Henry Hudson and the Catskill Gnomes

 

Henry Hudson and the Catskill Gnomes A New York Ghost Story  retold by S. E. Schlosser On September 3rd of 1609, Henry Hudson sailed the Half Moon into the mouth of the great New York river that later bore his name. The explorer and his crew journeyed north for several days, trading with the native residents and searching for the fabled northwest passage to the Orient. By the time he reached the area that would become present-day Albany, Hudson knew that he had not found the passage for which he sought. Reluctantly, he turned the Half Moon and sailed back down the river.  That night, Henry Hudson and his crew anchored the Half Moon in the shadow of the Catskill Mountains. Around midnight, Hudson heard the sound of music floating across the mountains and down to the river. Taking a few members of his crew, he went ashore and followed the sound up and up into the Catskills. The sound of the music grew louder as Hudson and his men marched up to the edge of a precipice. To their astonishment, a group of pygmies with long, bushy beards and eyes like pigs were dancing and singing and capering about in the firelight.  Hudson realized that these creatures were the metal-working gnomes of whom the natives had spoken. One of the bushy-bearded chaps spotted the explorer and his men and welcomed them with a cheer. The short men surrounded the crew and drew them into the firelight and the dance. Hudson and his men were delighted with these strange, small creatures, and with the hard liquor that the gnomes had brewed. Long into the night, the men drank and played nine-pins with the gnomes while Henry Hudson sipped at a single glass of spirits and spoke with the chief of the gnomes about many deep and mysterious things.  Realizing at last how late it was, Hudson looked around for his men. At first, he couldn't locate them. All he saw were large groups of gnomes, laughing and joking as they sprawled around the fire. Then, to his astonishment, he recognized several of the gnomes as his crewmen! They had undergone a transformation. Their heads had swollen to twice their normal size, their eyes were small and pig-like, and their bodies had shortened until they were only a little taller than the gnomes themselves.  Hudson was alarmed, and asked the chief of the gnomes for an explanation. It was, the chief explained to Hudson, the effect of the magical hard liquor the gnomes brewed. It would wear off when the liquor did. Hudson wasn't sure that he believed the little man. Afraid of what else might happen to him and his crewman if they continued to linger in such company, Hudson hurriedly took his leave of the gnomes and hustled his severely drunken crewmen back to the Half Moon. The entire crew slept late into the morning, as if they were under the influence of a sleeping draught. When they awakened, the crewmen who had accompanied Hudson up into the Catskill Mountains, aside from ferocious headaches, were back to normal  Hudson continued on his way down the great river, and by October 4th, the Half Moon had reached the mouth and Hudson and his crew sailed for home. In 1610, Hudson set off on another journey, searching for a northwestern passage to the Orient. Trapped in the ice through a long winter, Hudson's crew eventually mutinied and set Henry Hudson and eight of his crewmen adrift in the Hudson Bay. They were never seen again.  In September 1629, twenty years to the day that Hudson and his crew met the Catskill gnomes, a bright fire appeared on the precipice above the hollow, and dance music could be heard floating through the mountains. The Catskill gnomes spent the evening dancing, and carousing and drinking their magic liquor. At midnight, they were joined by the spirits of Henry Hudson and crew. Merry was their meeting, and the gnomes and the spirits played nine-pins all night long. Each time they rolled the ball, a peal of thunder would shake the mountains, and the fire would flare up in bolts like lightening. The party lasted until daybreak, at which hour the spirits departed from the hills, with promises to return.  Every twenty years, the spirits of Henry Hudson and his crew returned to the Catskill Mountains to play nine-pins with the gnomes, and to look out over the country they had first explored together on the Half Moon. Now and then, one of the Dutch settlers living in the region came across the spirits as they played nine-pins. They claimed that any man foolish enough to drink of the spirits' magic liquor would sleep from the moment the spirits departed the mountain to the day they returned, twenty years later. Most folks discounted the story, although several members of Rip Van Winkle's family swore it was true. True or false, wise folks who walk among the Catskills in September do not accept a drink of liquor when it is offered to them. Just in case.    The Headless Horseman rides for the first time; a wizard enslaves a brave young girl; a vampire stalks a new mother; and the White Lady seeks vengence for her murdered daughter in Spooky New York. Read 30 spooky tales of New York ghosts, monsters, pirates, and witches in this folklore collection by S.E. Schlosser.

Quiet Shadow

 

Quiet Shadow

Quiet.  It shouldn’t be so quiet, but it is. How can a city be so quiet?  Deep in the recesses of the building a door shut.  Subtle, but there.  Finally.  A few minutes later a man exited, turned right, and began walking north on 5th Ave.  Bet he’s heading to the Library.  The man moves quickly, not many people out on a night like this one.  The Polar Vortex had brought the city to a stop.  A few were venturing out into the sub-zero temperature, but most were inside.  Taking shelter from the wind and cold.  The man stops and fiddles with his coat.  Nice, he gets a nice warm Calvin Klein Plaza Overcoat and I get a TALOS, thinks his shadow.  He moves forward again, slipping slightly on the ice, but staying on his feet.  His hands are buried deep in the coat’s pockets and a scarf covers his mouth.  A black fedora tops his head.  The shadow moves quietly and swiftly, flitting along the street like a wraith, constantly behind the man, watching his every move.  He hits another patch of ice and slips barely catching his balance this time.  Careful, it’s too soon to be out of the game.  He stops again and checks the ground in front of him a little closer.  Now what is he looking at?  He moves along, but at a slower pace.  The shadow follows after a moment, then kneels at where he had slipped.  “I don’t see anything, a patch of ice...Ahh, well you are the smart one” .  The shadow moves, this time not directly behind the man, but above.  Love this equipment. 

The man moves along 5th Avenue walking past the library.  He turns left at 42nd and walks to Broadway.  Where is he going?  The shadow moves ahead of him and settles in the darkness provided by the Newsweek building at 42nd and Broadway.  The man turns right onto Broadway heading north again.  He glances at the windows of a building and stops in his tracks.  He turns around and seems to be searching for someone or something.  He moves his right hand deeper into the pocket of the coat as if gripping something, looks around again, then turning back to the north he begins moving faster along the sidewalk.  He turns east on 43rd Street, crossing it and entering the Casablanca Hotel.  He nods to the attendant on duty, crossing the floor to the elevator.  Upon exiting the elevator, he walks down the hallway, stopping at a door, entering it, and closing the door behind him.  He locks the door and removes the overcoat.  In the right pocket he removes a Walther P99.  In the left pocket, he removes a small package.  The reason why he had been in that building.  He smiles and walks to the bed, flipping on the lights and the tv.  He glances out the window and seeing nothing unusual on the street below, he turns his around, smiles again, and falls on the bed

The shadow watches this with interest across the street, hidden within the frame of the building.  The man doesn’t move.  The shadow touches the side of the cowl and the vision is magnified.  Hmm.  What in the world happened?  Then a figure is seen slipping down from the room above.  Fascinating.  The new person descends quietly into the room and checks the man.  Moving swiftly, the person goes through the man’s clothing, and the furniture.  The individual picks up the package, pockets it, and slips back up to the room above.  All this took less than 3 minutes and the shadow took it all in.  Okay, now who are you?  Moving quietly across the street on a zipline, the shadow watches this new person closely outside the window.  The thief(murderer?)  grabs some items, packs them in a small backpack, wipes the room, and walks out of the door.  The shadow waits to see which way the person will go once leaving the hotel.  After an hour has gone by, a woman leaves carrying the same backpack.  She is wearing a heavy coat with a bright yellow scarf around her face.  The shadow taps the balaclava:  We have a problem.  

A voice answers back.  “Yes, we’re seeing everything.  Follow her.  We’re sending people to check on Overcoat”.  

Understood.  The shadow moves quietly above the woman.  Suddenly, the woman stops and enters a vehicle which pulled up next to her.  It leaves silently going in the opposite direction.  Damn!  The shadow drops to the ground and runs after it flitting through the street almost invisible to others.  The car moves slowly through the snowy and icy streets until it rolls to a stop at St. Patrick’s Cathedral.  The woman steps out and walks toward the Cathedral.  The shadow moves stealthily toward the car and slips a small tracking device on it;  then crept around to a spot hidden in the penumbra of the famous landmark.  A disembodied voice says:  “Knightwraith, Overcoat is alive and conscious.  He’s complaining of a massive headache.  Be careful.”

Will do.  Knightwraith answers back.  I’ve attached a tracker to the car.  We are at St. Patrick’s Cathedral.  

“Good.  We’re picking up the signal.  Anything else?”  

No.  She appears to be waiting for someone.  

“Keep the monitor on.  No more surprises are needed tonight”.  

Understood.

The woman moves toward the door of the Cathedral, then stops again.  She lifts a hand and gestures.  Another figure walks toward her.  Knightwraith watches closely as the two talk.  Then the woman shakes her head and turns to leave.  The second person grabs ahold of her and suddenly, the woman seems to fighting back.  She pushes away from the other and runs toward the car slipping and sliding over the ice.  The other lifts an arm and suddenly, she crashes to the ground.  Her partner in the car starts to come to her, but falls as well.  

What the hell is going on?  

The two on the ground react with spasms then lay silent.  The new person, a man of slight height, shakes his head, goes to the woman, grabs the package, and walks away.  Humming a tune as he goes.  

Did you see that?  Knightwraith asks.  

“Yes”.  Wait.  Do not follow.  Zobel Wulfe will take over.”  

Understood.  Is Zobel nearby”

“Right across from you and moving after this new person.  Go check on the woman and her friend. If they are alive, we will bring them in for interrogation”.  

Alright.  Knightwraith walked over to where the two bodies lay in the snow.  Already a slight covering of snowflakes was gathering on them.  Knightwraith knelt down and touched the pulse of the woman.  Faint, but still alive.  Then turned and checked the other.  This one too.  Need immediate extraction.  

“It will be there in less than one minute”.  Time to come in Knightwraith.  It’s getting to complicated out there.”

Yeah, and cold.  We need to figure a way to have a heat and cooling system in this.  

A van pulled up in front of the Cathedral.  “What’s the matter, Knightwrith, can’t handle the cold?”  asked a man with a hooded down winter coat on.  

It’s a little chilly for this outfit.  Knightwraith answered back.  Now if I had on a coat like yours, Drake, I’d be comfy cozy!

Drake laughed and teased:  “I don’t know, you look pretty hot in that outfit”!  

Very funny!  Now don’t you start being a sexist idiot!  

Drake chuckled at that remark.  “Don’t worry about that.  It will never happen.  Too many idiots running around being jerks.  Me, I prefer to be reinforcing good taste and the ability to know the difference between being a jerk and cultural.”

Knightwraith tilted her head, stared at him, and then proclaimed, Nice bit of double talk there.  I’m surprised you aren’t running for office!

“I just might do that! Maybe a small beginning, like oh, a School Board position.” Drake looked thoughtful for a minute.  “Hmm, it might be a good idea!”

Knightwraith shook her head and pulled the coat on he handed her.  I take it that Dark Wolf is hunting.  

“Oh yeah, You should have seen how he jumped out of the glider when it zipped past.  He hit the ground running and kept on going with the two other wolves at his heels.”  Drake answered her.  “Talk about the dangers of a wolf pack, those three looked ready to strike at the prey rather quickly”.  

Knightwraith nodded.  If I hadn’t seen what that guy did to these two, I would pity him.  But, I hope Dark Wolf catches him fast.  Way to weird of a guy to be wandering around the streets of the “Apple”.  

Drake turned toward her and agreed.  As the four other personnel loaded the two bodies in the van, Knightwraith, read through the information she was receiving on her focal hud.  In short order, the van pulled away disappearing into the whiteout of a winter’s blizzard and leaving no marks of ever having been near the Cathedral.  

Knightwraith watched the area from her perch on the Cathedral, making sure no one noticed the incident. She smiles listening as Zobel Wulfe sends their location to headquarters.  “The wolves might need a little assistance from a wraith”.  Leaping from her perch, the suit switches to a wingsuit which streaks across the Apple’s skyline toward the wolves and the mysterious individual with the package.

 

Canto 16: The Black Monk by Lord Byron

 As Juan mused on mutability,

Or on his mistress—terms synonymous— No sound except the echo of his sigh Or step ran sadly through that antique house; When suddenly he heard, or thought so, nigh, A supernatural agent—or a mouse, Whose little nibbling rustle will embarrass Most people as it plays along the arras. It was no mouse, but lo! a monk, array'd In cowl and beads and dusky garb, appear'd, Now in the moonlight, and now lapsed in shade, With steps that trod as heavy, yet unheard; His garments only a slight murmur made; He moved as shadowy as the sisters weird, But slowly; and as he pass'd Juan by, Glanced, without pausing, on him a bright eye. Juan was petrified; he had heard a hint Of such a spirit in these halls of old, But thought, like most men, there was nothing in 't Beyond the rumour which such spots unfold, Coin'd from surviving superstition's mint, Which passes ghosts in currency like gold, But rarely seen, like gold compared with paper. And did he see this? or was it a vapour? Once, twice, thrice pass'd, repass'd—the thing of air, Or earth beneath, or heaven, or t' other place; And Juan gazed upon it with a stare, Yet could not speak or move; but, on its base As stands a statue, stood: he felt his hair Twine like a knot of snakes around his face; He tax'd his tongue for words, which were not granted, To ask the reverend person what he wanted. The third time, after a still longer pause, The shadow pass'd away—but where? the hall Was long, and thus far there was no great cause To think his vanishing unnatural: Doors there were many, through which, by the laws Of physics, bodies whether short or tall Might come or go; but Juan could not state Through which the spectre seem'd to evaporate….

…Beware! beware! of the Black Friar, Who sitteth by Norman stone, For he mutters his prayer in the midnight air, And his mass of the days that are gone. When the Lord of the Hill, Amundeville, Made Norman Church his prey, And expell'd the friars, one friar still Would not be driven away. Though he came in his might, with King Henry's right, To turn church lands to lay, With sword in hand, and torch to light Their walls, if they said nay; A monk remain'd, unchased, unchain'd, And he did not seem form'd of clay, For he 's seen in the porch, and he 's seen in the church, Though he is not seen by day. And whether for good, or whether for ill, It is not mine to say; But still with the house of Amundeville He abideth night and day. By the marriage-bed of their lords, 't is said, He flits on the bridal eve; And 't is held as faith, to their bed of death He comes—but not to grieve. When an heir is born, he 's heard to mourn, And when aught is to befall That ancient line, in the ‘we moonshine He walks from hall to hall. His form you may trace, but not his face, 'T is shadow'd by his cowl; But his eyes may be seen from the folds between, And they seem of a parted soul. But beware! beware! of the Black Friar, He still retains his sway, For he is yet the church's heir Whoever may be the lay. Amundeville is lord by day, But the monk is lord by night; Nor wine nor wassail could raise a vassal To question that friar's right. Say nought to him as he walks the hall, And he 'll say nought to you; He sweeps along in his dusky pall, As o'er the grass the dew. Then grammercy! for the Black Friar; Heaven sain him, fair or foul! And whatsoe'er may be his prayer, Let ours be for his soul.

Lord Byron. Various lines from Canto 16