What a birthday! Three days later and I haven’t totally recovered. Add to that both Steve and myself still have lingering effects from that cold we shared last week, and I could be in for a rough remainder of the week – but it will have been so worth it.

Sunday was my 39th birthday and that’s a pretty big deal. Jeez…39…hard to type it even now. Not so much because of the age itself, those are just numbers after all, right? But I never thought I’d be on the cusp of a new decade, technically en route to “middle aged” without Nick by my side. By now we were meant to be married and, though we didn’t discuss it much, have several little Hardaway kids running amok reading each other’s minds and cracking jokes in posh British accents. Well…maybe simply have kids, period.

Instead I’m heading into that gray time of life when having kids is more difficult and more risky. If I can’t find a way to Nick soon I may never have them. But this is precisely the kind of thinking I wanted to avoid this year, so I decided to surround myself with people who were friends not only to me, but to Nick.

The Rose Red survivors see each other one-on-one or in small groups on occasion, but rarely get together for a full “reunion”. Thanks to Steve that’s precisely what happened Sunday night. It was my idea that we should all spend some time together, but he found the venue(s) and threw the bash.

In attendance were Steve, Emery and his lovely fiancée Mary, Rachel and her husband Brian, Annie, and Cathy and her husband Clark. That’s all the Rose Red survivors, their spouses/significant others (except Steve, who’s single), and me.

ABOVE: Somewhat awkwardly standing on an uneven surface, L to R top: Emery, Steve. L to R bottom: Mary, Rachel, Annie, me. This photo was taken by Rachel’s husband Brian. This was prior to our sitting at the Herbfarm – continue reading for more about that. Cathy & Clark hadn’t arrived yet. (Continue reading…)

The 11 page tome that was my research on the Briar Witch took up a fair chunk of my week, so I really didn’t have the energy or time to write a personal update since Emery’s investigation results. Sometimes personal updates are no fun; it’s more enjoyable to give you the research, or the artifacts, or the spooky stories. It’s more fun to think of Rose Red as still being here, because that’s where I’m sure Nick is, somewhere or another.

Truth is Rose Red is still here, just not in the same way. Life here in my Rose Suite has to go on, even when it gets weird. My friendships, like plants, need nurturing to grow. I knew Steve would be upset with me, you may recall I wrote about it a couple days ago. He did call me, though he wasn’t as angry as I expected. We arranged dinner out, which we did yesterday. Chill. Nice. The sort of thing completely normal friends with completely normal ties to each other do. Except the tie that binds him and me is losing our significant others in a haunted house eight years ago…

Far from normal, wouldn’t you say? (Continue reading…)

Unraveling Rose Red: Piecing together the puzzle of history and “coincidence” in Rose Red.

The winter of 1814 was particularly harsh in Dutchtown, Tennessee. The small, young community of modest farms - at the center of which was a tiny village hub consisting of nothing more than a general store and a church - was in danger of dissolution. Starvation was a very real possibility and by late February one third of the town’s population had moved away, primarily relocating to family elsewhere or wandering further afield to seek a new, more forgiving life.

Normally the people of Dutchtown would survive a winter with their stores filled with grains and other staples. Most farm owners had at least one cow and several chickens. The majority also owned pigs for pork. But a terrible harvest in the fall of 1813 left many with their pantries bare of all but what goods they’d preserved in jars, and smoked meats. Any oats and wheat they did have they sacrificed to their animals. It was often in vain; more livestock perished that winter than any other, frequently due to slaughter for food, even if they weren’t fattened. Elsewhere in Tennessee a drinking song containing the lyric “Lock your barns boys, gather round / no horse is safe near wee Dutchtown”* (referencing the fact that the most desperate people in Dutchtown killed and ate their horses) became cruelly popular.

The devastating winter of 1814 set into motion two extremely important events in the history of Dutchtown, events that would make it legendary, and eventually lead to its demise. (Continue reading…)

This site, by the very nature of its subject matter, is no laughing matter. But even the most terrible tragedy has some comic relief. Nick has a wicked, dry wit, and can crack jokes even under the greatest pressure. So he’d appreciate me giving a little “time out” to show you something that, now that I look back on it, is absolutely hilarious.

You may remember the publication Weekly World Digest, which was sold mostly at supermarket check-out lines and newspaper stands. It was a black and white rag that was even worse than a tabloid, because tabloids at least attempt to convey something like the truth (they have to, it’s illegal not to…). Weekly World Digest preferred to tell tales of babies born with bat wings, demons possessing ball machines at church bingo nights, vampires feeding off the First Lady, etc. All of these stories were accompanied by usually terribly unconvincing photoshopped pictures – ringing any bells now? Unfortunately, Weekly World Digest went out of business, so I can’t link you to a web site with samples. But I’m sure it’s well logged in the annals of most people’s memories.

Well, Weekly World Digest got wind of the aftermath of the Memorial Day Rose Red trip and printed what may have been the only WWD feature ever to have some basis in reality, even if the details in their version are – to say the least – highly inventive.

(Continue reading…)

Last week I proposed the idea for this post to Steven Rimbauer, and while he was naturally hesitant at first, he soon adopted his usual laissez-faire stance. That is to say when it comes to stories, he tends to let the storyteller have his or her way…and sometimes ends up butting in and telling the story himself!

There’s no chance of that happening here, since this is my blog. But after he agreed to let me talk about this “taboo” subject, he drew up notes of everything he remembered from his and Joyce’s private conversations over the course of their relationship. I’d say that’s participation in the story. And as it gives interesting insight into Joyce’s fascination with Ellen Rimbauer, and indeed her relationship with Steve, I thought it worth presenting to you for your consideration.

It must be noted that everything I am about to divulge has been approved for publication here by Steve. Even the most intimate details. Otherwise, I wouldn’t write them—his friendship is too precious to me to sacrifice over a good tale.

Warning: this post contains adult content, or at least adult references. (Continue reading…)

Archive: The Present (Penned on this site’s inception, 3/18/02)

As stated in the page about Nick, I’m currently in the process of packing up and getting ready for relocation into my new TechStar condominium, in Seattle WA. They’ve done a “fast track” construction of a large number of condos there. Essentially “Lego” construction with a brick facade. I doubt it’s the highest of quality but I don’t care. I’d pay anything to be on the spot where my love disappeared in May. And most people will pay huge amounts to be on the location, perhaps the best spot in all of Seattle, for view and proximity to places of business.

The date the condos should be ready is mid-April ‘02. Less than a year from Nick’s disappearance and just over 7 months from the date Rose Red was razed. Amazing how fast construction goes up in desirable areas; and amazing how a corporation with enough money can get the ball rolling at lightning speed. TechStar is one hell of a well-oiled machine!

I’m bringing all of our belongings, every last one. Most of our furniture is old and shabby–we picked it up at garage sales and hand-me-downs from my family. But it was ours, and it was so special to us. The chairs where we relaxed, the bed where we slept, and made love…I cannot bear to part with any of it.

It’s taken me these long 10 months to put together our story for all of you to read, because it’s been intensely difficult for me to cope with Nick’s absence. I feel like he’s so close–in my dreams, in my thoughts–but so very far from me when I’m awake. It’s my hope that moving to the Rose Red site will help me be physically “with” Nick, while at the same time working to free his soul from that which binds it. If he can pass on and wait for me in paradise, he and I both can be at peace.
(Continue reading…)