Certain members of my family are still angry with me over this blog, and they’ve made that clear in various ways. It’s funny – a few family members are so completely against my publishing this information and don’t want it ‘getting out there’, but at the same time tell me that it’s all nonsense and none of it is true. So which is it? Why would you be so angry with me for putting out fake information? Why the panic if none of it is true? I may have gotten a partial answer this weekend.
I got a call on Saturday, from my great aunt. She was my grandfather’s cousin, so I guess that makes her my great aunt – something like that. We always called her Great Aunt Rita, in any case. I never knew her well – we saw her a couple times a year when I was a kid, like during big holiday get-togethers, but we were never close. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I didn’t even realize she was still alive. In this technological age we live in, it’s so easy to talk to strangers around the world, while we also lose touch with the people who matter most.
So Great Aunt Rita had been talking to this relative, who had been talking to that relative, etc…, about my blog here, and she said she had a story to tell me. She lives in a nursing home in Massachusetts now, and Saturday we had a pretty big snow storm here in Providence, so I headed out to the nursing home on Sunday, around lunch time, after the roads were mostly clear.
I finally got another letter from William, and it turns out that bizarre skull was from him – and I didn’t get him anything, now I feel bad.
So the skull is part of a ‘counter-spell’ (I never knew such a thing existed) to undo whatever the Azathoth spell did. That will fix part of our problem, but it won’t fix the original issue; William doesn’t know how to fix that, but he’s sending me a book that my grandfather gave him – a book that should have the answers I need. All I have to do is decipher it.
The letter has so much more information about my grandfather, I understand so much more now,and more of the contents of my grandfather’s trunk make sense. It’s hard to believe he was some kind of ‘monster hunter’ – or I guess what reality TV would call a ‘Paranormal investigator’ today. It’s shocking to learn that he had this insane secret life, but knowing Grandpa Joe as I did, it does make sense that he would be helping people like this. I wonder how many others he helped? I wonder what other terrors he faced, after he had defeated his own demons.
I never imagined that magic was real or that a spell would work… who would ever think that? We live in the real world, the rational world. A world of reality TV and fast food, not ancient gods and magic spells.
I got another letter from William Jameson, written in his now familiar hand – I’ve posted copies of the letter below. He really did know my grandfather, as I suspected, but not in the way I expected. Apparently my grandfather helped him with some kind of supernatural problem years ago – so that’s something Grandpa Joe did, apparently, helping people with supernatural issues. Wouldn’t have ever guessed that one. I can’t even believe I’m writing that, but it’s right there, in the letter, and why would he lie? I suppose there are a good number of reasons why he would lie, technically, but I have this feeling that he’s telling the truth, which is kind of my problem.
I sent my reply to William Jameson, all hand-written as he requested. I was going to keep it simple and straightforward, I really was – just tell him the highlights and ask what he might know. Before I realized it, though, I had written three pages worth, talking about the steamer trunk, the dreams, the objects moving, the cabinets and basement door opening, the sounds, the figures… everything. I even gave him the address to the website – it’s weird handwriting a URL for some reason.
I got a new reply to that letter I sent several weeks ago. Apparently ‘Roger’, the person who wrote the first reply, is the angry and overprotective grandson of William Jameson. Mister Jameson knew my grandfather and, in some way, my great grandfather. It seems the very name ‘Martens’ causes something of a stir around the Jameson Thanksgiving table. I’m not even sure if that’s a good or bad thing any more, and I can’t say I’m surprised. Continue reading
I got a reply to the letter I sent out two weeks ago. It was short and to the point, and I guess in hindsight it’s probably exactly the response I should have expected, but in another way, I know there was something ‘off’ about it.
The letter I sent was very simple and lacked any reference to my current situation – I certainly wasn’t going to send a complete stranger a letter about horrible dreams and supernatural monsters. I told them who I was and who my grandfather was, and I said I was looking for information about him for a family genealogical study. I said that I had gotten the name address from some his old correspondence, and I wondered if the recipient had any information about my grandfather that they would be willing to share. Continue reading
Back in the steamer trunk, I found a very old photo – by the condition of it, as well as the people, clothing, and setting, it seems to be at least 100 years old. There was also a scrap of paper tucked into it as well, not as old, and typed out, that seems to explain the subjects of the image:
Theodore and Marie Armstrong of Providence, RI, who disappeared in 1907 under ‘mysterious circumstances’. They were apparently into the occult, and I’m assuming this note was written by by Grandpa Joe and had something to do with his investigations. Continue reading
I’m not sure if there have been more escalations at home. I wasn’t home most of the weekend, truth be told. I used every excuse I could to keep us out of the house, and Wendy gladly accommodated my whims – going out for breakfast, shopping, movies… I believe whatever is going on, she is definitely experiencing something… something she’s not ready or able to deal with.
There is a genuine feeling of ‘otherworldlyness’ in the house that I can definitely feel when I return after being gone for a while, but soon after I get back it just seems to fade away – or I get used to it, which is even scarier.
First – I’ve barely slept since… the dreams, the sleeping pill. I’m not sure, I might have given myself insomnia, if that’s even possible. I keep seeing glimpses, too – like forgotten fragments of memory trying to worm their way back into my consciousness. I won’t let them. I can’t let them. I don’t want to know.
I found another letter in the steamer trunk – this one was to my Grandpa Joe. It’s dated November, 1959, and it’s hard to read – it’s handwritten and the writing is tiny, from a small feminine hand.
The letter is from Adelle Roberts, apparently the daughter of Kevin Roberts, my great-grandfather’s army buddy. From what I can read, it sounds like my grandfather asked for – and received – that bizarre sword that Roberts brought back from Germany, so now at least I understand how it came to be in his possession, and subsequently, mine. Continue reading
OK, I’m going to try this again. I’ve started this post four or five times now and deleted it every time. Wendy has officially noted her ‘concern’ over my recent bourbon consumption, but I need it after this, after yesterday, and it was Grandpa Joe’s favorite drink. It makes me feel more connected, I guess. It also stops my hands from shaking so I can type.
I found a stack of pictures yesterday, pictures of my grandfather during World War II – I posted about those already. They made me feel a sense of pride, a sense of honor. Mixed in with them, though, was something else. Something I’m having a very hard time with.
Grandpa Joe’s Secret