Taking A Shower at Bath

I should have realized that I was destined for surprises when my GPS guided my Ford Fusion perfectly from mid-state Kannapolis, NC to just up to my last turn at Bath in the eastern

I should have realized that I was destined for surprises when my GPS guided my Ford Fusion perfectly from mid-state Kannapolis, NC to just up to my last turn at Bath in the eastern coastal plain of the state. Having already traveled over two hundred and fifty miles, my female -voiced traffic director put me on the opposite side of my destination, The Inn at Bath Creek. Historically, this was an area known for strange and unexplainable events.

When I entered the establishment's front sidewalk, my first glimpse was a colonial style mansion adorned with architectural eye appeal. This newly-built Bed and Breakfast facility fit perfectly into this old community of refurbished seventeen hundred era homes. As you approach the front door, a large wood-carved Blackbeard pirate greets you like he was trying to tempt you into entering the premises. He even had a nefarious grin.

Soon, I was greeted by the proprietor and gracious hostess, Maree Benson, whose accent and poise reminded me of a prim and proper "Maureen O'Hara," straight out of Ireland. She treated me like she was a royal ambassador for the town showing me any and all amenities the guest house had to offer. I later met her husband, Dale, and their furry friend, Remington, a mixed French Pointer, who sniffed everyone to get their scent. This action probably prevented any undue alarms of barking or "teeth in the legs" behavior to patrons coming back into the building after hours. Just kidding, he was a gentle dog.

The Bensons had a large map of coastal North Carolina erected on the south wall that probably stretched fifteen feet high and ten feet wide in their cozy fireplace great room. From that sitting area, you could watch guests ascending and descending the stairs like they were climbing "Jacob's Ladder." At times when the room was vacant of all life forms except myself, I actually imagined the voices of forgotten pirates arguing over wenches and rum looking for a place to bed down for the night. Can you imagine their smell?

The first night there I hit the jackpot for bizarre news. I met Arthur and Diane Swanner traveling through from Edenton, NC. After hearing me share some thoughts about the paranormal, they both opened up about strange happenings in the grounds under their house. Apparently, after the last hurricane chiseled an excavation of major disturbance under their property, multiple skeletons were revealed indicating an unknown burial site of by-gone Native Americans.

The couple contacted state and Indian affairs authorities who immediately descended upon the area to determine who actually owned the rights to the remains. As it turned out Indian affairs won out on control. One very curious trait about the bones even intrigued the examiners. These skeletal remains were large like they must have been from warriors of upper North American Algonquin tribes instead of the smaller stature bones of the usual Croatans identified with the Lost Colony natives.

Before I get off of this subject the Swanners shared with me that an Indian guide visited them asking some perplexing questions about any experiences they might have had. Arthur and Diane had observed a white owl in their backyard that they never noticed before. They had seen the bird many times usually in the same location. The guide asked them if they had ever seen the owl fly in or out of the area. The couple, at first taken aback, was not able to remember seeing from what direction the night creature would fly in or out of their backyard. They both came to the same conclusion - "No." The Indian guide shared with them that the owl was a spirit guide coming into their lives to leave a message. He reasoned that the message was that they oversee the proper care and respect of the remains. After they performed their duties, the owl was never seen again.....