Tales of the Witch Hunter

By Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP

In the course of his travels, he travels to Poway, California, where he meets with an angry teen-aged ghost who is bent upon reaping revenge for her untimely death against all who come into her path. Trapped by the powerful spirit, Jack must convince her that he deserves to live.

In Wilmington, Delaware, Jack engages a being from a parallel universe. This creature is bent upon opening a portal that would allow it to fully materialize in our world. Jack also encounters a wizard who offers baffling prophetic information about his future.

Traveling to Sitting Bull Falls, New Mexico, Jack and Denise experience an unpleasant encounter with the mythical Chupacabra. They discover many of the secrets surrounding the mythic creatures as they battle for survival.

Finally, in his home town of Wichita, Kansas, he investigates the 'Mystery lights' and meets with an old acquaintance. Jack is also provided with information for use regarding an important individual in his future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP
• Release date: Nov 29, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310783920

Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP

Ronald Goulden has written novels and stories for thirty years. Having served in Viet Nam as a Translator/Interpreter, He quickly adapts to new cultures and sees a story or an adventure everywhere. He has ‘dabbled’ in witchcraft, though he is not a witch. All of his novels and stories have interconnecting threads that link them into a larger universe, spanning space and time. Some of the links are obvious, while others are very subtle. Some of the events in the stories are based on real life, while others are pure fiction. The distinction between fact and fiction is up to the reader. Having studied witchcraft many years earlier, it had always been in my mind. When I became an IT Director for the Farm Credit bank system in Wichita, I observed the ‘power’ a small group of ladies expressed over others in the bank and their general disdain for many of the men. I had also researched the BTK Killer during his spree and developed a program that allowed me to ‘predict’ his next attacks. As such, I saw the potential for violence in anyone. After being treated rather rudely by the band of bank beauties, I decided to write a story to explain their odd and overbearing personalities. Using newspaper stories and personal experiences, I settled on baby sacrifices and Satanism. While the personalities and physical attributes are based upon real people I knew at the time, their involvement is this story is purely fiction. There are many ‘links’ in this story to the other novels I’ve written over time, essentially building an alternate universe.

Book preview

Tales

of the

Witch Hunter

Ronald N. Goulden, MBA, PMP

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2015 Ronald N. Goulden

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover design by Ronald N. Goulden

Table of Contents

Poway, California

Sitting Bull Falls, New Mexico

Wichita, Kansas

Wilmington, Delaware

Additional Works

Poway, California

(Patsy Haley)

Jack pulled into the parking lot of the local tavern, checking the hand-written address on the back of the cloudy, mint green business card. Yep, this is the place. The note says that I'm supposed to meet with the bartender, Joe. I glanced at the name of the tavern, 'The Three Sisters'. I wonder what that's all about."

He checked the positioning of Death Maker in its holster as he stepped from the car.

The man eyed the parking lot, counting three vehicles besides his own. So counting me and the bartender, there should only be a couple of people inside.

A bell mounted above the door chimed as he stepped through the door. Jack glanced at it as he continued toward the bar. Pulling out a stool, he sat down and waited.

Soon the bartender, a tall slender man with silver hair and a matching beard sauntered up and leaned on the bar, looking at Jack.

Assuming that gesture was an invitation to order, Jack responded. I need a scotch. Fill the glass with ice and then fill it with scotch.

The man eyed him in surprise. That's a lot of scotch for a man your size. Single malt or blended?

I metabolize quickly. Let's do blended.

The man grunted and returned momentarily, placing the icy drink in front of Jack. He also slid the bill to Jack and waited. I don't know you fellow, so it's strictly cash.

Jack nodded and handed the man a twenty dollar bill. The bartender took the money and turned away; did not return any change.

Jack sipped his drink quietly as he searched the room with his eyes and ears. Besides the bartender, there was a well-worn middle-aged woman at the far end of the bar and a man nursing a beer at a table in the far corner.

Finally, curiosity got the better of the bartender. What brings you to these parts?

What makes you think I'm not from around here?

He laughed, You talk like a cowboy, but I didn't see any cowboy boots on your feet when you came in.

Ok. I'm looking for someone called Joe, the bartender who's supposed to work here.

The man eyed him closely. What do you want with Joe?

Jack removed the business card from his shirt pocket and slid it across the bar to the man.

The bartender's eyes opened wide with surprise at seeing the cloudy green card. He lifted it from the bar and turned it over, recognizing the handwriting.

Jack smiled and extended his hand, Hello Joe. I'm Jack Mitchell.

The man seemed a bit 'flustered', possibly even star-struck. I didn't think you would really show up.

Jack smiled, Your notes mentioned something about a girl named Patsy Haley. Would you care to elaborate?

The man looked around and began telling his tale. Back in the sixties, Poway was just starting to grow; there wasn't much for young people to do. One of the popular places to go 'make out' was the old 395 bridge over the Penasquitos creek west of here.

The woman at the end of the bar tilted her head in our direction in curiosity. Joe motioned for Jack to move to the other end of the bar.

With Jack settled in his new seat, Joe resumed his story, According to the story, a bunch of high school kids went to the bridge, including a girl named Patsy Haley. No one knows for sure what happened, but the story says Patsy didn't want to do what her boyfriend wanted and she stormed from the car and stood by the edge of the bridge looking at the creek, probably a hundred feet below.

He glanced around and lowered his voice. The story says that the boy was the son of a very wealthy family here in Poway. Anyway, the boy followed Patsy to the edge and had a heated argument with her. At some point, several of the other kids joined them and took the boy's side of the argument. Somehow, Patsy was pushed from the bridge, but she managed to grab some of the framework and was dangling over the creek, begging her friends to help her. They just laughed at her and watched as she tired and fell to her death.

Because of the family involved, there was never an investigation or even a funeral. They just made Patsy's body disappear and they spread the story that she ran away. No one's seen her alive since then.

No one's seen her alive? Has someone seen her dead?

He nodded. You don't cross that bridge at night. Before they closed it in nineteen sixty-seven, there were frequent reports of a ghostly girl leaping into people's cars and riding with them until she was sucked from the vehicle at the edge of the neighboring farm. Evidently, she's locked into that place.

That’s interesting. How do I get there?

Joe shook his head, If you're smart, you don't. It's not open to traffic any more. They put a heavy log chain across the bridge. It's mostly used by hikers and bicyclers now. Occasionally, people still tell of being attacked by this girl who is furious about her death and tries to hurt anyone she can. She may be only a ghost, but she can cause some serious damage. About a year ago, she put a bicycler in the hospital. He made the mistake of trying to cross her bridge after dark.

Jack sipped his scotch. Have there been any psychic investigations into this?

Joe shook his head, No. Most psychic investigators want to use cameras and instruments. They don't want to get their hands dirty or go where it’s truly dangerous.

Jack smiled, I'm good with dirt. I've had my share of dealings with angry entities. So, how long will it take me to get there from here? Can you give me directions or draw a map?

You're seriously going to go out there?

Yep. That's why I drove halfway across the country. That's what I do. Why did you submit a mystery if you're going to try to talk me out of investigating it?

I wasn't sure you were real. Jack Mitchell is more of a legend than a reality to most people. This thing is dangerous. Over the years, she's hurt a lot of people. She's still very angry.

If she's so dangerous, why hasn't someone already investigated?

The powerful families involved want it covered up. Some of those kids from that night are now very wealthy and powerful figures here in Poway. They can make life miserable.

Jack smiled, I like upsetting the elites and the 'masters' of the world.

You're certifiably crazy. He wrote down directions and sketched a crude map. Noticing the empty glass, You're going to need another one of those. Do you want me to make you a 'to go' cup?

Jack shook his head. No, But I'll take one when I get back. How late are you open? And yes, many people think I'm insane to do what I do.

I'm here until two in the morning.

Good, I'll see you before then.

Leaving the tavern, Jack drove around the small town, taking in the sites. On the near horizon, he saw Twin Peaks and drove past Haley's Trailer Park. There were numerous strip malls. The traffic was not uncomfortable and navigation was relatively easy.

Using the directions provided by the bartender, Jack drove to the bridge in question and drove on the unmaintained road until he reached a point where a heavy chain blocked further vehicular travel. Being well-accustomed to traveling rough terrain, Jack slid from the car and stepped over the chain. I want to examine this bridge during the light of day, in case there are natural hazards I need to be aware of.

As he walked, he noted that the area beyond the chain showed signs of fairly heavy usage. The grass was matted down and he spotted remnants of feminine clothing carelessly strewn about. It’s definitely some kind of 'lover's lane'. Hopefully no one will be out tonight.

He visually examined the bridge as he slowly walked along the cracked and overgrown surface. Occasionally, he would step to the edge and peer over to the lazy creek seventy feet below. I don't see how anyone could survive a fall from here. I feel sorry for poor Patsy.

Feeling confident that he had a feel for the 'lay of the land', Jack returned to his car and drove until he found a small diner where he could quell his hunger while passing the time until darkness."

After finishing his meal, he remained in his booth until the waitress looked like she was becoming distressed by his continued presence. He looked around, noting that he was the only customer. He mumbled to himself, Well, she's not getting upset because I'm keeping other customers out. Perhaps she just doesn't like having people loiter. I'm not here to cause trouble for her, so I'll leave.

He dropped a sizable tip on the table as he stood to leave. He carried his ticket to the cash register and nodded farewell to the woman as she handed him his receipt and his change.

Outside in the warm California air, Jack wandered around the small strip mall for a few hours, looking for a souvenir for his wife and daughter.

As the sun set in the west, Jack climbed into his car and began driving. In the twilight, he found an unused entry into a field a half mile from the road leading to the bridge. He parked his car and stepped out of the vehicle, checking the placement of Death Maker. Comfortable that the weapon was properly resting on his left side under his light jacket, he stepped on the road and ambled toward his night's destination.

Each time a car passed, he felt a stir of uneasiness. California has some stupid gun restrictions. They're not fond of people being able to defend themselves. I doubt the police would be too fond of Death Maker.

By the time he reached the dying bridge, the sun had fully set, but fortunately the moon had risen, providing ample light for his stroll. However, he kept the small flashlight in his jacket pocket.

Stepping over the chain barrier, he felt a sudden chill wash over him. Hmm. This could be interesting. Something's definitely here.

He strode confidently onto the bridge, stopping where he assumed the tragedy had taken place, decades earlier. He stepped to the edge of the bridge and gazed down at