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The Kensington Mystery

by Benjamin Styles
8/07/2008 / Short Stories

(Anonymous message spray painted on railroad wall, outside of Kensington town limits)

"The One atop the Mauntain."

(Quick description of Kensington found in a travel brochure offered in the restaurants and local establishments of the county)

Kensington was founded by Redford Kensing, something of a pioneer and settler who came to these parts in the early eighteenth century. Redford was a man known for his drinking habit, who was said to "pack away a crate a day of malt whiskey." However he was also a family man who guarded scrupulously his young wife and two daughters. After his mysterious death, the large sums of money he left for them enabled them to sell the home and move upstate in time for the burgeoning coal industry to surge through the veins of America and energize the economy.

Through most epochs of American history Kensington has remained a blip on the screen. The town produced about four to five dozen soldiers for the War of the States and once served as a hospice for those dying from the battle wounds, infections, diseases, and overall starvation they had received from the war itself. The coal industry, surprisingly, has never really impacted Kensington; the town does not own nor rests upon any known veins of anthracite. Instead the local economy is a combination of old time farming, sadly a vanishing life in the dawning new millennium, and of small time establishments and tourist attractions for those traveling to New York, Philadelphia, or Boston.

Once the coal empire of central Pennsylvania and the entire anthracite region dried up, the small burg of Kensington managed along by hosting local craft shows, attracting greater tourism through its long history, and especially by inviting hunters through registered trails and pristine mountain havens officiated by the DEP.

Kensington has a full educational board, extending from kindergarten up to high school. A public library featuring a collection of original publications of John O'Hara and a Blue Mountain Coal Company Ceremonial Park sits in a scenic view of the town beside the municipal building. Harriet's dinner services both local folk and attending guests, and a Rifleman's range on the northern outskirts of town is open five days out of the week to hunters who are properly registered with the state.

For more information call 1-888-738-3479

(Text message, Emily to her husband Robert, dated January 3rd, 1999)

U R 2 distracted, F need better HM then bY her 1!!!

(Excerpt from "An Understanding of God," by Dr. Richard Loure, Head of the Theology Department of TSU)

Many people have considered the subject of God. Most have done so from a precise theological framework, one developed over centuries of time. Others have done so more liberally, some might say more recklessly. But what I'd like to offer here is not another bullet in the ammunition of either camp but instead a pure explanation.

Where does religion come from?

Many distinguished Anthropologists of today posit the origin of religion not solely in the hands of a single, Divine recipient but instead in the earliest works of man. Ages ago when the first human beings stared into the starry sky above and felt wonder and a sense of awe at existence. When they gave birth and watched their own little ones grow up into their likeness. When one of them received a cut that healed of its own accord. These things were mysteries to them.

Today we have our own mysteries; quantum physics, black holes, the essence of consciousness. Yet through all these modern and pre-modern ideas there runs the strong, steady cadence of absolute mystery. Who knows God? Who is like Him? We cannot say because we have not looked upon His face But people have always sought Him whether they realized it or not. We still feel a sense of awe and wonder: why does anything exist, why are we here, what is the basis of life, are we alone? It is how these questions are answered in our lives that determines our 'religion.'

In the Judeo-Christian tradition we happily enjoy the knowledge that, contrary to most world religions, we see our God as coming to us and not reverse. Or, to put it in the words of Francis Collins, 'God seeking man and not man seeking God.' Yet we would be foolish not to recall a time when, still fresh from the genesis of our kind, we stared deeply into the night sky and wondered what could have made all this?

(Journal Entry, Robert Nagara, dated January 3rd, 1999)

This has to be the last day I spend with her. Emily is getting anxious back home and I can't really blame her. I was only supposed to be here for a day, not four. Well, anyway, I've spent the weekend with Auntie and I think it's all for the better. Auntie is quite these days, often sitting on her swing bench she has out back, watching the wind whip through the tall pines and maples of the mountain. She loves these mountains, especially an older fellow off to the right the locals call Old Germain.

No snow, which I find bizarre, weather here is unique and not like back home. I guess I could get used to it (unfortunately, Emily would never let me!). I spent the day scouring the house for any last minute repair jobs. The window is fine and won't be leaking heat during the coldest months of the year anymore. The faucet is still and quite, the creaking floorboard in the living room is far too much for me, and certainly would require more then a weeks worth of labor to fix! I've checked the attic and haven't been able to locate the source of the foul smell-but I'm sticking to my conclusion that it is a dead rat.

Auntie asked me to stay for dinner and I opted. I probably won't see her for years once I leave here, many years really. Work will probably take over, then kids (I know Emily's been dreaming of a pair of handsome twins, I know my own girl) and those two tasks alone will probably require most of my time. Best I just enjoy one last evening with her, Auntie, who seems to represent my faded adolescence. I know it sounds melodramatic to think this way but it's the honest to God truth. I remember spending a handful of weekends out here as a kid and I loved it. The warm air, the glow of the sunlight, the golden scents in the air. I loved it, I especially loved it in the autumn when the leaves would fall to the earth and change colors; bright flashes of crimson red, dark brown, flashing yellow, like a painters canvass set to the tone of mountains.

God, I should have been a writer rather then a store owner. Oh well

(Child's rhyme, common in Kensington and locality around Old Germain)

"Once a year, we see the deer,

Of old he comes a'near

Once a year, we see the steer,

Kensing's bull Gerwain

Once a year, we stay real clear,

Of Old Saint Germain"

(Call from Officer Michael Maywater to Emily Nagara, January 3rd, 1999, 10:15pm)

Maywater: Hello, ma'am?

Mrs. Nagara: Yes?

Maywater: Is this one thirteen Locust Street?

Mrs. Nagara: Yes, may I ask whose calling?

Maywater: My name is Officer Michael Maywater

Mrs. Nagara: Officer? Has
something happe-

Maywater: Miss, your husband is
here with me, he's alright but something has happened.

Mrs. Nagara: What!? What is it?

Maywater: It seems his relative, his Aunt, Audrey Phillips has disappeared. Lost in the woods, apparently. We've got search teams out now but I just wanted to contact you and let you know so you could leave-

Mrs. Nagara: I'll be right there!
May I speak with my husband

Maywater: He's helping us with the investigation as of now. In a bit I'm sure.

Mrs. Nagara: Tell him I'll be right there.

(End of message)

(The following is an account of the incident, via tape recorder, given by Rober Nagara to Officer Michael Maywater and Deputy Andrew Sanders on January 3rd, 1999)

"I was out front, looking for something in my car. When I last she was in the kitchen, getting the side dishes ready for our last meal together. I wasn't expecting her to be long so when I came back in I just sat at the table. I didn't hear anything at all except the whistling of a pot on the stove. I got alarmed and went in to look for her. That's when I saw the back door open.

I went out back and called for her, or I was going too, when I saw something It was like a bright light, with bluish tendrils or arms that shot up into the deep sky. I've never seen anything like it. I think I saw her, or someone, walking up the trail to the mountain. I went after her-them-whoever they were. I found a trail in the dirt and leaves and tried to follow it but the sun was practically dead now and I couldn't see a thing and I had nothing, no flash light.

When I got back home the light on the mountain was gone."

(Excerpt from Triwheel Times, front page article, dated January 4th 1999)

Police and locals have mounted a full scale search for Audrey Phillips, an elderly women police have filed as a missing person. "The woman's great age, her over all physical disabilities, and her sudden and awkward departure from her home, has indicated that she may be lost in the woods in a state of delirium," says Officer Michael Waywater, who has been in charge of the search and rescue teams scouring the woods and mountain side.

Mrs. Phillips, a widow approaching
her eightieth birthday, was last seen at home by her visiting nephew Mr. Robert Nagara who planned to leave for home after their dinner together. Mr. Nagara has since opted to stay, citing a personal need to be involved in the search and rescue effort.

If you have seen Audrey Phillips or anyone matching her description, the police department of Kensington would like you to call

(Official Report on the disappearance of Audrey Phillips, signed by Officer Michael Waywater of the Kensington Police Department)

Mrs. Audrey Phillips, who was last seen at 6:13pm, January 3rd, 1999, by her nephew Robert Nagara, has not been found, neither alive nor dead. Her disappearance has been linked to her elderly age and possible onset of Alzheimer or some similar mental retardation due to greater age. Search and rescue teams have been recalled and the file on her has been closed today, January 13th, 1999.

-Michael Maywater

Ps. John, send Clanton over to see what's on the up and up with Nagara. I don't think he's up to anything and has any plans of doing something but I'd feel a whole lot better knowing that he was out of town and for good. Catch my drift?

(Conversation recorded illegally via hidden tap-recorder, by Deputy William Rod Clanton, conversing with Robert Nagara in the home of Audrey Phillips)

"Just wanted to see how you were doing, everything here okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Okay."

"I'vehuh, packed up. I hope to
be gone here in a few days."

"Returning home I'm sure."

"Yeah."

"Uh, listen, I'm real sorry about what happened. I am."

"I know it was a tragedy, I just hope that we find her soon."

".."

"I know that she's dead. I've accepted that and now all I want to do is find her body. That's what I meant. Anyway-I thought you should know something."

"What?"

"I found this upstairs amid her things. I was going to take it home with me but I thought it should stay here with the community."

"This is-"

"A ledger, an old term for a book of paper, apparently she kept it for many years. Judging by the yellowing of the tattered pages I'd say it was handed down to
her as well."

"This writing in here looks old."

"I know-I leafed through it but didn't find much of interest."

"You, uh, looked through it."

"Yes."

"What did you read?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"I mean-you know-did you find
anything at all interesting, anything that might be related to her disappearance?"

"Well, that would be your job now
wouldn't it. Ha! I'm sorry, I didn't mean that as a cross-really I didn't."

"I understand, no harm no foul."

"Well officer-"

"Deputy."

"-Deputy, if you don't mind I'd like to finish packing and be gone soon."

"Of course, have a nice day Mr. Nagara."

(Phone call placed by Deputy William Clanton to Officer Michael Maywater)

Maywater: Kensington Borough Police Department, this is Officer Maywater speaking.

Clanton: Mike, it's me Clanton.

Maywater: Will? How'd it go over there?

Clanton: Mike you ain't gonna
believe this-

Maywater: What's up?

Clanton: Phillips had a diary or notebook of some kind, it's old though-even has the word 'ledgar' written in scarlet letters on the front-and she must have had it for years. Nagara gave it to me when I went over to talk with him. I left his house and pulled over on the side of Route 49, near the willow trees, and had a look through it.

Maywater: And? What does it say?

Clanton: This whole book is nothing but a friggin collection of newspaper clippings and accounts Phillips must have heard first hand.

Maywater: Dear God, don't tell me

Clanton: Yeah, it's all about
that and that Nagara guy said he flipped through it himself so now he must know.

Maywater: Will, listen to me, think alright-did Nagara say anything at all about the other disappearances? Did he give any indication whatsoever that he would return to Kensington?

Clanton: Mike, this whole book is nothing but those disappearances and the lights on Old Germain! If he didn't believe what he'd read then he would have mentioned it.

Maywater: But he didn't, did he?

Clanton: No, and that's the part I don't get. If Nagara didn't believe the stuff in this book you'd think he'd mention it, just to see what I'd say about it. But he didn't. But then if he did believe it, why'd he give it to me? I don't get this?

Maywater: Clanton, get that thing over to the station. I want it in a manila envelope on my desk in an hour, understand?

Clanton: Yeah, add it to the Maywater File. But what are we going to do about Nagara?

Maywater: Nothing we can do, for now anyway. Just get back over here.

(Excerpt from the journal of Robert Nagara, January 15th, 1999)

I don't know what to say to this. I believe that, since that night that seems so long ago, I can't put down this feeling inside me that something is dreadfully amiss. My suspicions, or premonition if you wish to call it that, were only heightened when I discovered a ledger in my Auntie's bedroom. It was tucked away in a drawer alongside her personal items-included among them obviously.

This book, which doubtlessly was old even before Auntie had it, was a series of stories or accounts given by people describing a recurring phenomena on the top of a local mountain, one which I believe I have already mentioned here in this book, Old Germain.

The ledger began with a series of stories describing an early pioneer, Kensing, and how he came to this valley with nothing but the clothes on his back and a bull named Gerwain. Apparently the valley soon prospered-I'm not sure how-and Kensington was born.

The locals at that time had legends of their own in regard to the natives. They believed a circular rock formation existed atop the mountain, and that the native tribes of Indians in this area referred to it as "Wahotannock," which is another name for the mountain, a name older then Old Germain. Apparently the natives believed that lights would appear there, along with a gushing wind and other theatrical effects of nature, and that it was a dwelling place of the "Great Spirit."

On page seven of the ledger I simply found these odd, cryptic words not written but etched into the paper as if by some sharp knife or scalpel; "Great Spirit Flies Here." Unfortunately I can no longer investigate the contents of the book-I handed it over to the police.

In retrospect it seems foolish to have done so. But I suspected that my sanity may be on the ropes here, given the stress I'm under, and to further elaborate on such a fanciful story would seem nothing but a wild goose chase mixed with a bag of my own twisted emotions. Nothing good could come from that I'm sure.

At least I was sure.

On the way out of Kensington today I happened upon an exit road, one which I had strangely never noticed before. This road shot up to Old Germain and I had not intended to follow it but felt compelled. At least I should humor myself, or should I say torture myself, with one last look at the mountain that has claimed a portion of my life.

It was not a very long detour, only a few minutes into the drive and I came upon the grisly sight of several burned out cars parked diagonally across the roadway. Beyond them was a large, intimidating fence of solid wood that looked to be decades old. It was covered in rusted wire and nailed shut, making it impossible for me to pass with my car.

I parked alongside the roadway, hoping no one would come along (I doubted that severally, but the mind is most unusual in strange and extenuating circumstances). The fence was indeed old, it looked to date back to the early twentieth century given the old wires and cut nails used to make it. The burned out cars I couldn't recognize, and I have since given up worrying about them.

You see-upon returning to my car, pulling out and leaving, I spied someone in my rearview mirror waving to me. I spied my Aunt Audrey standing beside the huge fence waving back at me.

The sight so startled me that I jammed the brakes and leapt out of the car almost before I hit it in park. I looked about frantically but found no one there, no one hiding in the bushes either. I was sure that I had seen the figure of Audrey in my mirror, I was dead certain.

I paced about the place for some time then, determined to make absolutely sure that I hadn't just seen a woman who had been missing for close to two weeks. I finally stopped and leaned against the fence, sighing in an equal combination of frustration and fear. I was amazed that the woods could be so silent and clear that day, with the light spilling down onto my face, and yet I myself in a state of great fear and agony.

I returned, shakily, to my car and left. I have not returned to Kensington not do I plan to return soon. I am waiting here back home, where the routine of my business and my newly wed wife have been waiting for me.

(A story given by Elmer Joe Macon, resident octogenarian and elder of the small town of Kensington, to his grandson Keith Macon)

"When I was in high school, back when Mr. Anderson was the History teacher; we used to ask'em all sorts a questions. Ya see he was one of them better teachers, the kind that like to actually make ya think. And he was good at it. Well, we'd ask'em questions and he'd go and give answers so long as the question wasn't inappropriate for class.

We'd ask'em about pine needles and how to make a whole bushel of them explode, or if we could use soda to clean our car bumpers, stuff like that. Then one day a friend in class raises his hand and asks "Mr. Anderson, tell us about Token Mountain?"

If you had seen his face that day He wasn't looking scared or nothing but you could tell he felt insecure. He looked out the window for a bit, that window looked out toward the Mountain, and then he turns back to us. He says "tell no one, especially your folks what I tell you here."

We listened with rapt attention at that and boy do I remember it. No one spoke, no one coughed, no one asked to leave for the bathroom. He told us about how the early pioneer Kensing met the injuns and what they believed about the mountain. Kensing founded a town here and among the early settlers were Quakers. These Quakers would hold revivals and such-although they called it something different from the rest of us who were Lutheran-and they held these things at the foot of the Mountain.

Now that Mountain got many names; the injuns gave their own, Wahotannock, Kensing himself called it Token Moantian although nobody remembers why, and the Quakers started calling it Old Germain. Germain was the name of a bull Kensing used to own, gave it to'em for something they did I guess.

Now today we have the old Mountain, still sitting there beside the town of Kensington. By now you've heard the rumors, the legends, the tall tales. I won't add to'em but I won't deny'em either. Either the Mountain is true or it aint. All's I'll say is that every now and then the 'One atop the Mountain' comes a calling"

(Message via Email, sent to Officer Michael Maywater, from Deputy William Rod Clanton)

Mike,

I as just out at Cid's gas statin and he said he saw that Nagara guy go drivig by about an hor ago. I called the station but tey said you weret there ad then I tried your home number but te phone just kept ringg. If you ge tis call me bck ASAP!!!

-Clanton

(Robert Nagara's experience atop Old Germain, recorded via audio tape in pocket)

I can't believe how eerie this place is I've been climbing for upwards of an hour now and I'm short of breath. But it was worthit was worth it. I can see for miles, I'm standing in the middle of a large stone circle The center of the circular is a huge rock and there are many markings on it but I can't tell if they're natural or what I really can't tell.

Cough. I've been taking pictures of the place with a 7g digital camera and I keep getting these white spots on all my digital photos. It looks like a huge, swirling cloud of some kind but I can't really make out anything definitive

Like I said I'm on top of the mountain, Old Germain, and I can see Kensington down below. The sun isshinning and the clouds are absolutely beautiful, it's so peaceful up here. There's only a small gust of wind. Um, the stone circle Yes, the way up the mountain, once I passed that huge wooden fence on foot, it's mostly rocky trail and lots and lots of woods. No signs, no campfire pits, no nothing. Just an old trail and woods.

As I approached the top I noticed a sudden drop-off in vegetation. The grass practically ended all at once some distance from the concave top of the mountain. After that it was just rock, the top of the mountain is practically one huge rock with gigantic cracks in it. On top of this rock is a spoon dip which you can enter through one of the many huge cracks. The rocks here are strange, I picked one up and realized they all look burnt on the outside. I managed to crack one open and it looked fine on the inside

There's the big rock I mentioned in the middle. It looks weathered, and then there are many other smaller rocks arranged in a spiraling circle that surrounds that big rock. Everything's burnt, like a huge conflagration blew up the whole top of the mountain once. I noticed that, at the base of the big rock in the middle, there's an old bull's skull?

I should have brought a lunch with me, I don't want to leave yet. In fact I don't want to leave at all. I know it sounds weird but the minute I stepped through into this placeI was flooded with peace. It's so beautiful, I just want to stay here

(At 11:48am, Officer Michael Maywater and Deputy William Rod Clanton arrived at the wooden fence that marks the border of Old Germain. They found a car parked there, under the ownership of Robert Nagara. The following is a written transcription from the audio-visual data recorded by Maywater's squad car dashboard camera.)

Maywater: It's his alright.

Clanton: Dear God, that means he's up there

Maywater: Looks like it.

Clanton: .

Maywater: There's nothing we can do. I'd send up a rescue team if I thought it do any good.

Clanton: We can't just leave him up there, Mike come on!

Maywater: I know, I know! But I'm not sending another man up there. No sense in losing two. Besides, if he happens to come down we'll meet him here.

Clanton: Mike, no one has ever come back down. You know that!

Maywater: What do you want me to do?

Clanton:

Maywater: Listen, we'll set up a waiting party here. If he comes back down we'll nab him.

Clatnon: Nab him and do what?

Maywater: Explain things to him. If he doesn't come back down, and I hope to God he does, we'll file a missing persons report.

Clanton: It'll look strange if he goes missing then. Two people in two weeks, outsiders to boot.

Maywater: If one of us goes missing, we can cover that up. I'm worried about what'll happen if that garbage can the Triwheel Times starts looking into these disappearances.

Clanton: Did you hear that?

(On the video, Officer Maywater and Deputy Clanton turn their attention to the mountain side, on their right, as bushes rustle. Soon, the figure of Robert Nagara appears from the foliage as he makes his way down the hill.)

Nagara: Good day, Officer Maywater.

Maywater: .

Clanton: Were gonna need a minute with you, Mr. Nagara.

Nagara: Yes, I gathered that from the way you're clustered around my car.

Maywater: Listen up real well, alright, I want to explain something to you.

Nagara: Okay?

Maywater: This mountain here is
our territory.

Nagara: Really, I checked the maps; they all say its state game land.

Maywaer: Don't toy with me! I know your aunt disappeared here two weeks ago and you miss her but rummaging through the woods up here ain't likely to do anything but get you hurt.

Nagara: You mean God might take me?

Maywater:Wh-what!?

Clanton: !

Nagara: Oh yes, I remember as much from Audrey's ledger. Just as He visited Mt. Sinai He also comes here, so to speak. This is a place of giving and taking, receiving and shipping Oh, I know that doesn't sound right but it's the best way I can explain it.

Maywater: Mr. Nagara, aren't you concerned about what might happen if you trip and fall, possibly break your leg? What would happen if you died and your wife was left alone.

Nagara: My wife is not yet a mother, and she has a store in her name that will keep her adequately salaried. She'll be alright.

Maywater: You sound like you thought it out?

Nagara: I've had too.

Maywater: Listen, come over here for a minute, I'm going to let you go with a warning this time.

Nagara: I've broken no laws.

Maywater: I'll be the judge of that. Clanton, grab me my ticket book from underneath my seat.

Clanton: Yes, sir.

Maywater: I caught you-Holy Jesus!

Clanton: What! What is it!?

Maywater: Where'd he go? He was standing just right there!

Clanton: The bushes aren't moving, I don't see'em

Maywater: Will, call the others and get backup. I want the road cordoned off, as well as Route 49. Got it?

Clanton: Yes, sir!

Maywater: Dear God, I can't believe it Dear God-

The proceeding records and documents were collected by my Deputy, William Rod Clanton, and filed together with my preexisting papers under the heading of the Maywater File, February 3rd, 2000. I've officially closed off the case of Robert Nagara's disappearance as a bear attack while he was traversing state game lands. His wife, Emily, has grieved and recovered-last I heard she began to date again (I get periodic updates on her from her and her family, asking if they'd heard anything more about Robert).

I write this now as a seasoned Officer of the Kensington Borough Police Department. I don't know what exactly happened to Robert up there on the mountain top but I suspect he was-let's just say I think he was taken somewhere. Whoever receives this file must guard it scrupulously against intruders. Kensington is an old borough, and this borough knows how to respect the old ways. This is more then just a tradition or fetish with the past, the One Atop the Moantian is in control of life and death. He gives and takes away. We respect that, and love the life we have been freely given. I end this now, I end this knowing that someday-perhaps real soon-I myself will be taking a long walk way up that mountainside, Old Germain.

-Officer Michael Maywater

Benjamin Styles is a writer, artist, and cartoonist who has been putting his skills to Christ's work since he was fifteen. He currently lives in central Pennsylvania.

Article Source: http://www.faithwriters.com-CHRISTIAN WRITERS

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