Well folks…I am back in the saddle, and apologize wholeheartedly for the massive delay in updates (and Twitter, for those who follow me there).

Steve did a good job filling you in, though I didn’t actually intend him to scan the to-do note, he couldn’t help himself. He is a mischief maker.

I was up in Oregon forever, looking after my mom and doing my work remotely. I missed this place like crazy, this home of mine, even if it’s complex and sometimes a little scary. I missed knowing somehow I was close to Nick. If he was dead I could say “I feel him with me everywhere”. But he isn’t…I fully believe that…so I don’t feel him everywhere. I only once in a while feel him here in my Rose Suite. Or, at least I like to think I feel him.

I came home exhausted last night. Steve picked me up at the airport and helped me get settled, because I really was just at the end of my rope. All is OK with my parents now but it took a lot out of me. Plus I’ve spent the whole time being upset that I couldn’t be closer to Emery and Mary with all they’ve been going through. And I’ve missed Steve, and Seattle!

I have so much to show you. Steve’s received a lot of responses to his letter, and I have been doing research and writing some interesting things. Keep an eye out!

I went to bed almost immediately last night and had the strangest dream. (Continue reading…)

I’m paying a heavy price for last week’s drinking session with Steve…somewhere along the line my immune system let down its guard and I developed the worst head cold in the world Saturday morning. By Monday the doctor put me on antibiotics to prevent it turning into something worse, as I was even oozing from my eyes. I’m starting to feel better but have fallen massively behind at work, and this site. I have some new things to share.

The only consolation is I’m not alone, Steve’s got it too. I’m blaming him for the germ, and he’s blaming me. He pointed out I’m the one who had saliva explode all over her kitchen. It’s a fair point, despite the fact that I’ve disinfected it about a dozen times already. I was encouraged, however, that he was cracking jokes about the paranormal events at my condo. He may be nervous about it, but at least he’s sticking to his promise to be more open about it, and to come on board.

He hasn’t been here yet, but he did do something impressive completely of his own initiative. He drafted a letter he sent yesterday to all antiques sellers, historical societies / museums, and salvage businesses in Seattle and many miles beyond. He’s asking anyone with any items from Rose Red, presumably purchased at the estate auction, to please send him photographs of their stock for this web site. I’ve included the letter here so you can read it yourself, and see how he pitched the idea to his recipients.

I also received an e-mail and a photograph from a friend of Vic’s. Read on…

(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…)

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…)

I’ve been somewhat at a loss for words since I received word from Mary Ashwood, Emery’s fiancée, with the results of Emery’s study here in my condo the weekend before last. Since no dramatic events took place during his stay, I didn’t think a lot would come of it.

I was wrong. Rose Red is nothing if not totally unpredictable.

Let me preface this by letting you know Mary has started a blog for her & Emery’s investigations (they work as a team now – a psychic and a forensic scientist, what a combination!). She also talks about some aspects of personal life, as I do here. In fact, she wrote a fantastic biography about Emery which you can (and should) read here…replete with family and childhood photos (definitely check them out). The introduction to the blog, called “Rose Red: A Haunting” can be found here. For convenience, any references to Emery will now automatically link to their blog, so you can remember to check often.

When I first read Mary’s report, I think I was mostly numb. It didn’t frighten me initially, it was almost as if I was reading something about someone else’s life. Like one of my articles about the curses surrounding Rose Red. They’re not about me, or Nick. They’re not personal, so to speak. I think my initial defense mechanism was to read the results very clinically.

But now that I’ve read them about fifteen or sixteen times, and examined the evidence Mary kindly posted for us to experience, I’m feeling a little freaked out. Read on to find out why. (Continue reading…)

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. (Continue reading…)

That title sounds rather “Gandalf-ish”, doesn’t it?

My regular readers at the old site always loved a good mystery, and I finally have one for you on this new site. I’ve made mention of paranormal activity on the increase for those involved in the Rose Red expedition and here on the TechStar property but I haven’t really taken time to explain. I will soon, I promise. But for now, I’m a bit distracted by this.

I came home from a lunch meeting with a local magazine editor to contract some book reviews (there’s no rest for writers, not even on Saturdays) and found my kitchen counters almost entirely covered in a thick substance as clear as water but more sticky, almost the consistency of cough syrup with a little gelatin added in. I know I’m not doing a very good job explaining it…

The first thing it brought to mind was that scene from Ghostbusters with the eggs frying on the counter. (Nick would laugh at that.) But the second thing it brought to mind was the one ectoplasm shot they did in the miniseries based on the Rose Red events (if you recall, it lands on Bollinger’s shoulder before he’s hoisted into the house). Ectoplasm has hardly ever been reported in Rose Red, but the caretaker did once find the dead plants in the solarium coated in a substance he thought looked like dew, only clinging even thicker to the branches and weeds. (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…)

Sophia Dorothea was a slave ship built in the shipyard on the Deptford Strand in Greenwich, England, in the year 1725. Her purpose was simple: abduct African men, women, and children; shackle them by the hands, ankles, and neck in a small berth resembling a coffin, and leave them there to agonize over the torture of sea travel without fresh air or fresh water, possessing no sanitation, and barely enough food. She carried these abducted Africans, soon to be slaves, to the Indies – where those who survived the journey would mostly settle in Jamaica to do the immensely dangerous job of refining sugar cane into sugar.

Sophia Dorothea (named after the wife of the King in reign when the ship was constructed, George I) was a highly successful ship. She was built fast and sturdy enough to withstand the weather one comes to expect of that route of voyage. For three decades she ferried slaves back and forth, then was sold to another owner. He did some minimal repairs and sailed her again for the same task. By the end of the 18th century the Sophia Dorothea continued in service. When docked it reeked of death, human waste, and blood so badly that it would choke passers by.

For each and every Wonder of the World an equal and most nefarious Evil of the World stands opposite. [...] Of these, none is more terrible to behold than the Sophia Dorothea, docked yesterday for a fortnight leave for crew and allowance of provision stocking. One needs not stand at dockside to know the Sophia Dorothea is in port, the smell of her gags the strongest men even at distance. It is such that merely to experience the smell once will ever churn one’s bile at the mere mention of her name. Surely no more potent a charm can be cast in favor of William Wilberforce’s yearly bill to abolish the trade of slaves. (H.L. Hubry, London Evening Post, 1791)

(Continue reading…)

Archived from the old site circa 2002.

As promised, I have photos of the roses in bloom here on the Rose Red property! If you recall from my May journal entries, the roses began blooming eerily early, which only piqued my curiosity about the passages in Ellen’s diary in which Sukeena somehow controlled the vegitation on the property.

Both these photos were taken last week in the quad / garden behind the complex. Of course the landscapers had to pick red roses, but I doubt they expected them to be in full bloom so quickly.

Strangest thing is, I cut a few of the roses and brought them up to place in my antique crystal bowl (that belonged to Ellen), and they began to die almost immediately after I’d cut them. It was like they withered in my hands. By morning the next day their petals were falling off!

(Continue reading…)

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