Shadows of Eternity: The Children of the Owls (Frost and Flame Book 2)

by Rick Kueber

  “It's killing you isn't it?” She smirked, knowing it was true, and causing Katie to grin.

  I curled my bottom lip downward and shook my head 'no', but quietly said “Maybe a little.” I had no choice, but to accept that when hosting an event, and needing help from many others including the public, that it was literally impossible to control everything. I had to try to pack away my obsessive, compulsive personality, and not stress over details that were out of my control and probably were less important than I was able to believe. Suddenly in the midst of my contemplation, the lights dimmed slightly, and gave the room an ambiance of mystery.

  “Is that better, or do you want me to turn them back up?” Barb said from the back of the room.

  “No, that's great... I love it.” I shouted back, and I honestly meant it.

  “It's time... the place is closed, and people are starting to show up.” Del popped his head in the door. “Alright... who is going to man the donation and ghost huntticket table?” I sucked my breath in and exhaled loudly. This was it. Would the patrons and public be pleased with our event? Would the spirits here make their presence known, or would they hide from the crowd for the entire night? I didn't have the answers, but at this moment, it didn't matter… I knew without a doubt that it was completely out of my hands. I swung my arms together and clapped my hands together, making a crisp and loud smacking sound. “Let's do this!”

  The girls smiled at me nervously, Barb took her place behind the donation table, and Del opened the door. A few people wandered in, and after making their donations, and purchasing tickets for after-hours investigation, just hovered awkwardly in the rear of the dance hall. Alone, or in groups of two or three, others joined us, and I began to wonder if we were going to have enough participation to make the event seem worth-while to the officers and members of the private club.

  A tall, young woman with long, straight, dark hair and almost elfish features entered the room. The lace fringed sleeves of her dress were the only parts that hung loose. The body of the paisley print clung tightly to her thin physique giving her a mythical appearance. Her dark eyes scanned the room, and stopped when they met mine. Not breaking the connection, she leaned in and whispered to Barb as she entered the hall, and then flowed across the room to where the team and I stood. She extended her slender hand to me.

  “I am Sterling.” She said confidently. “I work with Theo, assisting him as needed, and I am an empath.”

  “Pleased to meet you Sterling, I’m Rick.” I said, pleasantly surprised at her unexpected appearance. “Yes, I know. This is quite an incredible building. I have already encountered several spirits between the entrance and here. So much emotion, so much sadness… This should be a night to remember.” She spoke openly and without hesitation. Once we had all been introduced, Sterling and Theo strolled over to Theo's table.

  We had many friends, old and new, attend the 'open to the public' ghost tour. Katie's mom was in attendance, as was an old friend of mine who traveled from the opposite side of the state to come out. Even Jenn's friend from back in her high school days, Christian, had come to learn about the team, the haunting of the Owls, and to find out what Jenn had been up since he had seen her last. After talking with her, and being introduced to the rest of the team, Christian stepped over to Theo's table to get a reading. The accuracy to which Theo described the mother of Christian's son, and what they had been through, was so dead-on, that he asked Theo to please pause a moment while he grabbed up Jennifer to be a witness to its haunting truth. Both Jenn and Christian were in utter shock at the details Theo gave him.

  I also had old friends, classmates, and even relatives attend the event, and a number of Facebook friends whom I had not yet met in person. One of those friends, Amanda Gish-Morris, would turn out to be invaluable in the future. Amanda and I spoke at length before the event began. Her enthusiasm and desire to assist was unparalleled. She quickly purchased and adorned one of our team shirts to show her support and to help her feel connected to the team. I knew immediately that Amanda would be someone we could rely on for help now, or in the future. Faithful and honest friends were a rare commodity in this world, and I had just met one.

  Within a half an hour, we had mingled with many of the guests, sold numerous items, signed team photos, and eventually decided it was time to begin. There were nearly forty people who turned out to hear the chilling tales of the haunting of the Owl's. It was a large crowd, and I needed to formulate a plan that would accommodate them properly.

  “Good evening everyone. If you would find a seat, I would like to get things started as soon as possible. We have much to do and discuss and not as much time as I would like. I'd like to start by saying, thank you all for coming. Tonight promises to be an informative and hair raising event that I hope everyone will be talking about for months and years to come!” I shouted to the back of the room with a smile that could not be contained. “Not only will you be getting a lesson in history, and seeing and hearing some amazing proof of the spirits that reside right here among us in this building, but you may all have an opportunity to interact, and meet them first hand.” I paused briefly while heads turned and murmurs filled the air. Our guests were intrigued by what I had proposed and I could also see a tinge of fear in the eyes of a few of them at the thought of meeting a ghost face to face. Things were going as planned, and it was time to make some new adjustments to the tour. “Barb, could I ask a huge favor of you?” I spoke loudly so that not only Barb could hear, but everyone in the room would be in on our conversation.

  “Certainly! I'm glad to help in any way I can.” Barb said, and I could hear the excitement in her voice. “Would you mind telling our guests about some of the ghostly encounters that have happened here over the years, and then, if you don't mind, tell a bit of the history of the building and the family who lived here a hundred years ago?” Eyes widened as I said the words. Strangers to the building were surprised that the paranormal team was not telling the tales of the hauntings, but instead, someone who had been an active part of the Owl's Nest and its history for many years. It gave the tales more credibility than it would have if a group of paranormal enthusiasts were trying to 'sell' a haunting to a crowd of eager participants.

  Barb was flushed, and cleared her throat. “I'd be happy to, Rick.” I could see the emotions pouring over her. She was thrilled and honored to have been asked to convey this important information, but she was also caught off guard which caused the slightest of embarrassment and stage fright. Barb quickly regained her composure, and turning towards the audience, began to recant the stories and histories of the Owl's Nest.

  The four of us, and Sterling, sat behind the various tables in the front of the dance hall, filled with equipment, literature, and merchandise. While Barb began to recall the tales of frightened and confused Owl's members who had their brush with the spirits who existed within the building's confining walls, I motioned the others over to where I sat. They unobtrusively found their way to me and I began to whisper my new plan to them, in hopes that it would work.

  “I am going to split up the evidence onto three flash drives and we should split up. Katie, do you mind going upstairs and giving the evidence review when the groups come up?” I whispered to them.

  “Groups?” Katie asked quietly. “With this many people, we need to split them up into a couple of groups.” I explained.

  “Okay, as long as I'm not up there alone for too long.” Katie answered. “Great...Sterling, would you mind going up with Katie, at least until the first group shows up? We try not to leave anyone alone, if we can avoid it.” It was an uncomfortable question to have to ask a stranger, but it was my first logical thought.

  “Absolutely.” She quietly answered. “Theo, I want you to stay here with the group and Barb, and then split them up into two groups. You take one upstairs first, and I'll have Barb bring her group to the basement, okay?” It was a lot to throw together at the last minute, but I had to formulate a plan quickly.


  “Sure.” Theo whispered back.

  “What about me?” Jenn asked. “I want you to set up in the boiler room, and I'm going to be in the pool room. Once you have your laptop set up and ready to play the e.v.p.s, you can come into the pool room and help me tell the story behind the voices we recorded, and the story of the shadow children here.”

  “Sounds perfect to me.” Jenn admitted, and it was a good plan. Now, we just needed to execute it as smoothly as we could manage.

  I began to transfer the audio clips and photos onto the flash drives while Barb continued on with the stories of the original family that once lived at the home that became the Owl's nest, some of whom still occupied it spaces. With fine point sharpie in hand, I labeled each flash drive by where the evidence would be revealed, and passed them out accordingly. I unplugged my laptop, and the girls got theirs in order, and ready to transport to the various locations where the ghostly voices would be revealed.

  Barb finished recanting the stories of the passing of the children and the grief-stricken family, though she hadn't heard the whole of the story yet. That much was intentional. We thought it was best, at this time, to not divulge too much of the devastating tale for fear that the spectral children might be listening in to our conversations, or the random conversations of our guests. Tonight's event was about raising some funds for the Owl's Nest #30, and raising awareness... the awareness of the guests and the awareness of the spirits who dwelt amongst us on this somewhat spooky night.

  “If everyone would like to stand up with whomever you came with or whoever you want to tour with, Theo and Barb will be dividing you into two groups. One group will be going with Theo upstairs, and the second group will be touring with Barb and start out in the basement of the building.” I said loudly, so that everyone could hear. When everyone stood up and began to mingle with their friends, and make new acquaintances, Katie, Sterling, Jenn and I crept out of the dance hall and headed to our respective spots to set up our laptops.

  Chapter 17 You Are Not Alone

  From the pool room, I could hear the shuffling footsteps above and quickly worked to set up the laptop, and speaker system. Nervously, I clicked the play button for the e.v.p. I would be playing in this area. It came across the speakers loud and clear. A few seconds in, I stopped and reset the audio clip, and anxiously awaited the first group to join me. The hair on my neck rose when I heard quiet footsteps just outside of the pool room door. The overhead lights went out and my heart raced as I watched the door to the room slowly glide open without a sound. A shadowy outline of a figure stood in the doorway and began to move toward me.

  “Holy crap! You freaked me out!” I whispered loudly, realizing the shadow person was none other than my team mate Jenn.

  “Well, you told me to come join you once I was set up in the old boiler room... so that's what I did.” Jenn sighed. “You are too damn jumpy... Just relax. Everything's going to be fine.”

  Upstairs, Barb led her group around the main floor, describing all of the chilling experiences that had been collected over the years, explaining about the many sightings of the man in the yellow shirt, and the hair-raising tales of her own frightful occurrences. Soon, they began descending the steps to the lower level of the old Bettiger home. With only flash lights lighting the way, the group entered the room.

  “Barb, would you mind to turn on one of the lights, so everyone can see the room a bit better?” I asked. Without a word, a dim light in the corner gave the room a hazy glow. I began my talk by thanking everyone for attending, and explained the importance of what we were trying to achieve. I told a tale of four lost children who felt compelled to remain hidden in the eternal shadows of the Owl's Nest. I told the curious gathering of onlookers about Jenifer, and her sensitivity to the spirit energies, especially the energies of children. Jenn then spoke up and detailed how she used specific triggers to connect with the spirits of children who we had encountered. Jenn opened the bag she had carried in and displayed the array of toys she carried. Kneeling down, as she had during our investigation, she placed the toys on the floor, explaining how she coaxed the children to interact with her.

  “Play the clip Rick.” She said, trying to not stare into the darkened corner to her left, where a pile of wood, and other construction leftovers lay, piled up...and also where Jenn noticed the slightest movement of shadows. The crowd gasped in amazement listening to the audio snippet.

  “I want to talk to the children that are here.” Jenn's voice echoed on the recording.

  “You can't find us!” The child's voice eerily answered back. Ashley caught Jenn's glance, and held the shadow boys still in the corner. They all concentrated earnestly on the people who had gathered just beyond the veil that separated our worlds. Ash helped the boys to focus their consciousness, and with each passing second the visions and sounds from the other side became more clear to them. Waves of comfort and peace came over them as they began to hear the voices of complete strangers telling them to not be afraid.

  “You are welcome here.” said one man. “We are your friends.” said another. “We only want to talk to you, and try to help you if we can.” said a woman, harboring genuine compassion in her voice. “I lost my daughter when she was seven, and I understand what it is to feel lost, but you don't have to feel that way anymore.”

  “Let us help you.” I added. “If you can show us that you are here, or give us some instruction... let us know how we can help you...but for now, just know that we are telling your story, helping others to understand, and want nothing from you. We only want you to find peace and be happy, eternally happy.” My voice was shaky, not from fear, but from shock. I had no idea that one of our attendees had lost a young child. The thoughts that ran through my mind ranged from hoping we hadn't said or done anything insensitive, to wondering how difficult it must be for her to hear the voices of these ghost children, and know that they are still earthbound spirits a hundred years after their passing. Like falling against a barbed wire fence, the reality of her confession ripped at my heart from many different angles, and each pain was disturbingly new. I kept my emotions in check as we continued on with the tour.

  There were many questions and each was answered by myself, or Jenn, as best as we could, but our most important message that night was conveying the story of the lost shadow children of the Owl's Nest, and opening the public's mind to acceptance of things, even if we truly do not understand them. As it is with different religious beliefs and faiths, one does not have to agree with another's faith, to accept it and not be judgmental. Acceptance leads to understanding, and understanding leads to peace. It is there that we reach our goal, and the pinnacle of enlightenment.

  I nodded to Jenn to let her know it was time to move on. She quietly passed behind the crowd, leaving her toys in their place. There was a buzz of whispers between friends, as our lecture and discussion came to an end in this area.

  “Barb, if you would like to lead the group out, and tour them through the rest of the basement area, ending at the old boiler room, Jennifer and I will meet you all there.” I spoke over the fascinated voices of the gathering.

  “I'd be glad to... If you would all follow me out of this door, and to our left... our next stop will be the 'rat' room.” Barb instructed everyone, and even in the dim light, I could see her smile as the guests imagined what horrors might possibly lay in such a disturbingly named room.

  “Wow... it’s really cold here in the doorway.” One of the women said.

  “Yes it is.” Her friend agreed, looking around for an air conditioning vent, but there were none to be found. I studied the exiting guests, and noticed their movement did not match the movement of shadows against the wall next to the exit. As each person passed through the doors, the shadows moved invariably closer to them, and many of the visitors, rubbed their arms to create a warming friction, or blew hot breath into their cupped hands and rubbed them together. I could image that if I had the abilities of Theo, or Rick Hayes, I might have seen t
he shadow children reaching up to touch their new friends on the arm, or attempting to hold their hands as the left the room. Perhaps they were not happy to see them leave this area for a place that the children found far less pleasant.

  Barb led them through the lower level of the building describing ghosts of patrons sitting at the old bar, and the curiously humorous story of the 'rat' room, and though there were never any real claims of paranormal activity in that room, it raised the most shrieks and goose bumps for such a small room. The group toured past the stairway to nowhere, and to the doorway of the odd, octopus style furnace room. Some of our guests wandered through the uneven area, ducking under the round, tin, vent- pipe arms, and over unleveled floors to get a fun house feeling of fear. The room held a certain look and feel to it. The old furnace, with its many arms had the look of a scene from a thriller movie, but nothing readied them for the last room on the basement tour... the boiler room.

  Jennifer and I stood next to the old wheel chair, in near complete darkness. Only the screen of the laptop on a small tabletop lit our faces as Barb entered the room.

  “Lights?” Barb asked, knowing the dangers that the pit in the center of the dark room evoked.

  “Yes, please.” I responded. “I only wanted to keep it dark in here until the rest of the tour was finished.” With the flip of a switch, the poor overhead lighting flickered eerily and then came on. The group of nearly twenty filtered in slowly, and encircled the pit in the center of the room. Jenn began telling the tale of Mrs. Bettiger, the children's grandmother, and the sad story of her confinement to the old wooden wheelchair that sat before them, dust covered and aged. In this room, everything seemed to have grown together over time. The rafters of the ceiling, the brick walls, concrete floor, and even the old wheelchair somehow appeared to be connected to each other through decades of dust, coal ash, and spider webs. This was the one room in the basement that felt untouched by modern times.