Ghosts Unlocked

By William Howard

“Ghosts Unlocked” is a collection of 23 spooky short stories. Some of the short stories include the following:
The Mesa Verde Ghost, The Haunted House on Hickory Hill, The Séance, The Wrong Grave, The Matterhorn Inn Haunting, The Mysterious Rocking Chair, The Warning, The Ghost Cavalry, The Ouija Board, The Flute Player, In Concert, The Ghost in the Lake, The State Hospital Tower, The Shadow Man, and The Ghost Pirates. Plus, the collection contains additional short stories.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Howard
• Release date: Feb 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370088959

William Howard

William Howard was born and raised in Colorado. He has been on faculty at Western Michigan University and Northern Michigan University. He holds a Doctorate in Special Education and worked in public education for 26 years. He travels often to Colorado, South Dakota, Wyoming, New Mexico and Arizona.

Book preview

Ghosts Unlocked

William Howard

Copyright 2017 by William Howard

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from William Howard, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

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Contents

The Mesa Verde Ghost

The Haunted House on Hickory Hill

The Séance

The Wrong Grave

The Matterhorn Inn Haunting

The Mysterious Rocking Chair

The Warning

The Ghost Cavalry

The Ouija Board

The Flute Player

In Concert

The Ghost in the Lake

The State Hospital Tower

The Shadow Man

The Ghost Pirates

The Cripple Creek Hauntings

The Ghost Train

Hateful Hannah

Lost Dutchman’s Gold Mine

The Church Bombing

The Hidden Treasure

The Headless Ghost

The Lottery Curse

The Mesa Verde Ghost

Present Day

Mesa Verde National Park

Early on a spring morning, Kachina Angel Fire sat alone sipping on Columbian coffee in the Far View Terrace Café. A bright student, the twenty-three-year-old woman, Kachina, was working on her doctoral degree in archaeology at New Mexico University. She was a full-blooded Pueblo Native American with a long, braided, black ponytail that formed on the back of her head. Her eyes were dark but shone even in the early morning. Her parents, who lived in Taos, New Mexico, were proud of her academic achievements. Working on her dissertation about Mesa Verde, Kachina stayed at the Far View Lodge in the park.

An older waitress named Judy, dressed in a white uniform, approached Kachina’s table with a fresh pot of coffee. She asked, Kachina, do you want another cup of Columbian brew?

Yes, replied Kachina, lifting up her cup toward Judy.

Being a friendly person, Kachina had talked with the waitress before this morning in the café.

Do you believe in ghosts? Judy asked the young woman.

I believe in the Great Spirit but I don’t know about ghosts, answered Kachina. Why do you ask?

People believe Far View Lodge and the park are haunted by Ancestral Pueblo ghosts.

Why? Kachina wanted to know.

The lights and televisions in the lodge go on and off by themselves. We have been getting odd telephone calls at night. The stairs in the lodge sound like someone is walking up and down them all the time. A piano in the lobby starts to play itself. Doors open and close on their own. You can hear voices but when you look for them no one is around. At night, you can hear someone rearranging the café’s chairs. Invisible bells are heard ringing in the middle of the night. There are drumbeats and chanting echoing across the park at night. It’s scary to think about it, said Judy, looking concerned.

Has anyone actually seen a ghost? asked Kachina.

Not yet, answered Judy, truthfully.

Well I’m sure there is a scientific explanation for all those events, assured Kachina, who didn’t believe in ghosts.

You should be careful around the park. Do you know about the archaeologist named Samuel Connors who disappeared in the park ten years ago? Judy wanted to know.

Yes, I have heard about the legend of Samuel Connors, but that doesn’t mean there are ghosts in here at Mesa Verde, Kachina told the waitress, trying to calm her down.

Just then, an elderly gentleman came into the café and approached Kachina’s table. He said good morning to both of them.

Judy, this is Professor Norman Rainsville, my doctoral adviser from the University of New Mexico. During this trip to the park he’s helping me with my dissertation, explained Kachina.

Happy to meet you, Judy, the professor said, still standing by the table where Kachina sat drinking the last of her coffee.

Professor, we were just talking about how the lodge and the park are haunted by ghosts. Do you believe in the supernatural? asked Judy.

No, said Norman.

Judy pressed on asking the professor, How do you explain the disappearance of the archaeologist named Norman Connors?

Connors probably got lost in the desert, offered Professor Rainsville, as an explanation about the missing man. The turkey vultures and other animals must have picked his bones clean. That’s why he has never been found.

I don’t know about that, said Judy, still believing Connors’ demise was caused by supernatural forces.

Kachina, we better get going to the Cliff Palace dig before it gets hot outside, the professor told her.

Kachina drank the last of her coffee and said, Okay. Goodbye Judy.

It was nice to have met you, Professor Rainsville, Judy said politely.

Yes, indeed, agreed the professor.

Kachina and Professor Rainsville walked out of the café and got into a Range Rover. Once inside, Rainsville put his hand on Kachina’s knee.

Not again, thought Kachina. It wasn’t the first time the professor had touched her inappropriately. She moved his hand off her knee.

Just trying to be friendly, Professor Rainsville offered, as an explanation for his hand on her knee.

Kachina didn’t respond.

You know your dissertation could go extremely smoothly if you cooperate, Kachina, the professor said.

That’s coercion. Your comment is sexual harassment and if you keep it up I’ll file a complaint with university authorities, cautioned Kachina, standing her ground.

Okay, responded the professor. Kachina, I won’t approach you again.

Good, she told him, hoping what he said was true.

The morning sun rose in the eastern horizon. Mesa Verde is in the Four Corners area. This is where the four states of Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, and Utah meet at one location.

Professor Rainsville and Kachina went down the narrow but paved park road past Chapin Mesa, a broad hill with a flat top and steep sides. In a large recession formed under the cliff wall, known as an alcove, the Ancestral Pueblos had built their homes.

Professor Rainsville parked his Land Rover with several other cars in the lot. An archeological team of graduate students stood waiting for the professor and Kachina to arrive with plans for the dig that day. They greeted the two senior archaeologists with several Good mornings.

Among the graduate students was Brett Fisher, who had not seen Kachina since winter semester. He said Hi, and left it at that. He stood six feet two inches, was clean-shaven, had wavy brown hair, and a suntan from working outside on archeological digs. Kachina found Brett to be attractive, but didn’t let on to the fact, keeping him in the dark about her feeling that she liked him.

Kachina looked up at the top of Cliff Palace’s tower, some multi-stories high. There were 150 rooms inside, making it the largest and most spectacular park cliff dwelling in the park. Over the years, archaeologists had found 600 cliff dwellings in Mesa Verde. Cliff Palace had been built in the Classic Era. Each dwelling was made of sandstone pieces held together with a mud mixture of soil, water, and ash. At Mesa Verde, archaeologists had found baskets, pottery, tools,