Book Excerpt-Viral Outrage

As harsh as truth sounds to the civilized human ears, it is a fact that nature is centered around survival.
Evolution and food chain being the first examples, it is ingrained in the living system to create space and resources for survival and the only achieve the same as by compromising lives.

Viral Outrage

This story was begun in late 2017 as a sequel to my first novel; “A Wake of Vultures”. I hit a wall in early 2020 when real life overtook my story.

Here are the first couple of chapters of the book…

Whence Came You?

​As harsh as truth sounds to the civilized human ears, it is a fact that nature is centered around survival.
Evolution and food chain being the first examples, it is ingrained in the living system to create space and resources for survival and the only achieve the same as by compromising lives.

Accounts of historical epics picked wars and the massive destruction of lives, be it in the battles of Odyssey and Iliad; the world wars or even the modern-day military sieges of countries and resources, wars have always proven to be a method of purging the earth of massive population as each war erases tons of lives.
As crude as it sounds, every war, stemming from either religious/political conflicts or personal/racial odds, if we open up our minds to the ultimate results and overlook the grotesque details of lives lost, we see the much-needed balance reinforced by nature in the process.

As good and bad takes precedence in the civilized human mind, we often tend to forget our core existence on the planet as basic animal life. It is not a surprise that we are forever attempting to climb up the ladder of existence, erasing weaker forms of life as we go by. It’s no different in practice than a male tiger killing cubs when the forest area is low on prey animals for the predators.

Bioterrorism dates back to 1340 or so, when diseased horse corpses were catapulted over castle walls in France. Human bodies infected with plague were also used as ammunition in central Europe during the 14th and 15th century.
In 1763, a British army general ordered the blankets used on smallpox patients to be sent to American Indian tribes. British Revolutionary war troops would also infect themselves with traces of smallpox, rendering themselves immune, in hopes of passing the disease along to the enemy. During World War I, Germans infected livestock headed for the Allies with anthrax. Even though the attack proved unsuccessful, it led to the creation of the Geneva protocol in 1925. This prohibited the use of biological and chemical agents during wartime, while allowing research and development of these agents to continue.

During World War II British and German armies had small biological warfare programs, but the Japanese had a full and robust program in the years that preceded World War II. Hundreds of thousands of Chinese civilians were killed by biological means at the hands of the Japanese army. One of these attacks included dropping paper bags containing plague infested fleas from low flying airplanes.

Smallpox has been used for millennia to wipe out whole continents. People don’t know the history of smallpox anymore, but it is THE most lethal of all bioterror’s used throughout history. It is effective in decimating and exterminating entire countries and peoples, and entire continents.
But you might ask, hasn’t smallpox been eradicated?

Routine vaccination of the American public against smallpox stopped in 1972 after the disease was declared eradicated in the United States. There is no herd immunity anymore.
“Variola Major” unleashed in the general community would lead to a great culling of the population for which only massive quarantines, around the clock curfews and massive inoculation around disease clusters could stop the spread. Just a reminder the spores are spread airborne from coughing.
Smallpox is the deadliest disease in history, that’s not hyperbole but FACT.

And remember the Dryvax smallpox vaccine in US Center for Disease Control stockpiles has been destroyed. Taking its place is ACAM 2000-an untested synthesized version of one of the cell lines used in the original Dryvax vaccine.
This might sound like a bad apocalyptic “made-for-TV” movie… A plot to destroy our country, and it seems that the deep state politicians are all in on that plot.

The following story is fiction, but fiction based on fact. Our government, or any other number of sovereign state players could unleash anything they wanted on the earth’s population. Our political leaders, institutions of higher learning and multinational corporations have created an environment that is totally conducive to such an action… Heads-up folks, it’s coming. The question is not if, but when…

Chapter 1

​The officially unexplained death of octogenarian Gwennie Warren leads attorney Keren Odensdotter to once again partner with the quirky Noble Petris. Their investigation uncovers a part of the Deep State plan to cull the myriads of useless eaters consuming scarce natural resources and create a smaller-much smaller-and better world, or at least their idea of what constitutes a better world.

“Man is of no importance. Look at what happens when you starve him. He begins to eat his dead companions to stay alive. Man is only interested in his own survival. That is all that counts. –Felix Dzerzinski
“Whereas, the United Nations agenda 21 is a comprehensive plan of extreme environmentalism, social engineering, and global political control… And,
Whereas, the United Nations agenda 21 is being covertly pushed into local communities throughout the United States of America through the international Council of local environmental initiatives (ICL EI) through local “sustainable development” policies such as smart growth, wildlands project, resilient cities, regional visioning projects, and other “green” or “alternative” projects; and, whereas, this United Nations agenda 21 plan of radical so-called “sustainable development” use the American way of life of private property ownership, single-family homes, private car ownership and individual travel choices, and privately owned farms; all is destructive to the environment…”
The agenda, which grew out of the 1992 Earth Summit in Rio, is a call for international cooperation to address “poverty”, “hunger”, and a host of other “issues” tied to the unraveling of natural ecosystems. It calls for “the broadest public participation in the active involvement of the nongovernmental organizations.”

Something was wrong, very wrong. In all her 80 plus years Gwennie had not experienced much sickness, apart from an occasional head cold every few years.

This was different. It was more than the average aches and pains experienced by most older people. She had a dull headache, itchy burning eyes, some dizziness, and a general feeling of what she expected was the flu.
Gwennie was quite aggravated with her body for letting her down this way. She wanted to get her current project completed before she left on her next “auntie-Mame” type excursion.

Since Jack’s death a few years ago, she made it a point to keep herself busy by visiting all the exotic places the world had to offer. She was looking forward to the excursion to the Aztec ruins in the Yucatán and hope to return with another addition to what she referred to as her “in-house cultural museum”. Perhaps one of those dumpy little female fertility idols with round belly and droopy breasts. With her off-center sense of humor Gwennie pictured her sister Dee–Dee and her last pregnancy and giggled at the resemblance.

She had decided that it was finally time to get involved in plowing through all the junk that Jack had accumulated in his office before his death. Most of it made little or no sense to her.
Jack had been one of the leading microbiologists at Micro–Tech, a company on the leading edge of vaccine research in just a few months before his death he had inexplicably resigned from his position. The resultant jumble of files and boxes paperwork, slides and strange specimens had been crammed into file cabinets and cluttered the floor of Jack’s office.

After Jack’s sudden and inexplicable death four years ago, she had neither the heart nor the motivation to plow through the mess. But now, realizing that she was getting older, and not wanting to leave it for her children to clean up she decided to go through, organize, and throw out all the strange artifacts Jack had left behind.

She never understood Jack’s work, he was the analytical engineering kind not much into people except Gwennie of course and most of the time their kids. It was a blended family of yours, and mine, but not ours.
They had met at the club, introduced by helpful friends after both had suffered painful divorces. After a surprisingly short courtship they decided to marry but considering that they were both in their 40s they had made the decision not to have any more children.

Gwennie was hell-bent to get through this mess before her scheduled departure for the Yucatán trip next week. She was plowing through more and more piles of paper trying to make heads or tails of the gibberish and gobbledygook written there trying to make sure she didn’t throw away anything important.

The cell phone ringing in her pocket caused her to sigh in exasperation. “Hello, this is Gwennie” she answered the phone.

“Hey girlfriend, it’s Gracie Nuveen, what are you up to today?”

“Trying to get through Jack’s rats’ nest of paperwork before I leave on my trip next week. I hadn’t realized that he was such a pack rat. I hope I can get through all it.”

“Well, I was hoping you could join me for lunch at the Crutch and Cane this afternoon. Chef Bill has made his famous Wild mushroom and Sherry soup and I was looking forward to sharing a little gossip.”

“I’ll meet you Gracie but I don’t have much of an appetite. I seem to be coming down with some damn bug and I can’t taste much of anything, but I will meet you there in about ten minutes.

The lunch was never to happen. That last thing Gwennie remembered before she awoke in the hospital bed was feeling faint as she walked toward the restaurant door and seeing the cement sidewalk rushing up toward her as she fell.

Chapter 2
Karen Odensdotter was frightened, more frightened than she had been during the gun battle in Las Vegas. It didn’t seem possible that aunt Gwennie was dead. She seemed so normal, so full of life just last week when Karen had visited her in the hospital.

She had assured Karen that her hospitalization for the upper respiratory infection was just an overreaction by her doctor based on her age. “It’s just that damn bug that’s had everybody hacking and coughing for the past few months. They’ll shoot me full of antibiotics and in a few days, I’ll be up and around good as new.” 48 hours later Gwennie was gone and with her the last link to Karen’s family.

Karen’s conversation with Dr. Tom Zatorski after the autopsy was performed offered little comfort and, if anything, raised Karen’s stress level to the stratosphere.

“I’m sorry Karen,” Tom said “but Gwennie’s body will have to be cremated and the cremains handled like the biohazard they are.”

“Biohazard? What the hell do you mean biohazard?”

“Karen, what you don’t understand is that Gwennie didn’t die from garden-variety flu bug. She died of a pathogen that resists almost all the drugs we have developed to treat or kill it. It is moving rapidly across the world and frankly we’re stymied on how to stop it. This pathogen isn’t a bacteria. It’s a yeast/virus mash-up, a new variety of an organism so common that it’s used as one of the basic tools of lab science, transformed into an infection so disturbing that one of my colleagues called it more infectious than Ebola.”

“A yeast infection? My God Doc, Gwennie died of a yeast infection? Are you trying to tell me that my aunt died from a bug that my girlfriends use Monistat to fight off from time to time?”

“It’s a little more serious than that Karen, the name of the yeast is Candida auris. It’s been on the radar of epidemiologists only since 2009, but it’s grown into what is a potential pandemic threat. We don’t know yet where it came from or how to control its spread. We’re being forced back into old hygiene practices-putting patients in isolation, swabbing rooms with bleach-trying to control it. So far we haven’t done a very good job.”

“Doctor Zatorski I just don’t understand why the hospitals can’t seem to control or kill this yeast.”, Keren said.
“The center of the problem Keren is that this yeast isn’t behaving like a yeast. Normally, yeast hangs out in warm, damp spaces in the body, and surges out of that space only when its local ecosystem veers out of balance. That’s what happens in vaginal yeast infections, for instance, and in infections that bloom in the mouth and throat or bloodstream when the immune system breaks down.”

But in that standard scenario the yeast that has gone rogue only infects the person it was residing in. C. Auris breaks that pattern. It has developed the ability to survive on cool external skin and cold inorganic services. That allows it to linger on the hands of hospital staff and on doorknobs, on counters and the computer keys in a hospital room. With that ability, it can travel from its original host to new victims, passing from person-to-person and outbreaks can last for weeks or months.”

Keren looked puzzled. “I still don’t understand Doc. This isn’t the 1800’s. Doesn’t medical science have the know-how to deal with fungal infections… even a yeasty Frankenstein like this one?”

“Yeast is a fungus Keren, but C. Auris is behaving like a bacterium…-in fact, like a bacterial superbug. It’s a cross-species shift as inexplicable as if a grass munching cow hopped the fence and began blood-thirstily chomping on the sheep in the pasture next door.”

“The accepted narrative of new diseases is that they always take us by surprise: science recognizes it after it has begun to move, with the second patient or the 10th or the one hundredth and works its way back to find patient zero.”
“But C. Auris was flagged as troublesome from its first discovery, though its identifiers didn’t understand at the time what it might be able to do. The story began in 2009, when a 70-year-old woman already in a hospital in Tokyo developed a stubborn, oozing ear infection. The infection didn’t respond when doctors administered antibiotics, which made them think the problem might be a fungus instead. A swab of her ear yielded a yeast that appeared to be a new species.”

“Japanese microbiologists named it for the Latin word for “ear”. That story also would’ve ended in 2009 – new species, new nomenclature, another entry in a textbook – except for one unnerving fact.”

Fungal infections have never been a high priority in medical research, and as a result, there are very few drugs approved for treating them – only three classes of several drugs each, compared to a dozen classes and hundreds of antibiotics for bacteria. This yeast was already showing some resistance to the first-choice antifungal’s that would’ve been used against it, a family of compounds called azoles that can be given by mouth.”

“The back-up choice, a drug called amphotericin, is IV-only, and it’s so toxic that it’s severe fever-and-chills reactions have been dubbed “shake and bake”. Doctors try to avoid it whenever possible.”

“That left only one set of drugs available, a new IV-only class called echinocandins. C. Auris entered medical awareness accompanied by the knowledge that, if it blew up into a problem, it would be difficult to treat. Still, at that point it had only caused an ear infection. That might’ve been a random occurrence; there was no reason to assume worse to come.”

“Except, at about the same time, physicians in South Korea were called on to treat two hospital patients, a one-year-old boy with a blood cell disorder and a 74-year-old man with throat cancer. They both had developed sepsis… bloodstream infections caused by the newly discovered yeast. And in both their cases, the organism was resistant to azoles, amphotericin and frighteningly to the last-ditch echinocandins.”

Keren’s eyes widened; “What happened?”

“Both died.”

“The same new bug, occurring in unrelated patients, in different body systems, simultaneously in two countries, made epidemiologists wonder whether there might be more to come. There were. In just a few years, C. Auris infections were recognized in India, South Africa, Kenya, Brazil, Israel, Kuwait and Spain. As with the Korean and Japanese cases, there was no connection between the different countries’ patients. In fact, the strains were genetically different on different continents – suggesting that C. Auris had not begun in one place and then spread by transmission, but had arisen simultaneously everywhere, for reasons no one could discern.

But the slightly different strains had the same impact on patients: they were deadly. Depending on the country and the location of the illness in their bodies, up to 60% of infected patients died.”

“So is aunt Gwennie the first casualty of this bug in the US?”

“No Keren, there have been several hundred cases recorded in the United States, and 11 states – and the behavior of the bug in this country is teaching microbiologists more about how the new yeast behaves.”

“It seems that not every continent develops its own strain. Instead, the US is playing host to several micro-epidemics, each of which was sparked by one or several travelers from somewhere else cases found in New York, New Jersey, Oklahoma, Connecticut and Maryland bear the genetic pattern of South Asia. Illinois, Massachusetts and Florida cases show South America’s genetic pattern. And randomly, the few cases recorded in Indiana seem to be linked to a South African strain. Wherever they came from, the subtle variance of C. Auris share important characteristics: they are highly drug resistant.”

“Then why haven’t I heard about this on the news? Not telling the public about this is downright criminal.”; Keren fumed.

“The Center for disease control disclosed that analysis of isolates from the US in the 26 other countries where C. Auris has surfaced show that more than 90% were resistant to azoles; 30% were resistant to the class that contains amphotericin; and globally, up to 20% were resistant to the last-ditch echinocandins.”

“They also pose another challenge: long-lasting hospital outbreaks. To try to stop it spread, hospitals put patients into isolation; regularly swabbed any other patient who had been in the same room as the infected persons, and all of the staff who had any contact with them; required every healthcare worker, janitor, or visitor to wear gowns, gloves, and aprons; they’d swab the patient twice a day with disinfectant, administered disinfectant mouthwash and dental gel, and wash the room three times per day with diluted bleach. When the patients moved out, the rooms they had stayed in and any equipment that had been used on them were bombed with hydrogen peroxide vapor.”

“Despite all those precautions, the yeast caused a 50-person outbreak that lasted more than a year. It survived the disinfectant baths and found places to hide from the bleach. And it stubbornly persisted on bodies. One patient tested negative for the bug three times, and then, on a fourth screen, tested positive again.”

“Last year, an Oklahoma hospital discovered that a single patient was carrying C. Auris. To keep it from spreading, the hospital slammed the patient into isolation and enforced strict infection control. It also called an AC/DC team, which took 73 samples from the patient, his room, other rooms where he had stayed, and other patients he might have been in contact with and hauled them back to Atlanta for genomic analysis. Their quick action kept the deadly yeast from spreading elsewhere in the hospital – but it represented an emergency expenditure of resources and time that no hospital could make routine.”

“The government, mostly through the CDC has tried to keep a lid on this. Their thinking is that until they have some viable method to treat this bug that there is little positive to be gained by panicking the public. There aren’t many bright spots in the looming battle against C. Auris.”

“One may be this: most of the patient so far, and all of those who have died, have been hospitalized because they were already somehow ill – with diabetes, cardiovascular disease, cancers, and other illnesses. They were on ventilators, treated with IVs and catheters, and receiving multiple drugs that undermine their immune systems competence.”

“Well that’s just ducky Doc… wonderful news.”; Keren said, sarcastically.

“I’m afraid that’s just the way it is for now Keren. The medical community, the public health organizations and the government are doing their level best to come to terms with this. I don’t know what else we can do.”
“Well it seems to me that there should be something… or someone who can attack this thing from a direction that hasn’t been tried yet. Thanks for the explanation Doc, even though you’ve left me with more questions than answers.”

(As I said, this story was started in late 2017 as a follow up to Wake of Vultures)

The Soldier’s Son

It is a gripping, yet terrifying look into a world that could soon very well be ours.


I am re-reading a story written by a friend of mine who goes by the nom-de-plume of D.C. Bourone. The title of the book is “The Soldier’s Son”. It is a gripping, yet terrifying look into a world that could soon very well be ours.

A quote from that book is an illustration; ““To destroy a great people, and a great nation, to destroy this once great torch of liberty, you first must destroy that people’s history. And to destroy their history, you must destroy their common language. To destroy their common language, you must destroy all physical borders and all moral boundaries.”
It can be purchased on Amazon.
Bourone, DC. A Post-Apocalyptic Story of Shattering Violence and Exquisite Revenge…: The Soldier’s Son, Books 1 & 2 . Kindle Edition.
https://www.amazon.com/Post-Apocalyptic-Shatt…/…/ref=sr_1_1…

Buy it!



Where to buy my books at retail

Ozark Mountain Craft Mall – 1440 W Country Music Blvd. Ste 120 Branson, MO 65616, (across from Grand Country Resort).


For those in the Branson Missouri area who have asked where they can purchase my books, (many don’t like to buy online), they are now available at the Ozark Mountain Craft Mall – 1440 W Country Music Blvd. Ste 120 Branson, MO 65616, (across from Grand Country Resort).

Currently available: “Zen and the art of Cat Maintenance”; “A Wake of Vultures” and “A Republic, if you can keep it”.



The Posse Comitatus Act-1878

one of the issues driving the adoption of the Militia Act of 1903 was further disarmament of black Americans, particularly in the South during what is considered to be the nadir of race relations in the United States.


The Posse Comitatus Act of 1878 and Striking Workers

Curiously hidden within an otherwise banal defense appropriations bill, the Posse Comitatus Act of 1878 radically changed the role of the militia in the United States. It prevented the Army from enforcing federal law in the United States. This was later amended to include the Air Force, however, both the United States Marine Corps and the United States Navy are lacking from the law. The Navy has regulations which effectively provide the same prohibitions.

Also missing from the Act is anything preventing the state militias or the National Guard from enforcing relevant laws, provided that they are acting under the command of the governor and the state government. This meant that the state governments, acting largely under the control of the Democratic Party, could still use organized military – while the federal government, still dominated by Republicans, could not. While state militias were rarely, if ever, used in the same manner as the Klan and other white paramilitary organizations, the writing was on the wall – black citizens would no longer receive protection from the federal government against either the Democratic Party state governments or their more militant and rambunctious voters.

The Great Railroad Strike of 1877

American Militias after the Civil War: From Black Codes to the Black Panthers and BeyondMilitias under the control of the state largely acted not along racial lines, but economic ones. State militias were increasingly deployed against striking workers in labor disputes. The Great Railroad Strike of 1877, known contemporaneously as “the Great Upheaval,” is one such example. The first nationwide strike in American history, railroad workers went out on strike against a third wage cut in the span of a year. Over 100,000 workers walked off the job. Local and state militias played an instrumental role in breaking the strike, which lasted 45 days and left over 100 dead. Militia forces killed striking workers across the nation, including in Baltimore, Pittsburgh and Chicago.

The Great Railroad Strike was not the last time that militias were used against striking workers. In Lemont, Illinois, two striking Polish quarry workers were killed by the militia. There was also a racial component to some strikebreaking. For example, in Thibodaux, Louisiana, the Louisiana Militia shot at least 35 unarmed striking black sugar workers.

The Ludlow Massacre of 1914

However, the most violent incident by far was the Ludlow Massacre of 1914. When the dust settled, 20 were dead – including 12 children and one bystander. As with many of the most pitched battles in American labor history, this involved the United Mine Workers. Mine work is dangerous everywhere, but this was particularly true out west. Workers were frequently paid in tonnage, and work that did not involve the digging of resources was unpaid. This meant workers often took chances with their lives, letting important repairs go undone and engaging in risky activities to get valuable minerals out of the ground.

Most of the striking workers in Ludlow, Colorado, had demands most Americans would sympathize with: Increased wages, payment for maintenance work, measures to keep weightmen honest, the right to live, shop and see a doctor at a place of their choosing, and the enforcement of existing state and federal laws.

The Massacre took place on Orthodox Easter, with the militia firing on striking worker camps with a machine gun. Women and children were attacked in an underground shelter with a fire set by the militia. While the United Mine Workers failed to obtain official recognition, the Massacre led to sweeping labor law reforms both in the United States and Canada. A monument erected by the United Mine Workers sits on the land once occupied by the striking workers’ tent camp.

The Militia Act of 1903 and the Modernization of the Militia

The Militia Act of 1903 was the most sweeping reorganization of the militia before the formation of the modern National Guard. Prior to the enactment of the Militia Act of 1903, the militias were governed both by the Constitution and the Militia Acts of 1792. The latter simply enabled the president to call out and command militias when appropriate and set the parameters for what constituted the militia. It left the question of state versus federal control of militias unresolved.

While the militia as a national defense had been problematic since the days of the War of 1812, the Spanish-American War demonstrated that the militia system in the United States was badly in need of reform from the standpoint of Federal control. The Militia Act of 1903 repealed the Militia Acts of 1792. It was this new Act which separated the militia, (unconstitutionally), into the organized and unorganized components. It also created the National Guard, an organization separate from both the organized militia and the National Guard of the United States, but with significant overlap with each. It has been argued that one of the issues driving the adoption of the Militia Act of 1903 was further disarmament of black Americans, particularly in the South during what is considered to be the nadir of race relations in the United States.

Left without much recourse in the way of self defense, the more militant members of the Civil Rights Movement began organizing what were effectively militias under the auspices of the National Rifle Association.



The Devil’s Promenade and Hornet Spook Light.

Many explanations have been presented over the years including escaping natural gas, reflecting car lights and billboards, and will-o’-the-wisps, a luminescence created by rotting organic matter. However, all of these explanations all fall short of being conclusive


Bobbing and bouncing along a dirt road in northeast Oklahoma is the Hornet Spook Light, a paranormal enigma for more than a century. Described most often as an orange ball of light, the orb travels from east to west along a four-mile gravel road, long called the Devil’s Promenade by area locals.

The Spook Light, often referred to as the Joplin Spook Light or the Tri-State Spook Light is actually in Oklahoma near the small town of Quapaw. However, it is most often seen from the east, which is why it has been “attached” to the tiny hamlet of Hornet, Missouri and the larger better-known town of Joplin.

According to the legend, the spook light was first seen by Indians along the infamous Trail of Tears in 1836; however, the first “official” report occurred in 1881 in a publication called the Ozark Spook Light.

The ball of fire, described as varying from the size of a baseball to a basketball, dances and spins down the center of the road at high speeds, rising and hovering above the treetops, before it retreats and disappears. Others have said it sways from side to side, like a lantern being carried by some invisible force. In any event, the orange fire-like ball has reportedly been appearing nightly for well over a 100 years. According to locals, the best time to view the spook light is between the hours of 10:00 p.m. and midnight and tends to shy away from large groups and loud sounds.

Though many paranormal and scientific investigators have studied the light, including the Army Corps of Engineers, no one has been able to provide a conclusive answer as to the origin of the light.

Many explanations have been presented over the years including escaping natural gas, reflecting car lights and billboards, and will-o’-the-wisps, a luminescence created by rotting organic matter. However, all of these explanations all fall short of being conclusive.

As to the theory of escaping natural gas, which is common in marshy areas, the Hornet Light is seemingly not affected by wind or by rain, and how would it self-ignite? The idea that it might be a will-o’-the-wisp is discounted, as this biological phenomenon does not display the intensity of the ball of light seen along the Devil’s Promenade. Explanations of headlights or billboards are easily discarded, as the light was seen years before automobiles or billboards were made, and before a road even existed in the area.

One possible explanation that is not as easily discounted, but not yet proven conclusive, is that the lights are electrical atmospheric charges. In areas where rocks, deep below the earth’s surface, are shifting and grinding, an electrical charge can be created. This area, lying on a fault line running east from New Madrid, Missouri, westward to Oklahoma was the site of four earthquakes during the eighteenth century. These types of electrical fields are most commonly associated with earthquakes.

Devil’s Promenade near Joplin, Missouri

Other interesting legends also abound about the light that provides a more ghostly explanation. The oldest is the story of a Quapaw Indian maiden who fell in love with a young brave. However, her father would not allow her to marry the man as he did not have a large enough dowry. The pair eloped but were soon pursued by a party of warriors. According to the legend, when the couple was close to being apprehended, they joined hands above the Spring River and leaped to their deaths. It was shortly after this event, that the light began to appear and was attributed to the spirits of the young lovers.



The Devil Went Down to Cahokia

“I’ll give them a dance!” he exclaimed. “I know one tune. They call it ‘Returned from the Grave.”


Twelfth Night At Cahokia

It was Twelfth Night, and the French village of Cahokia, near St. Louis, was pleasantly agitated at the prospect of a dance in the old court saloon, which was assembly-room and everything else for the little place. The thirteen holy fires were alight–a large one, to represent Christ; a lesser one, to be trampled out by the crowd, typing Judas. The twelfth cake, one slice with the ring in it, was cut, and there were drink and laughter, but, as yet, no music. Gwen Malhon, a drift-wood collector, was the most anxious to get over the delay, for he had begged a dance from Louison. Louison Florian was pretty, not badly off in possessions and prospects, and her lover, Beaurain, had gone away. She was beginning to look a little scornful and impatient, so Gwen set off for a fiddler.

He had inquired at nearly every cabin without success and was on his way toward the ferry when he heard music. Before him, on the moonlit river, was a large boat, and near it, on the bank, he saw a company of men squatted about a fire and bousing together from a bottle. At a little distance, on a stump, sat a thin, bent man, enveloped in a cloak, and it was he who played. Gwen complimented him and pleaded the disappointment of the dancers in excuse of an urgent appeal that he should hurry with him to the court saloon. The stranger was courteous. He sprang into the road with a limping bound, shook down his cloak so as to disclose a curled mustache, shaggy brows, a goat’s beard, and a pair of glittering eyes. “I’ll give them a dance!” he exclaimed. “I know one tune. They call it ‘Returned from the Grave.’ Pay? We’ll see how you like my playing.”

On entering the room where the caperish youth were already shuffling in corners, the musician met Mamzel Florian, who offered him a slice of the cake. He bent somewhat near to take it, and she gave a little cry. He had found the ring, and that made him king of the festival, with the right to choose the prettiest girl as queen. A long drink of red wine seemed to put him in the best of trim, and he began to fiddle with a verve that was irresistible. In one minute the whole company–including the priest, some said–was jigging it lustily. “Whew!” gasped one old fellow. “It is the devil who plays. Get some holy water and sprinkle the floor.”

Gwen watched the musician as closely as his labors would allow, for he did not like the way the fiddler had of looking at Louison, and he thought to himself that Louison never blushed so prettily for him. Forgetting himself when he saw the fiddler smile at the girl, he made a rush for the barrel where that artist was perched. He bumped against a dancer and fell. At that moment the light was put out and the hall rang with screams and laughter. The tones of one voice sounded above the rest: “By right of the ring the girl is mine.”

“He has me,” Louison was heard to say, yet seemingly not in fear. Lights were brought. Louison and the fiddler were gone, the stranger’s cloak and half of a false mustache were on the floor, while Gwen was jammed into the barrel and was kicking desperately to get out. When released he rushed for the river-side where he had seen the boat. Two figures flitted before him, but he lost sight of them, and in the silence and loneliness his choler began to cool. Could it really have been the devil? An owl hooted in the bush. He went away in haste. There was a rumor in after years that Beaurain was an actor in a company that went up and down the great river on a barge, and that a woman who resembled Louison was also in the troupe. But Gwen never told the story of his disappointment without crossing himself.



The Scare Cure

The future looked as dark for him as his recent past had been until a woman came to him with a bone in her throat and begged to be relieved.


The Scare Cure

Early in this century a restless Yankee, who wore the uninspiring name of Tompkinson, found his way into Carondelet–or Vuide Poche, the French settlement on the Mississippi since absorbed by St. Louis and cast about for something to do. He had been in hard luck on his trip from New England to the great river. His schemes for self-aggrandizement and the incidental enlightenment and prosperity of mankind had not thriven, and it was largely in pity that M. Dunois gave shelter to the ragged, half-starved, but still jaunty and resourceful adventurer. Dunois was the one man in the place who could pretend to some education, and the two got on together famously.

As soon as Tompkinson was in clothes and funds–the result of certain speculations–he took a house and hung a shingle out announcing that there he practiced medicine. Now, the fellow knew less about doctoring than any village granny, but a few sick people that he attended had the rare luck to get well in spite of him, and his reputation expanded to more than local limits in consequence. In the excess of spirits that prosperity created he flirted rather openly with a number of virgins in Carondelet, to the scandal of Dunois, who forbade him his house, and of the priest, who put him under a ban.

For the priest, he cared nothing, but Dunois’s anger was more serious—for the only maid of all that he really loved was Marie Dunois, his daughter. He formally proposed for her, but the old man would not listen to him. Then his “practice” fell away. The future looked as dark for him as his recent past had been until a woman came to him with a bone in her throat and begged to be relieved. His method in such cases was to turn a wheel-of-fortune and obey it. The arrow this time pointed to the word, “Bleeding.”

He grasped a scalpel and advanced upon his victim, who, supposing that he intended to cut her throat open to extract the obstacle, fell a-screaming with such violence that the bone flew out. What was supposed to be his ready wit in this emergency restored him to confidence, and he was able to resume the practice that he needed so much. In a couple of years he displayed to the wondering eyes of Dunois so considerable an accumulation of cash that he gave Marie to him almost without the asking, and, as Tompkinson afterward turned Indian trader and quadrupled his wealth by cheating the red men, he became one of the most esteemed citizens of the West.



The Spell of Creve Coeur Lake

So they call the lake Creve Coeur, or Broken Heart.


The Spell of Creve Coeur Lake

Not far west of St. Louis the Lake of Creve Coeur dimples in the breezes that bend into its basin of hills, and there, in summer, swains and maidens go to confirm their vows, for the lake has the influence to strengthen love and reunite contentious pairs. One reason ascribed for the presence of this spell concerns a turbulent Peoria, ambitious of leadership and hungry for conquest, who fell upon the Chawanons at this place, albeit he was affianced to the daughter of their chief. The girl herself, enraged at the treachery of the youngster, put herself at the head of her band–a dusky Joan of Arc, and the fight waged so furiously that the combatants, what were left of them, were glad when night fell that they might crawl away to rest their exhausted bodies and nurse their wounds.

Neither tribe daring to invite a battle after that, hostilities were stopped, but some time later the young captain met the girl of his heart on the shore, and before the amazon could prepare for either fight or flight he had caught her in his arms. They renewed their oaths of fidelity, and at the wedding the chief proclaimed eternal peace and blessed the waters they had met beside, the blessing being potent to this day.

Another reason for the enchantments that are worked here may be that the lake is occupied by a demon-fish or serpent that crawls, slimy and dripping, through the underbrush, whenever it sees two lovers together, and listens to their words. If the man proves faithless he would best beware of returning to this place, for the demon is lurking there to destroy him. This monster imprisons the soul of an Ozark princess who flung herself into the lake when she learned that the son of the Spanish governor, who had vowed his love to her, had married a woman of his own rank and race in New Orleans. So they call the lake Creve Coeur, or Broken Heart. On the day after the suicide the Ozark chief gathered his men about him and paddled to the middle of the water, where he solemnly cursed his daughter in her death, and asked the Great Spirit to confine her there as a punishment for giving her heart to the treacherous white man, the enemy of his people. The Great Spirit gave her the form in which she is occasionally seen, to warn and punish faithless lovers.