The Friendly Fort (Chapter Six)

Hello All:

"This is a very, special week at The Literary World of Tom Raimbault; for this is Halloween week! And like we do every year, new stories written just for the holiday are featured throughout the week. This year we roll out some brand-new Mapleview material in the form of a mini novella titled The Friendly Fort. Be sure to visit each day for a new chapter. The Friendly Fort will be featured from Sunday through Saturday."
***

VIEW PRELUDE AND CHAPTER ONE
VIEW CHAPTER TWO
VIEW CHAPTER THREE
VIEW CHAPTER FOUR
VIEW CHAPTER FIVE
***

I am sharing with you some recent photos that were taken at the legendary Friendly Fort. The place is now in ruins. The condition of the landscape saddens me—while at the same time—amazes me, considering how little time is needed for a landscape in the forest to change.

Yes, the Friendly Fort is a real place.

Yes, portions of this week’s featured Mapleview mini-novella are based on an actual area in the forest that I used to visit over twenty years ago. At the time, my brother and I used to like to go on mountain bike expeditions in the Cook County Forest Preserves. Many trails throughout the forests are paved so that people can bike on them. But just like many forest preserves, there are alternate, unpaved trails that lead to some deep regions of the woods. And this is where my brother and I discovered the Friendly Fort.

We followed a snaking creek through the forest that is very much like the one that our main character, Spencer, follows to the cemetery. At some point in our biking we realized that it would be easier to get off the bikes and continue following the creek. And then we reached an

amazing place where the creek opened up into wide brook. The brook was surrounded by flagstone; three-tiered stacked in such a way to resemble a coliseum. The view was spectacular and breathtaking. I remember the first time we found the place it was the middle of summer. The surrounding forest was a beautiful lush green that matched the moss-covered flagstone.

"This is the Friendly Fort." my brother announced. (I'm going by memory from twenty years ago). Either he just realized that we stumbled upon the legendary Friendly Fort, or he had been there with his friends who knew of the legend and relayed it to him.

You see; despite how beautiful the Friendly Fort was, it had darkness to it. My brother proceeded to explain to me that devil worshippers came out to this area of secluded forest to perform their rituals and do their animal sacrifices. Back in the 1980s, there was a peculiar fascination with the occult in the area where I lived. A friend of the family who worked for the Cook County Forest Preserves disclosed that it wasn't uncommon to discover remains of rituals performed in the forest along with dogs or cats that had been mutilated for

apparent sacrifices. The early-1990s (the time when my brother and I did our mountain bike expeditions in the forest) would have been the very tail end of the region's fascination with the occult.

It was soon realized that the place possessed an eerie and disturbing vibe to it. And then came the noises of something in the forest; something—whether it be people or malevolent spirits—that did not want us at the Friendly Fort. Whatever it was, it began to chase us.

"Let's get out of here!" my brother and I simultaneously said. Now keep in mind that I was in my early twenties at the time; my brother in his late teens. We weren't little kids who were easily spooked. But something clearly terrified us, and we interpreted  it as a warning to leave.

"Those are probably the devil worshippers!" one of us speculated while running off. I recalled the account from high school of the monks emerging from an old, abandoned barn and chasing off my classmates. Was this the same people?

And get this! Upon reaching our bikes, we crossed the creek and cut through the forest preserve in the opposite direction of the mountain

bike path to quickly access a road. It was then that we found an old, abandoned barn sitting out in a prairie. "That's where they live!" I warned my brother. "I've heard about this place!"

We made it out of the Friendly Fort alive that day. But wouldn't you know it? There's a funny thing about young men who are adventurous—like to mountain bike through off-beaten paths in the forest and such. You see, the visit to the Friendly Fort was actually an adrenaline rush. We had a good time that day!

"Wanna go to the Friendly Fort?" one of us might have suggested to the other.

"Yeah!"

And we'd go through the same ordeal as the last time. It was an adventure to stand up to our fears and face whatever frightening thing was out there.

I will not disclose the location of the Friendly Fort. You see, I recently paid a visit with my daughter to take these photos that I am sharing with you. In the twenty years of the Friendly Fort's decay, the landscape has healed itself from the negative energy. Nothing

dark and disturbing exists there anymore. Although sad that the place's beauty of twenty years ago is now in ruins, I wish for the region to continue healing—the water to wash over and carry downstream the horrible things that once occurred in that place.

The water, however, did speak to me during my recent visit in a few micro-second visions. The flagstone coliseum from twenty years ago was used for those who participated in the evil rituals to gather round the circle which surrounded the water. Water is an excellent element for merging, projecting and amplifying consciousness. The people who performed these rituals knew what they were doing. But like I said before, twenty years of living water passing through a circle has the power to wash over and clean the area.

I found the area where the barn once stood. Of course it is no longer there. How I wish I could have gotten a photo of it to share with you.

***

In chapter six of this week's feature Mapleview mini-novella, we learn some more things about the mysterious barn.

The Friendly Fort (Chapter Six)

Per the homework assignment; Spencer spent the early portion of his Friday on a mission to purchase a Ouija board, something not-so-easy as Doctor Millheimer had explained. Mapleview Walmart did not have them. A nearby employee stocking the shelves had answered upon being asked of their whereabouts, "Ummm… That's more of a seasonal item. If you come back around Halloween, they will be here."

"Why Halloween?" asked Spencer.

"Because you talk to ghosts with them." he answered.

Spencer turned to walk away.

"Oh, sir." called out the Walmart employee. "You might want to try a place out in Sillmac called Sillmac Quartz and Candles. It's an occult bookstore with black magick items and stuff."

And so Spencer drove to the neighboring town of Sillmac—a 10.6 mile cruise down the open highway of Route 4. Unknown to Spencer at the time, the occult bookstore was located on a street in town that locals nickname, "therapy lane". Simply turn a left off the main road in town onto a street named Benchview. There you will find yourself on a block of historic homes that have been renovated for business purposes. And most of these businesses are the offices of psychiatrists, psychologists and social workers. There is also a Gypsy fortune teller who lives on the end of this block, along with a kung-fu school next store. And at the center of this block is a peculiar occult book store named Sillmac Quartz and Candles. To this very day, it remains in operation and is surprisingly a successful business. It's actually a haven of quartz crystals and various stones used for magick and metaphysical purposes; oils, incense and herbs; items from around the world that are used in voodoo, paganism, and miscellaneous religions outside of Christianity. Upon entering the shop there is an overpowering scent of some herb or oil that would remind one of Patchouli—or "hippy oil". And the small staff that works there behaves strangely towards intrigued customers who are clearly not witches, psychics or fortune tellers.

"I'm looking for a Ouija board." announced Spencer to the clerk behind the counter—a strange, Gypsy-looking woman who adorned herself in gaudy jewelry. "The kid at Walmart said I could get one here.”

"And why would you need one of those?" interrogated the clerk. Like everyone else who worked at Sillmac Quartz and Candles, it was her job to deter random customers who wished to merely play with the supernatural as a means of entertainment.

Spencer hesitated, "Well... my therapist wants me to start using it."

"A therapist recommends using a Ouija board???" the clerk continued to interrogate with a now queer expression on her face.

"Yeah... so you do you have any?" asked Spencer.

The clerk sighed, "We do... But we don't have the typical Ouija board made by Parker Brothers. Ours are actually hand-crafted and then blessed by the Maple Society of Witches on either the vernal or autumn equinox. We keep these in the back. Let me get one for you."

The clerk stepped away for a moment to an apparent stock room behind the main counter. She returned with a specially-handcrafted Ouija board that was stored and protected inside a soft, velour-appearing, purple-colored cover. Resting on top was a small box that assumedly contained the plachette (or pointer, as some people like to call them).

"We have two of them in stock that use the Theban alphabet." announced the clerk while approaching the counter. "But I'm assuming you don't read Theban?"

"Never heard of it..." answered Spencer.

"So I got the right one..." commented the clerk while carefully pulling the Ouija board from its cover. The physical board was an eerie-green color with a coat of shellac to make it appear glossy. At the center of the board, was a pentacle that had been superimposed over an image of the World Tree. The symbols that represent Air, Fire, Water, Earth and Spirit were located near their rightful places at each point of the pentacle. The English letters of the alphabet were lined up at the top of the board as do most Ouija boards. "Yes" and "No" appeared at the top with artful representations of the Sun and the Moon. The numbers zero through nine were lined up underneath the alphabet. And unlike most Ouija boards, the phrase, "Merry Partings" was used as "Good Bye" to close the subconscious portal between the physical and spiritual world at the end of each session.

 This was a real Ouija board! Handcrafted and then blessed by the Maple Society of Witches at the time of vernal or autumn equinox; the people who made these boards truly knew what they were doing! It was definitely the sort of Ouija board that one would want to use.

But there's more! The clerk unboxed the plachette which was a polished, clear-quartz, hand-sculpture of the Triple Moon to represent the Maiden, Mother and Crone. Whoever was to use the plachette would hold it by the Maiden and Crone moons to observe the letters and symbols on the Ouija board through the Mother moon. Yes, the quartz was that polished and clear!

"Wow!" exclaimed Spencer. "It's beautiful! The whole thing is nothing short of art!"

The clerk smiled. "Yes, they do a good job, don't they?" Then she began to explain the Ouija board and plachette to Spencer. "Now I know that your therapist probably gave you some instruction on how to use these. But I want to, first, talk about the plachette. This symbol is called the Triple Moon. It represents the spiritual world... feminine energy... mystery and psychic powers. There is very, good reason why it is being used as a plachette for a Ouija board. And just like the Ouija board, it had been blessed so that mystery and occulted knowledge be granted to the user from the best and highest spirits.

Now about the Ouija board: although it was handcrafted and blessed under the best and highest good, there is no guarantee that you don’t run the risk of attracting and communicating with something negative or evil. I want to warn you about an occasional phenomenon in which the plachette counts down or up; or goes through the letters of the alphabet in order. If you notice something like this, immediately close the session by moving the plachette over to the Merry Partings portion. Do not allow the plachette to count or repeat the alphabet! This is a strong indicator that a negative or evil spirit is looking for a way to unlock the door into this world. Counting or going through the letters of the alphabet is the attempted incantation to do this.

If you are new to using Ouija boards, I would strongly suggest that you not use it alone until you are fully familiar with it. There have been many explanations to this suggestion ranging from moral support of other users, to eliminating the possibility of controlling the Ouija board yourself. And if you start off as being fearful of the Ouija board; negative entities from the other side might try to prey on you. This can be especially overwhelming if you are alone.

Some experienced users like to place a silver coin on the Ouija board. Supposedly this eliminates evil spirits from entering. You can try that if you have any silver coins on hand. We don't sell any here.

Now, if something really bad happens and you can't seem to get rid of a negative spirit; it's suggested to break the board into seven pieces and then bury it in the ground to successfully banish the unwanted spirit."

The clerk paused for a moment and then asked, "So is this a tool that you truly feel ready to use?"

Spencer sighed, "Yeah... I mean my therapist taught me how to use these, but you certainly explained some other things that I wasn’t aware of."

"Do you have any questions?" asked the clerk.

"No..." answered Spencer. "I guess the only thing I want to know is how much does it cost?"

"Well, the Ouija board and plachette are sold separately." explained the clerk. "But it's strongly recommended that you purchase and use them together. You wouldn't want to use—say—an ashtray."

"How much?" asked Spencer a second time.

The clerk nearly gulped while carefully answering, “The handcrafted Ouija board that has been blessed by the Maple Society of Witches goes for $79.99. As for the plachette: because it's handcrafted, polished, clear quartz and blessed by the Maple Society of Witches as well; it goes for $199."

Spencer gasped. "Are you serious?"

The clerk nodded in affirmation.

"That's crazy!" exclaimed Spencer. "And there is nowhere else I can get one of these for cheap?"

"You can try the toy store or wait for Walmart to carry them around Halloween." suggested the clerk. "But you have to admit that this Ouija board and plachette will truly work, right?"

Spencer shook his head in disbelief while pulling the wallet out of his back pocket. "Do you take credit card?"

"We sure do..." reassured the clerk.

***

Spencer had been to the cemetery a total of three times; once with Lydia escorting, and twice by himself. He never felt uneasy or apprehensive during these visits. But that Friday afternoon's return was the first time that he felt fearful. Why wouldn't he? Spencer had a real Ouija board in his hands that had been made and blessed by witches. He was advised by the clerk who sold it to him of the possible danger of attracting malevolent spirits that won't go away. To top it off, Spencer was now trekking through a region of forest where heartless devil worshippers sacrifice animals. Unsettling memories of the mutilated dog hanging from its hind legs didn't help him feel any better. And what's more?—the Mapleview Forest Preserve District had yet to take the rotting corpse down. Apparently, Spencer would have to do that by himself.

But that's not all that bothered him. You see; since his setting up residence in Mapleview, Spencer experienced regular face-to-face encounters with the mysterious phantom of Lydia who manifested herself at will. There was something important about the cemetery that she needed him to know about. And then there were the new, disturbing revelations of actually being the baby in Lydia's womb. Had millions of dollars not been at stake (the wind turbine investment), Spencer would have packed up and moved out of Mapleview to save his sanity.

Finally at the cemetery; Spencer sat down, cross-legged, near the area of Reverend Jensen's grave. He removed the Ouija board from its purple, velour cover and set it on his lap. The Triple Moon plachette was unboxed and then set at the center of the board—the location of where the pentacle superimposed the World Tree.

"I guess this is where we start." said Spencer out loud. "And then we just slowly glide from side-to-side like this..." The expensive Ouija board and plachette combination were extremely smooth. Because of this, the plachette nearly glided across the board as-if it had a life of its own.

"Lydia?" called out Spencer. "Are you there? I know you sometimes appear when you feel that you have something to tell me. But I still have some questions for you. That's why I have this Ouija board. I hope I can make contact with you."

Suddenly, Spencer received what some people describe as the "Ouija board eye phenomenon". It's a phenomenon in which the user feels as if his or her eyes are being used by a nearby spirit. The user then views the surroundings through the senses of this outside entity.

The plachette spelled out the word, "Dog..."

"What about the dog?" asked Spencer out loud. "And is that you, Lydia?"

The plachette spelled out the word, "Duty..."

Spencer knew what the Ouija board was implying. But he wanted to make sure. "Are you telling me that it's my job to take the corpse of that dog down?"

The plachette circled around the "Yes" area of the board.

"What am I supposed to do with the dog when I cut it down?" asked Spencer.

The plachette spelled out the word, "Grave..."

"Bury it?" asked Spencer. "You want me to bury it in this cemetery?"

The plachette spelled out the word, "Good..."

Spencer sighed, "Okay... fine... Seeing that the forest preserve district won't do it, I guess I have no choice."

In the seconds that followed, Spencer received a silent transmission of information that hadn’t been done through the Ouija board. You see; oracles, Ouija boards and spirit boxes aren't always necessary for communicating with ghosts and discarnate entities. Many times they can telepathically communicate with us. And this is what happened to Spencer. In a brief few seconds of receiving a telepathic message, he quickly realized that it was his duty to keep the area surrounding the cemetery clean. The dog was a disturbing sight. It needed to be properly laid to rest so that peace could be restored in the area.

Several seconds later, communication through the Ouija board had returned. The plachette spelled out a phrase, "You are here..."

"Yes, I'm still here." affirmed Spencer.

Again, the plachette spelled out the phrase, "You are here..."

"Yes!" answered Spencer a second time. "What else do you need? I'll take the dog down and bury it."

The plachette spelled out the word, "Come..."

"Come where?" asked Spencer.

The plachette spelled out the phrase, "You are here..."

Spencer was getting annoyed, "Yes, I'm here! Where do you want me to go?"

The plachette spelled out the word, "Find..."

"FIND... WHAT???" shouted Spencer. "That's what I'm here for! I'm looking for answers!"

The plachette spelled out the word, "Horses..."

"Find horses?" asked Spencer.

The plachette spelled out the word, "Duty..."

Spencer sighed, "Alright, this isn't working." Almost immediately, he looked over his right shoulder towards an area that was a short distance past the cemetery. He noticed the old barn that had been constructed out of logs. Spencer wished he had paid more attention while entering the area of the cemetery. He never knew for sure if it truly existed, or merely manifested itself from behind the veil like Lydia did.

Frustrated with his Ouija session, Spencer set the board down and then cautiously walked his way over to the barn. He was curious of the barn's nature of existence. "Horses!" he suddenly shouted. "Yes, there should be horses in there! Lydia said this!"

Close enough to the building; Spencer could see that it actually appeared fairly new. The glass windows were not distorted or broken. The wooden logs were in good shape. If not actually Lydia’s, perhaps the building was a storage area for workers of the forest preserve district. Curious, he peaked through one of the side windows.

But what was this? Spencer expected to see tools and equipment used for farming or landscaping. Instead, it looked like a barn that had been converted into living quarters. There was a main table with surrounding stools where people apparently ate their meals. Nearby was a wood burning stove for cooking. Horse stalls had been converted into individual bedrooms, complete with dressers, beds, and cracked & dusty mirrors. Throughout the barn there were antique & warped photos of people who lived, perhaps, over a hundred years ago. The floor was dirt, and there were small farming implements stacked up on the wall. On the upper level were bundles of hay and additional tools for working the Earth. Everything in that mysterious barn—the furniture and tools—were antique. Abandoned and sitting out in the open, one might think such a place would have been vandalized and plagued with graffiti, or perhaps used as a drug house. But surprisingly, this was not the case.

"Is this what they wanted me to see?" asked Spencer to himself? "But Lydia told me that she kept horses in here."

Spencer returned to the area near Reverend Jensen's grave and sat down with the Ouija board. He slid the plachette from side-to-side. "I looked inside the barn." he announced. "It's a bunch of old furniture. It looks like people lived in there. Is that what you wanted me to see?"

The plachette spelled out a series of nonsensical numbers and letters. "AZX12X21ZA..."

"Hello?" called out Spencer. "You're not making any sense."

The plachette spelled out, "Cant do..."

"Can't do what?" asked Spencer.

The plachette spelled out, "Inside..."

"Inside?" asked Spencer. "You want me to go inside the barn?"

The plachette circled around the "Yes" portion of the board.

He wanted to do what the Ouija board suggested. But there was just something not right about the barn. It didn't belong there. Clearly an antique building, it appeared relatively new. And the items, inside, conflicted with what Lydia had told him.

Then a wave of terror hit Spencer: perhaps he wasn't communicating with Lydia. Perhaps it was one of those malevolent spirits that aimed to trick him. And maybe the barn was a dangerous manifestation of something that Spencer couldn't understand. For these speculations, Spencer quickly packed up his Ouija board and plachette, and hiked back to his house. Of course he passed the opened brook with flagstone that was stacked like a coliseum. And the decomposing corpse of the unfortunate dog continued to hang from the branch by its hind legs.

"I've got to get that down." he said to himself while continuing to hike back to his house.

***

Midsummer brings with it longer days. Because of this, Spencer was able to return to the cemetery around seven o'clock that evening. His purpose was to cut down the corpse of the unfortunate dog, and bury it at the cemetery. Spencer was tired of looking at it. And he felt it was best to obey the orders from the Ouija board—whether they be from Lydia or some other spirit that resided in the cemetery.

While trekking down the bank of the stream through the forest, Spencer rolled an old wheelbarrow in front of him with pick axe and a couple of shovels. He found these leftover tools from the house he rented in the corner of the two stall garage  He also had in his possession a couple of bed sheets that were purchased at Walmart while in town for supper that late afternoon. There was a pair of side-cutters in Spencer's back pocket that he hoped would be able to cut the wires that hung the dog.

When finally reaching the area where the stream opened up into a wide brook, Spencer momentarily paused and examined the corpse of the dog from a short distance away. He sighed and shook his head in disbelief. I'll spare you the gruesome details of those few minutes that Spencer spent cutting the corpse down; all the while wincing and gagging. All you need to know is that the bed sheets were spread open and laid over the wheelbarrow. The wires that hung the dog from its hind legs were cut so that it dropped into the wheelbarrow. From there the bed sheets were folded over the corpse so that Spencer could wheel it over to the cemetery.

"Disgusting!" exclaimed Spencer out of outrage. "What kind of asshole does something like this?" Then he answered his question. "Devil worshippers, of course. They're cold and heartless!"

Twenty minutes later; Spencer huffed and puffed while swinging the pick axe into the ground at the nearby cemetery, and then scooped the earth up to the side. He already had about a two foot deep hole in the ground. "I'm not making this six feet." Spencer declared out loud. "Maybe just a few feet—enough to cover the dog up." He paused for a few seconds to catch his breath and wipe the sweat off his forehead. Then he took a couple more swings into the ground with the pick axe.

Just then, the voice of a boy could be heard from nearby. "Hey Mister! What are you doing?"

Spencer stopped and turned around to see two boys standing nearby. "I'm digging a grave for this dog."

"Is that your dog?" asked one of the boys "Did he die?"

“Is this your cemetery?” asked the other boy. “Is your family buried here?

Spencer paused for a couple of seconds in deliberation. There was something eerie about hearing that perhaps his family was buried there. "No, my family is not buried.” answered Spencer. “An, no, it's not my dog. I found it over there, hanging from a tree." He pointed towards the direction of the wide brook. Then he sternly looked at both boys before asking, "Did you do that? Did you hang that dog from the tree and mutilate it?"

"Uh-uh!" denied one of the boys with a serious expression while shaking his head in negation.

"No!" denied the other. "The devil worshippers do that. And that's the place that they call the Friendly Fort. This whole area is the Friendly Fort. And the river is where they do their sacrifices."

"So people actually call this place the Friendly Fort?" queried Spencer. "It doesn't seem too friendly to me. Nothing nice ever happens over here."

"It's a sarcastic name." explained one of the boys.

"I see..." answered Spencer. "And what are you two kids doing out here? Isn't it getting dark? It's kind of dangerous, too."

"We're just cutting through to get home." answered one of the boys.

"Well you better hurry up!" urged Spencer. "I don't want to take anymore of your time."

"Okay..." acknowledged one boy.

"Bye..." said the other while waving his friend to continue hiking.

Spencer watched as both boys ran off towards the direction of the stream. What was wrong with them?—cutting through this area to get home. Those devil worshippers could abduct them and do the same thing that they did to the poor dog. He glanced at the sky to see how much light he had left, then looked over towards the area of the barn.

But what was this?

The barn was not there!

"Hey!" shouted out Spencer to the two boys who were some distance down the stream. "Wait!" he chased after them.

Both boys turned around, and cautiously backed away upon seeing Spencer running towards them. Obviously they were unsure of a grown man at the Friendly Fort who chased after them.

"I'm sorry!" apologized Spencer, now twenty feet away. He stopped running upon realizing that the boys were frightened. "What happened to the barn?" he asked.

"The barn?" asked one of the boys with a baffled expression on his face.

"Yeah, the barn!" repeated Spencer. "It was over there earlier today."

"You mean the ghost barn?" both boys simultaneously asked.

"Ghost barn?" probed Spencer with a queer look on his face.

"Was it an old barn over there near the cemetery?" asked one of the boys.

"Yeah!" answered Spencer. "Where did it go?"

"It's the ghost barn!" explained one of the boys. "Sometimes people see it. It's usually not there. Some believe that ghosts and demons live in there. They come to help the devil worshippers at the Friendly Fort.

"Okay!" acknowledged Spencer. "Just checking!" He turned and head back towards the cemetery where the barn was still missing. Upon examination, there was no evidence of a building ever sitting there—no foundation or imprint in the Earth.