Welcome back, traveler! I have a query for you: Have you ever had dreams that were so vivid you awoke certain it was more than just a dream? Perhaps a message or a warning? Maybe a bit of foresight?
 
When I was a girl, I dreamt my brother returned home after being away for an extended period of time. I knew he would be home that evening. My mother was skeptical as she was sure that he would have told her if it had been his intention to head across the country on a whim. That evening he arrived much to everyone’s surprise but mine.
 
Years later, on the eve of giving birth to my first child, my brother told me that he had a dream that things would not go well during delivery. In his dream, there were serious complications, and he was worried. I noted his concern but was not worried as everything had gone as smoothly as possible up until that point. Within 24 hours of his warning, however, both the baby and I were near death mainly due to doctor’s error.
 
This sort of premonition is seen in folklore as well, giving us yet another connection to our ancestors and the weight of dreams in the human mind. For example, on April 14, 1865 an elderly man in Clarksburg had a most terrifying dream. After being asleep a short while, he awoke in a state of panic. President Lincoln was murdered…shot…and he had been there when it happened! He saw the entire scene. Not sure what else to do, he noted the time on the clock as well as the date. Two weeks later, news arrived that President Lincoln had been murdered at the exact time and day that the Clarksburg man had his dream.
 
Sometimes these glimpses into the future are guided by the spirits of loved ones. This was the case for Vera Taylor, who, unlike my experience, was extremely unsettled in the time leading up to the delivery of her child. In the dark of the night, Vera would hear words of warning to begin making funeral arrangements prior to the birth. She was going to die, the voice promised, and it encouraged her to have everything in order so that her husband, in his distraught state, would have one less burden before him. Shortly after hearing this, a second voice would chime in and discourage her from any such thought or action. If she made the arrangements, the second voice argued, then they would be needed. If she avoided making them, they would not be required. She would survive. Each night these voices bickered back and forth with increasing intensity as she approached her due date.
 
Vera did develop serious complications and was admitted to the hospital. It was during these terrifying moments that her father who had died years prior appeared at her bedside. He did not speak but his presence eased her enough that she fell into a dream. She was given a premonition that all would be well. She and her child would survive, and they would leave the hospital as a happy and healthy family. This dream proved true and Vera forever credited her father and that dream as saving her life.
 
Sometimes dreams may be more than just figures of our unconscious mind. Sometimes they might be messages from the other side, glimpses into another place, or a warning of things to come.
 
 
 
Until next time,
Heather
 
 
 
Further Reading:
Burchill, J. V. (1993). Ghosts and Haunts from the Appalachian foothills: Stories and Legends. Nashville, TN: Rutledge Hill Press.
Musick, R. A. (1976). The Telltale Lilac Bush and Other West Virginia Ghost Tales. University of Kentucky Press.
 
 
 

Let’s get back on the road again, traveler, and discuss some tales of warning and woe. Perhaps you already know the warnings of taking your lover on a late-night excursion to a secluded location. As exciting as it may seem to have some solitary time for romance, sometimes it pays to be cautious of your surroundings.
 
You have heard of “The Hook,” haven’t you? It is a common story, really. Two teenagers sneak away together under the cover of night. Just when they start to really enjoy each other’s company, their mood is soured by a disturbing radio announcement: A killer is on the loose in the area! Beware of a man who has a hook for a hand!
 
The girl grows concerned and demands that they return home immediately. The boy, in much frustration, eventually obliges. Once they return home and exit the vehicle, a bloody hook is found on the door handle. Clearly, they had escaped in the nick of time.
 
This is a common story, and the veracity of it is suspect, of course. However, what if I told you that sometimes the monster in the story wasn’t so…human?
 
Wisconsin holds such a legend. Long ago, a young married couple naively took their wagon up a treacherous winding road in the middle of the night. This was a grave error, as the carriage was unable to make the journey and broke down. The husband decided to walk back toward civilization to retrieve assistance while his wife remained behind with the wagon. Already nervous to be left alone under such circumstances, she became absolutely petrified when, in the middle of the night, she heard odd animalistic sounds outside. When she tried to catch a glimpse of what could be making such noises, she was greeted with the sight of a fur covered creature that had the horned head and face of a goat but was standing upright on two legs. Unwilling to leave wagon, she cowered in it until daybreak. It was then that the new bride saw something even more terrifying than the goatman itself…cloven tracks in the dirt that led to a tree covered in her husband’s blood which had dripped out of his body as it draped over the branches.
 
Ever since that fateful night, the creature still prowls for any waylaid travelers or, sometimes, it forces accidents to happen so that it can have a bit of fun. Today there would be no excuse to tempt such fate. The legend is well known. Travelers have been warned.
 
By this point, traveler, you may be wondering why I am sharing such tales with you this evening. It is simple, really: always be aware of your surroundings, don’t immediately dismiss local legends…and don’t be surprised when the unexpected comes to pass….
 


 
Until next time,
Heather
 
 
Further Reading:
 
Brunvand, J. H. (2003). The Vanishing Hitchhiker: American Urban Legends and Their Meanings. New York, NY: Norton.

Couch, J. N. (2014). Goatman: Flesh or folklore? West Bend, WI: Self-pub.
 
https://richfieldhistoricalsociety.org/story_mysteries%20of%20hogsback%20road.html
 
 
 

Up into the Caravan we go, traveler! We have no choice but to follow!
 
Let us gently open the door and see what may be inside our humble vardo that is of interest to our otherworldly friend.
 
Oh! It is heading toward the back shelves. I know we have a spirit board back there. Perhaps that is what we are to grab. It would make communication much easier between us and a headless spirit, wouldn’t it?
 
Yes, it is pulling you toward the shelf with the board…no wait! It is pulling to the bottom shelf?!
 
How…interesting…
 
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There is a story deep in the hollers of Appalachia that tells us of a bold young traveler who needed a place to rest for the night. Upon finding a farm, he inquired if he could stay…just for the evening, as he would be heading out the next morning. The farmer did not have any lodgings available but offered him some food. Unsatisfied with sleeping without proper shelter, the traveler inquired about a house across the creek. The farmer explained that the house was hainted and no one had dared stay there for any length of time in many years. Unfazed, the young man asked for some food and headed over to the long-abandoned house. He would not be frightened by any haints. He was too proud for that.
 
Throughout the evening, as he was cooking his food over the fire, he was approached by a couple of apparitions. A black cat jumped down the chimney, followed by a dog. He shooed both of them away. Satisfied with his meal, he headed up to one of the bedrooms, only to later return to the fire downstairs after tangling with an unseen spirit over the bedsheets.
 
After going back downstairs, he was soon aware of another apparition. This time, the spirits were preceded by sounds. At first awful noises echoed down the staircase from the upper floor, then it slowly turned into a pleasing fiddle tune. It was not long before a girl and a fiddler descended the staircase at the bequest of the traveler. He listened to their music and watched her dance for a while before dismissing them. They went back upstairs.
 
The final haint for the evening descended shortly thereafter. It was a coffin with a hammer upon it. Unwilling to be frightened by such a sight, he approached the coffin, grabbed the hammer, and opened it. A headless corpse was inside. The traveler, harkening back to stories from his youth, asked the corpse, in the name of God, what it was doing in the house.
 
The ghost spoke to the traveler and explained that he was the owner of the property who had been killed by robbers ten years prior. He wanted the traveler to summon his sons there and let them know that the robbers did not find what they sought. His treasure was still in the house, under the hearthstone.
 
The spirit’s final wish was to have his sons return home and find his fortune. He wanted them to split it evenly between themselves and the traveler who was the first to actually stay in the house the entire night. After this came to fruition, the owner’s spirit was at rest. The house had no more ghostly activity.

Just as we saw with the ghost of Zona Shue, a spirit can find rest when its business is finished.
 
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I must say, I am surprised that the willow appears to be leading us to this old hand carved box. It is beautiful, isn’t it? Dark wood…walnut, I believe. It is locked. It has remained unopened since it came into my possession.
 
This box was given to me by a traveling salesman I met alongside a road many years ago. In fact, I purchased a handful of items from him that day…a very interesting fellow, indeed. But this box he insisted I take with me. To be honest, I admired it from the moment I saw it, but I hadn’t even inquired about it as it seemed almost too precious to take. I was drawn to it.
 
…I think, now, that he could sense that.
 
Yes, he handed it to me with two keys. He told me that it would be best for me to hold onto it for a while and not give in to any sort of curiosity about what may be inside. He said that I would know when the box would want to be opened. Maybe we should look at it a little closer. Let me get it off the shelf…
 
SNAP!
 
The willow bent so hard that it broke! This must be the time to look inside! Now to find the keys…
 
The keys…
 
I only have one left now. It is here around my neck…the other one, as you may remember, is buried at the crossroads.
 
Well, let me see if this one works…
 
It is sticking a little, but…there we go!
 
What a beautiful pocket watch! It is like new! There is an inscription on the inside.
 
To my dearest Joseph,
May you never miss another one of our dates again.
All my love,
Elizabeth
 
This must have belonged to our headless ghost! His beloved Elizabeth surely would have wanted Joseph buried with such a treasure. I wonder why he was separated from something so sentimental. Well, that is of no concern now. The watch has found its way back to its owner. Let us take it to him!
 
 
 
 
 
Until next time,
Heather
 
 
 


Further Reading:
Roberts, L. W. (1980). Old Greasybeard: Tales from the Cumberland Gap. Pikeville, KY: Pikeville College Press.
 

Perfect choice! Yes, it seems some magic is within you, traveler! This branch is facing the east and is beautifully forked just as needed.
 
You do know what we are to do now, right? First, we must thank the willow for allowing us to use her branch. Then, we are going to see exactly how much of that magic is in you!
 
Here hold it like this: One end of each fork of the Y in your hands, palms up, thumb over the branch. Now, squeeze and slightly push the forked parts together just enough to have some tension. Yes! Exactly!
 
Ask it to show you ‘yes’ and ‘no.’ It appears that yes is indicated by the pointed end going downward and no is it going up. Wonderful!
 
Now…as we have no clue what Joseph wants us to find, I think you should start turning slowly until the rod goes downward so we can have an idea of which way to start walking.
 
Interesting, we are to head away from the cemetery. It seems as if we are being directed back toward the Caravan.
 
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Dowsing exists in many forms and has been around for longer than most of us realize. Cultures from around the world have stories of divination and the tools used to achieve knowledge of hidden items.
 
Pendulums, wands, angle rods, divining rods, and even one’s own body can be utilized to locate objects. Perhaps the most well-known example of this is ‘water-witching’ where someone who is skilled in divining pinpoints the proper location to dig for a well with the use of rods or a forked branch.
 
“Witching” can also refer to seeking out lost treasures or even burial locations. For example, if one comes across an old cemetery that has few markers, witching may be able to indicate the lost location of unmarked graves. This technique is still used today, actually.
 
Rhabdomancy is the term used for divining with a stick or a rod made of metal (or even plastic if you would prefer). Depending on the tradition, there are particular times of the year as well as types of wood used to perfect the divining rod. Some Appalachian traditions indicate that the Y-shaped branch can only be obtained from the eastward facing part of the tree during a full moon. Some are particular about the branch being from a willow tree while others may call for apple trees or any other tree that provides supple branches that will not break when tension is applied to them. While Scandinavian traditions, on the other hand, can call for mistletoe, birch, hazel, or rowan wood. Depending on the goal of the divination, the wood would have to be arranged in a certain way and could only be utilized by a particular individual.
 
When one speaks of dowsing rods, perhaps the most popular image that comes to mind is that of two metal rods bent into an “L” shape that have the ability to cross over one another. In order to get the most accurate sense of how the rods feel when they start to move, it is recommended to hold them over a bowl of water or even a faucet with water flowing freely. It won’t take long before you are able to witness how the rods move without your personal interference.
 
Pendulums are similar in nature. Although water is not a necessity, it is important to hold the pendulum by the end of the chain (rope, cord, or whatever may be tied to the stone/metal weight at the end of it). Steady the pendulum so that it is still and then ask for the sign for ‘yes’ and ‘no’. Typically, a distinct movement will appear for each of these. This allows for one to communicate with spirits as well as locate objects. Pendulums are usually used indoors, although not always, while dowsing rods are used for much larger outdoor areas.
 
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We are nearing the Caravan now. Stop! Ask the willow if we are to go into the vardo…
 
Yes?!
 
Alright then…perhaps there is something INSIDE which we acquired prior that is of importance. Let’s step up into the Caravan and see if our willow branch gives us direction….
 
 
Until next time,
Heather
 
 
 
Further Reading:
Besterman, Theodore. “The Folklore of Dowsing.” Folklore, vol. 37, no. 2, 30 June 1926, pp. 113–133.
Rasbold, Katrina. Crossroads of Conjure: The Roots and Practices of Granny Magic, Hoodoo, Brujería, and Curanderismo. Llewellyn Worldwide, 2019.
Webster, Richard. Dowsing for Beginners: How to Find Water, Wealth, and Lost Objects. Llewellyn Publications, 2003.
Richards, Jake. Backwoods Witchcraft: Conjure & Folk Magic from Appalachia. Weiser Books, 2019.
 

​Everything is still. The crickets have stopped chirping. The peepers are silenced. The wind itself has stopped moving about the trees. The world around us has slowed to focus on Joseph Wells, standing here in his ghostly form.
 
Joseph, why did you guide us here from the crossroads? What is our use to you?
 
He raises his arm and extends his finger. He is pointing somewhere! To the edge of the graveyard, it appears…maybe something is beyond the last headstone. What are we meant to find? Where are we to go?
 
 
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Welsh folklore suggests that there are three types of ghosts: Spirits of the dead, spirits of the living, and goblins and demons raised by witches. Goblins and demons are maliciously summoned in order to cause harm and torment to an individual. Ghosts of the living are glimpses of a spirit wandering about while the body sleeps. An example of this would be to see your spouse walk through the kitchen only to find them napping in bed. Spirits of the dead, on the other hand, are the ghosts of those who have departed this plane of existence but have unfinished business remaining. These spirits will eventually find rest when their work is completed, but they need mortal assistance for this to occur.
 
Elva Zona Heaster Shue was one such spirit. A young newlywed woman from Lewisburg, West Virginia, Zona was discovered unresponsive in her home by a neighbor boy. It appeared based on her positioning of her body at the bottom of a staircase, the distraught state of her husband, and the medical examination by the coroner, that she has passed due to a fatal heart attack.
 
Her husband would not leave the body of his wife until she was buried, sobbing and bemoaning his loss during the entirety of the medical examination as well as while putting her into her casket.
 
Zona, however, made certain that the truth was revealed. After her funeral, Zona, in spectral form, visited her mother multiple times. She recounted that her husband had lost his temper toward her (not for the first time, mind you) and broke her neck in a fit of rage. She insisted that this come to light. Her husband needed to pay for his crimes.
 
At the bequest of Zona’s mother, her daughter’s body was exhumed and examined again—this time without physical interference and dramatic theatrics from the husband. Zona’s scarf (an item of clothing her husband placed on her body under the pretense that it was beloved by her) was removed to reveal fingerprints around her neck. Her windpipe had been crushed, her neck dislocated, and ligaments in her neck were destroyed.
 
Further investigation revealed that Zona’s husband had been married twice prior. Both of his wives passed away suddenly due to ‘accidents.’ He was sent to trial and convicted rather quickly. He lived the rest of his days at the state penitentiary in Moundsville, West Virginia.
 
No additional stories survive of Zona revisiting this realm after her husband was sent to prison. Her business was finally finished. With his conviction and subsequent punishment, Zona helped not only herself move beyond the veil but perhaps also his other former wives whom he undoubtedly murdered.
 
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Well, Joseph is not moving anywhere, and he is pointing in that direction. Let’s start walking beyond the cemetery and see what we can find while following that vague direction.
 
It is rather dark, though, so watch your step! Ah, yes! Lightning bugs are sparkling ahead. Look at them amongst the branches of that tree. So odd that I don’t see them flashing anywhere else but in those branches. We will see the type of tree as we get closer.
 
A huge willow! I must admit this is my favorite kind of tree! I know why we are to here now! We must uncover something…but, first, pay close attention to the shape of these branches. Which one should we choose, traveler?
 
 
 
Until next time,
Heather
 
 
 
 
 
Further Reading:
Farley, Jeremy T. K. Appalachian Magazine Presents Mountain Superstitions, Ghost Stories & Haint Tales: A Collection of Memories & Commentaries from the Mountains of Appalachia. StatelyTies Media, 2018.
Jenkins, David Erwyd. Bedd Gelert, Its Facts, Fairies, & Folk-Lore. L. Jenkins, 1899.
*For anyone unfamiliar with peepers (tree frogs): https://youtu.be/oNhIprMEL78
 

 
Yes, traveler, the blue flame wants us to figure out who rests here at this stone. Bits and pieces are missing, and it is so worn. This is going to require a bit of magic and patience.

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Some of the best evidence we have today regarding how the people of the ancient world lived lies within the study of funerary markers that have survived the millennia. Rarely are these headstones in pristine condition, often with entire sections altogether missing or so horribly worn that one has to truly study the stone to decipher what once was engraved upon it. The study of inscriptions is called epigraphy, and it is through this discipline that a better understanding of the life of an average person in the ancient world, such as in Rome or Greece, is revealed. Often history books focus on the lavish life of the rulers of ancient civilizations with little attention paid to the average person; however, through the study of headstones, one can get a glimpse into the ideals held most dear by the society, infant mortality rates, and even clues as to how the language was spoken.
 
You see, illiteracy was highly common amongst professional engravers, so they would carve the inscription based on how it sounded, not necessarily how it was actually spelled. For example, we can be certain that the Romans pronounced their x as a ks (just as we do today in the US), because we have Latin inscriptions with the word uxor (wife) spelled as uksor.
 
The discipline of epigraphy requires careful study, as ancient inscriptions are formulaic. Once you get an idea of what certain abbreviations mean, that will help you decipher broken inscriptions as they often follow a particular pattern. The same goes with specific military posts, regions, and naming conventions. Knowing this pattern has also allowed epigraphic scholars to reconstruct not only missing pieces from headstones but also much longer inscriptions from larger works such as triumphal arches, with only a few letters remaining from several lines of text.
 
Although we don’t have the exact same conventions of, say, the ancient Romans, when it comes to our tombstones, we actually aren’t that much different. But before one can safely decipher any inscription, assuming there is anything left to read, we have to be VERY gentle with the headstone. Often seekers get carried away with reading old headstones and unintentionally do more harm to the stone in an attempt to see what was once carved there. We have to be aware of these dangers and ensure that we use safe techniques to preserve the stone as long as possible; and, of course,  it is of utmost important to RECORD, RECORD, RECORD, as these inscriptions may not survive another generation.

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Alright, so, even with the light from our blue flame friend, we need extra assistance. Just…a…second. Here! Hold this mirror just so. The reflection from the blue flame will help cast shadows.
 
THERE! We can get some understanding now.
 
Here we go. Focus!
 
DMS
Here lies Jo__p_ Well_
Aged 19 _ 6 mos 4_
B_l_v_d s_n
 
Oh! Excellent! I think we can figure this out! You know some Latin, right?! DMS is typical for ‘dis manibus sacrum’ which means sacred to the spirits of the dead.
 
Yes! “Sacred to the Spirits of the Dead. Here lies Joseph Wells. Aged 19 years, 6 months, 4 days. Beloved son.” Oh my! He was so young! I wonder what happened?!
 
Look! The blue flame is bouncing about with excitement!
 
OK—Say it with me! “Sacred to the Spirits of the Dead. Here lies Joseph Wells. Aged 19 years, 6 months, 4 days.” Focus! The flame is getting even brighter!!!
 
Oh my!!! It is transforming! Do you see this? It is growing and shaping into a person! But….the spirit isn't complete. The head is missing!

….remain calm…we will figure this out….
 
We are here for a reason. Stand with me, traveler. Do not despair. We are meant to be here…right here…right now…
 


Until next time,
Heather
 
 
 
 
 
 Further Reading:

Harvey, Brian K. Roman Lives: Ancient Roman Life as Illustrated by Latin Inscriptions. Focus, 2004.

Suggested Reading/Cleaning of Headstones: https://cemeteryconservatorsunitedstandards.org/

 
 

Traveler, dearest friend, do you remember our picnic? When we stopped the Caravan at the most picturesque spot. We traveled there specifically because you wanted to see one of your favorite places, the coast, again. It was beautiful.
 
You knew the best route to take and exactly where we could safely park the Caravan. You remember, don’t you? We stepped down into the tall grass that was budding with yellow and purple wildflowers, the breeze from the ocean caused the entire field to look like it was moving in waves, mimicking those that were crashing on the shore not far from where we stood.
 
We walked to the edge of the bluff and stayed there for hours, breathing in the saltwater and the sound of the Pacific carving away at the base of the cliff far below us. The seagulls flew high then dove low, looking for anything to eat. A pair of robins happily flitted around the meadow, most likely accumulating what was needed to finish their nest. We sat together for hours as we watched the sunset and the moonrise. We counted the stars. It was serene. The moment was perfect. It is how I will always remember you.
 
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There are a number of symbols in folklore to help us know that a departed loved one is nearby, they are well, and they are at peace. These signs should be a source of comfort for those mourning.
 
Before delving into common signs, however, it should be said that the MOST important sign is the one that you recognize. You know…the one that as soon as you see it, you smile and nod with acknowledgment. This could be a song on the radio, a familiar scent out of nowhere, or an old picture slipping out of a book after having been tucked away years prior, just waiting for the right moment to meet your eyes again.
 
In Appalachian folklore, Luna Moths represent souls of those who have passed from this world. It is a symbol of transformation.
 
Other beliefs hold that seeing a butterfly, often in the most unlikely of places, is a sign from the deceased. It is a way to say goodbye one last time.
 
Sometimes the glowing orbs that have been known as spook lights are souls of the departed, conveying a message.
 
If you are really fortunate, you may get a chance to communicate with your loved one through dreams.
 
Other times a certain animal relays the message and helps you heal through the grief; a dog unfamiliar to you shows up long enough for you to greet it before it turns away and leaves; a particular bird may appear as well…
 
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As I sit here, I am thinking back on that moment we shared. That perfect moment in time. How I will always remember you. As I sit here, I wrack my brain with questions like if I could have done something different, would you still be here to reminisce with me? Could we argue again over who saw the most shooting stars that night on the coast? (You did, but I will never admit it.) I sit here, and I grieve. I mourn; I doubt myself. Could I, in your lowest moment, have helped pull you out of the darkness and back into the light if only I had been there?
 
And I know, departed traveler, that you are here with me to ease my earthly heartache. I know this because you sent me a robin just now. An injured, hobbled robin has appeared before me, and I am the only one here who can help. For a moment I break down, somehow more intensely than I have since I first heard you were gone. I know this is you. You are here, even for a fleeting moment. So, through tear filled eyes, I will pick up the robin and carry it to safety. I will watch as it disappears just as quickly as it appeared, and I will say my goodbyes. I miss you already. I miss you always.
 
Until next time, dear friend.
 
 
 
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**If you or someone you know needs help, please utilize any of the resources listed below. Reach out to friends and family. Remember, you are important, you are loved, and you are not alone.
National (US) Hotline: 1-800-273-8255 (Press 1 if you are a veteran)
https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/
https://www.dbsalliance.org/crisis/suicide-hotline-helpline-information/
https://www.veteranscrisisline.net/
 
 
 

Well, I think we can safely say that this blue flame is pleased that we are following it. It has stayed very calm in its movements for the last couple of hours, floating down the center of the road, clear as day. Have you noticed that it is steadily getting brighter?
 
OH! There it goes into the trees! Time to climb down off of the vardo. Watch your step! There is no need to rush. I am certain the flame will wait for us to follow if it has its own story to tell.
 
 
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As we know, sometimes these spook lights lead one to an important location, such as the blue flame that led a son to the body of his father who passed deep in the mines. Of course, they can also be tricky and simply lead people astray for mischief’s sake, but I don’t think this is the intent here.
 
I don’t want to frighten you, traveler, but you should know before you continue down this path with me that sometimes ghost lights serve as a warning to those who witness it. The Candle of the Dead, for example, is visible only to those who are about to lose a loved one or are near imminent demise themselves. The Candle is known to manifest at the home of whomever is about to die and follow the path of the impending funeral procession to the place of burial. Other times it appears at the graveyard and heads to the house soon to be plagued by tragedy. The Candle gets its name due to the appearance of a flame, and if you are able to get close enough, you may see a spirit holding it. Being able to clearly see the spirit may give you a clue as to whom is slated to pass.
 
In a similar fashion of leading the way to a soon-to-be-occupied grave, spook lights can be accompanied by a moan that sounds as if someone is in the throes of death. This, of course, is cause for concern. The Cyhyraeth, a Welsh creature reminiscent of the Banshee, will wail three times, with each successive cry becoming fainter. This event happens prior to a death or tragedy. It is a harbinger of doom, if you will. Such sights and sounds have even been reported before a shipwreck that inevitably precedes sailors meeting their watery grave. 
 
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The appearance of these kinds of spook lights has long filled their witnesses with terror; but, please do not worry. Are you feeling any sense of fear? Do you hear any moaning cries? No? Neither do I. Do you think I would insist we follow such a creature? Of course not!
 
See, the flame is moving slowly now through the trees. I told you it would wait for us! The light is getting brighter. Mind your feet and watch the briars. We are walking on little more than a deer trail here: the trees are closing in, branches low, and the brush is getting thicker. I wonder where we are headed.

We are nearly through the trees. It appears there is a clearing ahead of some sort. Yes, look! The flame has stopped! It is hovering over something. 
 
An old cemetery! Long forgotten, clearly. Do you see some of the dates here? Hundreds of years old! Our flame is lingering over one stone in particular. Let’s try to decipher why that may be.
 
Goodness…this stone is broken and so incredibly worn. Even with the bright light from the flame, I can’t quite make out who is buried here, but I have a feeling we are supposed to find out….
 

​
 

 
Until next time,
Heather
 
 
 
 
Further Reading:
Jenkins, D.E., et all. Bedd Gelert: Its Facts, Fairies, & Folklore. (Based upon the Articles by Mr. William Jones in Y Brython.) … With Translations of Poetry by the Rev. H.E. Lewis and an Introduction by Principal J. Rhys. Llewelyn Jenkins, 1899. p. 84
 
Sikes, Wirt. British Goblins: Welsh Folk Lore, Fairy Mythology, Legends and Traditions. 1881. p. 219-222.

Is that…is that a lantern coming down the path to our right? Someone else must be heading to the crossroads this evening! I guess we shouldn’t be surprised that others may have business to attend to in such a powerful area.
 
Maybe we should stick around a moment and introduce ourselves to a fellow traveler. It’s best to be cordial as often as possible. You never know when someone you meet may be your ally at a later time.
 
What a beautiful flame in that lantern--such a haunting blue. I will have to inquire as to what magic our soon-to-be-friend utilizes to achieve such a ghastly glow. Perhaps I could employ it on the caravan.
 
Can you make out a face yet? The flame is getting closer, but I can’t quite see who or what is carrying it. We have been out here long enough that our eyes should be adjusted to see at least a hint of an outline, but it almost looks like it is floating all on its own.
 
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There are accounts of spook lights in folklore all around the world. These mysterious lights, although we may never definitively know what causes them, are known to flit about in an intelligent manner, seemingly beckoning those who see it to follow. Often those who are curious enough to follow the light are led astray for hours, eventually finding themselves lost when it disappears.
 
The lights are not always full of trickery and malice, however. Sometimes, the lights have a critical message to communicate. Sometimes, they shouldn’t be ignored.
 
Many years ago, deep in the mines that riddle the mountains of West Virginia, an explosion claimed the life of a man…a father. This was not the first mining explosion, of course, and it certainly wasn’t the last, but what followed was fairly unique.
 
The miner’s body was not able to be recovered after the explosion and the following day the miner’s son had to go to work in his stead, as was so often the case in those days. The family had to eat. Someone needed to work.
 
The young man entered the mines that day undoubtedly wracked with grief. Perhaps the only emotion strong enough to override the heartache was the trepidation he must have felt entering the mine that had only recently become his father’s tomb.
 
After a short while, the son managed to get himself turned around and separated from the other miners. He was lost. He was completely isolated for some time until a blue flame appeared suddenly. Although it was an unfamiliar sight, he was curious enough to follow it. He didn’t know his way out of the mine, anyway. Perhaps this was the only thing that made sense to him at the time.
 
The flame wound deeper and deeper into the mines, pausing for the boy to catch up if ever he fell behind. Eventually the air thinned to an uncomfortable level. However, boy’s concern over his dwindling ability to breathe was brushed aside momentarily as he began to hear someone call his name. The voice came from farther down the dark tunnels. He followed both the flame as well as the echoes of the voice deeper still until something extraordinary happened. The flame began to manipulate itself in such a way that the young man saw an image within its blue hues: his father. The boy ran toward this projection as fast as he could; however, just as he got within reach, it disappeared. Instead of holding his father one final time, the boy stumbled into a hole. When he gathered himself, the flame was gone, and in front of him was the body of his father. The young man was finally able to say goodbye. The body was recovered, and the family could mourn their loss with a proper burial.
 
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You know, the more I think about this, the more I think we need to hop back up in the Caravan. Maybe no one is carrying that flame…at least no one of our realm. We have done what is needed here, and I think maybe that blue flame has a message of some sort. It has our attention now. Who are we to ignore such a thing? Like I said earlier, it is best to be friendly whenever possible.
 
Come…let’s see where this may lead.
 
 
 
 
Until next time,
Heather
 
 
 
 
 
 
Further Reading:
 
Musick, Ruth Ann. The Telltale Lilac Bush and Other West Virginia Ghost Tales. University of Kentucky Press, 1965.

Thank you for your assistance, traveler! The key is buried deep enough for now, I would say. It will be obvious if we did an insufficient job anyway. The connection between the buried key and the one I wear will be lost if that one is ever unearthed. Thanks to your help, though, I don’t foresee that being an issue.
 
Before we continue our journey, let us sit a spell and take in the crossroads and the dark of the moon. We will eventually need to determine which way to proceed, but first we must simply be still and…just be. Let’s listen and absorb the energies that are present.
 
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Liminal spaces have been an object of both fascination and unease for humans ever since we developed the desire to categorize and compartmentalize our world. Crossroads are an excellent example of this, as they are the intersection of separate and distinct paths. A decision must be made before leaving the crossroads; however, while in the center of it…prior to any decision being made…you are in an unidentifiable space. For example, you are neither inside nor outside when standing in the front doorway to your home. While contemplating a major life transition, you are neither in your old life nor have you yet embarked on your new journey. You are in the in-between.
 
Since ancient times, one of the deities ascribed to the crossroads is Hekate. This is fitting, really, because, as demonstrated last week when we dove into her connection with Kore, she has the ability to move freely between the realms. She facilitates transitions and therefore can linger at the crossroads without concern. She is certainly not the only deity associated with the crossroads. In fact, even within the Greek pantheon, liminal spaces are shared with the god Hermes. Other cultures and pantheons have their own deities guarding the crossroads as well, of course, and we have combined elements from our ancestors into the magic that is practiced today.
 
It is important to note that these guiding deities are not the only entities present at the threshold. Restless spirits congregate at the crossroads as well. Perhaps it is the combined power of the crossroads deities and the restless spirits that made this location a place of intense emotion. Certain crossroads that were known for increased activity were to be feared and/or avoided but also were sought out under particular circumstances. Such circumstances, at least according to the historical record, came about when people were pushed to their limits.
 
The crossroads have yielded evidence of our ancestors’ beliefs and allowed us to connect with them in ways that would otherwise be lost in time. We have found trinkets, bones, and wax dolls buried in these liminal spaces. We have discovered tablets that call upon Hekate and other deities, their names scratched into sheets of lead that were rolled, bound, and buried into the ground. These have become known as curse tablets and could be found in all manner of transitional spaces, from graves to doorsills.
 
In some cases, we have records as to how the rituals were carried out. In one instance in particular, after completing the ritual at the crossroads, one must turn around and flee before Hekate makes her appearance. She cannot be seen. Of course, there are ways to know when she is close even if you cannot see her: hearing her hounds, for example, just as we did earlier.
 
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But, as I said, there are other beings that inhabit the crossroads. It is as much a shared space as it is a transitional one, and it is best to remember that.
 
How are you feeling? What are your senses perceiving?
 
Do you feel that chill in your bones?
 
Tell me, traveler, that you felt the winds rush in from all directions to engulf us here as we sit at the center.
 
Do you hear that??
 
Someone...
 
something…is coming.
 
 
 
Until next time,
Heather
 
 
Further reading:
 
Betz, Hans Dieter. The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation. The University of Chicago Press, 1996.
 
Foxwood, Orion. The Candle and the Crossroads: A Book of Appalachian Conjure and Southern Root-Work.   Weiser Books, 2012.
 
Gager, John G. Curse Tablets and Binding Spells from the Ancient World. Oxford University Press, 1992.
 
Johnston, S. I. “Crossroads.” Zeitschrift für Papyrologie Und Epigraphik, vol. 88, 1991, pp. 217–224.
 
Ogden, Daniel. Magic, Witchcraft, and Ghosts in the Greek and Roman Worlds: A Sourcebook. Oxford          University Press, 2009.