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Mr. Brecklin,

I am writing this as you requested through your colleague Mr. Wallace. I’m not really sure how Mr. Wallace found out about the thing that happened in the small village in Fiji, but I’m sure some small news source ran a story on it somewhere. And I’m still not sure how he was able to know that I was at the resort at the time of the incident. He must be a good investigator and I’m sure that it wasn’t difficult to gain guest lists from the resort. At any rate, you can guess that I was a bit suspicious of him when I was first approached. Eventually, though, he was able to explain that you were his employer and that you had a special interest in cases like mine. From what I gather you are a wealthy man who has at his disposal the resources to investigate paranormal cases all over the world. I really don’t understand the motive for this, but wealth and eccentricity commonly go hand in hand. I must tell you that not only was I a witness to the incident, but I feel almost certain that I caused it. I don’t understand everything that happened but I hope that you’ll be able to provide a rational explanation that fits into the natural laws of this world.

Something bizarre did happen in Fiji and I really don’t know how to come to grips with it. I have never been one to put much stock in supernatural or paranormal phenomena like ghosts, ESP, UFOs, a close encounter with an E.T. or any of that X-Files type of stuff. While I admit that there are many strange things in this world that the brightest scientists just can’t explain, I would say I’m agnostic when it comes to God. I’m not going to bet my chips one way or the other on something that man hasn’t been able to agree on for thousands of years. And before this trip I had only experienced one unusual incident that could be considered paranormal. Wallace asked me to provide the details of that too. I really never believed it was a real paranormal experience but I’ll tell you just so you know.

The encounter was at my aunt and uncle’s house in Wetumpka, Alabama. They built this nice A-frame house by a creek when my cousin, my sister and I were teenagers. While they were building this house they began uncovering all of these Indian artifacts like arrowheads and stuff. So, it was obvious that the place where they built their house was once an Indian village of some type. After the house was built and they had moved in, they said that they would frequently hear someone walking around different parts of the house. They had a huge deck that was accessed by two sets of sliding glass doors. They said that they would hear someone walking across the deck and then go to investigate, thinking it was a real visitor, only to find the doors open but no one to be found anywhere.

Even as a young teenager I doubted that it was true. Now, my sister and cousin are older than me and we went to visit them one time. My sister and cousin were like 17 and 18 and I was only 12 or 13. So, being typical teenagers, they wanted to go out with my cousin’s friends. Of course, I wasn’t invited nor would I have wanted to go hang out with a bunch of girls. My aunt and mom gave them a curfew of 11 p.m. As I said, my aunt’s house was an A-frame and they had built this really cool loft in the upper part that looked out over the living room. They used it for an office area and it had a desk, bookshelves, and a couch that folded out into a sleeper, which was where I was assigned to sleep. The loft was built directly above the front door of the house. That night I fell asleep at around 10 o’clock or so. I woke up shortly afterwards to the sound of the front door opening and closing. I looked at the clock and it was about 10:30. I just assumed it was my sister and cousin coming home and went back to sleep. The next morning I woke up and went down to breakfast and my mom and aunt were discussing how they were going to handle punishing the girls for breaking their curfew. That’s when I asked them what time they got home and they said it was close to midnight. I then told them I heard the door open and close at about 10:30. No one knew what could account for it, though. My mother, aunt and uncle were sleeping and my sister and cousin admitted to breaking their curfew. What teenager would lie about getting home on time? It just didn’t make sense. I have to admit, I got a chill thinking about it. I just kept picturing this apparition coming into the house while I lay there, oblivious to its presence.

I believe that it was my aunt or uncle getting up to let the dog out or something. Even though they didn’t admit to it. Maybe they just didn’t remember or didn’t check the time or something, I don’t know. But I don’t believe it was a ghost of an Indian coming through the front door.

As to the events in Fiji, that’s a whole other matter. My wife Kate and I went there for our honeymoon because it was recommended to be even better than Hawaii – our first choice. Kate and I flew into Suva, which is the largest city. It’s on the main island, although the island of Vanua Levu is just about the same size. From there we took a tiny little island hopper to Savusavu on Vanua Levu. I knew we were removed from civilization when we landed and the airport was nothing more than a corrugated tin shed. While we were there we had no cell phone coverage, no cable T.V., no Internet access, nothing – which was just exactly what we wanted.

When we arrived at the airport at Savusavu, Tevita was there waiting on us with a van. He was the Fijian tour guide who worked at the Koro Sun resort where we stayed. He was great. He greeted us with a huge smile and said, “Bula!’” That means hello in Fijian and everywhere you go the Fijian people are always so friendly and they always give you a cheery “Bula!” The resort was several miles from the airport on the Hibiscus Highway.

The resort was pretty small. In my mind I pictured a resort as a huge condo, but it was actually very quaint. In the middle of the resort was the main building with the office, restaurant, bar, souvenir shop, a game room, and a swimming pool. Surrounding that were scattered numerous small bures – which is basically a hut. They were pretty nice, though. Each bure had a bed draped with mosquito netting, a small fridge, and a large stone bathroom.

There weren’t that many people staying there. We went in our summer, which is actually the winter down there. There was a couple from New Zealand, a couple from Switzerland, and a group of four from Germany; other than that, it was just the handful of Fijian staff and Kate and me. They also employed an Australian SCUBA instructor and diving guide named Dale. But we never got SCUBA certified so we hardly interacted with him until the very last day.

It was their little tradition to serve a group dinner every night at one large table, so we were encouraged to meet the other guests. All the Fijians seemed to speak English since Fiji was a British colony, I suppose. Of course, the Kiwis spoke English. The Swiss couple spoke numerous languages, including English. The Germans’ English were a bit rough, but they conversed well enough to join in conversations. Many times the Germans and the Swiss couple would carry on conversations in German, but there was never a lull in any conversations going on at dinner, especially after everyone got a few drinks in them. Everyone pretty much had breakfast on their own time because everyone was getting their days started at different times.

Tevita, as I said, was the Fijian tour guide and he had a trip or activity planned every single day. One day we went and found a group of dolphins to swim with, another day we went snorkeling close to the resort, another day we did a jungle trek. The trips were free to whoever wanted to go along and it was usually hit or miss with the Germans and the New Zealand couple. They were a bit older, after all. The Swiss couple, Hans and Trudy, and Kate and I were the old faithful couples who went every day. All except one day that Hans and Trudy didn’t go.

That was the day that began the whole series of events. This particular day Tevita had scheduled a kayaking trip that was actually pretty cool. Since it was just the three of us going, Tevita invited a Fijian girl named Karalaini to go along. I didn’t ask, but I believe that there was something going on between Tevita and Karalaini. Anyway, the trip was very educational because the two of them told us all kinds of stories about Fiji’s history and some local folklore. One story that the locals believed was that the place where we were kayaking to was one of the places that their shark god Dakuwaqa (pronounced duck-wah-gah) liked to frequent. The Fijians believe that he can change shape between a man and a shark. His image even appears on Fijian money.

Another story Tevita related to us while we were kayaking was about how Tevita’s cousin George had drowned in a freak accident near the spot where they said Dakuwaqa frequently rested.

There was nothing really horrific about the story itself; just that it stuck in my brain like an annoying little splinter. I can’t really explain why

We went tooling around this little inlet and these networks of small islands and then we took a break on one of the beaches and ate a lunch Tevita had packed. Then we went tromping around this tiny little island and Kate and I snuck off for some alone time in a secluded little grove.

After Kate and I had our little escapade in the jungle we headed back to the kayaks. Tevita had been adamant about us getting back to the resort before the tide changed because we could’ve been stranded out on the islands. Just as we started heading back I asked him about one particularly large island further out that had somehow struck me as rather ominous looking. Something about the island just didn’t sit right with my psyche. I couldn’t really put my finger on it other than to say that the island exuded an aura of doom and gloom.

Tevita then went on to tell me that the island was called Bat Island and there were ancient ruins on it called Nananu-i-Ra. The ruins were so old that no one knew who had built them. The crazy thing was that there was this old crone, a witch doctor or shaman or something, that lived in the ruins. Every full moon people would go see her because they believed she had magical powers and that she could heal the sick. Well, it just so happened that on our last night there the moon was going to be full.

One Trackback/Pingback

  1. By Fijian girl | Acepet on 29 Feb 2012 at 3:22 am

    […] Story – The Crone of Bat Island, part 1 « Visions of the Dark […]

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