Tag Archives: fairies

An Occurrence on Munger Road

Munger Road, somewhat famous as being haunted, is in northern Illinois, about 30 miles west of Lake Michigan. There is even a movie titled “Munger Road”, that is based very loosely on some of the scary stories about the road, that are still told around the area.

My family has its own stories about it that we actually experienced, and they occurred before anybody else thought the road was haunted. I shall proceed to recount one of them.

Back around 35 to 40 years ago, back when the area west of Chicago was mainly small towns surrounded by farmer’s fields, my brother Daryl and I (and no, I don’t have another brother Daryl, so let’s keep the Newhart show out of this) would go out to Munger Road, just to feel how creepy it was. Sometimes we would go at night, sometimes during the day. It could be pretty creepy anytime.

One day, I can’t remember if it was in the early spring or the late fall, other than that the farmer’s field on the east side of the road was brown stubble, and the grass in the forest reserve on the west side was not greening up yet, we parked on the side of the road and walked around a bit.

Daryl wandered up a low hill into the farmer’s field while I examined the water in the roadside ditch. I always look in any body of water I am near, for frogs, bugs, water snakes, or anything biologically interesting.

Daryl suddenly yelled, something like “Oh god, they’re killing them!”, or words to that effect. I stopped ditch delving and ran across the road and up the hill. He was on his knees crying, and mumbling about the burning tipis, the dead women, children, and braves he could see. He said he could smell the smoke from the campfires.

I saw nothing, I smelled nothing, but I heard sounds coming from the west side of the road. I went back over there, and clearly heard musket fire and men yelling in French, but just kind of faintly, more like the tail end of echoes.

There is no record of anything of the sort ever happening there. Munger Road is in DuPage county, which was named after the French trapper DuPage, who had his station on the DuPage river, oddly enough. French voyageurs followed the rivers all over Illinois, but Munger Road is a couple of mile from the nearest rivers, so the Frenchies were unlikely to be there.

Illinois is the Frenchified version of the name of the Illiniwek, or Illini tribal confederation. But, much of northeastern Illinois belonged to the Potawatomi tribe, who were not in the Illini confederation. The Potawatomi did not use tipis. They built dome-shaped wigwams, and rectangular lodges with bark covering called longhouses, so no tipis were there to be burnt.

No tipis, no Frenchmen, therefore no massacre, and no ghosts.

In my experience, and intellectual inclinations, there are non-physical entities, not terribly smart entities, that like to play tricks on humans. I’ve brought them up in previous quasi- theories. They are the Good Folk, the Sidh of the Kelts, the Fairies. They pick up thoughts and ideas from your head and use them to play with you.

My siblings and I were just getting into all things Native American back then. The local fairies grabbed that and ran over us with it.

First shared on the Squatcher’s Lounge Podcast:


For the reading impaired, an audio version of this quasi theory may be found here:

The Woo Hypothesis

There has been a lot of discussion, off and on, more on than off lately, about Sasquatch and portals, Sasquatch and cloaking, and Sasquatch associated with other paranormal phenomena. Many of us in the Bigfoot community are using the term “woo”, when discussing this sort thing.

Now, I am, by my nature, not argumentative. I always assume, as a working hypothesis, that people who have observed, and reported, Sasquatch engaging in paranormal activities, or woo, are not lying about their observations, until proven otherwise.

Allow me to interject here that I think that there are almost certainly several species of unidentified, upright walking apes, related to all us other apes, running about the planet.

I will now present my hypothesis concerning areas where Sasquatch have been exhibiting “woo”. The hypothesis is: these places have a bad case of the fairies.

Yes, fairies, beings like the sylphs, naiads, and dryads of Greek mythology, the lower order devas of Hinduism, or the Djinn of Arabia. Sometimes, these days, they are called nature spirits. The Celts called them the Good Folk, the Gentry, the sidhe, as in the bann sidhe and pict sidhe. Or, more specifically in this case, pookas, the shape shifting fairy of Irish legend. Pookas lead people astray, as is illustrated in the stage play Harvey.

Elwood P. Dowd, the lead character in Harvey, is led astray from his successful career in the world of banking after he encounters Harvey, a six foot three and a half inch tall upright walking rabbit. Harvey talks Elwood into leaving banking and, instead, spending his day socializing with the lower classes in a local bar. Certain recent revelations, coming from the woo side of Bigfootery, suggest that American pookas are practicing their guile on this continent right now.

Every older culture, all over the world, has stories about non-physical entities that can delude humans and, sometimes, manifest a see-able form, make audible noises, produce smell-able odors, induce emotions in the observer, and generally make things go bump in the night.

John Keel proposed that such entities are hostile to humans and come from some other dimension, with naughty intentions. I think they are perfectly natural entities that occasionally like to flabbergast us. The form they assume is taken from our minds and the current surrounding culture, as are their actions. Which is why much of what they do is inexplicable.

I, personally, have occasionally run into some of these buggers, a subject which I have elaborated upon in other quasi-theories.

Now, where do these creatures come from? I think they come from wherever sub-atomic particles pop out from and disappear back to, where photons that are quantum entangled talk to each other. They come from a higher order Riemannian phase space, of which our world is a multiply connected subset, in other words, the Astral plane.

That said, any of these beings that have time to waste dorking about with us humans are of a low order and not very bright. Some of them are quite territorial and radiate anger and hostility. I chased one around in a basement of an old house once. They back off when confronted.

They don’t do portals, as such, but they can sure make you see one, along with demons, guardian ewoks, appear as mind speaking Forest People, or what have you.

So, in conclusion, if the Bigfoot you are seeing comes from a portal, that ain’t a Bigfoot, it’s a bloody fairy!

First shared on the Squatcher’s Lounge Podcast:

For the reading impaired, an audio version of this quasi theory may be found here:





The Wild Hunt

Back in 1987, or maybe 1988, between Christmas and New Year’s day, my wife and I were driving back from her sister’s house in DeKalb, Illinois. It was around midnight and near blizzard conditions. No snow had been predicted, but hell, it’s the Midwest near Chicago, and around here we say, “If you don’t like the weather, wait a minute.”

The roads were nearly empty except for us, and a few other fools, and it was all farmland with few houses. The housing development boom hadn’t gotten west of the Fox river yet, and being Illinois, the terrain was mainly flat, so the wind could pick up some speed. We were heading east with the wind behind us, gusting from a few miles an hour to a sudden thirty or forty miles an hour and then to nothing, just as fast.

As we neared a road we had to go north on, the wind picked up and the snow went blasting heavily past the car. I asked the wife,”Anything feel weird to you?” She said it felt really eerie out, as though something was riding in the wind. That was exactly what I sensed. As I made the left turn onto the northbound road, a huge gust nearly shoved the car into the ditch. I drove a few hundred feet north and pulled off to the side, wanting to wait a bit to see if things would lighten up a bit, weirdness-wise.

The wind increased to a steady gale. We both saw what looked like human forms, forming and disappearing in the blasting snow overhead.

Sounds like hunter’s horns and dogs baying seemed to issue from the wind. Tingling sensations ran up and down our spines, probably our hairs trying to stand on end.

A few minutes passed. The whole shebang, wind, snow, and all, headed off to the east. I pulled back onto the road and drove us home.

What was all this shenanigans? I think it was the Wild Hunt.

The Wild Hunt is a European folk myth. Versions of it are found from the British Isles through the whole of Europe into the Slavic countries.

Jacob Grimm thought the myth was a remnant of pre-Christian Europe. The hunt, led by a god and a goddess, either visited “the land at some holy tide, bringing welfare and blessing, accepting gifts and offerings of the people” or they float “unseen through the air, perceptible in cloudy shapes, in the roar and howl of the winds, carrying on war, hunting or the game of ninepins, the chief employments of ancient heroes…”

The leader of the hunt varies from country to country. In Wales it is Gwynn ap Nudd, king of the Tylwyth Teg, the Fair Folk, the Fairies. In the Germanic and Nordic countries it is Odin, under his various names. The point of the hunt is usually variations on a theme. That theme is death. They have come to hunt the souls of the dead and bring them to judgement.

What were they doing there that night back in the late 80’s? Were they hunting my wife and me, or someone else? My wife and I survived, obviously, and there were no new wars, calamities, or even news of anybody dying in the storm.

I think the answer is quite simple. It was late night, the Holiday season, and these buggers were just out for a joyride.

First shared on the Squatcher’s Lounge Podcast:


We See the Wee Folk and They Ain’t that Wee

Way back in high school, some friends and I went to hang out at a coffee house that was only open on Saturday nights. They always had one local folksinger or another performing. It was in the basement of a convent.

A few hours after we got there, one of us went out for a bit of fresh air. A few minutes later, he came rushing back in, all oddly excited and perturbed. He said we had to go out in back, where the parking lot was, and look at the trees at the back edge of the property. He wouldn’t tell us what we were going to look at, he just wanted to see what we thought was going on. There was a good singer wailing away on his guitar so we said no. Our friend sat down and fidgeted until the song was done, and then compelled us to get outside.

It was dark, there was no moon up. It was summer, but no special day. We got to the back edge, where there were some trees. We all stood there quietly, looking at the trees, because our friend said that was where he saw it. It looked like a very dark grove of trees.

Gradually, though, the scene changed. Just past the trees you could see a meadow, with a pond in it. The area was lit up as though the moon was full and high. Wisps of fog drifted about. You could hear music playing, a bit like bagpipes, but much sweeter and enchanting. A drummer was playing, a medium quick beat, sounding a bit like an Irish bodhran.

A few minutes later, next to the pond, a circle of dancers appeared, not fully visible, but like a misty, foggy, circle of dancers, dancing in long diaphanous robes. The dancers and robes were indistinct, but had the glowing, blue-white color of the full moon. They appeared taller than us and slender.

We watched, gob smacked speechless, for maybe five minutes. I then started to walk down toward the dancers. Suddenly, a fear began to rise up in us. It felt like something off to the right of us, in very dense woods, just noticed us being able to see the dancers and was very pissed off about it.

We turned tail and ran to the car, jumped in, and hauled ass out of there. For several miles it felt like something very tall and dark was watching from the convent grounds, looming toward us, making unclear but very dire threats as to what would happen should we come back.

Now, we had only ever gone to the coffee shop after dark, so we never had really seen what the property behind the convent looked like. A few weeks later a couple-three of us convinced each other to go have a look at the forest and pond in broad daylight.

There was no pond. There was a narrow thicket of trees and then a farmer’s field. There was no dense forest off to the right, where the guardian of the fairy dance had stood guard.

First shared on the Squatcher’s Lounge Podcast:


The Forces of Annoyance Hypothesis

I am certain that the Universe itself is intelligent and creative, from the highest heavens to the lowest atoms beneath our feet. From the beautiful form of a galaxy to the little whorls of a mouse’s toe print, creative intelligence is displayed. In ancient metaphysics, the one initial intelligent force was said to have become two, then three, and then many, while still being one force overall, with all forces sharing in that intelligence.

All the ancient cultures gave names to these individualized forces. At the higher, more cosmic end, you’ve got your archangels, your gods of Olympus, your Hindu devas. Down lower, you get your Arabian djinn, or genies, your leprechauns, your Lorelei, and your kobold. Down at the bottom are your fairies.

When you get down to our level, the subsets of subsets of forces we encounter are less intelligent than cunning. The force I will discuss today is a small force, localized to your immediate vicinity. It is the force that ties a knot in the garden hose you just straightened out, that jams a spatula half upright when you go to open a kitchen drawer.

You can tell when this force is activating. You brush your teeth. Then, when you bend over the sink to spit out the toothpaste suds, and rise back up to see how white and shiny your teeth are, the medicine cabinet door is just a tinch wider open than you left it, so that you bang your head on the corner of it. Then, when the tears of pain subside a bit, you look at your smile, you see a little piece of spinach that was not there before you started brushing.

Then, your coat pocket will snag on the doorknob on your way out, and rip that pocket just a bit. You think, “I couldn’t do that on purpose if I tried a million times.” Yet, it happened. Next, your untied shoelace, which you know you double tied, will get caught between the door and the door sill, as you close the door, on your way out. This sequence of events is now beyond all likelihood of being random. A low level of cunning intelligence is implied, with the sense of humor of a clown with a pie in his hand.

Then, you release a stream of invective so loud and vile that your neighbors slam their windows shut. Then, when you squeeze your fist so tightly your door key draws blood from the palm of your hand, it will stop, for you have made a blood sacrifice. Bloody fairies were at work.

First shared on the Squatcher’s Lounge Podcast:


For the reading impaired, an audio version of this quasi theory may be found here: