What a mad rush of a weekend it was. Not in the way I’d typically mean – typically I’d mean running around doing errands, or scrambling to finish a pile of reviews, or managing a spectacularly long string of social outings (something that hasn’t happened in a very long time, and I don’t much miss it). This was by all outward appearances a quiet weekend. I simply had a friend over for a visit, right?

But time flies when you’re terrifying yourself, and that’s precisely what I did. I don’t think Emery was a fraction as worried as I was. For all my calmness in my previous post, I started working myself into a tizzy in the hours between then and when he made his way here. After all, it wasn’t a housewarming party. I didn’t just invite him over for drinks to finally see my “new” place after all these years. He came because I was capturing shadows in photographs and cleaning up ectoplasmic goo off my kitchen counters.

I wasn’t frightened for myself, but frightened of what being here might stir up for Emery, both emotionally and in adding fuel to a paranormal fire. I didn’t want too much to happen at once, that’s precisely the sort of thing I vowed to avoid when I “disappeared” back in 2002…when I tried to lure Steve here. At least this time my motives were pure, and Emery kindly volunteered the visit anyway.

But as it happened, well…not a lot happened! Surprisingly little, upon reflection. I guess part of me expected the walls to suddenly swallow him up, or his mother to come springing out of the bathroom mirror. No signs of his mother, fortunately. Nor of Nick, unfortunately. But his stay wasn’t fruitless.

The years since the Rose Red investigation have, thanks to a lot of lifestyle changes and attitude adjustments (which I’m sure have been helped by his fiancée Mary, to whom I must give my thanks for letting me “borrow” him for a couple days), made Emery virtually a stranger to the place, I think. I’m not sure Deanna or Pam would know what to do with him now! He had a very calming influence from the moment he arrived. He seemed so in control and sure of himself, so steeled in his reserve to see what there was to see and to help me out, that I couldn’t stay a complete mess for long.

Still, the last two days feel like a blur, probably because I have had about two hours of sleep between them. I don’t function well on little sleep, which is funny when you consider Nick is a terrible insomniac. One of us can’t live without sleep and the other can’t live with it.

Emery arrived Saturday evening and first examined and documented the substance in my kitchen. He’s been doing a lot of professional investigating since I last saw him, and he brought some pretty nice equipment. He had a camera Nick would murder for, that’s for sure! He didn’t have any post-cognitive sensations or impressions from the stuff, which was a little disappointing. I guess I was hoping for a magic bullet, but as Nick pointed out to the group on that weekend, Rose Red isn’t in the habit of letting people have what they want. His documentation, however, has become the first “official” piece of evidence in the unfolding case of paranormal activity around here.

And while we scrubbed the counters clean with rubber gloves and hardcore solvents (a sight made all the more humbling by the fact that he’s missing four fingers on one hand thanks to his last visit to this property) I was very glad he was there to advise me. If not for him I’d have sixteen or seventeen videos of me poking the ectoplasm with pointy objects on YouTube by now. Sorry, only kidding. (I’d draw the line at three videos.)

I must be overtired, I’m way too punchy. I’ve kept you faithfully waiting two days to give you a report of this monumental occurrence. I’ll save the pithy prose for when I’m a little more coherent and give you a bullet-point account, instead.

Saturday:

• Emery arrived. Emery spent about five minutes in my doorway telling me to calm down and let him in.

   

• He spent a solid hour with the ectoplasm gathering samples, taking photographs, and dictating notes to a voice recorder. (I was right in my first post. It’s a page right out of Ghostbusters after all.)

   

• We cleaned the counters.

   

• Late dinner, Chinese takeaway. I didn’t fancy cooking off the countertops we’d only just de-slimed.

   

• We went from room to room, a sort of psychic tour, with Emery being very quiet about anything he was seeing. I figured if it was serious, he’d let me know.

   

• Bedtime. As promised Emery spent the night in the guest bedroom, the one where I took the photograph with the disembodied woman’s figure. I don’t know how much of the night he spent actually sleeping…he may have simply been polite when he told me he felt well rested the next morning.

   

• Bedtime for him wasn’t bedtime for me. I sat up in the den trying to occupy my mind with work. I was half expecting Emery to walk in and tell me Deanna made a move on him again, but he said there was no sign of her – and I believe him. Sometimes love conquers all, and Emery is most definitely not the same lonely boy he was in 2001.

Sunday:

• I think I dozed off sitting on my sofa sometime around 4am, or at least I remember looking at the clock just before 4am and then looking back at the clock and seeing it was 5:30am. I don’t think I really slept. I think I zoned out, almost like a trance, or perhaps a brief emotional reboot. I only remember vivid images of the gargoyles and carvings Ellen placed around Rose Red’s exterior. Lions, impish demons, winged dragons, griffins, sea monsters…quite an eclectic array.

   

• Breakfast, which I did cook. Emery gave me his “report” on what’s going on in my guest room. That, he says, is a genuine blast from Rose Red’s past. He said it would worry him except the woman there was never known to be one of Rose Red’s more powerful or violent spirits. She was, however, one of the first to disappear in extraordinary circumstances. Her name is Connie Fauxmanteur, and she went missing in the Central Hall in 1909. (The year of her disappearance does match the silhouette of the woman in my photograph, fashion-wise.) For those who don’t recall from Ellen’s diary: Connie was with Ellen and Melissa in the Parlor prior to her disappearance. She was touching a leather globe Sukeena often used as a prayer wheel, and which Sukeena believed was as a portal to the inner soul of the house. Ellen and Melissa were gossiping and paying little attention to Connie when they noticed she began speaking in a foreign language neither had ever heard. The globe began to spin on its own. Connie’s face went deathly pale and her eyes seemed to glow red. When she released the globe everything went back to normal, but she dashed from the Parlor and into the western portion of the Central Hall, where she vanished and was never seen again. Why Connie has taken to my guest bedroom neither of us knows. It certainly bears further examination. I’m not afraid, but I think perhaps I’ll withhold the hidden resident from visitors, or risk having even fewer guests than I do these days…

   

• A tour of the gardens. They are becoming the most spectacular feature of the place, both aesthetically and paranormally speaking. Now the roses seem to bloom almost year round – and full bloom, too, as if it was optimum conditions regardless of weather. Below are two photos I took this past December, following heavy snow.

   

  
  

• Around lunchtime Emery left, but not before giving me his educated guesses about what is going on in my condo, though he couldn’t tell me what’s to come (nor did I expect him to, that’s not where his gifts lie).

   

  1. He said there’s no doubt Connie comes and goes in my guest room as she pleases. He saw her as looking worse for wear, slightly decayed if you will, but not overtly menacing.

      

  2. He said he strongly suspects Sukeena’s influence wafts through the kitchen and office but that there’s no rhyme or reason to when or why, apart from my condo’s proximity to where the solarium once stood. He doesn’t like that this manifestation took such a dramatic physical turn (the ectoplasm) but he knows there’s nothing to be done but monitor the situation…because I refuse to move away from Nick. And despite the fact that Emery didn’t see or feel him I know Nick must be here, somewhere…

      

  3. Emery also said he can tell Joyce has visited my humble abode on more than one occasion, something we’d already suspected from the odd incident with my computer. Nevertheless, he said what he felt was undeniable, and he said he caught one fleeting glimpse of her reflected in the mirror in my hallway, at the mouth of my den. He said she didn’t look at all happy and that I should keep an eye out for more signs of her presence, and call him at any sign of trouble.

      

  4. The den, Emery says, is likely to become the most traveled route in the condo as spirits pass from room to room. He said the amount of time I spend there in an effort to feel closer to Nick (because the walls have wainscoting from the Perspective Hallway) has given the room a psychic charge. He encouraged me to ensure I keep my work in my office, watch my nightly unwind TV in the bedroom, and otherwise try to compartmentalize the amount of time I spend in my house. Too much time in the den doing too many diverse activities and I give it a monopoly in psychic residue.

So as I said, there’s nothing dramatic to report – simply the confirmation of some suspicions and the unusual news of Connie’s decision to “bless” me with her presence. I spent the rest of Sunday alternating between work and taking notes on what Emery told me for posterity, and I felt totally wired by nightfall. I took Emery’s advice and watched my nightly TV in bed instead of the den, but the late night TV turned into even later night TV, which turned into infomercials, which turned into an odd selection of old movies on cable. I feel tired this evening, though. I think I’ll sleep well tonight.

Oh, I almost forgot! Just before he left I showed Emery Ellen’s cut crystal bowl, the one Steve gifted me years ago. It’s the only thing I own that I know for sure belonged to her and that resided in Rose Red, apart from the wood and architectural elements decorating my suite. He took one look at it and said, half shrugging, “Posey gave that to Ellen for her birthday two years before he died.” It was so casual, and that’s a great thing about post-cognates. They can be so casual, as if telling a story they were there to witness firsthand (because, in their own way, they were). Now that I know the story behind the bowl it has an even more special meaning to me.

Posted in: Personal, Photos | |
Post tags: connie fauxmanteur, deanna petrie, douglas posey, ellen, emery, joyce, nick, pam, steve, sukeena

4 Comments »

1. I am so amazed you are able to stay there with everything that goes on. Being that sometime haunting are spirits attached certain objects or land, it seems to me that building your condo on the land that Rose Red stood, along with using certain building material from the mansion in the building of the condo’s is a double taboo to me. And so even though the mansion remains no more, the energy is still there. As with your many postings of weird things, is quite evident. I can see how being in the place where Nick disappeared is comforting to you, but in the same way it should terrify you that you could end up the same way.
   I have done my share of paranormal investigations in houses and such, nothing like Rose Red, and have came away with different things here and there. EVP’s are considered to be strong evidence of haunting and are comforting to many who have lost love ones. Since you said that Emery was talking into a voice recorder while he was at your place this week, I would recommend reviewing that recording for any other voices or such that may have been captured at the time.
   Be careful…. My prayers are with you and your safety.

   Comment by Heather — March 10, 2009 @ 6:14 am

2. Heather, thank you for your kind words and your prayers.

   I know it’s a risky thing I’ve done, living here. For 7 years it’s been mostly quiet. Initially when I was in such emotional upset there was a flurry of activity, and I think you’re right…all the energy still attached to the parts of Rose Red around me fed off my emotions.

   When I calmed down things slowed. Now, as I delve deeper in a slower and more methodical way, things are picking up again. But I can handle them…I’m determined to handle them. Though I must admit there have been moments, lying in bed alone missing Nick, when I wish I could be swallowed up like him, taken to wherever he is. Because even trapped inside Rose Red’s dimension we’d be together.

   The EVP suggestion is a great one and I will be sure to ask Emery and Mary to review his recordings carefully. Thank you!

   Comment by Ally — March 11, 2009 @ 4:50 pm

3. [...] Emery recently spent a night at Ally O’Sullivan’s TechStar Condo. (The whole report, on Ally’s behalf can be found here). [...]

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4. [...] Ally: Heather, thank you for your kind words and your pr… [...]

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