On September 24, 2013 I returned from a two week vacation during which I flew to Texas and ended up taking a 3600 mile road trip across six states, along the way visiting four national parks and catching up with a friend I hadn't seen since the first time we met five years ago, when I threatened his life over a card game in Morocco.
Along the way, my friend and I decided to look into local ghost stories and ended up with one of our own. This is part 1 of that story.
If you've already read part 1, click here to be taken to part 2
If you've already read part 1, click here to be taken to part 2
Those of you who read this site
regularly will recall that I don’t find the desert to be a particularly
exciting place. Apart from the odd
dramatic vista and infrequent lightning storms, the many hours I've spent
driving across the desert have mainly consisted of scanning radio frequencies looking
for something – anything – to distract myself from the agonizing pace at which
the miles on my GPS screen tick down.
Yet, like so many things I claim to dislike – CostCo, social gatherings,
Las Vegas – I find myself drawn back to the desert again and again.
The reading I’ve done in “paranormal”
literature since beginning to write my book of ghost stories, and - oddly
enough - the blog for dating site OK Cupid would like me to believe I’m wrong,
that there is a great deal more happening in the desert than I thought but it
took my road trip to the Grand Canyon last September to convince me.
