Spirit's Triangle

    “Good evening, listeners, and welcome back to Midnight Mysteries. I’m Montevic Foste, your narrator. This is the first episode in a series where we explore the alleged ‘Spirit’s Triangle’ that stretches from Rumba Sumba to Seajewel to Paydo Moga. Along the lines of this invisible triangle are many sites of reported paranormal and supernatural activity, and we’ll be visiting several of them within a timespan of a few weeks. We’ll be doing something a little different, though, as tonight we’ve got our first proper guest on the show: renowned medium Ementa Moria.” 

    Montevic offered the microphone to Moria. She frowned momentarily, then took the mic and cleared her throat. “Ah! Yes. Call me Moria. As a medium, I can sense and commune with the spirits of those who have passed beyond...while ‘ghost hunters’ such as Norvan and Montevic here require specialized equipment to contact the dead, I do it all on my lonesome.”

    Montevic coughed. “Though not necessarily in a measurable way. Which is why we still need equipment, right, Norvan?”

    “Oh! Yeah. Sure.” Norvan hefted a backpack over his shoulder. “Got everything here: EMF, spirit box, aurameter, the lots. And, of course, our very own curio ghost detector.” He grinned at Moria. 

    She crossed her arms. “I feel I should take offense to being reduced to a piece of spirit-sensing equipment.”

    “Oh! No! Nonono.” Norvan held up his hands. “Not at all. You’re a...uh, a treasured guest. A friend. A friend?”

    “Let’s stick with guest.” 

    “Okay. Um. Anyway. Montevic, can you uhhh -” Norvan pulled a paper script out of his bag and passed it to Montevic. “Tell the listeners about the location we’ll be visiting.”

    “Mmmm. Right.” Montevic flicked on their flashlight and settled into a dark, even tone of voice. “This time on Midnight Mysteries, we’ll be investigating the infamous Limont House. Once a farmhouse on the plains south of Rumba Sumba, this ruin has become a home to death and terror. It stands before us: dark and hollow, made of old stone and rotting wood. Hey - “ Montevic broke off. “Are you sure it’s safe to go inside?” They sniffed the air. “I think this place is home to entirely new species of mold.”

    “Eh...it’s...probably fine. I checked this place out this morning and the floor didn’t collapse when I walked on it.” Norvan shrugged. “I think it’s fine.”

    “If I get mold poisoning and die, I’m going to haunt you for decades. Anyway.” Montevic cleared their throat. “This house once was home to the Limonts, a family of hard-working curios who generally kept to themselves. At the start of each week, one of the family, Edner Limont, would walk into town to buy groceries. But one week, Edner didn’t show up. After three days passed with no sign of activity on the farm, several townsfolk headed over to the house to make sure everything was all right.

    “It became rapidly apparent that this was not the case. When Garen Zella, the sheriff, approached the house, he caught the overpowering scent of rotting meat. The front door had been bashed in from outside. Upon entering and canvasing the house, Zella discovered what he believed to be the bodies of all six members of the Limont family. Identification, however, was difficult, as most of the bodies had been ripped to shreds, with blood soaking their fur. Some had been partially eaten.” Montevic paused. “Ah. Marvelously gory. Anyway. The sheriff ruled the deaths to be the result of a vicious attack by a beast that had been seen prowling the area. So, we’ve got a motive for restless spirits? Is that it?”

    “Oh - no, I forgot to write the rest down.” Norvan scratched the back of his neck. “Several people have visited the house since and reported ghostly activity - objects being thrown, ghostly screams, absolutely rancid vibes, that kind of thing.”

    Moria stared up at the house and grimaced. “How long ago was this? I’d rather not get my paws in rotting corpses.”

    “About twenty years ago, give or take. They cleaned the house out, of course, but nobody moved in. Apparently the smell would never come out, no matter how much you scrubbed. So it was left here to slowly rot away.” Norvan pulled an electric lantern out of his backpack and switched it on, then passed it to Moria. “Here you go. It’ll be fine.”

    Montevic hefted up the recorder and climbed up the stone steps to the porch, followed by the other two. “So, Moria. You’re the medium. What do you sense about this place? Is it as haunted as people claim?”

    Moria stepped into the empty doorway and closed her eyes. She inhaled. “I sense...Norvan is staring at me very intently.”

    Norvan coughed and looked away. “Sorry. Do your thing.”

    Moria took a deep breath and exhaled. “Right. There is...something here. A presence...no, no, more than one. Us, of course, and two...three...maybe four others. Norvan is staring at me again.”

    Norvan yeeped and turned very quickly. “How do you do that?”

    “I don’t know, Norvan, you do have a very loud stare,” Montevic remarked. They set the recorder on the floor and leaned casually against the porch rail. “Anyway, Moria, you’re being ever so interesting, do go on.”

    “I don’t appreciate the sarcasm.” Moria scowled, trying to regain her concentration. “This is much more difficult than it looks, especially with two idiots doing their best to distract me.”

    “I’m not -” Norvan began, then thought better of it. “Sorry. Please continue.”

    Moria sighed and wrinkled her brow. “Thank you. Now, let’s see...there are several spirits here, yes...and not the peaceful sort, we can be sure. Trapped in limbo, eternal torment...it’s -”

    CRASH! Moria was interrupted by the sound of splintering wood, a yell, and a loud thump. She and Norvan stared at the broken section of railing where Montevic had once been. Norvan walked to the edge and crouched, looking down at Montevic, who lay sprawled face-first in the grass. Their shadow pooled around them like black tar.
    “You okay?” he asked, voice full of concern.

    “I’m fine,” came Montevic’s muffled voice. They rolled over onto their back and sat up slowly, face wrinkled in a grimace. “Should have known better than to put weight on that railing. This wood really is all rotten.”

    Norvan stuck out a hand and helped Montevic climb back up onto the porch. “That’s why you’re a certified dummy. Glad you’re okay.”

    “Uh-huh. Let’s get ghost hunting.”

    “Let’s just make sure we’ve got everything,” Norvan said quickly. “I calibrated the aurameter...I’ve got the EMF meter, the spirit box, recording equipment...” He counted off a few more things on his fingers. “...and the medium, and the idiot. Yep, we’re good.”

    Montevic chuckled. “Should I take offense?” 

    “Uh - “

    Montevic waved their hand. “Nah, it’s fine. Let’s go get some mold poisoning.” 

    Norvan gave Montevic a Look but did not comment further. “Anyway...listeners, we are currently standing on the porch of the Limont house, about to enter. Moria, our medium, has just confirmed the presence of spirits - right, Moria?”

    “Of course,” Moria purred. “Several, to my knowledge, in quite a bit of distress...it’s rather upsetting, I think.”

    “It’s a good thing we’ve got the equipment to test your claims,” Montevic added. “C’mon, let’s get inside.”

    As the trio walked into the building, Montevic lead the way as Norvan continued to narrate. “We’ve just stepped through the empty doorway and are heading down the hallway. It’s quite dark and the air is full of dust. Montevic, why have you stopped?”

    Montevic shone their flashlight at the ground. “Hey, would you look at that?” Their voice seemed tinged with amusement. 

    Moria halted. “Oh, no. Is that blood?”

    Norvan crouched down and swiped his finger across the dark stain on the floor. It came away dry, albeit covered in dust. “If it is, it’s definitely not fresh. I wouldn’t worry.” 

    “I don’t care. I’m not touching the stuff.” Moria edged carefully around the large, splotchy stain.

    Montevic shrugged and strode across the floor without a care. “Sucks to be you.”

    Norvan leaned into one of the rooms and peered about. “We need to find a room to set up. Moria, can you tell us which room is the most...active?”

    “Well, I suppose that’s the reason I’m here. Can you two be quieter than last time?” Moria sent back. 

    “Yyyyes.” Norvan didn’t sound sure.

    Moria sighed. “Fine. But there had better be no more bloodstains on the floor.”

    “I’ll point ‘em out if I see any,” Montevic offered. “Do your thing.”

    At this point, everyone went silent as Moria walked from room to room. She stood in each for several seconds with her eyes closed, apparently feeling the ‘energies’ of the area, then moving on to the next room. Finally, she stopped in the center of the kitchen, next to the back door.

    “This one. This is where the terror is strongest.”

    “Oh, terror, that’s great,” Norvan spoke. His voice trembled slightly. “Yeah. Love that.” 

    Montevic gingerly set the recorder down on a countertop. The wood sank slightly beneath the device. After a few seconds of thought, they picked the recorder back up and moved it to the floor, which was made of stone brick and seemed much less likely to collapse at any moment. “Hey Norvan, why don’t you vibe check the area?”

    “Oh yeah - on it.” Norvan set his backpack on the ground and pulled the EMF meter out of it and switched it on. A single light glowed a faint red, but that was normal, considering the electrical equipment they’d brought with them. “Hmmm. Nothing on EMF so far...” He got up and walked around the room, waving the device around. “Still nothing significant. That’s unexpected.”

    “I’ll get the aurameter.” Montevic dug through Norvan’s backpack until he pulled out a boxy-looking device with a prominent power node, a large bulb, and a dial. “You said you calibrated this, right?”

    “Yep,” Norvan confirmed, walking back over. “Do we need to explain that for the listeners?”

    “I’d like to hear more about it myself,” Moria spoke up. “What exactly is an aurameter? I assume it measures auras?”

    “Right, exactly.” Norvan nodded. “It’s a pretty simple device, really. You can construct one at home out of simple electronic parts - at most all you need is a lightbulb and a power node. The brighter the bulb, the stronger the auric field in the area. But professional ones have a calibration dial that lets you adjust for the auric field of the user, as well as anyone else who’s going to be in the area. That way, you can distinguish between the unusual aura of say, a spirit, and the aura of people you expect to be there. Also, it helps keep the bulb from exploding if the local auric field is too strong.”

    “Mhm.” Montevic was repeating Norvan’s previous actions with the EMF reader, searching the room for unusual auric fields. “Norv, I’m not getting anything out of the ordinary with this one either. Are you sure this place is haunted?”

    Norvan turned to Moria. “You seemed pretty sure. Right? Right?” Desperation hinted in his voice.

    “Perhaps...perhaps the spirits do not want to be seen tonight,” Moria began, slightly uncertain. “How certain are you that your devices are infallible? Have they been confirmed by an expert such as myself?”

    “Well - they’re commonly used by experts in the field - everyone knows that -” Norvan broke off, frustrated.

    “What about the other option?” Montevic suggested. “You know, that you might just be a massive fraud, Moria. After all, you haven’t really given us proof of your abilities. You just say things and hope we believe you.”

    “Why you -”

    “We’ll cut that out,” Norvan said quickly. “They’re just being difficult. We believe you, of course, Moria. I might have just calibrated the aurameter wrong.”

    “Thank you, Norvan.” Moria settled and preened her fur. “That’s very nice of you.”

    “Oh good. Right, right. Montevic, why don’t we just try the spirit box?” Norvan continued, relieved but a little hurried.

    Montevic sighed loudly. “If you insist.” They switched off the aurameter and set it aside. Norvan pulled out the spirit box and switched it on. A staccato static filled the dark kitchen. Montevic’s shadow flickered and went still.

    Moria leaned over and inspected the spirit box. “What in the world is that? What does it do?”

    Norvan sighed. “Montevic, it’s your turn to explain.”

    “Aight. So. The spirit box is basically a...uh....a ghost radio.” Montevic paused, trying to find the words. “It switches radio channels every fraction of a second. Supposedly ghosts can manipulate it to produce words, but I personally think you just hear what you want to hear in the static. We’ve never had it produce any real coherent response.”

    “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that,” Norvan grumbled. “I still hold that the color incident was perfectly clear evidence.”

    “It sounded like ‘eh eh eh’ and you know it.”

    Norvan cleared his throat. “Green and orange. But we’re getting distracted. Let’s talk to some ghosts. Moria, you’re the medium, why don’t you go first?”

    “I feel a little bit silly about using this...device. But if you insist. How does it work?” Moria asked, brow furrowed.

    “Just talk. Then listen.”

    “Hmm.” Moria cleared her throat. “Is there anyone with us here tonight?”

    Silence from the curios. The spirit box purred and stuttered. Nothing that could be interpreted as a coherent word was heard. 

    “Please,” Norvan spoke up. “If you want to make your presence known, you can use the device on the floor here. Say something.”

    A minute passed. The box spoke something garbled and voicelike. Norvan’s eyebrows raised. “Food? Hood? I’m sorry, you’ll have to be clearer.”

    Montevic turned to Moria, their face bearing a lopsided expression of amusement. “This is what all spirit box sessions are like. He can do these for hours and get maybe a couple of sounds that could be interpreted as actual phrases.”

    Moria frowned. “I...see.”

    Norvan sighed. “Montevic, I get that this is your shtick, but I’m not really having it right now. We have - a guest.” 

    “Oh?” Montevic arched their brow. “And that means I should be more polite? Less sarcastic? Shouldn’t speak my mind?”

    “Well - just be a little less difficult.”

    Montevic snorted. “Easier said than done. But...fine.” With that, an awkward silence descended upon the room. The spirit box hissed its chattery static for several minutes before Norvan picked it up and switched it off. 

    “Maybe we’re in the wrong room,” he suggested.

    “That is a possibility,” Moria admitted. “I believe this location was the site of greatest tragedy. Perhaps the spirits avoid it.”

    “Good enough a theory as any.” Norvan grabbed his backpack and headed for the door. “Montevic, grab the meters and walk around the house, will you? Let’s see if we can find something.”

    “Sounds good to me.” Montevic picked up the aurameter and EMF meter and followed after Norvan. “Let’s science this.”

    Moria frowned, but said nothing. 

    Thirty minutes later, the team met on the front porch. Norvan’s face was turned down slightly, his shoulders slouched, and Montevic’s eyebrows were set in a perpetual frown. Moria looked bored. 

    Montevic spoke into the microphone. “Well listeners, I think it’s fair to say that the Limont House is definitely not haunted. I don’t think we’ve ever got as few readings as this before. What was that you said about multiple presences, Moria?”

    Moria’s voice was serene. “Sometimes the spirits of the dead do not wish to speak with us.”

    “Right. And this definitely isn’t because you’re bullshitting us.”

    “Mr. Foste, if you didn’t trust in my abilities, then why did you invite me along?”

    “I didn’t. Norvan did.”

    “All right, all right.” Norvan held up his hands. “That’s enough. Montevic, Moria is our guest and we’re going to be polite to her. That includes keeping an open mind towards her abilities. Moria, Montevic can be a bit of an ass sometimes. Feel free to ignore him. Producer, you might want to cut some of this out during editing. I’ll have Montevic re-record some narration later.”

    Montevic hopped down from the porch, their shadow swirling behind them. “Yeah yeah, sure. Let’s get back to camp. I don’t trust Danti not to get himself into trouble.”

    “I hate that beast,” Moria muttered darkly, carefully stepping down the stairs. 

    Norvan sighed and followed after them. This was going to be a long trip.