repost: A Ghost in the Mountains
Daniel
hard rock gold mining town in the mid-1800's. Most all the buildings up
there are relics, like a wild west town frozen in time. All the roads
are dirt, except maybe the main one, and there are at least five saloons
in just the couple of blocks that make up the downtown. The most famous
saloon has a "face on the barroom floor" which in itself is a good
story.
After all the gold on the surface and streams was snatched up, the folks
there realized they needed to dig into the solid rock of the mountain to
get out the deep gold veins. Though the technology existed in Europe at
the time, most American communities didn't know how to do it, so they
brought in European technicians to do the hard rock mining. Central
City became a very Euro-centric town and for entertainment they built
the Central City Opera House, which stands even now and has three operas
every season. That's where I worked as a graphic designer and as part
of the festival staff.
I took a job there because I wanted to be close to my fiancé who worked
there making costumes. The Opera company owns a bunch of the houses
around there and they put up their workers in them, and we had our own
little place. Unfortunately she dumped me for an Opera singer (probably
sounds silly but it's true!) and so I wanted to move to a new house
while I finished my contract for the season. The company said that was
fine, but they wanted to know if I believed in ghosts, because the only
place they had left was supposed to be haunted.
The story goes that in this house there lived a married couple with a
child of 8 or 10 years. Around about dusk one day the parents got into
a raging argument while the son was running around playing out in the
yard. As the argument got more hateful the mother picked up a cast-iron
skillet and threw it at the father, but he ducked, the skillet went out
the open door and hit the playing child in the head, killing him. Later
the father moved away and the grieving mother killed herself in the
house.
There were two people already staying in the house when I was moving
in, with one (a sword fight choreographer from LA who had finished his
job for the season) moving out the next day. He was staying in the
upstairs room which was the only one with a phone. I could hear him
walking around upstairs, back and forth, like he was packing, the
ceiling creaking with the clunk clunk clunk of footsteps. So after I
got settled in I decided I'd better go up there and ask him if I could
use the phone so I could give my family and friends the bad news about
me and my sweetie.
When I went upstairs, there was nobody there. I thought that was weird
because I could hear that walking around even as I was going up the
stairs. So I looked around a bit, even looked in the closet and
bathroom. Nope, he wasn't there at all. I thought about it and
wondered if it was the house settling or a tree scratching against the
wall, but it was definitely footsteps. It wasn't scary, but it makes ya
wonder.
I never had anything happen to me personally after that, but (as I
mentioned in an earlier post) one night when I had some people up for a
small party, one of my guest started to feel uneasy and was getting
jumpy. He kept looking out the window and I asked what was up. He said
he thought he could see a dark shape out in the yard running by the
window. I said I couldn't see anything (and neither could the other
guests) and asked if maybe he thought it was a dog or worse, a mountain
lion. He said no and asked if there were any kids in the neighborhood
because it looked like a little boy. Friends, my house was all alone
up on top of that part of the mountain. I got that sinking feeling and
felt all prickly for a second, because I figured who it must be.
I had everyone gather around and told the story of the mother and father
and the little boy, which at that time might have been a mistake because
that didn't help this poor guy's condition much. We had to escort him
back down the path to his own house. I doubt he slept very well that
night. Those ghosts never bothered me, and when I got back up the hill
that night, I slept just fine.
Daniel
--
The Voice of the Mountains
http://members.dencity.com/wellman
Lurking Fear - The Band
http://listen.to/lurkingfear
Faith
-Faith *porch insomniac and full-time mafiosa of the rowdy girls*
"With insomnia it's like you're never really asleep but you're never really
awake either."
RoseAnne
--
RoseAnne
"Daniel" <shonokin...@earthlink.net> wrote in message
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Bear
--
Red Bear
a.k.a. Bear, Papa Bear, etc.
Porch Scholar, Southern Gentleman & Ursine Protector
"Daniel" <shonokin...@earthlink.net> wrote in message
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Ezekiel J. Krahlin
<shonokin...@earthlink.net> wrote:
Excellent account. Do keep us informed of any updates.
---
Lavender Velvet Revolution:
http://surf.to/gaybible
madame...@my-deja.com
>In the spring of 1992 I moved to Central City, Colorado which was an old
>hard rock gold mining town in the mid-1800's. Most all the buildings up
>there are relics, like a wild west town frozen in time. All the roads
>are dirt, except maybe the main one, and there are at least five saloons
>in just the couple of blocks that make up the downtown. The most famous
>saloon has a "face on the barroom floor" which in itself is a good
>story.
I can't help it, Daniel! Great story...but the face on the barroom
floor jumped out at me. Hope you don't mind if I insert the poem here.
:)
"The Face Upon The Floor
'Twas a balmy summer evening, and a goodly crowd was there.
Which well-nigh filled Joe's barroom on the corner of the square,
And as songs and witty stories came through the open door
A vagabond crept slowly in and posed upon the floor.
'Where did it come from?' someone asked: 'The wind has blown it in.'
'What does it want? another cried. 'Some whisky, rum or gin?'
'Here, Toby, seek him, if your stomach's equal to the work--
I wouldn't touch him with a fork, he's as filthy as a Turk.'
This badinage the poor wretch took with stoical good grace;
In fact, he smiled as though he thought he'd struck the proper place.
'Come, boys, I know there's kindly hearts among so good a crowd--
To be in such good company would make a deacon proud.
'Give me a drink--that's what I want--I'm out of funds, you know;
When I had cash to treat the gang, this hand was never slow.
What? You laugh as though you thought this pocket never held a sou;
I once was fixed as well, my boys, as anyone of you.
'There, thanks; that's braced me nicely; God bless you one and all;
Next time I pass this good saloon, I'll make another call.
Give you a song? No, I can't do that, my singing days are past;
My voice is cracked, my throat's worn out, and my lungs are going
fast.
'Say! Give me another whisky, and Ill tell you what I'll do--
I'll tell you a funny story, and a fact, I promise, too.
That I was ever a decent man not one of you would think;
But I was, some four or five years back. Say, give me another drink.
'Fill her up, Joe, I want to put some life into my frame--
Such little drinks, to a bum like me, are miserably tame;
Five fingers--there, that's the scheme--and corking whisky, too.
Well, here's luck, boys; and, landlord, my best regards to you.
'You've treated me pretty kindly, and I'd like to tell you how
I came to be the dirty sot you see before you now.
As I told you, once I was a man, with muscle, frame and health,
And, but for a blunder, ought to have made considerable wealth.
'I was a painter--not one that daubed on bricks and wood
But an artist, and, for my age, was rated pretty good.
I worked hard at my canvas and was bidding fair to rise,
For gradually I saw the star of fame before my eyes.
'I made a picture, perhaps you've seen, 'tis called the 'Chase of
Fame,'
It brought me fifteen hundred pounds, and added to my name.
And then I met a woman--now comes the funny part--
With eyes that petrified my brain, and sunk into my heart.
'Why don't you laugh? 'Tis funny that the vagabond you see
Could ever love a woman and expect her love for me;
But 'twas so, and for a month or two her smiles were freely given,
And when her loving lips touched mine it carried me to heaven.
'Did you ever see a woman for whom your soul you'd give,
With a form like the Milo Venus, too beautiful to live;
With eyes that would beat the Koh-i-noor, and a wealth of chestnut
hair?
If so, 'twas she, for there never was another half so fair.
'I was working on a portrait, one afternoon in May,
Of a fair-haired boy, a friend of mine, who lived across the way,
And Madline admired it, and much to my surprise,
Said that she'd like to know the man that had such dreamy eyes.
'It didn't take long to know him, and before the month had flown
My friend had stolen my darling, and I was left alone;
And, ere a year of misery had passed above my head,
The jewel I had treasured so had tarnished, and was dead.
'That's why I took to drink, boys. Why, I never saw you smile,
I thought you'd be amused, and laughing all the while.
Why, what's the matter, friend? There's a teardrop in your eye,
Come, laugh, like me; 'tis only babes and women that should cry.
'Say, boys, if you give me just another whisky, I'll be glad,
And I'll draw right here a picture of the face that drove me mad.
Give me that piece of chalk with which you mark the baseball score--
You shall see the lovely Madeline upon the barroom floor.'
Another drink, and with chalk in hand the vagabone began
To sketch a face that well might buy the sould of any man.
Then, as he placed another lock upon the shapely head,
With a fearful shriek, he leaped and fell across the picture--dead."
By H. Antoine D'Arcy
Mkvr0910
treats us with;
>The Face Upon The Floor
>
I remember this from a Gothic Lit class.Great now I am gonna have to go dig out
those books and get my notes.sheesh :)
Thanks for the post!
Kat
madame...@my-deja.com
You're welcome. Once you read it, it kind of sticks with you, doesn't
it?
Madame Cherie
Daniel
the face.
Daniel
madame...@my-deja.com wrote:
--
The Voice of the Mountains: Wellman on the net
Willow
Will~ +1 Dan
Daniel a écrit dans le message <3A67C5CB...@earthlink.net>...