100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2024. #55. Breathe.

I lay quietly on my bare wooden floor.

100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2024. #54. Life Condition.

 In Buddhism, we say that man's oneness and environment are reflected in man himself and his life condition or state of being.

100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2024. #53. Chanelling In. 3

 "How long does your ex usually hang out after you escape your office?" I asked. 

100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2024. #52. Chanelling In 2.

 "Who the fuck are you?" She demanded. "What happened to Maude and Harry?"

100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2024. #51. Chanelling In.

 Why does it matter that the sidewalks on this street are littered with people with nowhere to go, and why is it my problem?

100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2024. #50. Five Grams.

 It was one of those nights when the smoke circle was needed.

100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2024. #49. Nani Pololū.

Pololū valley. The sight of it hits you like a spiritual punch in the face, except it's in the heart. Pololū hits you all at once with everything it has. The entirety of it comes right at you: history, people living, and otherwise. That's the draw for those whose hearts and minds are wide open. By the way, I'm Terrence Kaina. With a name like Terrence, you already know I graduated from a public school. My parents scraped up enough money to send me to a community college for a two-year AA degree in Hawaiian studies. The remaining years at UH Manoa were on my own dime, which meant a lifetime of paying back a student loan unless I died. Which meant my issue would inherit my debt. Gotta love the system. 

I'm on a huaka'i on Hawai'i island for a personal study project over the summer, which is solely for extra credit toward my degree. I'm visiting all the historical locations where Kamehameha the Great moved about, made decisions, laughed, loved, and, yes, killed people and sacrificed them to his gods. The study was about his formidable years before his ascension to become the absolute ruler of the pae'āina. In visiting these places, I had to keep reminding myself that there were only two modes of transportation during the great chief's time: foot and canoe. I look at the vast plains and miles and miles of open lava fields and pili grass for as far as the eye can discern, and I have to shake my head. Walking around the Ala Moana shopping center, my feet get worn in less than an hour. Our ancient ancestors did it all the time. Then, paddle a canoe for basic transportation to get to and from wherever you're going while, at the same time, living under the restrictions of certain kapu, which you, as the everyday commoner, had to remember because it meant your life and death. 

That is why Pololū Valley caught me by surprise. I wasn't looking at it initially because of how hot it was. More concerned about getting a gulp of cold water down my gullet, I threw back the flask like a shot glass and let the liquid wash down. Then, I saw it—the entirety of it. In quiet awe, my body relaxed, and my hands fell to my sides. Good thing my flask was strapped to my hand; otherwise, I would have dropped it, and it wouldn't have mattered. 

"I wanna build a home here and live out the rest of my days," I thought. "I'll die here in the end, and I'll be a part of this earth, this lepo where I can see Pololū."

My i-Watch buzzed on my wrist. It was time to visit a man by the last name of Desha (Deshay), who is one of the direct descendants of Kamehameha The Great. I've got an hour to meet him at Pu'ukoholā heiau. I turned directly to leave, and I practically mowed someone down who was coming up behind me. We both screamed in surprise and shock. Whoever she was, she recovered faster than I did.

"What the fuck, man," she tsked. "Fucking shit, are you trying to kill me or something?"

"What are you doing walking right up behind me?" I retorted.

"I was going to ask you if you wouldn't mind moving so I could take a picture of the valley, but you turned around and fucking tackled me!" She was surprised, pissed, and a little bit hurt, but mostly pissed.

"I'm sorry," I dusted myself off. "I guess it's my fault,"

"Damned fucking straight, it's your fault," her tone wasn't as acerbic as it was a second ago. I feebly attempted to help her to her feet, which she accepted. 

"I'll get out of your way; sorry again," I left, but she stopped me. 

"If you care at all, my name is Kaluhea," she extended her hand.

"My name isn't as fragrant as yours," I replied, taking her hand in mine. "It's Terrence."

She broke down laughing, looking at me in disbelief. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh, but considering what happened and the timing, that's really funny!"

I didn't get it, but I also had to get somewhere and quick. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Have a good day, and be safe!"

I was halfway to my rental when Kaluhea came running up behind me. "Hey, you dropped your flask,"

"Oh," I patted myself and realized she was right. I could have sworn it was strapped to my hand when I drank from it. "Thanks, I didn't realize I'd lost it,"

"Ok, well, I'm on my way to Pu'ukoholā," she said while walking to her jeep. "I have an interview with someone from the Desha family."

"So do I," I said. "About Kamehameha,"

"Me too!" She squealed. "Who knew?"

Really, who knew? To make a long story short, we both interviewed the same person, who was nice enough and patient enough to answer all of our questions, no matter how big or small. After that, we headed to Kona, where I insisted on treating her to dinner since I was the one who knocked her down. To be fair, she insisted on buying the drinks since she was the one who walked up behind me, not knowing that I'd turned around and plow her over.  In the conversation, I found out that she was there for a similar reason: extra credit for her Hawaiian studies class regarding the life of Kamehameha in the Kohala, Waipio, and Pololū areas. 

"I could buy a house and retire there and live out the rest of my days," we both said at the same time.

At that moment, I realized that the mana of Pololū Valley must have brought Kaluhea and me together—not in the romantic sense where harps played and birds sang, but in one big literal collision, almost like a wake-up call. 

Mahalo Pololū, for planting the seed.

100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2024. #48. Kaulima.

 My name is Murray Alcot. I took over as funeral director at a crumbling funeral home that had seen its last days.

100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2024. #47. Occult 5.

 There's me, finally, Larry Nahinu. A very reluctant Kahuna who didn't want the life but had no choice.

100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2024. #46. Occult 4.

 Officer Reginald Kahl loved the ocean, especially since he began working in the newly created occult division.

100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2024. #45. Occult 3.

After the powers that be reamed Officers Kahl and Gushiken sideways from Sunday, Chaplain Oku'u spoke on their behalf when the time came.

100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2024. #44. Occult 2.

 The way that possessions are being portrayed in the media, and by media, I mean the internet, social media, and film, is that the holy person who has been called to address the entity causing the possession always ends up being possessed themselves, because of some moral transgression from their past that has never been truly resolved.

100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2024. #43. Occult.

Of course, there's no official occult division within the confines of the Honolulu Police Department because, as far as we know, there have never been any occult killings or unsolved occult murders. So, why would they bother with me, of all people?

100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2024. #41. Molly.

 Molly Riley moved to the islands twenty years ago after purchasing an acreage of land on which she and her husband had a house built, to which they subsequently moved themselves and their family. The fact that more people brought up land around them and built their own dwellings made Molly feel safe about having neighbors nearby. The land was on the island of Kaua'i. Much protest was created by the Hawaiians and the locals because, throughout history, it was proven that the land was an ancient burial ground. However, developers and the powers that be suddenly become deaf and blind in those matters. Molly's husband, Richard, was one of those developers, and he had more than a hand involved in the machinations of what he and his investors hoped would be a sprawling neighborhood. By the time Richard was killed in a freak accident, much of the sacred land had been tilled, turned over, and rented asunder by the development.

On the contrary, Molly fell in love with the culture, people, food, and lifestyle. She enrolled her children in a Hawaiian language immersion school and took a few classes herself. She tried to get Richard involved as much as possible, but all his attention was focused on development. At the same time, something about the estate felt off. Molly could not pinpoint a particular thing, but something felt wrong. There was a constant feeling of uneasiness, especially at night. Her children insisted on sleeping in the same room with the lights on. Even the nanny walked around with her crucifix in her fingers, rubbing on it and praying silently. 

One morning on the job site, a sinkhole appeared out of nowhere and took a few pieces of heavy equipment and Richard. The equipment was recovered, but Richard's body was never found. Simultaneously, things became more pronounced at the Riley estate. Molly and the children would hear disembodied voices in Hawaiian, calling their names or pitiful wailing and moaning. Most disturbing were the manifestations of people standing stoically about the house and then disappearing. It was only when the spirits began to physically do things that Molly felt enough was enough, so she sought help from the Hawaiian and local community. When the community realized where she lived and who she was, they refused to help. She was shunned by the other parents at her children's school, and people would not even look at her in public. Only through one of her children's kumu from a chat window online was she finally able to find help.

So, leaving her children in the care of their nanny, Molly flew to Oahu. After procuring her rent-a-car, she used the online map to find the address where she needed to go. 

"That's my story," Molly said. "I hope you can help me."

Tiny looked at Ivan, who looked at Rita, who looked at Boy.

 "Everyone in the state, Hawaiian or not, knows that the land there is an ancient burial ground, a massive one. I'm not sure how you couldn't have known that?" Boy said.

"My late husband Richard handled everything," Molly said. "We just packed up and moved; that was my contribution to the plan."

"He's the one that was on the news that got sucked into that sinkhole with the bulldozers and everything else?" Boy wanted to confirm. 

"Yes," too tired and exhausted to hide her emotions, Molly let her tears fall. "I had a memorial erected on that spot. It's his final resting place."

"So, what do you need from me, Molly?" Boy leaned forward, pouring some whiskey into a shot glass he handed her.

Taking the shot and throwing it back, Molly took a second to let it burn down her throat. "I need someone to bless my estate and make these spirits go away and leave us alone,"

"Molly, I can't help you," Boy said, making sure Molly looked him in the eye.

"What do you mean?" Molly was incredulous. "You can't do a simple blessing to get rid of these spirits?"

"This is beyond your comprehension; I can't help you because your entire estate is built on burial grounds. Which means these are spirits that are attached to the land. We as the living are supposed to adjust for them, not the other way around."

"It's not as if it's a cemetery or a graveyard; as you just said, it's burial grounds," Molly began to be upset.

"It's the same thing. Just because there are no headstones doesn't mean it's less important. Ancient Hawaiian ancestors are buried there. Like your ancestors, they are buried in their graveyards and cemeteries. You even erected a memorial to your husband on that same piece of land. I'm surprised you haven't seen the irony in that." Boy concluded. "You want all the spiritual activity to stop? Tear down your estate or move somewhere else. That's my advice."

~

In less than a year, Molly sold the estate and moved to Oahu. She found a nice place on the slopes of Makiki for herself, her children, and her nanny. Life was as usual every day. She didn't begrudge Boy's advice, because he spoke to her with compassion and not judgement but with a bit of strictness, like a father. On Kaua'i and throughout the Hawaiian archipelago, the battle continues.