It was like a scene out of a movie where the dark-colored vehicle pulls up in front of the non-descriptive home in the middle of the night, except that the presence of the rain and its cadre of dark clouds have been so constant that day has taken the appearance of the night. That’s what it felt like anyway. In reality, it was my own white colored Dodge which pulled up in front of the brightly colored two-story home just down the road from the Wal-Mart. The rain fell with such an unforgiving torrent that it soaked everything so thoroughly that the neatly manicured grass in the neighboring yards began to come apart. Now little rivers of red dirt ran down the well-paved street and pooled around a drain that was overflowing with unrecognizable debris. The matchbox houses in this place hardly seemed worth the million some odd dollars which people shelled out for it, it didn’t seem like it could hold up to a rainstorm much less a little sprinkle.
Standing in the doorway of the house was what I could only assume to be the family that called me in regards to their alleged haunted home. Something about the unusual tableau wouldn’t let me move an inch further, torrential deluge or not. There was an emptiness about these people, clearly by the looks in their eyes they were medicated in one form or another, why else would they stare right through me? By this time the rain had already soaked through my clothing and down to my socks, luckily I had only taken my cars keys with me and left my wallet and phone in the car so that neither would be damaged. Just then a woman pushed her way through the family standing at the door, she unfurled an umbrella and headed down the walkway to where I stood.
“My gosh, I’m so sorry!” She shouted. “Oh, you’re soaking wet! Please come in!”
Placing the oversized umbrella over my head she walked me toward the front door until we were both standing in the foyer.
“Go to your rooms, you guys! Lunch will be ready soon! Go! Go! Go!” She shooed the group away and once they’d all dispersed to various areas of the home, she turned to me and apologized. “I’m sorry I should have informed you right off that this is a care home. Let me get you a towel so you can dry off.” She disappeared down the hallway and returned with a large beach towel, I excused myself to a nearby bathroom and soon returned a bit drier than I was before.
“My name is Mars, short for Marcie. I’m the caregiver here, it’s just myself and everyone else. Sometimes I find myself wondering if the pay is really worth it you know? Anyway, the reason I called is that one of our residents died under mysterious circumstances. No one knows why and the authorities said it was death by misadventure. Whatever it was, her ghost has come back and it’s really freaking everyone out in the house. The residents have to be medicated twice a day now because the ghost appears so frequently.”
“Interesting,” I noted. “If there was a ghost here it would be hard to detect because the ionic atmosphere is already in full play.”
“That’s her room in the hallway, third to the left. You can go check it out, I’ll wait here, it’s kinda creepy….I mean if you don’t mind?” She was apprehensive, almost fearful that the ghost of the former resident was going to manifest and walk out of the room and down the hallway toward her.
“It’s okay, I won’t be long,” I reassured her and she seemed to believe me.
I hadn’t even had a moment to view the room fully before I heard another female voice call out from behind me. “Excuse who let you in here?”
I turned to see a short, stout Japanese woman standing where Marcie was just a moment ago. Her eyes were bulging out of her head and she was not happy.
I’m sorry,” I apologized as I walked back down the hallway toward her. “I’m Briant, Marcie the caretaker called me to bless this house. She said the ghost of a former resident was haunting the place and scaring the other residents here.”
The local Japanese woman let out a sigh, “I’m Amy I’m the caregiver here. Marie was a former resident who burned the original house down and everyone in it, including herself. She had a bad habit of pretending to be the one in charge. I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”
I found myself walking out the door without realizing that I was actually doing it. I was down the sidewalk and standing in front of my car when I looked back at the brightly colored house. It was gone, in its place was the burnt remains of what used to be the two-story home. The neighborhood itself was gone too, in its place were older homes with iron fences around most of the yards and old broken cars parked here and there. Dogs were huddling in their makeshift houses and residents sat in their aged garages looking out at the rain. Where the hell was I? Wasn’t this Kapolei? I read the cross street signs at the end of the road and I couldn’t believe it. I was on Kalapu and Hanakahi street in ‘Ewa Beach! Was the rain that bad that I got lost in Kapolei and ended up here?
Could the three-day rain have been so bad that it increased paranormal activity to the point where the activity itself began to act out independently? One can never tell what extreme weather conditions might do to precipitate such events. One more thing, "Kalapu" means 'the ghost'
"Ghosts Of The Old 'Ewa Plains"
Saturday, January 20, 2018
Meet at Kapolei Regional Park
7:00 pm to 9:30 pm
$55 per person
https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr…
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