settlement.”