Rats, Cats and Ghosts: A Block Island Unflawed Memory
Posted: Thursday, October 27, 2011
by Paul Schroeder
alien / demonic attachment
Block Island, an oasis off the coast of Rhode Island, is where I have spent time musing and walking.
Ghosts, seen on Block Island are only part of the paranormal show, in town.
In one late September I and my wife stayed at the hotel 1661 INN at Old Harbor on Block Island for a week to celebrate a vacation..
Only a few bird watchers clubs frequented the island then, the weather was windy, cold, blustery and rainy.
These storms added to our desire to stay close to the inn and in each other's close company.
One stormy and windy evening at about ten o'clock in the evening, I went out to the backyard of the inn tacitly to watch the view of whitecaps roiling on Old Harbor and to socialize with a pair of goats that roamed freely on the property.
Out on the harbor, about a quarter of a mile from the shore among the rolling whitecaps, I saw a flickering, blue triangular light that vanished and then reappeared a short distance from where it had been.
At first glance, it looked like the angular sail and mast of a middle sized sailing craft, a craft in distress that struggled to make headway in the stormy waters, except this sail radiated a surreal phosphorescent light and glow that ebbed and waned like a dying flame .
The bluish sail's color glowed and turned to a purplish light and then vanished completely only to reappear another distance from where it was sighted.
I initially surmised it to be a flame above the waves from ignited methane from the ocean floor.
I watched in more wonder as its shifting movements seemed to make it jump from one location to another location every few seconds; its odd flickering flame glowing surreal in triangular form, was something I'd never seen before.
It vanished completely after a few minutes among the stormy waves as though it had sunk.
The image of that strange vessel has haunted my memory for many years.
This Block Island ghost ship had been seen often in stormy weather by many others before and after me.
However, not until recently, some years later, after having read "Livermore's History of Block Island", did I realize that the book's description of an oddly lit and shifting Palatine Ghost Ship seen off Block Island is precisely similar to what I caught and observed that windy white capped and rain swept evening.
Even odder, some Block Island ghost stories are still in the making.
(from a communique from a friend):
"I was fishing off Misquamicut Beach in Rhode Island in 1995. I was in a boat, and we watched a big cloud of smoke appear off Block Island in the distance.
What had happened was an airplane crashed into a restaurant.
It appears that a young child, a wife and a doctor and his mother all perished en route,
in a small aircraft just before landing at Westerly Airport on Block Island.
The small plane hit a restaurant taking an additional islander life;
one small airstrip lay 500 feet parallel to a line of three coastal restaurants."
Block Island, an off-season haunt for me, is a place assuredly most haunted.
There is resident talk of ghosts seen on the island, especially those spirits restless and active at the Old Town Inn, a hotel location, geographically central to the island.
I would often prefer to stay at the Old Town Inn, inspired by the stories of its often seen ghosts.
History indeed confirms that a State Senator who lived there in the early 1800's, faced charges that he murdered his ailing mother for his inheritance, by throwing her down the long narrow stairway, a stairway still in evidence.
I surmise that he was acquitted.
But the staircase and basement area judge fate and history differently.
The owner told me that he had seen the bare bulb in the basement often spin of its own accord; it kept him and mainland workmen away from that basement.
Most locals were too leery an ilk to spend any real, required time down there, doing some essential repairs.
When restorations had initially begun, it had been noticed that all interior doors had been removed; when the new owners had queried contractors why this had been done, a disturbing answer had been returned.
The many doors' constant opening and closing by themselves had unnerved, distracted and unsettled the mainland workmen.
They had removed the doors, erasing these house symptoms, but not the disease, itself.
Guests have asked the front desk about a ghostly woman they see from their upstairs windows, one who walks in the deeper shadows of the garden at night, wearing a pink, long flowing gown and carrying a parasol.
She was seen in the back garden, late at night.
I would stay here on Block Island, despite its ghosts, because it was far from scenic views of the harbor, and was thus far from crowds of daily ferried tourists.
This central location on Block Island allowed me to be more reclusive in my wanderings, far from people, which was my nature.
I wandered among persimmon trees and wild plum, across vacant meadows and fields.
On one such long walk, a deer froze in a field and then bolted from view and
during my return to the Inn, on that same cold, windy afternoon, I saw a cat
quickly scurry under the foundation of the hotel, a cat as orange in color as the drifting October Maple leaves.
Only the feral cats who roam the streets know its ghosts well as permanent residents, surely lost and not yet found.
Block Island's cats, independent and grateful creatures, like solitary ghosts, have astonished me in the oddest ways.
Whenever New York City snow drifts high enough to seal all the doors and windows of February, I conjure an image of frozen kittens cuddling in the Rhode Island snow.
That image haunts me, though I've never seen it.
I was informed when I inquired, that she was feral and would have to over winter on the island, that she belonged to no one and had recently had a litter somewhere under the cellar.
The staff, who took pity on her and who fed her, would soon leave by early November.
The hotel wouldn't re-open until mid April; in deep winter snows, with a new litter of kittens, she would be on her own.
I was moved to go into town to buy some canned cat food and these I presented to the kitchen staff who cared for her.
I was told that I could
feed her myself, as she was just outside the kitchen, awaiting a handout..
I opened two cans and spoke to her, watched her as she fed.
I wondered aloud to the kitchen staff what fate might bring to those kittens when heavy winter snow lay against the outside of those abandoned
kitchen doors, all winter long.
Later, about ten o'clock in the evening, I heard a knock on my door that stopped my writing and upon opening the door, I found the chef outside, smiling warmly.
He asked me if I could follow him down to the kitchen.
She had, he said, been grateful to me and had brought me a 'thank you' gift, in eloquent cat artistry.
A large, dead marsh rat lay by the back kitchen door, fully displayed, on the welcome mat.
Puffed up and very proud, she paraded back and forth over it, purring and repeatedly making eye contact with me.
She had caught it and then brought it to me, not just as a thanks, but also as a token.
It had assuaged my anxieties about her and her broods' survival, facing an icy cruel winter, with no food, all alone on the island with only ghosts, as her company..
I recall that cat's
unflawed nature, uncomplaining and noble;
her show of gratitude and
courageous
resiliency showed her fearlessness.
Alone, and
with new hungry kittens to feed, she would face a winter
of killing blizzards.
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Top-level comments on this article: (3 total)Sounds like a place I would avoid, but great description.Please log in to respond to this comment.I, too, would currently avoid that locale, as my third eye has since completely opened causing havoc and disconcerting experiences.
Thank you, Elle, the essential,"she", in French......
Affection,
PaulPlease log in to respond to this comment.
Quite the history. The cat's actions are true to cat behavior I think. Amy's cat doesn't bring in the big rats, but she brings in voles and moles and mice. She too parades around puffing up and vocalizing. Interesting thing about New England. There supposedly are lots and lots of ghosts. Enjoyable!Please log in to respond to this comment.Horseback riding would be a splendid diversion, on that island, as bicycles, mopeds and electric cars are the only rentables available as on- island -transportation, because cars are not allowed.
Voles and moles are deep dwelling soil critters; how does Amy manage that?
Surely, there MUST be local ghost stories native to your area; why not share a few?Please log in to respond to this comment.Horseback riding on an island - how great would that be - riding the surf, the beach and hanging out under the palms. Yep, I could like that.
Amy's cat gets moles all the time. Voles seem to come up to get at the roots of different plants. She just has good ears I think. This cat has only one good eye - for all of her life. She hunts well despite the problem. Then she parades it to Amy and meows like a lion to show her. Yuck.
We have a storyteller about 3/4 mile away actually. I don't know too much except that she tells Edgar Allen Poe at Halloween and the kids love her. I'll have to ask around more.Please log in to respond to this comment.A cat with one eye IS mostv assuredly, "Poe at Halloween"!Please log in to respond to this comment.
Did your wife witness anything like you had while she was there? I thnk it's great you share your experiences because many who have seen such things probably never speak of it ,unsure if what they saw was real, or for fear people wouldn't believe them. As for cats, I've always been more of a dog person, but I think it's very sweet how it rewarded him (even if it was with a rat). I am becoming more comfortable with my friends cats and realize how very loving they can be.Please log in to respond to this comment.You do, however, surely radiate more feline, than canine, in essence .
My wife, psychic as a sedimentary stone, dubious despite evidence as obvious as a trout in the milk, is never privy to my experiences and
has, I believe, oddly helped to keep me centered, like an acrobat balancing dangerously above the crowd.Please log in to respond to this comment.
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