Jamie pulled me in close, tucking my head under his chin as he rocked us from side to side.
“Are ye alright, mo nighean donn?” He whispered into my hair. I could hear the strain in his voice.
I nodded with a mumbled yes into his chest. The tension in his body seemed to melt away with my simple answer. I felt him press a kiss to my head, just before he pulled back to survey my face.
“Christ, it’s good to see and hold ye, Sassenach. If he–if he–” his eyes closed as he breathed angrily out his nose. “I couldnae stand it if he’d done anything to ye.”
I cupped his face and he leaned further into it my touch as I said, “You stopped him. Nothing happened because you were here. Even if you had not showed up, he wouldn’t have gone far. If he had tried to pull me close, my knee would have forcefully become acquainted with a particularly sensitive part of him.”
Jamie tipped his head back with a roaring laugh. “I wouldnae doubt ye for a moment, Sassenach. And remind me to ne’er get on yer bad side.” He said with a wink.
I smirked as he wrapped an arm back around my shoulders and guided me to the big house.
“We need to be quiet, Claire, we dinna wish to be caught.” He said with a wink, holding a finger up to his lips. “I wish to keep ye to myself for a while and the moment my meddlin’ family discovers I’m in the house it’ll be hours before I can just hold ye and talk wi’ ye.” He looked over to me and gave me a grin that made my stomach feel full of butterflies. “I just want to be able to talk wi’ ye wi’out a crowd.”
“If you’re so worried about being caught, why don’t we stay out in the garden or go for a walk to the mill?” I countered.
“Because,” he said, “I cannae give ye the wee baubles I brought back for ye at the mill.”
“You didn’t have to–”
“I ken fine I dinnae have to get ye anything, but I wanted to.”
I nodded and followed him with light footsteps through the empty kitchen and up the back set of stairs towards my, no his bedroom. A room I would have to give up, a bittersweet sadness washed over me. I didn’t want to leave the comfort of that room, of Jamie, but he was home now. The need to be separate until the wedding would overshadow every other need that may arise. God, I hoped it wasn’t too much longer. A year already and before then the stupidity of my shyness kept us apart, and now…now I wanted nothing more than to never leave his side and let the feelings that have been building take over. I wanted, no, needed these emotions, these overwhelming sensations to be sated and content. He was the man I could let myself genuinely feel and not be afraid of what was to come. I’d heard enough over the last year from Jenny, the women I helped in childbirth, and old Granny McNabb to know what was to come for the marriage bed.
“Claire? Claire?” Jamie said, shaking me slightly. “Where did ye go mo nighean donn? I’ve been saying yer name…” He trailed off when I started to shake my head and smile.
“I was thinking about what this room means, to you, to me…us.” I took a step and buried my face in his chest, then continued. “This is your childhood room, your home. But, when you left it became this empty shell, waiting for your return. Nothing out of place, everything exactly as you left it, until I moved in. It was hard at first, however, this room became an extension of you, a place where I felt closer to you. This room, this house, it became my home, more so than any other place I’ve lived.
I felt his arms tighten around and a smile bloom across his face. “Aye, well then I’m sure my letter was of comfort to ye in my absence as well?”
“Mmm hmm. They were. Although I did wish for more of them.”
He laughed, “I wish I could have written more as well.”
Taking a moment to himself, Jamie pulled away taking in the familiar surroundings, his gaze seemed to linger on the small bundle of his letters.
“I am curious, Claire.” He said, brows furrowed.
“Why ye dinna wear the bauble I left ye.” His voice was soft, almost somber in tone.
I furrowed my brow, trying to think back to any bauble I may have received or misplaced. My hand instantly went to my neck where the fine gold chain securely held Jamie’s ring.
“I don’t know which bauble you’re speaking of, Jamie.” My wrist twisted and rocked from side to side, moving the ring rapidly across the chain. “The only thing close to a bauble I can recall is this ring. I never took it off. I’ve worn it either on my finger or on the chain everyday since you gave it to me.”
Jamie’s hand gently grabbed my own, halting the nervous fidgeting, and lifted my hand to his lips for a tender kiss. The stubble of his beard tickled the back of my hand, as his lips lingered against my skin. “No,” his mumbled words a whisper across my skin, “I dinna mean the ring. Although ye canna ken how elated I am to see ye wear it. I wish for it to never leave your finger, but I understand how ye dinna wish to tarnish the gem with soil from her wee herbs or blood from yer tending. No, I mean the wee bauble I wrapped in a letter for ye before I left.”
He held up his hand to silence me. “I thought I would be clever and leave the letter hidden so only ye could discover it, but it seems I did my job too well.” His eyes glittered with mischief. “So it only seems fair now that I find it for ye, yes?”
I nodded as he shook his head contradicting himself. “I’ll give ye a clue, mo nighean donn, and then it’s yer job to find it.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Well what’s the clue?”
Jamie kissed my hand one more time before stepping back and leaned against the closed door. “I’ve already given it to ye.”
“What? How? When did you do such a thing?” I asked flabbergasted.
He grinned like the cat who got the canary and nodded slightly, but not in any definable direction. “Ye ken how and when. Surely ye read yer letters thoroughly or watched me when I entered the room. What did you read, Sassenach? Think.”
“James Fraser!” I exclaimed with a wave of my hand. “How am I supposed to decipher something I didn’t know existed?”
“Weel ye ken now, so think and decipher.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, causing him to bark with laughter but not reveal any more cryptic clues.
“Okay, letters and body language,” I mumbled to myself turning to face the room. “We walked it and he looked to the window, then to the trunk at the end of the bed. The pile of letters neatly stacked…He looked there multiple times, but there’s nothing in there unless–unless he had hidden clues in their contents? But then why would he look over…oh!” and like a flash, a ridiculous notion came to me. Many times in his letters he mentioned his desire to draw me in close to his heart, and the heart was on the left side, the same side he wrote on, the logical side where a small bedside cabinet with drawers filled with baubles, a heavily used Bible and a rosary. Swiftly I removed the contents of the bedside cabinet and desperate to see if a letter was hidden.
“Well, that was a long shot,” I mumbled.
Deflated I sat on the bed and looked around again, my eyes landing on Jamie as he portrayed nothing but absolute indifference.
“You only looked at two places,” I said loud enough for him to hear.
“Och, did I?” He smirked.
“Aye, ye did.” I laughed, exaggerating my speech to mimic his accent.
“Then what does that tell ye, Sassenach?”
“It means you either stuck the letter in the ground, or it’s in your trunk.”
He shrugged but didn’t say a word.
“Fine,” I sighed, walking over to the trunk I had taken to using for my own clothing, and began to pull out my belongings one by one. It didn’t take long until the trunk was empty and nothing lay at the bottom that resembled a letter, nor was there one stuffed somewhere inside the various possession I had inside.
“There’s nothing here.” I said gesturing to the trunk. “Look see there’s noth–” My words stopped as I noticed a small, yellowing scrap of fabric that seemed to be wedged into the inside lid of the trunk. My hands shook as I gently tugged on the fabric, pulling it until my fingers scraped against metal. A hidden latch that opened a hidden compartment rattled at my touch, then easily opened. Inside, pockets of wood and fabric lined panes similar to a bookshelf were revealed. Inside the middle pane lay a perfectly sealed letter.
The letter had my name scrawled in Jamie’s beautiful script, my fingers traced the letters, then popped the ball of red wax sealing the sides together. White and gold slithered out of it’s confinement and into my awaiting palm.
“They were my mother’s pearls.” Jamie’s voice was low and husky from behind me. “She said to give them to my future wife.”
Tears sprang to my eyes as he reverently placed the strand around my neck.
“How long?” I couldn’t finish my thought, but he knew.
“I wrote this letter the day I found you in the meadow outside the mill.” His fingers traced the pearls and my neck with a light touch sending chills down my spine. “I knew then I wanted ye for my own, and I couldna and wouldna let ye go. I sealed the letter with the pearls just before I left for University.” My eyes closed as his lips brushed the nape of my neck. His forehead leaned against my skull and we sat in silence, taking in the moment.
“Y-You knew? I thought, oh God Jamie!” I turned in his arms, throwing my own around his neck and burying my face in his chest. “We lost so much time before.”
He lifted my chin, “No we didna, it wasna the time or place to begin. Our lives are twined together,” Jamie grabbed my hand, intertwining our fingers in illustration, “and when we say it is the right time, it is. I knew I wanted ye and ye proved on Quarter Day that ye too wanted me. That’s why I gave ye that ring, to symbolize my commitment to ye, and wrapped up this necklace for ye. It’s an outward sign of what we already know. We’re bound you and I and soon, very soon, if ye’ll have me…”
He nodded eyes brimmed with tears. “I am.”
“You already know the answer you insufferable Scot!” I sobbed with a laugh.
“Say it, please Claire.”
“Yes, I’ll be your wife.” His eyes closed and shoulders shook in silent tears as he pulled me in tight, his lips finding mine in a clash of teeth and salty tears.
Prompt 26: A drabble where Peeta is from the Seam and Katniss is a Merchant but he’s still the one with the crush??? Sorry if it’s too specific ahah i just never read something quite like that ” (sent to me many moons ago via anon). [submitted by @titaniasfics]
Rated: T (for mention of underage sex and prostitution)
Author’s Note: I got a late start and this got out of hand, so it’s going to be the first part of a new wip(!). This is unbeta’d and there are verb tenses that I’m not sure how they got there. I don’t own the Hunger Games. Thanks for reading :)
Summary: Sometimes a normal life is a good one to lead; its nice…its easy… But sometimes, normal isn’t the way that things were meant to be. And when you’re chosen as a possible candidate for one of the kingdom’s 7 princes, life isn’t as nice and easy as you always presumed it to be…especially when you catch the eye of more than one of them…
The sun rising over the horizon through your bedroom window
has you squinting against its bright light, grumbling against the onslaught of
the morning and the list of things you had to do that immediately begins to
reel through your mind, before swinging your legs over the side and getting to
your feet, stretching as you finally open your eyes to let the day in.
You’d dreamt of him again last night.
Who are you?
Ever since the morning you’d woken up to go to the princes’
parade, and your mind had recalled the incredibly vivid images of a brunette
prince, with a smile as bright as the sun and eyes as kind as a doe, you’d been
struck by the realness of the man, the dream continuing to recur for the past
week, even despite your disappointment at not having been picked to be a
princess at the celebration…
However, since then you’d continued to dream of this elusive
price, and, as each night had gone by,
you’d noticed that the dreams had begun to change slightly…
The first time he’d appeared behind your eyelids, you’d simply
seen his face as he stood across from you in a small beautifully blooming
meadow that dropped off to the side into a cliff face, whilst the remainder of
the space was cut off by bushes, almost like the area was its own entity.
The entire time you’d watched him you’d felt a pull toward
him, like you wanted to embrace him but something unseen was holding you back,
stopping you from getting any closer, from knowing anything more about him.
However, before you could ever even act on the desire you could feel burning
inside of you for you to touch him, you’d woken up to the morning struggling
over your window sill and you’d immediately set to your days tasks to try and
forget the uneasy feeling the dream had left you with, finding yourself
starting at any man with brunette hair that you’d walk past, before frowning
when you realized it wasn’t the right shade of chestnut, or that it didn’t
shine as brightly as the image of his
hair in your mind.
The second night, you’d been surprised to find yourself a
step closer to him, although still unable to get any nearer.
However, from that distance you’d been able to make out the
tired circles beneath his eyes, the sight making you slightly sad despite the
warm smile he was offering your way, and so when you’re unable to move closer
once again you find yourself becoming distressed, not paying attention as to
why, before his face is fading away and you wake up once again, this time in a
cold sweat, and being greeted by the sight of the sun timidly sat on the
horizon, as though it was waiting for your permission to enter your room and wake
you from the dream.
The third night you’d been closer still…but this time, things
had been different.
Went for a walk yesterday and found the meadow absolutely filled with Blue Squill (Scilla siberica). Beautiful, but sadly invasive. I picked as much as I could before the sun set, some of which is in the plant press, and some which I will be trying to dry for herbal pendants.
Warnings: Language (also should be a warning that this is my first time writing stuff like this, so it might turn out shitty, you have been warned)
The sun was about to set when you found the opening meadow deep in the forest. You had pretty much been on the move all day since early morning and your feet were starting to kill you, and so were your head. You were drained, both physically and mentally.
Putting down the backpack you looked around, planning out where you could put out your ”walker-warners”, as you proudly named your own invention. Slowly walking around, searching the area for potential dangers you also found a big raspberry bush with lots of pinkish red berries, a brook with what hopefully was clean water, and some dry wood on the ground, perfect for a campfire. This place was absolutely perfect and you clapped your hands in excitement. ”I need to celebrate!”
Give a Hoot || Great Horned Owl || Who doesn’t have a special place in their heart for these awesome birds? Usually found in woodlands and meadows, if you listen you can hear the Great Horned Owl’s call right here in Portland 🌟 Art by Haley Willner
I have many people to thank for all the artwork I’ve been producing lately. Thanks for all the encouragement and more work is on the way! Night series almost complete!! Thanks pdx.wild for being so kind and allowing me to use your photography as an art reference! | Currently taking commissions - DM me!
Characters: Remus x reader, James, Sirius, Peter, Professor McGonagall
Warnings: reader being bullied
Summary: The reader is a target for team rivalry after she gets onto the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
The broomstick over your shoulder was quivering slightly as you headed down to the Quidditch pitch. It was a beautiful day, the sun was turning the trees of the Forbidden Forest bright green, but you could only focus on the pitch ahead of you. It felt like a pair of Bludgers were swooping around inside your stomach.
Remus was chattering at you softly, but you’d stopped listening to what he was saying sometime between the Gryffindor common room and Hogwarts’ front doors. He was probably trying to reassure you somehow, but you didn’t think anything could make you feel better.
For Merlin’s sake. It was only a Quidditch tryout. Why were you letting yourself get so wound up over it?
You didn’t even notice when Remus stopped right in front of you, so you collided with him and nearly sent both of you sprawling. He managed to catch himself and steady you, but then kept hold of you.
“Hey. There’s no need to look so worried, you know.”
How did Jack get the pollen on him in the first place?
As Ashi bent down to secure the rope, she found it odd she
considered tying the samurai to a tree the most bizarre thing to happen to her
all day. This, especially after recently gaining a new member in their party,
the Scotsman…who was a ghost.
“Dinnae be afraid to tighten it real good, lass. Trust me,
it’s for yer own safety.” He said, instructing her on a series of complicated
knots. Being a ghost, he could offer no physical help but his supervision. He
nodded approvingly as she stepped back.
“Mighty fine knot work! Not even a slippery kelpie can be
free of that!” The blue ghost then phased through the tree with a cackle. Ashi
walked around the tree to join the Scotsman in front of their temporary
For someone who had inhaled a large amount of pollen that
could supposedly drive one mad with lust, Jack looked just as serene as his
normal self. If not for his arms braced behind a tree and his loose hair, one
would think he was just sitting there in meditation, as though he were soaking
in the tranquility of the forest. Ashi frowned. Surely, the Scotsman made a
mistake? She wanted to voice out her doubts.
That was when Jack opened his mouth.
“Ashi,” he spoke, “I think autumn will be upon us
soon. The leaves will shed to the ground, and there, we will find beauty in all
“Huh?” Ashi blinked, perplexed. She looked Jack in the eye,
waiting for an explanation. At first, Jack said nothing, holding her gaze with
a passive expression.
Then—he smirked, his eyes dropping to her feet, and slowly trailing up.
Ashi felt her hair stand on end at his shift of character. Then
her mouth dropped open as it finally dawned on her. Jack’s weirdo statement would
have passed for his old-timey prose he liked to drop now and again…if not for
the fact that she was literally
wearing a dress made of leaves. The same one he was now shamelessly ogling.
The Scotsman arrived to that conclusion as well. “Shut yer
trap! You jaked twally!” He charged at full floating speed to land a punch. But forgetting
he was incorporeal, his meaty fist only passed through Jack’s amused face and tree bark. The
ghost growled in annoyance, his anger spurring him on to yell at Jack, calling
him a “flower-picking dafty” that got himself into this mess in the first place.
The Scotsman’s tirade evoked the events of the day. It had
started out innocently enough (dead Scotsman and all). They had made camp in a
small clearing of the woods. Ashi was kindling a fire while Jack went off to
scout for potential signs of nearby danger. The Scotsman stayed behind to keep
Ashi company. Although the Scotsman looked gruff and intimidating, Ashi found
he had a soft heart. When she succinctly described her difficult upbringing,
the ghost thoughtfully steered the conversation to a lighter topic. It did not
take long for them to be laughing like old friends, mostly from the Scotsman’s
funny anecdotes with Jack.
He had just finished the story of “Brent Worthington” when
Jack returned, bringing with him additional firewood and….an unusual item.
It was a blue star-shaped flower with lavender tones, with a
puffy cotton center.
“I found a whole meadow full of them,” Jack said, pleased
with his find, “It’s quite lovely and its fragrance so sweet.” It was at that
point when he bent his nose to take another whiff did the Scotsman realize what
“YOU BLUNDERING IDIOT!”
It all happened too fast. The Scotsman commanded Jack be restrained
immediately. Jack was too confused to put up a real fight as Ashi quickly
subdued him and roped him to a tree. The only reason she obeyed the Scotsman
was the insinuation of the suspicious flower.
“Is it poison?” Ashi asked with worry, “Will he die? Will he
turn into something? Into some kind of monster?”
In case you missed it, this is my Valentine’s Day Gift Exchange drabble for the lovely Steph - aka @klarolinedrabbles - Happy Valentine’s Day! Well you asked for fluffy goodness and I hope I delivered (the toothache I have is telling me I did though, unless that’s all that Valentine’s chocolate).
Synopsis: Caroline Forbes considers herself one of the best fundraisers in New York City but reclusive billionaire Klaus Mikaelson has always been out of her reach. Not one to give up easily, she decides that the upcoming Valentine’s Charity Ball is her perfect chance to make him realise what’s really important in life but she might find out more than she ever expected.
Try a Little Tenderness
“You’re doing what now?” Katherine asked through the car speaker. Caroline didn’t need to see the brunette to know what her shocked expression looked like. They’d been best friends for about seventeen years now, so it kind of came with the territory.
“You see this is why I didn’t tell you where I was going until I’d at least passed through Queens,” she replied, staring at the road ahead thinking this was a very different destination to her summers spent on Coney Island growing up.
“Because you knew I’d tell you what a bad idea this was, roomie,” she drawled. “While I admire your dogged determination Care, I think the state of New York would consider this type of activity illegal.”
“And how did you come to that conclusion?”
“Stalking is illegal in all fifty states, including ours,” she drawled and Caroline could tell she was rolling her eyes now.
“I am not stalking him.”
“So, how exactly do you explain the fact you tracked his movements, jumped in your car and followed him on vacation? I think when business people escape to the Hamptons, albeit during the middle of winter, it’s for some sort of rest and relaxation Care, not to be hounded by fundraisers for their upcoming charity events.”
“Number one, I didn’t need to track anyone. It’s not difficult to find even the most private people given the exorbitant amount of media there is these days ,” she scoffed. “And number two, did you ever think I needed to escape the city for some rest and relaxation myself?”
“No. Although this latest stunt tells me that maybe you might need some kind of therapy.”
“Fine,” Caroline scowled ignoring her comments and placing her sunglasses over her eyes to shield the invading light. “It’s for a good cause, Kat.”
“I’m not saying it isn’t,” she agreed. “However, that’s your justification for everything. Just because you think that, it doesn’t mean everyone else does.”
“Exactly what’s wrong with today’s society,” Caroline muttered. “Look, I just think if I went to him and explained myself Klaus Mikaelson would understand that donating to the upcoming Valentine’s Gala would make a difference to so many kids with cancer.”
“I think your multitude of emails and phone calls to his office have already done that.”
“And obviously it failed because I’ve heard nothing back. Which is exactly why a face-to-face meeting is required.”
“So, why don’t you make an appointment like normal people do instead of stalking billionaires at their vacation residences?”
“Because his secretary is ignoring my calls,” she growled. “I haven’t even met Lexi Branson but she seems to have it in for me for some reason.”
“Might have something to do with all that phone stalking,” Katherine teased. “Did you ever consider maybe taking no for an answer?”
Caroline didn’t like the word no, in fact it just made her more determined to succeed and probably why she was so good at her job. Caroline considered herself one of the best and most persistent charity fundraisers in New York, if not the whole East Coast. She’d recently taken a new job at a Children’s Cancer foundation and was determined to make a difference. That included raising as much money as possible for their upcoming Valentine’s Ball.
She’d been considerably successful so far but Caroline always like to push herself harder and that meant trying to convince one of Manhattan’s most reclusive billionaires that this was a cause worth donating towards. It wasn’t her first attempt; she’d tried on two earlier occasions with different charities but failed. To be honest she was surprised someone of his status didn’t donate already, a fact that didn’t sit well with her at all. She didn’t like to judge but given how much he was worth Caroline couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t give back to those less fortunate.
The one thing you could say about Caroline was that she was thorough in her research and she’d read every available article and biography on Niklaus Mikaelson. The second child of four siblings, born in England to meagre beginnings but after completing high school he’d won a scholarship to Oxford to study law where he’d graduated first in his class. He moved to the US and obtained a subsequent Master’s degree in Business Administration at Harvard only to start his own computer business months later. That business would net him $12 million in the first year of operations. The profits only increased each subsequent year. Becoming a millionaire was easy and his billionaire status was confirmed only five years later.
Caroline understood money, it was her job after all but she knew the real motivations for donating to anything came from a deeper place. Unfortunately in his case Klaus didn’t seem to have any at all from what she had seen. He always came across so aloof in the few interviews she’d watched, almost like it was a chore having to converse with people. Caroline wasn’t surprised but it didn’t stop her from wanting to know what made him tick. Unfortunately google wasn’t going to tell her what she wanted. The one thing she did know from the internet was that he was gorgeous, with those crimson lips and dirty blonde curls. How could someone so good looking be so arrogant? It seemed a shame but Caroline figured you couldn’t have everything.
That’s why she’d decided after being stonewalled by his office again that she needed another approach. Some might have considered it stalking but she considered it business, surely if anyone could understand that concept it was him.
“Oh that’s Bonnie calling in, I’m going to connect her,” Katherine interrupted. Caroline rolled her eyes knowing this wasn’t a coincidence, no doubt Katherine had sent her a sneaky text while they’d been talking.
“Does anyone know where my calm and rational friend has gone? She’s about five nine with blonde hair and blue eyes, was last seen driving crazily out of Manhattan an hour ago?”
“I’m perfectly calm Bonnie,” Caroline huffed. “Some people would consider this plan a masterful stroke of genius.”
“Or crazy, depending on who you ask,” Katherine drawled. “So, I’m curious what are you planning to do when you get there, Care? Play next door neighbour and ask to borrow a cup of sugar?”
“I have no intention of lying.”
“Oh, I get it you’re going to say you just happened to be in the neighbourhood and thought you’d stop by?” Bonnie asked.
“Yeah, cause I’m sure he’d believe that,” she baulked.
“So, how are you going to penetrate the Mikaelson mansion? Tell me you have some kind of plan in place?”
“Of course I do, Bon. Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m going to just knock on the front door and introduce myself,” she gulped, thinking just how lame that sounded aloud. She’d planned to come up with something on the drive and decided to blame her lack of preparedness on Katherine and now Bonnie’s impromptu phone interrogation.
“Please tell me you have something more creative than that? You don’t just knock on doors in Southampton. They have high walls, big gates, security cameras and an angry German Shepard if you’re really lucky.”
“You seem to forget just how charming I can be, Katherine,” she argued. “They don’t call me one of the best fundraisers in the City for nothing.”
“I’m not saying you aren’t but it’s pretty obvious this guy is immune to your charms given his constant refusal to meet with you.”
“Oh yea of little faith, Kitty Kat,” she scoffed. “Not only will I put on my best charm I’m also wearing THE dress.”
“The red Stella McCartney?” Bonnie gasped.
“And the black Louboutins,” she grinned knowingly.
“But you only break those out when…”
“It’s an emergency.” Caroline didn’t like to use her sexuality, in fact she only did when it was absolutely the very last resort and she figured the circumstances called for a little designer intervention. Her attire was equal parts business like and sexy as hell.
“If Klaus Mikaelson doesn’t agree to see you in that ensemble then he’s either gay or really, really stupid.”
“I guess we’ll wait and see,” she murmured. “I really should get going, ladies. You know as fun as this weird phone frientervention has been.”
“Play some Eye of the Tiger, that’s what I always do before a case,” she explained. Katherine’s win-loss ratio in the courtroom was impressive so Caroline figured she might take her up on the advice and began to search for some Survivor in her music library.
“Good luck,” they both replied in unison before disconnecting. Before Caroline could play the Rocky anthem and get her head into the game, her phone beeped indicating a new text message. She eyed it curiously, noticing his name appear. She certainly had to hand it to all her besties, they certainly had her back.
“Knock him dead, gorgeous.” Caroline grinned at Enzo’s words. She should have been angry at Kat for telling him and Bonnie but Caroline needed all the encouragement she could garner. It was only then the phone beeped again. “P.S. If you find any hot, available millionaires give them my number.” She rolled her eyes; he always had an ulterior motive when it came to women. She turned up the volume losing herself in the music as she drove closer to her destination.
Forty-five minutes later, Caroline found herself turning down Meadow Lane in Southampton, immediately she was intimidated. She knew this was millionaires (or in many cases billionaires) row but had never seen it personally. The houses were as much spectacular as they were enormous and she was in awe of the architecture as much as the grand, impressive grounds each boasted. She almost missed his at number 96 and had to apply the brakes quickly before she ventured too far off course. Caroline thought they were all gorgeous but his was especially picturesque. A brilliant, white, multi-story residence with royal blue accents that blended in with the surrounding area but Caroline knew that was only the beginning of its appeal. She inhaled deeply, wondering just what she was doing here. She’d been so determined but seeing his house had stunned her slightly.
Caroline lifted her head, determined not to let some billionaire get in the way of what was important. She pulled her Prius into his driveway, and was met with a guard housed at the entrance.
“Hello, I’m here to see Mr Klaus Mikaelson.”
“And you are?” He asked searching his clipboard seriously.
“Caroline, Caroline Forbes,” she gulped knowing she wouldn’t be on his list.
“You’re not on the list Miss Forbes, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he instructed, his emotionless expression not changing as he said it.
“But I just need to see him for a few minutes,” she objected, ready to go into the spiel she’d practiced on the way down. “It’s a business matter.”
“No buts, you need to leave the premises straight away,” he replied dismissively. Caroline was stuck for words; she’d half considered getting out of her car to model her outfit but knew this grouch would be unmoved.
She reversed begrudgingly, uttering a few colourful terms as she did it. She looked to the road ahead, dreading the drive back and annoyed at her failure with him yet again. She didn’t come all this way for nothing. Caroline noticed a gate to the property as she drove along the side street. Maybe she could make her own entrance? Klaus Mikaelson would surely give her points for originality. Either that or he’d have her arrested. Caroline decided on that option, hoping that Enzo, Bonnie and Katherine could pool together the proceeds for bail if not.
The gate had a keypad on the side, Caroline realised that she had no idea what the code would be. She wracked her brain thinking about all she knew of the billionaire without many results forthcoming. Caroline thought it was hopeless but decided to enter something anyway, what did she have to lose? She entered the digits she knew so well. One. Two. Zero. Seven. It was her birthday. What she wasn’t expecting was the click as the gate opened.
As much as she wanted to question his choice and the fact she guessed correctly, Caroline pushed the gate and stepped onto the manicured lawn in awe. Caroline wasn’t expecting such an easy entry but here she was looking up at the foreboding property. If she turned up at the front door what was she supposed to say? I just broke into your house but I promise I’m not a burglar? Caroline hadn’t figured out what she’d do at that point. She really needed to stop being so impulsive, it only seemed to get her in trouble.
Before she could walk any further, a white husky approached, eyeing her curiously. Even with Katherine’s earlier warnings she hadn’t worked out what she would do in this situation, if only she had some dog treats to bribe him with. “Hey, gorgeous,” Caroline cooed, attempting to make friends with the majestic looking dog. “I’m not going to hurt you.” What Caroline wasn’t expecting was for the dog to sidle up beside her and nuzzle its nose into her leg for a pat. Some guard dog this was, not that she was complaining. She gave him a long rub relishing in his adorable affection.
“Wolf always has been a sucker for a pretty face,” someone observed, startling her slightly. She looked up into his curious brown eyes, glad the first person she came across after breaking in wasn’t the blonde and blue eyed owner. “Now, you don’t look like our gardener,” he enquired. He was gorgeous for sure standing at just over six foot with brown hair and a cheeky smile.
“I could be,” she argued, knowing how stupid it sounded as soon as she said it.
“So, what are your care instructions for these daisies then?”
“Just leave them be, urgh they’ll die soon enough,” Caroline offered feebly, looking at the suffering plants. She never really considered herself much of a gardener given the number of plants she’d subsequently killed over the years.
“Brutal,” he said. “But I like your style. So, do you make it a habit of breaking and entering?”
“This is my first time actually,” she admitted, deciding she had no choice. “And surprisingly easier than I thought it would be. But you, uh, might want to change your gate code, god knows who could just walk on in.”
“You’re either here to see Rebekah, Niklaus or Elijah. I’m not sure why you’d waste time on any of my siblings. Just FYI they don’t put out very easily, far too uptight for their own good.”
“Which means you obviously do. Is that supposed to impress me or something?” Caroline drawled knowingly and he let out a chuckle.
“I think you should be a bit nicer given I could call the police and tell them some crazy blonde pretending to be a gardener broke into my brother’s house.”
“I’m not crazy, well most of the time,” she conceded. “I’m Caroline Forbes and by the sounds of it you must be Kol Mikaelson.”
“I see my reputation precedes me,” he grinned. “So, enough about me. What exactly are you doing here, darling?”
2017 05 29 i never thought it would get to this but i started drying things i found on a meadow to make decorative compositions of dead flowers. next time i wake up i may even end up being a florist! (which actually would not be so bad.)
Some people might tell you that murder leaves a scar on your soul. Each life you take chipping away at that fragile thing inside of you that makes you who you are, keeps you human. This has never been particularly true for me. There are kills, of course, that stick with you. I’ve had my share of nightmares, but nothing has ever scarred my soul. Sometimes I wonder if I have one.
One thing that has held true for me is the saying that the first kill sticks with you, that throughout the years, it will stay with you, every little detail. The way the blood pooled, or the way your hands bruised their body. The memory of your first kill stays with you, much like your first fuck. The clumsy moves, the nerves, the adrenaline. It’s remarkable how much they have in common, truly.
I remember both in exquisite detail. But before I share my story, let me say that I have never particularly enjoyed killing. I’m not one of those psychopaths stalking the streets, snatching up innocent things for the thrill of it. Killing for me has always been for two reasons; business, and anger.
I took my first life, purposefully, at the age of fifteen. At first glance, my life at that age was perfect. I was the daughter of a wealthy and well liked nobleman, living in a beautiful state in the Arathi Highlands. I had jewels, gowns, anything that I desired. Except for freedom. That beautiful estate was a prison, the jewels and gowns just for show. I was a possession, to be dressed up and sold to the highest bidder. An investment such as myself simply couldn’t be allowed to roam freely, so guards were posted at every door, and in view of every window.
My one escape, was the secret passage I had discovered in my closet as a girl, one of the very few in Lilydale that Father didn’t know about. I never managed to go far, as a girl, I still had a healthy fear of him, and knew perfectly well that he would simply have me dragged back should I ever attempt a real escape. So, I found a meadow, not far from my prison, and went there when I could. My own little secret, this cursory freedom.
Early one morning, I was late returning; having fallen asleep in my secret haven. The maid had already entered to wake me for the day, and caught me just as I emerged from the closet. She assured me, in hushed whispers as if we were sisters sharing a lifelong secret, that she would never utter a word of my escape route to my father. Naive to the true nature of the world, I trusted her. That very afternoon, my father stormed my bedroom, guards in tow, and had the entrance barred shut. He beat me, and locked me in my room for the remainder of the day.
As I lay on my bed, dry eyed and angry, I began to plan my first murder.
I waited four long months from her violation of my trust, long enough for her to become comfortable around me once more. Every day, as she bustled into the room, drawing back my drapes, and preparing to help me dress for the day, I smiled. I smiled, and talked to her as if we were old friends, her sins against me long since forgiven. But every day, I planned.
Early one summer morning, as she drew back the drapes, I asked her to open the windows, expressing my desire to welcome the warm sea air. She thought nothing of it when I climbed from my bed, offering her that familial smile, the smile of sisters sharing a secret bond. She thought nothing of it when I came to a stop behind her, pointing out some little detail on the horizon, a flowering tree, or an approaching horse.
Only when my hands were on her shoulders did she realize the mistake she had made. As she tried, and failed, to brace herself on the railing of my tiny balcony. She realized, in her last moments, as she tumbled to her death on the cobbles below, that she had never been forgiven; never would be forgiven. She never even screamed, simply gasped, staring at me with shock.
I waited exactly three seconds before running to the railing, carefully of course, and screaming. Guards rushed in immediately, my poor, poor, maid had tumbled to her death. I had tried in vain to save her. My story was believed, no one dared to question the Lord’s daughter. Father never looked at me the same, of course. Somewhere deep inside, I think he knew. He knew that he had begun to create a monster, he simply had no idea just how much worse it would become.
The Ultraterrestrial/Interdimensional, Fairy, Missing 411 connection explained perfectly.
(I did not write this)
I am an avid fisherman and hiker living in Southern New England who also has an interest in the Fortean and occult. Needless to say when I was made aware of your body of work in relation to unexplained disappearances, my curiosity was piqued. Over this past winter I have read both the Eastern and Western installments of the North American Missing 411 series. The quality of the research you have accomplished is remarkable. Also, the efforts you have made in pushing the National Parks Service in relinquishing more information on these cases deserves a thank you. My understanding is that the amount of time you have devoted to this project is on par with that of a full time job, and the quality of the work reflects that.
In addition to thanking you for your work, I am also writing you with some observations I have on the 411 phenomenon. The pattern outlined in the North American 411 books of sudden disappearances in rural settings, experienced outdoorsmen becoming inexplicably lost, clothing found missing or inside out, and survivors experiencing either no recollection or severely impeded recollections, fits a much older phenomenon. It is found in various folklores the world over. In each incarnation of it, it is described similarly, even among cultures separated by thousands of miles and hundreds of years.
There are countless stories and traditions centered around a race of non-human entities who occupy the world alongside us, outside our perception, yet occasionally pushing into it. They’ve been called fairies, elves, dwarves, puccas, boggarts, djinn, “The Fair Folk” elementals and countless other names. They have likely been derided as demons and worshipped as gods. The late Fortean John Keel referred to them as “Ultraterrestrials”, visitors not from another planet, but from rather a facet of this one that we aren’t typically familiar with. It’s been posited that they actually account for the bulk of the ET phenomenon and are also behind the more biologically unliekly cryptids.
Regardless of the name, the description of their actions is always the same: mischievous tricksters who specialize in abducting humans, confusing and leading travelers astray, having dominion over nature and the weather, being associated with particular locations and landmarks, and having a confused preoccupation human clothing. All of these factors combined makes the Ultraterrestrial phenomenon an interesting potential culprit in the Missing 411 cases.
Perhaps the most notorious trait of these beings is their penchant for abducting humans as well as tricking travelers. An excerpt from 17th century guide on the paranormal and the occult gives this description of it
“And many such have been taken away by the said spirits, for a fortnight or month together, being carried with them in their chariots through the air, over hills and dales, rocks and precipices, till at last they have been found lying in some meadow or mountain, bereaved of their senses.”
The fairy abduction phenomenon is best known in regards to “changelings”, human infants that are stolen away and are replaced with a stand in of some variety. However, there are many accounts of fairies abducting adults as well. Alleged reasons as to why fairies would abduct humans included punishment for perceived disrespect, interbreeding with fairies to strengthen their bloodline (a similarity to the modern UFO abduction phenomenon), and in some folklore accounts, to utilize human talents, such as musicianship, for fairy entertainment. One account of the phantom light phenomenon know as “Will O the Wisp” states that the lights hanging in some forests are the captured souls of humans abducted by fairies.
Fairies were said to carry humans away into their world by abruptly entering solid objects such as large boulders, crags, and earthen mounds. In many of the cases you outline, people go missing suddenly while a companion has their backed turned. Others are seemingly the victim of an abductor who infiltrates an area with impossible, almost supernatural stealth. Some are even discovered in areas thoroughly searched by SAR, as if placed there after the area was combed. And often, recovered victims’ conditions were far superior to than what weather would warrant, as if they were kept somewhere out of the elements. Also, tracking dogs are unable to pick up a scent in many of your cases, as if the victim has gone off the face of the Earth. Entities such as these that do not seem to be entirely physical and would be able to enter our “sphere of sensation,” reality as we know it, and then exit, bringing their captive with them, would potentially be able to achieve all of this.
Furthermore, upon returning, fairy abductees would have a very incomplete account of what happened to them as well as experiencing missing time. Abductees would feel as if they had been held captive for minutes, but in fact it had been hours or days. This matches the high incidence of hazy memories and missing time in living 411 recoverees.
Related to their abduction behavior, fairies were said to hold great powers of influence over human perception and were adept at misleading travelers. Through an ability known as “glamour” fairies are said to be able to affect human perception to such an extent that they could make their victims hallucinate. Through glamour, fairies could make a pile of leaves appear to be a vast treasure or a banquet of food. Also, glamour could allow fairies to persuade humans to do dangerous and counter intuitive acts.
A great example of this is a tale from the Cherokee Indians of North Carolina regarding their little people, which they called the Yunwi Tsundsi. They were said to leave small human like prints in the snow, but were dangerous to follow, as the little people would throw stones at them or put them under a spell. The story goes that a Cherokee hunter followed the Yunwi Tsundsi tracks through the mountains until he found them dancing in a cave. He stayed with them for sixteen days while they fed him and cared for him. During this time, his friends had abandoned their search efforts, thinking him dead. Eventually, the little people brought him partly home, until coming upon a creek. They told him that his home was across the creek, and that he must cross. Halfway across, he turned to look back, and they were gone. The creek was very deep, and being the dead of winter, his legs were badly frozen, and he died shortly after.
Fairy glamour could also be used into confusing travelers and leading them astray. The Celtic-Anglo term for this phenomenon was “pixie-led.” While one was pixie-led, they may find that a familiar woodland becomes woefully confusing as they pass the same set of landmarks continuously as they travel in circles. Others may trudge into a treacherous bog, believing themselves to be walking on a dry trail. In some accounts, victims hear a disembodied laughter, or feel as if they’re being followed by a malevolent pursuer.
An account from 1935 in County Mayo Ireland tells of a girl who found herself pixie-led. The girl claimed an invisible force prevented her from passing, and would even turn her around to the direction that she came. This continued until dusk, when she could see searchers looking for her, although they could not see her nor could they hear her cries for help. Eventually, the barrier lifted as suddenly as it came on, and she was allowed to leave.
Throughout both the Eastern and Western installments there was the mind boggling recurrence of experienced outdoorsmen seemingly violating everything that their well informed judgement and common sense would tell them. 411 accounts were replete with abandoned firearms, crossings of icy rivers, trudging through feet of snow, small children walking miles uphill and thousands of feet in elevation. All stark violations of common sense, and all done as if something was compelling them or affecting their mental faculties. As can be seen from the extensive history of fairy lore, perhaps something was.
One of the most odd aspects of the pattern you have outlined in these cases is that bad weather strikes following these disappearances, hindering search efforts. This occurs with such regularity one would almost suspect that there may be an intelligence guiding these weather events. An aspect of some fairy lore ascribes unto them ability to control the weather. Some fairies are said to hold special dominion over the wind, while others were said to bring on rain and snow. In Russian folklore there is a forest steward known as the Leshiye, a sometimes ferocious protector of the woods who would intimidate humans with their control over the weather. While it is entirely possible that this is just folk superstition, it is certainly a trait that again shows correlation to the 411 pattern.
Another aspect of the 411 pattern is clusters, the fact that these disappearances are centered around certain areas, with sometimes similar cases happening mere miles from another. Just as how 411 cases are geographically concentrated, so too are faires. Fairies are not found everywhere, and they are said to favor certain locations more than others to the extent that some locations are infamously associated with them. Similarly, Ultraterrestrials are paired with the advent of high strangeness and “flaps” of Fortean activity. Weird critters, lights in the sky, and odd visitors seem to occur in some places far more than others, and often at once.
Specific rock formations, mountains, hills, burial mounds, effigy mounds, and bodies of water have all been said to be fairy hotspots. Iceland is a prime example of a modern culture in which the hidden folk are still revered, and there, this belief in fairy locations is so strong that highway projects are diverted to avoid disturbing elven ground.
Related to this is that it is often believed that human civilization and development have a repulsive effect on fairies. As such, it is said that they are far more frequently encountered in highly rural environments. This is also true of these very specific disappearances. Furthermore, our national parks would be especially fertile soil for them as they are intentionally undeveloped.
Many 411 locations have their histories of high strangeness and/or Ultraterrestrial/fairy legends. In Janet Bord’s book Fairies: Real Encounters With Little People there is an account of a woman witnessing a ring of dancing blue fairies on Mount Shasta. Glastonbury Mountain in Vermont sits in a high strangeness area known as the “Bennington Triangle” and according to Native American legend, is the home of a man eating stone. Crater Lake has the following reputation among some of the Klamath people:
“People were stolen and taken down into Crater lake by beings there. Some say they have found no water in the lake. Instead there were rocks as big as trees and deep tunnels in the bottom.
There are animals, snakes, and a sort of people who live at (or in) the ocean.”
And Alden Johnson went missing in Rehoboth Massachusetts in 1934, a town that makes up a corner of the high strangeness area called the “Bridgewater Triangle.” This swampy area of Southeastern Massachusetts has held court to UFOs, large hairy bipeds, thunderbirds, and a race of little people dubbed “Puckwudgies” by the Wompanoag tribe. Like every other race of little people, Puckwudgies were said to delight in kidnapping humans, tricking them, and leading them astray in the wilderness. They were also said to capture and use the lights of human souls to lure people into the woods, an alarming parallel to the Will O The Wisp of Anglo-Celtic lore.
Many 411 locations likely have had a historical reputation as a place where strange things happen and bizarre entities are encountered. As you yourself pointed out, the word “Devil” is recurring in many of the series’ place names. And although the word in some cases could be a reference to a rugged and unforgiving landscape, I do not think that this is the case for all.
Researcher Loren Coleman in her book Mysterious America has compiled a list of American locations belonging to the Devil, and many of them are sites of high strangeness. Examples in her research include Devil’s Lake in Wisconsin, Devil’s Kitchen in Illinois, Devil’s Den in New Hampshire and the Diablo Valley of California.
Also in her work she makes mention of the Algonquin word “Hockomock" which means “place where the spirits dwell” and its derivative “Hoccomocco” which means “evil spirit.” The most notable place to feature this term is the Hockomock Swamp of Southeastern Massachusetts, which is the heart of the Bridgewater Triangle. In an interesting coincidence, the English settlers had their own name for this swamp: “Devil’s Swamp.”
A note worth making on this is that in Ireland the word “Fairy” is used much in the same way our place names utilize “Devil” as is “Djinn” in the Middle East and “Boggart” in England.
Lastly, there is another element to some 411 cases that leads me to think that there is something odd associated with these locations. In some of these cases, searchers or individuals close to the case acted in ways that would suggest that they had special knowledge of the area that no one else did. As if something odd may have been showing itself on a regular basis to those in the area.
Keith Parkins, age two, was found by an SAR member 12 miles from where he disappeared, grossly outside the standard search range, suggesting that the SAR member knew that something out of the ordinary was going on.
Rosemary Kunst went missing near Spirit Lake while attending a spiritual ceremony conducted by Chief Charlie “Redhawk” Thom. When asked about her disappearance, Redhawk opines that Rosemary likely ended up in an area called “Devil’s Backbone” a conclusion that he gives no explanation of as to how he reached it. Again, it seems as if he knew something unusual about the lay of the land.
The best example of this is the case of Betty Wolfrum in Moosehorn, Manitoba. Neighboring farmer Roy Rosin walks into the woods to find the girl, and does so seemingly effortlessly. When asked about how he knew where to find the girl Roy responded “I did not expect to come back alive, or if I did come back I would be all broken up.” There was something or someone in this area of Manitoba that was quite odd and fearsome it seems. It also seems that it was enough of a fixture that Roy Rosin was well acquainted with it.
Yet another parallel between 411 cases and fairies/ultraterrestrials is regarding specific wildlife. Fairies were noted for playing favorites when it came to not only certain locations, but certain plants and even animals as well. They have been held by many cultures to be the guardians and stewards of nature. There are even accounts of people asking fairies what they’re doing when manifested to hear them say “I’m helping the plants grow.” Furthermore, they were said to become deeply offended when they perceived humans to act disrespectfully to something in their stewardship.
I mention this here due to the number of 411 cases that involve people picking berries and hunting. In fact, from a certain perspective berry pickers and hunters could be placed under one category “harvesters of nature.” Perhaps an unseen onlooker perceived these people as being disrespectful of their protectorate.
An example of this association between supernatural abductors and specific plants can also be found in the legends of the Alsea tribe of Western Oregon. The abductor was known as “Asin” and her botanical association bares startling significance to the 411 pattern:
“Asin is a cannibal ogress from the mythology of the Alsea tribe. Like other monstrous ogres of the Northwest Coast, Asin preys on children and is often the subject of “bogeyman” stories told to frighten children into avoiding dangerous behavior. Asin was particularly associated with huckleberry plants, so Alsea people (especially children) did not touch or eat huckleberries. Hearing Asin’s cries was considered an omen of death.”
Given the pattern of many in these books disappearing while picking berries, there may be more to Asin than a mere bogeyman figure.
The clothing of the missing plays a significant role in the strangeness of the 411 cases. Many of the missing are found naked with their clothes piled next to their body or strown through the woods. Sometimes the clothing is found inside out. Sometimes it’s just the victim’s shoe or one of their shoes. Human clothing, and shoes in particular, are also oddly featured in both the fairy lore and the more modern Ultraterrestrial encounters.
Human clothing was said to have a baffling effect on fairies, and as such many superstitions to ward them off centered around it. Sleeping with one’s shoes pointing away from the bed was said to secure a fairy free sleep. When one was being led astray by a fairy, or “pixie-led” turning one’s clothing inside out was said to break their glamour, a possible theory being that it confused them. Furthermore, if one should try to rescue a person from a ring of fairies, the rescuer was instructed to pull the victim out of the ring by their clothing.
Related to this, in many accounts fairies were said to be either naked, or wearing a skin tight garment the same color as their skin (a parallel to many alleged ET abductors). While on the topic, in many ET abductions the contactee is stripped of their clothing.
What all this suggests to me is that these entities do not seem to have a complete understanding of human clothing, and/or it has some sort of inhibitory effect on them.
This befuddlement about clothing becomes more apparent when the modern Ultraterrestrial cases are examined, particularly when it comes to shoes. There’s a genre of paranormal case that’s been dubbed “Stranger Accounts” or as Charles Fort called them “the procession of the damned.” These have come to include grinning men, black eyed kids, black eyed adults, the men in black, and other near human but unnerving entities. The traits of all of these, subtly unhuman, appearing and disappearing at will, and their mischievous and sometimes belligerent behavior, places them within the Ultraterrestrial phenomenon and makes them modern day fairies.
What’s odd is that these entities are capable of looking human with the exception of one clothing detail: shoes. Mysterious airforce men, a variant of the men in black, would appear at UFO witnesses’ homes in an airforce uniform but with tennis shoes. A tall gaunt looking figure was reported eating at a diner. Despite his strange proportions, his clothing was normal, except for his shoes that had a compartment for each toe as if they were gloves for his feet. And if they do get their human costume correct, it’s either a very generic imitation of a modern style, or a perfect depiction of a style that’s decades come and gone. This again suggests a sort of ineptness in regards to this aspect of human living.
Therefore there seems to be that this class of entity has a confused fixation on human clothing, making for a possible correlation with the bizarre treatment of victims’ clothes in the 411 cases. The particularly odd relationship with footwear potentially does the same with the numerous missing shoes of 411.
There is a theme scattered throughout these cases. It does not occur in every case, but it does appear multiple times in each book. It is a factor in these cases that is perhaps the strangest and most difficult to explain. It is also the factor that most clearly suggests that at least some of these cases are being carried out by non-human entities. Also, this factor cannot be explained by popular theories such as time slips. This factor is the strange abductors reported by living victims. I have broken them down into three categories: the dog/bear man, the odd couple, and the wild men. What is more, is that all of the bizarre kidnappers of 411 have corollaries in fairy lore and Ultraterrestrial literature.
A consistent quality of fairies and invisible races the world over is that when they do take on a form, they are adept shapeshifters, appearing as whatever they choose. The crux of the Ultraterrestrial theory in regards to high strangeness is that the light in the sky, the monster in the woods, and the guy in the black Cadillac who grilled you about it, are all the same thing. Or at least the same type of thing manifesting three different ways.
Often, the form is reported to be either a particularly short or tall humanoid with distorted facial features and dark skin complexion. However, legend and Ultraterrestrial encounters are filled with other forms. Shaggy unkempt humanoids, grotesque hairy red-eyed monsters that wreak of sulfur, and various hybrids of human and animal form are all accounted for. An example would be the boggart of Longar Hede in Yorkshire, England, which was said to be a gigantic creature, the size of a calf and had long shaggy hair and enormous eyes. This description of the invisible folk creature the boggart correlates neatly with the big hairy monster (BHM) Ultraterrestials like Momo the Missouri Monster, the “White Things” of West Virginia, and the Popelick Monster.
There are several accounts in both 411 West and East where surviving children make mention of a “bear” or a creature that appears roughly humanoid but with features of a bear and/or wolf. Larry McGee, Janet Mcgee, and Steven Cross went missing in the Sante Fe ski basin and report being chased up the mountain by a bear and claim they were afraid to make their presence known to searchers due to fearing that they may have been “big gorillas.” Ida May Curtis went missing in the Kootenai National Forest of Montana spoke of being held by a “mother bear” in a crude shelter made of cedar slashings. Katie Flynn who went missing in Walhalla, Michigan described her abductor as “a big dog” who took her up in his arms, carried her off, and ate her hat. During her stay with the entity, it fed Katie wintergreen berries and kept her warm in a bed it made for her. The details of this cases appear closely again with Millard David who went missing in New York who claimed that a “big bear” had taken her.
The details of these accounts, a bear or wolf that takes children up in their arms and carries them off, makes it impossible that the creatures mentioned here are actually bears of wolves. It defies bear and wolf behavior, as it does bear and wolf morphology. Although both animals are capable of standing on two legs, it’s physically impossible for either to run on its hind legs, let alone do so while carrying a small child. And a species of undiscovered wolf or bear that has evolved to possess a humanoid morphology would be an improbable case of parallel evolution. Taking all of this into consideration, it becomes very unlikely that these creatures are biological entities.
Paranormal researcher Linda Godfrey has sizeable body work dedicated to upright canines. Nestled in her expansive work is the opinion of a Ho-Chunk tribe elder who believed that these entities are visitors from a spiritual plane that take on a physical form temporarily. This fits the definition of an Ultraterrestrial to a tee. Godfrey has also noted a correlation between dogmen sightings and effigy mounds, which is similar to how fairies in the British Isles were long associated with similar mounds there. Also relating these entities to the Ultraterrestrial phenomenon is the category of UT’s dubbed “Big Hairy Monsters” whose physics defying antics like walking through solid objects, and sudden appearances and disappearances place them within the UT category.
The second category, the “Odd Couple” differs greatly to the dog man. These abductors appear in two 411 cases, Betty Wolfrum and Florence Jackson, and appear to be very human. The abductors either make up a couple or a family living deep in the woods and are unknown to locals, and after taking the child in, they let them free.
Betty Wulfrum went missing from the remote farming community of Moosehorn, Manitoba. She was found five days later by farmer Roy Rosin, who as mentioned earlier, inexplicably knew where to find the girl, and that what took her was potentially dangerous. Upon examining Betty, a physician determined that she had been kept out of the elements, to the extent that she was completely dry despite heavy rains, and had been given food and water. Also, during this time, a farmer’s cow had twice returned from the woods, milked. Betty spoke of meeting a mother and a daughter, a cat, and a man who pointed her in the direction of her home the morning that she was found.
Florence Jackson was found wandering naked near Indian Creek, Arkansas four days after she went disappearing in 1937. Upon questioning, Florence told of having slept in a log, “crying for mother to come” seeing a “strange man” and being abducted by a “black man and black woman.”
At this point I have demonstrated that the world over has no shortage of folk beliefs and accounts of strange woodland dwellers taking children away. These two cases clearly fit well within these folk descriptions of invisible abductors. An additional oddity in Florence Jackson’s case is the mention of the black man and woman. Although it could be argued that she was referencing an African American man and woman, this coloring coincides with that of many stranger encounters. The most notable modern examples would be the Men in Black and the Black Eyed Kids. In Hoodoo, the “Iwa” or spirit of the crossroads was also dubbed “The Black Man.” “The Black Man” was also the name of the entity that witches were alleged to have conversed in the wood with by the Puritans. Woodcuttings from New England during this time depict witches meeting with a man dressed entirely in black offering them familiar spirits.
“Wild men” is the third category of entity and are notable in the cases of Eloise Lindsey and Dennis Martin. Eloise Lindsey alleged that she was chased and harassed through the woods by unseen pursuers. Although both of these cases bear striking links to fairy lore and Ultraterrestrial encounters, the Martin case abounds with them.
The family of Dennis Martin was vacationing in the Great Smoky Mountains in 1969 when they coincidentally met another family by the name of Martin. The two families decided to share their vacation experience when at around 3:30 in the afternoon it was noticed that young Dennis had not been seen for approximately five minutes. During this time it was estimated that Dennis was no more than fifty feet from the families. About two hours later and seven miles away, the Key family heard a “sickening scream” and saw what at first seemed to be a bear, then a disheveled man hulking through the brush with something over his shoulder. The Keys noted that the man was noticeably attempting to hide from them, and by 8:30 pm a severe storm and the typical litany of 411 meteorology had moved into the Great Smoky Mountains. A historically intensive search ensued which included armed Green Barrettes.
Follow up interviews with both Dennis Martin’s father and NPS ranger and author of Lost!: A Ranger’s Journal of Search and Rescue, Dwight McCarter, rendered odd statements on the case. Martin’s father opined that the head of the parks service was a figurehead that seemed to share information in congruence with the desires of some other personnel. McCarter made mention of wildmen in the parks, but then unsolicitedly and overtly added that these “Wild Men” were of flesh and blood.
There are peculiarities related to these statements. The involvement of armed Green Barrettes in a search and rescue is odd, and like in other cases, suggests that someone had an inclination that something very unusual was going on. Also, if the parks service head is a figurehead who merely shares information at another entity’s discretion, there is an implication that something is trying be kept secret from the public. And finally, it is odd that McCarter explicitly stated that the Wild Men are corporeal men. No one floated any theories that they were anything but to him in relation to this questioning, meaning that this proclamation is unsolicited and unprovoked. This possibly suggests that McCarter either knows or suspects there is something odd about these Wild Men but is preemptively dispelling that possibility to limit public knowledge of it.
The Martin case is undoubtedly one of the oddest cases in both of the North American 411 books, and oddly enough, it is arguably also the one that has the most connections to Ultraterrestrials and invisible folk. Firstly, in John Keel’s works on Ultraterrestrials, he makes mention that encounters with these entities are often marked by instances of synchronicity, or odd coincidences. UFO’s will appear over two different cities with the same name, or abduct two individuals by the same name, or other such odd coincidences. Two families by the name of Martin meeting and then sharing an enormously odd turn of events certainly fits this. Also in Keel’s work is mention of a sound that occurs when these mysterious entities appear. The sound was said to be a deafening shriek, on par with “a woman being killed” and theorized by Keel to be the sound of air being displaced by the sudden introjection of the creature’s form into our reality. The sound reported by the Key’s moments prior to seeing the wild man is certainly similar to this sound.
Mistaking a shaggy human form, no matter how shaggy, for that of a bear, is somewhat unlikely, even by a small child. The disparity in the two asserted forms almost suggests an occurrence of transmogrification, a feat a long associated with reports of fairy entities. Not to mention, a shaggy, long haired, unkempt humanoid appearance was frequently associated with fairies. Ancient Brettons and Celts believed their standing stones were brought to their islands by a race called the Korred, wild looking little men covered in shaggy hair with dark skin. The Italian Salvanel are said to be reddish brown and covered in hair. Also, the Salvanel is said to delight in leading travelers astray and abducting small children, particularly young girls, who he raises lovingly as his own in caves deep in the woods. The French speak of a fair folk called the Follet, a wild variant of which is again, dark skinned, and covered in coarse hair.
And finally a report of a dozen Wild Men fairies dancing in the rain was made by W.E Thorner on the Island of Hoy off of Scotland around the time of the Second World War:
“These creatures were small in stature, but they did not have long noses nor did they appear kindly in demeanor. They possessed round faces, sallow in complexion, with long, dark, bedraggled hair. As they danced about, seeming to throw themselves over the cliff edge, I felt that I was witness to some ritual dance of a tribe of primitive men.”
Undoubtedly something very odd happened to Dennis Martin. Two families share a pleasant afternoon in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, and a young boy disappears from under his father’s nose. In the same vicinity, a stranger is seen with something flung over his shoulder, trudging through the brush. As can be seen from the paranormal accounts of Wild Men, this stranger may have been far stranger than any of the witnesses realize.
In conclusion, it is my sincere theory the primary culprit behind the 411 phenomenon is abduction by Ultraterrestrials, classically referred to as “fairies.” As “fairies” in folklore and “Ultraterrestrials” in modern paranormal investigation, these entities revel in leading travelers astray, abducting humans, possess ability to influence the weather, are associated with particular locations, and having odd relationships with human clothing. As I have espoused in detail, these traits make Ultraterrestrials a likely source for the 411 disappearances.
As part of a final note on this issue, I have a related anecdote on this topic that comes from my girlfriend. As a young girl living in South Carolina, she was playing indoors with her cousin one evening while their parents entertained each other in a card game. Glancing up from her play to the window she saw a figure standing beneath the edge of the carport. It was tall, dark, impressionistic in shape, and slender, with large glowing red eyes. Its “head” just barely fit below the overhang of the carport, meaning it was approximately eight feet tall. It leeringly fixated on her, and no one else. She looked back down assuming that breaking her gaze and looking back at the carport, she would see nothing, as she assumed it was her imagination. Looking back, the figure was still there, leering just as before. Now not only could she feel it was fixating on her, but that no one else in the room seemed to notice it. She could also feel it imploring her to come outside and then become angered when she ignored it. She felt it want her, and no one else. Years later as an adult she asked a childhood friend who grew up in the area if she had ever felt that something wanted her to come out into the woods. Her friend affirmed that yes, she had that feeling while growing up there.
What we know as bio-phsyical reality is our sensory experience fitted into the contexts, categories, and expectations that we create through our experiences and cultural education. Our sensory experience is inherently limited and our cognitions often limit it even further still. The implication of this is that there is potentially and even likely facets of the universe that we are epistemologically tone deaf to. Over the span of centuries and in every culture, entire races of odd people are said to dwell here past our normal sensory perception. It is likely the case we are not the sole intelligence of this world. As John Keel so eloquently put it, our Earth is a “haunted planet.” Perhaps it is the case that in some corners of the Earth there still lay the stirrings and whispers and glimmers of an ancient and nearly forgotten force. And perhaps sometimes these brushes with the specters of our haunted planet are so close that they pose a danger. It seems that sometimes in these corners, in a whisper and a glimmer, we are whisked off somewhere, not destined for return.
Filipendula rubra is in the peach family Rosaceae. Commonly known as queen of the prairie, it is native to the eastern and midwestern United States, from Pennsylviania to Iowa. Queen of the prairie is a perennial shrub found growing in prairies, meadows, and along streams and riverbanks. This species grows up to 8 feet tall, and produces a dense terminal panicle of light pink flowers. These flowers are highly fragrant and bloom during the late summer. It is commonly planted in large masses to accentuate the beautiful inflorescences, and grows best in partial sun.
“I can’t believe you burnt the last marshmallow Dyl,” you looked at your boyfriend across from the campfire. He only chuckled at you and smirked. The sun was almost fully set and the atmosphere was enjoyably peaceful. You soaked in the chirps of crickets and the popping of the fire, leaning back in your lawn chair. Dylan’s parents had allowed you to tag along on a camping trip with them, which gave Dylan some relieve of boredom. “Son, show her the trick.” Thomas spoke up and nodded his head towards your direction. Dylan pinched the marshmallow skin with his pointer finger and thumb and peeled the burnt skin off. He raised it up in the air and smiled down at you, “Magic.” You shook your head, smiling a bit when you heard Sue giggling a few spaces away from you.
Throughout the night, you and Dylan shared glances. The need between the two of you was unbearable. You watched as Dylan helped set up the tents. Your eyes scanned him carefully, taking in his tall, lanky figure and detailed face. His hair in a ponytail while his muscles moved and contracted building the tents. You bit your lip and felt your face become hot and your eyes burning from staring. ‘Damn…’ you thought. He turned around to meet your gaze. You widened your eyes and looked away from him. He raised a eyebrow and nodded to himself, almost planning something.
“Alright everyone, it’s time to split up and sleep, goodnight!” Sue pointed out to you and Dylan, pulling Thomas into a tent with her. “Goodnight Mr. and Mrs. Klebold,” you mumbled, still distracted. “I have a problem, you know?” Dylan stood from his previous position and pointed to his raging hard-on. You licked your lips, finding amusement in his ‘problem’, “Hmm…and what should I do about that? Your parents will hear us.” He made quick strides over to you and grabbed your forearms, pulling you up from your chair. “Where are we going Dyl?” You whisper-yelled to him. “When me and dad went out to fish, I found a little meadow,” he looked down at you with a promising look. “Wait, wait. So we’re really going to fuck in the woods?” You pulled on his arm a bit. The entire situation was turning you on even more than you already were.
After a minute of carefully stepping through the woods, you finally stop next to a fairly thick tree. Dylan swung your body quickly against the tree, kissing your lips roughly. You wrapped both of your legs around his waist, wanting to produce the long awaited friction. His hands were wondering your body, groping, squeezing, and exploring your curves. The kissing on your lips retreated down to your neck, immediately finding your sweet spot. You moaned against his body as you squirmed under his touch, hands gripping his shoulders. You pulled his shirt over his head and threw it somewhere. He caught on and briefly broke contact to remove your pants and panties in one swift movement. Pulling your legs up around him again, he pressed three fingers into your slick entrance. “Oh shit,” you threw your head back against the tree and let him feel you from the inside. His fingers jolting in and out of your cavern.
Before you could release onto his fingers, he pulled away and unbuckled his belt, letting his throbbing member spring free. Dylan quickly pushed himself deep within you, “You’re so damn tight.” He didn’t waste any time and relentlessly fucked you. You buried your face in his neck, becoming overwhelmed by his dick tearing you apart. Screams, moans, and the sound of slapping skin filled the silent forest. Your walls clenched tightly around him when he hit the spot deep inside repeatedly. You released lively juices all around his cock. “Oh fuck…oh fuck!” Dylan cried out, cumming inside of you. His pace slowed to a stop and he gently let you down from his grasp, “You’re so…fucking amazing.” Your vocal cords were completely strained, all you could manage was a, “Mhm…” He only laughed.
In a slightly different version of my fahc universe, Ray did leave. The crew still isn’t sure why, but by the time they take Jeremy in they’re done mourning the loss of their friend.
Jeremy never knew Ray, but he listened to the stories the other’s told about him with a smile on his face, and guilt in his heart that he was just a replacement for the lost crew member. Jeremy did all he could to live up to the position he was filling. Until one day he stopped. He was tired, tired of acting like someone he wasn’t to impress the crew, to fill the hole for them that Ray left. Jeremy manages to make his own mark on the crew, the way he truly was, and the crew loved and appreciated him for who he was.
Jeremy still sometimes felt like he was just replacing Ray, especially as he got closer to Ryan, and heard the stories he had to tell about Ray.
One day though, Jeremy has an idea on how to make himself and the crew feel better about Ray’s leaving, and his own entrance. There was a little hidden meadow near the penthouse that the other’s didn’t know about, one that Jeremy had discovered not long after moving in with the crew. So he decides on a plan. He asks Ryan’s advice on plants, what he thinks suits each member of the crew, and Jeremy goes out and picks up bulbs or young plants for transplant to bring his plan to fruition.
He picks up peonies for Jack because they mean healing, Begonias for Ryan’s deep thoughts, Delphiniums for Michael’s boldness, Day Lilies for Gavin’s enthusiasm, Violets for Geoff’s faithfulness, and finally Zinnias, for Jeremy’s fierce friendship.
One afternoon he gathers the whole crew up and tells them he has a surprise planned, and piles the Lads and Ryan into his car, and gets Geoff and Jack to follow, and leads them to this little garden he found. Once they’re out of the car he explains why they’re there. He tells them that he found this little meadow full of roses, and said that they’d all mentioned roses in the context of Ray at some point since he’d arrived there, and thought it’d be nice to plants some other flowers around one of the larger rose bushes, because he thought it’d be a nice way to remember Ray now that he’d moved on, and that it might be a nice way for them all to bond after the loss of their friend. By the end of his speech Jack is tearing up, she hugs him tightly and tells him she thinks it’s a wonderful idea, and takes the peonies Jeremy hands her, and she starts delegating, getting Michael and Gavin to dig several holes to plant in, and gets Jeremy and Ryan to bring the other plants over. Once the holes are dug each person takes their plant and sets them in and covers the roots.
Some days when Jeremy drives by the meadow on his way to the grocery store, or a heist, he sees a guy with glasses and a purple hoodie watering the rosebush and it’s surrounding bushel of flowers, he never approaches him, but from what the other’s told him he’s sure it’s Ray, and Jeremy’s glad he appreciates the sentiment too.
The Plantain is a powerful little plant. Found in footpaths, roadsides, meadows, and lawns, it is the go to plant for many different ailments.
Harvesting Plantain: When harvesting Plantain or any plant life, always treat the plant with the upmost respect. Let the plant know of your intentions, and how it can help. Plantain leaves can be picked and used in many areas of North America as their leaves remain green year round. If you are in an area with harsh Winters you could always freeze the leaves for year round use of first-aid. If harvesting for medicinal use dehydrating the leaves are the best method of preserving the plant. If you are harvesting the seeds of the Plantain, pick the heads and dehydrate them first before removing the tiny seeds.
Fresh Green Plantain Leaf: The Plantain leaf can be used for many common field issues, such as placing a green leaf in your shoe to treat plantar fasciitis or the sooth tired feet.
Crushed Green Leaf: A crushed or chewed green leaf from the Plantain plant applied to an affected area sooth’s insect bites and stings, poison ivy, allergic rashes, reduces chance of infections in cuts or wounds, draws poison out of infected cuts, calms bleeding. Chewing on a leaf can reduce mouth ulcers, or placing crushed Plantain on a boil can draw it to a head. Placing it on a burn or on shingles calms the pain and reduces the chance of scaring.
Plantain Tea: Plantain tea is known to calm coughs, hay fever, and treat mild bronchitis, but is also a treatment for irritable bowel and hemorrhoids. To prepare a tea use a heaped teaspoon of either dry or fresh Plantain leaf in a mug or cup of boiling hot water and let stand for 10 minutes. Dose is one cup two to three times daily.
Plantain Succus: To have a soothing lasting effect on a cough or sore throat then a Plantain succus is the best way to deliver the plants medicinal properties to the affected area, this method is also a treatment for stomach ulcers. To make a Plantain succus juice fresh Plantain leaves then mix the juice in with an equal amount of honey. You could always store in sterilized bottles in a cool dark place for later use. Does is for a cough/ sore throat one teaspoon as needed. For stomach ulcers one teaspoon three times daily. You could also use the succus on skin ulcers and other sores.
Plantain Seedand Husk: The Plantain seed and husks can be ground in a coffee grinder after dried and then a teaspoon of the grinds sprinkled on food to treat constipation and irritable bowel.
Always remember to talk to your healthcare provider before using Plantain as Plantain is in no way a replacement of professional medical help or advice. If allergic to psyllium Do Not Use.
Side effects: Abdominal bloating, allergic reaction, diarrhea, intestinal gas, skin rash, if any of the listed side effects happen discontinue and contact you healthcare provider.