The Legacy of an author like the late Lois Duncan stretches farther than one might think—having been 82 years old when she died of a stroke, she left behind a long prolific career of writing fiction for young adults. Many people read Duncan’s books in their adolescence, so much so her books can be considered a rite of passage. One thing that can be said of Duncan’s writing is that she captures the essence of what it is to go through puberty—the feelings of alienation and the thirst to be accepted by one’s peers—and also the kind of chilling, oft supernatural situations that made her horror and thriller writing so famous.
I Know What You Did Last Summer by Lois Duncan
What She’s Known For
I started writing for young adults because I was one.
Lois Duncan in The Sarasota Herald-Tribune 2005
Duncan wanted to create something relatable for readers who were too old for children’s books and too young for adult books–something in between that could bridge the gap between, something that would carry them over and enable them to be lifelong reading enthusiasts. Authors like Lois Duncan are incredibly important, they breed the interest and love for the written word long after our parents stop reading us bedtime stories and well before we lose interest in school-assigned reading. Duncan’s most well-known books to date were written well before young adult fiction had become a popular genre—among these, she had created Down a Dark Hall (1974), Killing Mr. Griffin (1978), and Stranger With My Face (1981). These books were all considerably violent in their own right, but when her 1973 novel I Know What You Did Last Summer was adapted to the big screen, Duncan was “utterly horrified.”
Not all of Duncan’s work lies within the realm of the terrifying and dark, some of it is decidedly light—especially the work that followed after her daughter Kaitlyn—and many of her works have been adapted into film. Like most authors who have had their work adapted into screenplays, Duncan didn’t exactly make her name from audiences knowing who came up with the original idea for them. Instead she made her name through the amazing wealth of novels that she contributed to multiple genres and the awards she received for them.
What the Critics Had to Say
Lois Duncan is regularly given credit by critics and journalists alike for pioneering the genre of young adult fiction—she made most of these strides within the teen suspense and horror genres and was even dubbed as the “queen of teen thrillers.” The Washington Post’s Emily Langer stated that Duncan, “plucked her characters from normalcy and placed them in extraordinary, often dark circumstances,” which for a time when Beverly Cleary, Judy Blume, and Robert Cormier were big names in fiction, was decidedly against the grain of the genre.
What the Fans Have to Say
Even four years after her death, Lois Duncan is still on the minds of the people she inspired to write during their youths—her impact was profound and lasting because she finally gave teens a voice for the dark and dismal forces that play a large part in the imaginations and fantasies of so many of us during a time of chaotic emotions and hormones. She isolated that turmoil and removed it from the internal struggle by creating these dark tales and then illustrated how much worse things could really be beyond our own thoughts, fears, and expectations.
Georgia-based author and artist, Mary has been a horror aficionado since the mid-2000s. Originally a hobby artist and writer, she found her niche in the horror industry in late 2019 and hasn’t looked back since. Mary’s evolution into a horror expert allowed her to express herself truly for the first time in her life. Now, she prides herself on indulging in the stuff of nightmares.
Mary also moonlights as a content creator across multiple social media platforms—breaking down horror tropes on YouTube, as well as playing horror games and broadcasting live digital art sessions on Twitch.
Fouke is a picturesque little city in central Miller County, Arkansas, about 150 miles outside of Little Rock. Boasting its gorgeous Mountain Lake Park Hotel and a spacious festival plaza, Fouke seems ideal for a relaxing getaway amongst the more attractive facets of nature. However, not all of nature’s creations are necessarily friendly, as warned by a legend which has haunted Fouke since the 1840s; The Boggy Creek Monster.
Boggy Creek Variations
Also referred to as the Fouke Monster, or Swamp Stalker, The Boggy Creek Monster is a hulking ape-like creature standing upright between seven and eight feet tall. Long and dense fur covers its arms and legs and it walks or runs with a hunch, swinging its arms like a primate. It has a similar description as the legendary Bigfoot and a strikingly eerie resemblance to the Momo seen in Louisiana, Missouri. This prompts some to believe that these are part of the same genus of elusive ape-men which still live hidden lives in the denser woodland of the earth. The Boggy Creek Monster has been said to kill livestock, chickens and dogs in the area and while it hasn’t been reported to have killed any people, many have claimed of its vicious nature.
The Legends
Two families in the late 1860s were allegedly terrorised, and one hospitalised, by the beast. Then in May 1971, Bobby and Elizabeth Ford claimed that a great hairy beast with red eyes and rattling breath attacked their home. Bobby claimed that the beast grabbed his shoulder, him only having narrowly escaped its clutches and ploughing himself through his front door. Elizabeth also claimed to see the red eyes and fur-covered arms coming through the window as she slept in the living room one day.
The legend spread like wildfire and made it into a low-budget cult horror film in 1973 entitled The Legend of Boggy Creek. While the film was panned critically, many fans saw it as a chillingly atmospheric dive into their favourite Arkansas urban legend, and the film actually spawned two very odd unofficial sequels, one of which featuring the monster as a disney-esque character who helps a band of lost children. The original was also said to have paved the way for films like The Blair Witch Project, meaning the Boggy Creek Monster could have had more impact on the world of film than once realised.
The people of Fouke used to capitalise on the legend with their Monster Mart featuring a huge screaming Boggy Creek Monster holding up its sign, with the Haunted Texarkana Ghost Walk and with plenty of signs around the town. These are not so much the case any more and it appears the locals have tired of the legend and the outsiders it brings to their quaint place of residence. That being said, 1997 saw over forty sightings of the Swamp Stalker, primarily walking along the dry creek bed just outside of town. While tourism seems to be dying out, the legend of the Boggy Creek Monster is as prevalent as ever.
Joe first knew he wanted to write in year six after plaguing his teacher’s dreams with a harrowing story of World War prisoners and an insidious ‘book of the dead’. Clearly infatuated with horror, and wearing his influences on his sleeve, he dabbled in some smaller pieces before starting work on his condensed sci-fi epic, System Reset in 2013.Once this was published he began work on many smaller horror stories and poems in bid to harness and connect with his own fears and passions and build on his craft. Joe is obsessed with atmosphere and aesthetic, big concepts and even bigger senses of scale, feeding on cosmic horror of the deep sea and vastness of space and the emotions these can invoke. His main fixes within the dark arts include horror films, extreme metal music and the bleakest of poetry and science fiction literature. He holds a deep respect for plot, creative flow and the context of art, and hopes to forge deeper connections between them around filmmakers dabbling in the dark and macabre.
Cryptozoology is a pseudo-scientific field of study, which undertakes the theories of creatures that are widely unknown to science. The myriad of creatures present within this field owes their origins to the folklore of indigenous American peoples. This includes popular cryptid lore, including Bigfoot, the Chupacabra, and Jersey Devil. Unsurprisingly the state of North Dakota also has an incredibly interesting, albeit bizarre and obscure monster of its own, known as the Miniwashitu!
Known for its harsh winters, North Dakota’s first frost can arrive as early as September, with below-freezing temperatures that stretch all the way into May. An ice sheet regularly forms atop the Missouri River during this part of the year and can extend as far as six feet below the surface. This ice sheet regularly blocks the passage through the waterway near Bismarck for at least three months each year. So, it’s no surprise that life on the plains is no picnic during the coldest months of the year, but even springtime brings its own unique dangers. (White)
Culturally Significant Water Monsters
Within the field of cryptozoology, the implication of water monsters is that they are serpents or other seafaring creatures. The Loch Ness monster, Tizheruk, Chessie, Champy, Ogopogo, and Memphre are all just a few examples of water monsters within cryptozoology. Outside of these more modern legends exists mythical creatures such as Jörmungandr, the Hydra, the Kraken, and the Leviathan. The Miniwashitu is an outlier, however, as it does not fit neatly into the same category as these other well-known cryptids.
The Mandan People
The Mandan people are believed to have settled along the banks of the Missouri River and its tributaries (White). This would have put them just south of what would become Bismarck and the Knife River, between 1100 and 1300. The Mandan people along with other Indigenous communities crafted a flourishing trade hub that stretched the region. It was a system that white fur traders took advantage of centuries later when they arrived. The river provided an easy route for trading goods. It also created an ease of access to goods that were vital for the Mandan people who were traditionally agricultural.
Seasonal Dangers & Stories Told
The trials and tribulations that the Mandan people had to withstand through the winters would have been abundant. Once the ice upon the waterways cracked, it was clear that the weather was warming. This brought much relief to the people of the region (White). That is not to say that seasonal dangers had passed. In fact, a thawing river and the breaking ice shelf upon the river would have still been quite dangerous. It’s likely that these dangers associated with the coming of spring would have been severe enough to warrant the creation of a dangerous monster who might cause the phenomenon.
Much like any other indigenous culture found across the globe, there was a reliance upon oral storytelling traditions. This tradition was the primary means of communicating cultural heritage. Oral storytelling is a less reliable method of communication across generations, but it leaves room for adaptability to change the story.
Being near a river would have been dangerous for all of the children of the tribe and in lieu of simply telling them to “stay away,” an iconic story would drive the point home (White).
Stranger Danger & the Effects of Colonialism
Tragically, by the time Gilmore had recorded the tale within his anthology of folklore, the river had taken on new dangers—ones that were no longer based in mythology (White). The introduction of white colonizers in 1782 ushered in the first wave of diseases such as smallpox and other dangers. By the time the second wave hit in 1837, the delicate nature of their human ecosystem had all but been decimated (White)
Melvin R. Gilmore & His Contributions
Cultural references to the Miniwashitu in North Dakota predate any European settlements in North America. Unfortunately, the first appearance of the Miniwashituo in modern media formats wasn’t recorded until 1921. The story was first introduced in the ethological anthropology of cultural stories as recorded by Melvin Randolph Gilmore in Prairie Smoke. Gilmore was a cultural anthropologist and the former curator for the North Dakota Historical Society (“Monsters”).
His career as a museum curator for a number of institutions spanned from 1916 to 1923 (“Monsters”). His passionate pursuit of unheard stories led him to regularly collaborate with the tribal nations in his area to record their cultural folklore (Rodenberg). Along with contributions to scientific periodicals on the culture and livelihood of the people indigenous to the Missouri River valley, he was also an authority on the Plains Indians (“Monsters”). As a result of his many contributions, Gilmore was an adopted member of the Pawnee tribe. (“Monsters”)
The Myth of the Miniwashitu
People rarely see the Miniwashitu, so there is very little information about it to this day. What does exist, exists primarily as a regurgitation of Gilmore’s original record from Prairie Smoke. Gilmore detailed the story of a beast that was known to exist “in the long ago”. Within the waters of the Missouri River, what Gilmore described was a dreadful sight to behold (Gilmore 26).
Gilmore’s informant was a second-hand witness to the last known sighting. The man witnessed the creature swimming against the current in the middle of the Missouri River. The creature crashed heavily into the ice sheet that sat upon the water. It broke it apart with its enormous body and lethal backbone. The man reported it made a “terrific roaring sound”. It was his description of the creature and what happened shortly after that caused such alarm (Gilmore 26). The informant explained that as soon as the man, “beheld the awful sight,” he lost his vision. His eyes darkened immediately. It was only by luck and a general sense of direction that the man was able to reach his home. However, soon after arriving home, he lost all sense of self and passed away (Gilmore 26).
What we know about the Miniwashitu
To witness the monster at night, one would see a brilliant fiery red streak lighting up the icy waterway. Truly a sight to behold! If one were to see the monster by day they would meet their end. They would lose their vision and hearing. They would soon become restless and begin to writhe in pain. Not until they were thoroughly insane would death kindly relieve them.
Some believe that the Miniwashitu, or water monster, still lives in the Missouri River (Gilmore 26). For those that still hold this belief, they claim that it is responsible for breaking the ice that has formed on the river come springtime (Gilmore 26).
The Appearance of the Creature
The man’s story also took into account the physical description of the monster he witnessed, so we have included it here for reference. According to his report of the creature, it’s the appearance that was most frightful to behold. The Miniwashitu was described as having an extraordinarily strange form, covered from head to toe with hair that resembled a buffalo. The hair was red in color and the creature boasted only a single, cyclopean eye. Above its eye was a single distinctive horn. The bipedal creature stands at over seven feet tall, with humanoid hands and the cloven hooves of an elk. The backbone was described as protruding out, but irregularly notched and jagged like the teeth of an old saw. (Rodenberg)
The True Nature of the Miniwashitu
As one of the creature’s nicknames would imply the Miniwashitu, or Missouri Water Monster, spends much of its time submerged in the Missouri River. This seems to be quite lucky, considering its very appearance is so horrific that it would shatter the mind of anyone who witnessed it. The story has also evolved over the centuries since it was told to assert that direct eye contact would “freeze you in perpetual fear” as you suffered to death from insanity. However, it is also said that even if you were not to directly witness it, but were to simply hear its tremendous bellow, it would still render you unable to hear again.
Of course, none of this takes into account that the creature is actually quite docile despite its grotesque nature. It’s no more a predator than the mundane proven counterpart, the buffalo. The Miniwashitu is a noted pescatarian, subsisting upon fish, plants, and grass. Aside from the supernatural side effects of being in its presence, it is quite similar to a buffalo in being protective of its territory. All of this having been said, we’re delighted to know that this creature does not seek out humans to attack—not that it would need to considering its supernatural ability to harm without confrontation. (Rodenberg)
Fear the Miniwashitu
Regardless of the fear that accompanies the beast’s presence, there is massive respect for the creature that heralds the return of spring. The role it plays in breaking up the ice shelf on the river is a tremendous relief, especially after a difficult winter. The return of open waterways means an increase in the ease of travel, as well as a more available resource of fish. (Rodenberg)
Is it likely that a legitimate creature has managed to go undocumented by zoologists and wildlife biologists for so many centuries? No, it’s not likely, but that doesn’t mean that it’s not possible. The world is still full of undocumented creatures. This water monster has such a bombastic presence, however, that it is unlikely to go undiscovered for this long.
So, if it exists, is the Miniwashitu a beast to be trifled with? Probably not, but if you’re wondering if this creature is dangerous, you’ll be pleasantly surprised to know it’s likely not going to be munching on your sullied corpse. It may, however, render you blind, deaf, and so insane that the only relief you’ll find will be in death.
Georgia-based author and artist, Mary has been a horror aficionado since the mid-2000s. Originally a hobby artist and writer, she found her niche in the horror industry in late 2019 and hasn’t looked back since. Mary’s evolution into a horror expert allowed her to express herself truly for the first time in her life. Now, she prides herself on indulging in the stuff of nightmares.
Mary also moonlights as a content creator across multiple social media platforms—breaking down horror tropes on YouTube, as well as playing horror games and broadcasting live digital art sessions on Twitch.
Mysterious low-flying spacecraft, doorways that appear in midair, disembodied voices, crop circles, mutilated cattle…the stuff of science fiction? Or just another day at Skinwalker Ranch? Though thousands of people have reported seeing UFOs over the decades, this particular 512 acres of property in the Uintah Basin region of northeastern Utah seems to be a hotbed for extraterrestrial activity.
Terry and Gwen Sherman bought the now-infamous ranch back in 1994, presumably unaware of what they were getting themselves into, and Skinwalker Ranch has since become one of the most heavily researched, and controversial, paranormal spots in the world.
The First Sightings
“For a long time we wondered what we were seeing, if it was something to do with a top-secret project. I don’t know really what to think about it.”
Terry Sherman
The family’s initial reports of bizarre and unexplained phenomena came from their first two years living there, where they and their two children witnessed a variety of unnerving events. Between 1994-1996 they saw three different types of UFOs, discovered eight foot by three foot rings of flattened crops, and lost seven cows (four disappeared, one apparently lifted straight from the snow in which it stood, and three were mutilated). The mutilations are particularly strange as the wounds were surgically precise and bloodless. The Shermans also report having seen strange animals, including a wolf three times larger than it should have been and impervious to bullets.
Real Estate Agents Love UFOs
The Shermans shared their paranormal findings with the Deseret News in June of 1996, and three months later Las Vegas real estate magnate and UFO enthusiast Robert Bigelow bought the property. Bigelow, also the founder of an organization known as National Institute for Discovery Science (NIDSci), set up 24/7 surveillance of the ranch with his team of scientists, researchers, and guards. Over the decades he reported having numerous experiences and sightings, but according to skeptics he was never able to provide hard proof. At one point the United States Defense Department even became involved, conducting a secret investigation under the name Advanced Aviation Threat Identification Program (AATIP).
Bigelow eventually sold the property in 2016 to Adamantium Holdings, which was later revealed to be a shell company of real estate tycoon Brandon Frugal, who wanted his identity to remain anonymous. Frugal is the one who acquired the trademark “Skinwalker Ranch”. The name Skinwalker refers to a malevolent being in Native American folklore. Many indigenous tribes believe these “skinwalkers” are witches who can transform themselves into various animals. Indeed there is a large population of Ute living in and around the Uintah Basin and they believe the ranch has been a haunt for skinwalkers for at least fifteen generations.
Final Thoughts
So have all the reports over the decades at Skinwalker Ranch been hoaxes? Are they less extraordinary phenomena with perfectly reasonable explanations? Or, as many claim, is there something otherworldly going on? It’s no surprise that in an area known to the extraterrestrial research community as “UFO Alley”, the Uintah Basin would draw worldwide attention. But there is a particular allure to Skinwalker Ranch, the crowned king of alien activity. It was even Google’s most searched cultural landmark in the U.S. in 2022. Thanks to media attention, billionaires, skeptics, and numerous books and shows, such as the History Channel’s currently running The Secret of Skinwalker Ranch, it’s clear that there is something about the ranch worth exploring.
Ben’s love for horror began at a young age when he devoured books like the Goosebumps series and the various scary stories of Alvin Schwartz. Growing up he spent an unholy amount of time binge watching horror films and staying up till the early hours of the morning playing games like Resident Evil and Silent Hill. Since then his love for the genre has only increased, expanding to include all manner of subgenres and mediums. He firmly believes in the power of horror to create an imaginative space for exploring our connection to each other and the universe, but he also appreciates the pure entertainment of B movies and splatterpunk fiction.
Nowadays you can find Ben hustling his skills as a freelance writer and editor. When he’s not building his portfolio or spending time with his wife and two kids, he’s immersing himself in his reading and writing. Though he loves horror in all forms, he has a particular penchant for indie authors and publishers. He is a proud supporter of the horror community and spends much of his free time reviewing and promoting the books/comics you need to be reading right now!
Sometimes, it’s not just the living who need help moving on from the past…but the dead.
I set the recorder down on the kitchen table. “Do you mind if I record our session together?”
“No,” Sara said, then shifted in her seat.
Sara Cane was a wife and mother of five. She had long blonde hair and deep brown eyes, which in those moments, were full of confusion.
“I don’t understand why he keeps coming to me,” she said, then eased a finger to her lips.
“What do you mean? How does he come to you?” I placed my arms on the table and leaned closer.
“In my dreams. He visits me.”
“How long has this been going on?”
Sara’s eyes glazed over in remembrance. “Not long after he died.”
I nodded. “I see. How long ago did your father die?”
“Three years ago.” She glanced back at me. “I kept getting the impression he didn’t want to face me.”
“Why?” I reached for a bottle of whiskey I had set on my table. I cracked it open and poured some in my glass. “Want some?”
“Sure,” Sara said and eased the glass I had given her forward.
I poured her a shot.
She brought the whiskey to her mouth and sipped. “My father. His name was Michael. He did a lot of bad things he was ashamed of. He left and stopped all contact with me when I was fourteen.”
“How old are you now?” I took a sip.
“Thirty-five.”
“So your dad died when you were thirty-two?”
She nodded.
“And the dreams started not long after?”
She nodded again.
“So this has been going on for three years.”
“Yes.”
I leaned back in my chair. “So, why did you come here today?”
“Because word has gotten out about you,” Sara said then took another sip of whiskey.
“Word about what?” I asked. “I don’t advertise anything.”
Sara huffed and smiled. “You don’t have to. Your work and reputation speak for itself. The people you help. It’s real.” She stared down at the table for a moment, then gazed into my eyes. “You aren’t a fake. You aren’t a showboat. In fact, you hate that people even know you have these abilities from God. You wish you could just stay hidden and disappear and be left alone.”
I downed my drink and poured another. “Yeah, so. Does that bother you?”
“No,” Sara shook her head and smirked. “It is the very reason why I trust you. You aren’t a phony, Mr. Kincaid.”
I meditated on her words then pushed back. “How do you know? And how do I know you aren’t just yanking my chain to try and get some sort of attention?”
Sara eyed me up and down. “Because, right now? I can feel you in my head. And you know I am telling the truth.”
I widened my eyes, nodded, then hammered down my drink. The lady was right. I was inside her head searching her to see if she was telling the truth.
“All right, fine. You want to do this? I need something. Something tangible. Something with you and your dad.” I poured another shot.
“I know,” she said. “I brought this.” She dug in her purse and pulled out an old Polaroid. “This is me and my dad. Taken in 1986 or ‘87.”
I reached across the table and grabbed it. My fingers touched the picture and I was hit with a flood of energy.
Sara saw my body jolt. “What is it?”
“Give me a minute.” I stared at the picture.
Sara’s father held her in his arms. He had brownish-blonde hair and a beard. Sara’s blonde hair was shaped away from her face. They both look terrified in the picture.
“Your father was a coward wasn’t he?” I asked.
Sara’s mouth gaped. “How did you know? Yes, very much so.”
“I can see it all over him.”
Sara gazed deep into my eyes. “I need you to help him move on. He is afraid. He keeps telling me in my dreams that ‘they’ won’t let him go.”
“Who are ‘they’?” I asked then took another sip of whiskey.
“I don’t know?” Sara shrugged. “He would never say.”
I sat silent for a few moments, nodding my head with slow movements. Then I said, “I am going to try something.” I placed the photograph down on the table. “I just need you to sit quietly and only answer me when I ask you a direct question. Got it?”
“Yes,” Sara affirmed.
I shifted my eyes from Sara to the photograph and then reached with my mind. The image came at once.
“I see your father,” I said. “He is sitting at a brown kitchen table. One of those square ones that can fold out on the edges. He is dressed in a dark brown flannel shirt and a blue vest. One of those thick nylon winter vest. His face is in his hands and he is weeping. I sense deep regret.” I paused for a moment. “I also see a newspaper clipping on the table.” I glanced up at Sara. “Does any of this sound familiar?”
Tears flowed from her eyes. “How do know? How did you know?”
I reached out and gave her hand a comforting touch. “Talk to me. Tell me what this means.”
“My dad accidentally killed someone on the job.” She breathed in deep then exhaled. “He was beside the heavy equipment. He was supposed to signal to the guy in the equipment when to keep moving the dirt. When he would, the other crew members would jump in the trench and dig. Well, one of the guys either got confused or distracted. I’m not sure which but he mistook my dad’s signal. He jumped in as my dad gave the all clear to the operator. When my dad saw the guy jump in he screamed at the operator to stop. The operator couldn’t hear my dad’s screams and you can’t just jump in because then you would get smashed. So he stood back and watched the guy literally get crushed to death.”
I finished off my whiskey. “And it was in the newspapers?”
Sara nodded.
“And he regretted this all his life?” I asked.
“The scene you described.” She wiped a tear. “Was what I remember seeing as a child. My father was sitting at the table crying with his hands in his face and the newspaper clipping in front of him.”
I sat again in silence. Longer this time. “Sara, give me another minute. I am going to try something else.”
“All right,” she sniffled.
I stared at the picture longer and harder. The energy hit me again and I saw Michael at his kitchen table.
“Sara, listen to me. I am there in the kitchen with your dad.”
Sara blinked. “What?”
“He is afraid of me and trying to run from me. I am assuring him it’s okay. That I am here to help him.”
Sara’s voice grew shaky. “Don’t let him run away!”
I didn’t utter a word. Sara grew nervous as the seconds ticked on. “Mr. Kincaid, is he still there? Did he leave?”
I held up my hand for her to be quiet. “He is here. He is talking to me. He wants to tell you something.”
Sara fidgeted with her wedding ring. “What?”
“The reason he has been watching you is because he loves seeing you happy. He regrets how he treated you growing up. He ignored you and favored your brother and he is sorry.”
Sara began to cry. “How did you know I had a brother? How did you know my dad favored him and ignored me?”
“Because he is telling me that now, Sara.” I kept gazing at the photograph.
“Oh my God,” Sara clasped a hand over her mouth.
“He is sticking around because he likes seeing you happy. Yet it is also causing deep regret. He wanted to be the one to make you happy, but he didn’t. But the man you are married to now. You love him deep and he loves you, correct?”
“Yes, oh God, yes.” Sara’s tears flowed.
“But your father didn’t like your first husband. He just told me that. He said he is glad you aren’t with him anymore. He was too much like him.”
Sara sobbed harder. “Yes! Yes! How do you–”
I held up my hand again. “Shhhh. I’m talking to him. Trying to get him to move on.”
Sara drummed on her lips with her pointer finger.
“He said he is scared to go, Sara. I told him for once don’t be a coward. Make your daughter proud. Go face what lies beyond.” I reached for Sara’s hand.
Sara reciprocated and grabbed mine.
“He is hugging me, Sara. Weeping in my arms. He said he knows he needs to go. He said he is happy for you. He is happy you found your husband. He loves the man you are with very much. He said he has been watching and that your husband is good for you and what you have always deserved.” I squeezed her hand.
Sara sniffed and wept more.
“I told him to come on and go with John. Sara, who is John? The name came to me and I felt like I needed to tell him that.”
Sara let out choppy sighs. “Oh my God. John is his dad. My grandfather. My dad got him to stop drinking. How do you know this Mr. Kincaid? How?”
I ignored her question. “He wants to talk to you, Sara. He said he does love you and he wants you to forgive him.”
Sara cupped her hand over her mouth and tried to steady herself. “Daddy! I do forgive you! I love you and I am happy. Please don’t torment yourself. I know you are sorry for what you did. Please, move on.”
I let go of Sara’s hand. “A door has appeared. He is walking towards it. He is opening it. Sara, he is smiling. His face is bright.” I waited to see what would happen next. “Sara, he walked through the door. He’s gone.” I blinked and moved my eyes from the photo to Sara. “He has moved on.”
Sara laid her head on the table between her arms and wept solemn tears. “I can feel it. The weight is gone. He is gone. It’s like a cramp that has given way and let go.”
I reached and patted her hand. “I know. I know.”
Sara lifted her head and stared at he with glassy eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Kincaid.” Sara stood up from the table, shouldered her purse, and picked up the photograph. “Daddy,” she said and pressed it against her chest.
Sara walked toward the door. Her steps were lighter and her smile was brighter. She paused, then turned to face me. “Mr. Kincaid? What do you think the ‘they’ were?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, Sara. We might never know. There is so much I don’t understand. Kinda of like the more I see and learn the less it all makes sense.”
“Yeah,” She said, meditating on my words. “Yeah.” She opened the door and stepped out into the sunlight.
“Indeed,” I whispered and pushed stop on my recorder. “Sometimes, it’s not just the living who need help moving on from the past… but the dead.”
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