Where Seagulls Fly by Michael Adam Reale

Chapter 1

I woke up with a horrible hangover. Too much red wine from last night’s shenanigans as our friend Anne calls it when we hang out and drink. Anne and her partner Christian live next door. Christian is a talented singer and song writer. Ann and I enjoy conversing about literature and history. She and I share a love of books from Chaucer to Poe and everything in between. We also share a love of wine of which I consumed way too much last night.

I groaned as I got out of bed and went over to the sink to wash my face. Ugh, I thought as I peered into the mirror. Well, at least I still have my winning smile and those piercing grey­blue eyes. I got on the scale and squinted to see the numbers, 209 lbs. Not bad, could be better, I thought. I’m 6 ft. tall and in my mid 30s, so I guess I can pull it off. I brushed my pearly whites and lathered up my head and face. I shave my head every day. It makes it easier to do it while shaving my face. I was careful to get close enough to my goatee without overdoing it.

I took a quick shower with the hope of it making me more alert. I need coffee, I thought. I went back into the bedroom to get dressed. Jon was still snoring and doing so rather loudly. For a moment I thought it was going to wake up our cat Aslan but he just purred louder. The two of them sounded like a symphony. Jon is my spouse. We’ve been together for about 10 years, married about 3.

Jon is a great guy, and he is very supportive of my work; I am a private investigator. We sincerely enjoy one another’s company. I reached over and stroked his blonde hair. He opened his eyes for a second and cast me a huge grin. His eyes are a beautiful shade of blue, like the Atlantic by the Caribbean, sharp, clear and crisp. We share a home together in a small town in northwestern part New Jersey called Hackettstown.

Who am I? Well, my name is Adam, Adam Royal. I lumbered over to the closet to get dressed. I stared at my clothes for a second before it hit me, they are all the same. I chuckled to myself. I dress in black, white or grey, usually in black denim jeans, a white collarless shirt and a black cotton sports jacket. I have five pairs of black jeans, five white collarless shirts and two black jackets. Most people think I dress this way because of my Quaker background. It’s really because I am lazy. I hate clothes shopping. I hate having to decide what to wear. My plain clothing style makes life simple for me.

It is a fact that I am a native Pennsylvanian and I am proud of my Quaker heritage. Having said that, pride is something upon which members of the Religious Society of Friends most assuredly frown. I often jokingly tell other Quakers that I am a ‘gay friend’ who dresses as a ‘plain friend’. The joke being that what is traditionally called a ‘gay friend’ had to do with a friend who wore festive colors, colors other than black, white and grey. While a ‘plain friend’ is someone who dresses not to dissimilarly from the way I do. The added twist is that I am also a gay man. I usually get a chuckle from my Quaker friends.

Modern Friends (Quakers) dress just like everyone else. No more plain speech, no more thee and thy, no more black, white and grey, just living simply with an eye towards developing the sacredness of everyday life. Although I haven’t been to Quaker Meeting in ages, my heritage suites me, it is simple and I like that.

I got dressed, made a pot of coffee, and checked Facebook to get a quick idea of who was doing what and what news was trending most. After two mugs full of coffee I was wired and ready to start my day. I headed down Jefferson Street and drove past Centenary College. The sun glistened off the golden dome of the college. I took a left at Rte 517, which they renamed M&M Chocolate Avenue. I drove past the M&M Mars plant. Some mornings you can smell the chocolate in the air. One of the things I like best about living here in Hackettstown.

I made another left at Bilby Road, which is where my office is located. I pulled into the parking lot and went in my office. The first thing I always do is go to my desk and listened to my voicemail messages. There was nothing new, no new cases. I was starting to get worried. I put on a pot of coffee and sat at my desk. I called home to make sure that Jon was awake and getting ready to start his day. It’s Friday, I said. Jon answered: “So, what would you like to do this weekend?” “I don’t know?” I croaked out. “Well, when you think of what you want to do, let me know.” He replied. I bid him a good day and hung up. Hum, I thought, what to do, what to do?

Jon comes from Kentucky. He has that famous Southern drawl comingling with that Midwestern twang. He’s very popular, partly because he is adorable and partly because of his charming accent. He and I lived in Kentucky for a while, although I adore my in­laws and love our friends there, I found life in the South to be a bit confining for my tastes. I am a big city­boy and Jon is my country mouse. Hence why we settled in Hackettstown, he loves how it reminds him of his native Kentucky. He loves the wild­life and the landscape while I love the fact that I can hop on the train and be in the City in a little over an hour.

We could go to New York, I thought to myself. Ah, there is also a lot to do closer to home. People in New Jersey call the people who live in the northwestern part of the state, consisting of Warren and Sussex Counties, the “Hill People”. We’ve earned that nickname because we live in the Upper Pohatcong Mountain area which is a ridge in the Appalachian Mountains. Our area is unique in that we are considered part of the

Lehigh Valley Area as well as the Greater Metropolitan New York City Area. We love it because we are close to the City yet we get to enjoy a more rural life­style. Close to our home is the Musconetcong River which is great, especially if you enjoy fishing. We are close to the Delaware Water Gap as well as the Poconos in Pennsylvania.

After weighing my options carefully, I decided on something completely different. What about Newton? Historical sites, shops, and restaurants and only about a half­hour from home.

Chapter 2

Saturday, Jon and I took a drive to Newton and decided to have a peek around some of the shops in town before going to lunch. Newton is an historic town in Sussex County, New Jersey, with nice restaurants and antique shops and old buildings. I enjoy antiquing, flea­marketing and other fun escapades. Jon tolerates them for my sake. I believe that Jon overdosed on flea­marketing because he said that his father, Big Daddy, as I call him, used to take him with him every Saturday morning. I wish my father had taken me flea­marketing every Saturday morning, I thought. The grass is always seems greener in someone else’s backyard.

We stumbled into an interesting shop on Spring Street called Mr. Bob's Haunted Collection. It billed itself as a shop that deals in haunted items. I, being the curiosity seeker that I am and Jon, who has a psychic gift, couldn’t resist urge to peek around the shop. After walking around, checking out the porcelain and crystal items, I went over to the jewelry case. I was drawn to a piece that looked nice. I thought that it would be great to wear on the beach during the summer months. It wasn’t anything fancy. It looked to be a vintage piece. I hailed the gentleman, presumably Mr. Bobby, and he came over and opened the case for me to get a better look.

It was two oval pewter medallions tied together. The bottom one being larger, approximately 1¼ inches, had a brown painted enamel seagull. The top piece being slightly smaller and was the silhouette of the seagull. It hung on a 14 inch chocolate brown cotton cord, with a dark brown wooden bead and loop closure. It had a natural twine wrapped around the cord in a few spots to prevent fraying from wear.

I expressed my interest in purchasing the necklace. The gentleman looked at the tag and then went over to what looked like an old fashioned library card catalog case and pulled out an index card. He explained that each item in his store had a corresponding card which told the story of the haunted item. I honestly thought he was kidding me but I thought to myself, Okay. I jokingly asked if the story was included in the price or was it

extra. He asked me if I were serious about purchasing the piece. I said that I was. He did not seem amused by my humor. I handed him my debit card and he completed the transaction, gave me a strange look and placed the index card inside the bag with the necklace.

I found Jon outside the shop waiting for me. He asked me what I had gotten and I said a necklace with a seagull on it, and then we walked down Spring Street to Andre’s for some good food and wine. We placed our order and when the waiter had left I pulled the necklace out of the bag to show Jon.

The index card was typed front and back and read:

“Bobby K. was a young man who loved surfing. For as long as anyone knew him, he wore a distinctive necklace (more of a choker). He swore it was his good luck piece, and rarely took it off.

“Late one summer, Bobby and his girlfriend Jean had planned a

barbeque. He decided to take a shower at Jean’s and he took off his lucky necklace. One of his friends arrived early and told Bobby he was going to make a beer run. Bobby wanted to go along so after showering, he threw on a shirt and ran out the door forgetting his necklace. There was a tragic accident with a drunk driver on the way to the store and both Bobby and his friend were killed. In everyone’s grief, no one had thought to burry Bobby with his good luck charm under his suit. Jean had kept the piece with her as a way to deal with her grief. “Jean became convinced Bobby was still with her, perhaps a little angry that she held on to the choker. She was convinced that she was able to communicate with him by using the piece as a pendulum. This went on for a few years. Jean eventually healed, moved on and had gotten married but her husband demanded that she rid herself of these unhappy memories and ties. It is claimed that Bobby is still attached to it, and feels abandoned and lost.”

When we got back to Hackettstown, I could hardly wait to try on the necklace. Jon told me that he felt a presence. As I said, Jon is gifted, he is gifted in that he can sometimes see or sense dead people. He hates that about himself. I think because it makes him feel different or uncomfortable. Once, while we were walking through Union Cemetery along the Musconetcong River, in the old part of the cemetery, there was a large bush. Jon stopped and said to me, with a very serious expression: “That man doesn’t like the fact that that bush is obscuring his headstone.” I thought he was kidding me. I knelt down on my hands and knees, crawled around and low and behold, there was a broken

head stone hidden deep under this huge bush. Someone probably planted a small shrub next to their loved one’s grave and over the hundred or so years, the small shrub got huge and eventually obscured and possibly broke the old headstone.

I wasn’t quite sure if Jon was being influenced by the story typed onto the index card or his vivid imagination or if he really was sensing something. That evening, I had a rather vivid dream. I dreamt of Bobby. The dream was set at the beach, somewhere along the Jersey shore; it was very realistic, almost palpable. I saw the young man and I recognized him because he had on the necklace. He was adorable. He was buffed, lean and tan, and sadly, for me, very straight. O well, so much for ghostly sexual encounters, although, technically it wouldn’t be cheating if it’s with a ghost. Or would it be? O well, the point is rather moot. I think that Bobby was looking for a friend. Bobby also told me that I would be getting a phone call about a body that was dragged out of the Musconetcong River. He said that if I were open to it that he might be able to help me as best he could.

Chapter 3

I woke up, on Sunday morning, to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and Jon was in the kitchen making bacon and eggs. When I got up he told me about a dream he had about the guy named Bobby who had on the same necklace. Okay, now I was getting goose bumps, two of us having similar dreams? Maybe we both just have vivid imaginations. The phone rang; it was the wife of man whose body had been pulled from, you’ve guessed it, the Musconetcong River. She wanted to hire me to find out who did this to her husband and why. I explained my rates, $90 an hour plus incidentals, and she agreed and made an appoint to see me first thing Monday morning. We ended the conversation and I sat there for a moment not knowing what to make of the situation. The dream had been accurate so far, it gave me chills. I thought to myself, maybe I heard it on the news last night or something. This is too freaky. I felt an ice­cold presence around me. It was a cold that is hard to describe, other than bone chilling. Jon looked over at me. “What’s up?” He asked. When I told him, his face lost all expression. “What are you going to do?” he queried. “I’m going to take the case,” I replied then continued, “we need the money and she really does need our help.” “I have no doubt about that” was Jon’s reply, “I’m referring to our new friend?” he said with a hint of sarcasm and a just the way he whispered out “our new friend”, made me smile.

“I think they like to be called ‘disembodied humans,’” I joked. Jon chuckled and it broke the spectral tension. Jon suggested that we try to use it as a pendulum and ask

it questions. I said, “I seriously think that he would be offended by calling him an ‘it’.”

“You’re right” said Jon with a big grin. “Let’s eat first; it’s hard to concentrate on ghosts, rapports and other such paranormal things on an empty stomach.” I said. After breakfast we started piling the dishes into the sink. My OCD kicked in. For those who are not familiar with the term OCD, the acronym stands for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and yes, I can be obsessive and compulsive. I hate leaving dishes in the sink. Especially eggs, the yoke gets all crusty and yucky. I couldn’t do it. Hey, I come by it honest, my whole family is nuts. I filled the pan up with suds, rinsed the plates and started washing. I handed Jon a towel to dry. He looked at my wryly and said: “I made breakfast, can’t you do the cleaning up?” I shot back with, “the sooner we get done; the quicker we can get to the pendulum and our friend.” Jon smiled and grabbed the towel and together we knocked out the dishes. We sat at the dinning­room table. Jon got out his trusty pendulum board. I held the pendulum between my thumb and index finger and let Jon ask the questions. The pendulum board is rather basic. It has letters of the alphabet, numbers and, like a Ouija Board, has YES, NO and GOODBYE. Jon began, “Is there anyone out there wishing to communicate with us?” The pendulum started to move, slowly at first than it spun around in a circle. “Are you making it spin around like that? Jon asked me. I just looked at him and rolled my eyes. He persisted. “No!,” I exclaimed. “Can you tell us your name?” and then it moved back and forth and then in a decided direction to the letter B. Then O, then B and it lingered there stopped and did B again, then to Y. “You’re doing it.!” Jon said. I handed him the pendulum and let him hold it while I asked the questions. “Do you have a message for us?” I asked. It moved to the letter U then stopped, then it moved to the letter N, then E, then E again and then to D. There was a pause. Then It spelled out H­E­L­P. I looked at my note pad puzzled. U NEED HELP. It took me a second. O God, I thought, this ghost writes just like the kids of today text. I asked if this was a question or a declarative statement. We waited, nothing happened. Jon suggested that I ask it a yes or no question. “Are you asking me if I need help?” The pendulum swung to NO. Are you telling us that you are going to help us? It then swung to YES. “So now, I guess I have a new partner, named Bobby and he is going to help me solve mysteries.” I said to Jon with wide eyes and a sarcastic smile. Jon asked: “What kind of mysteries?” I replied, raising my eyebrows, “I guess, mysteries that need help from the ‘other side’? “I honestly can’t see myself sitting down with a pendulum while

investigating a possible murder.” I said to Jon quizzically. Jon answered: “There are many ways in which spirit can help, dreams, pendulum, EVPs …” “O yes, can you see me with one of those ghost buster gadgets?” I chuckled. “An electronic voice phenomena recorder!” Jon retorted. He continued: “No, but be open to this and the possibilities.” I agreed and we said our goodbyes to our new disembodied human friend and decided to take a walk.

Chapter 4

We caught up with Christian and Anne who were just about to take Pagliacci, their adorable French bulldog, out for an afternoon at the Pequest Fish Hatchery off of Rte. 46. We asked if we could tag along. We needed some time outside in the woods. They happily agreed. Pagliacci wagged his little chestnut of a nub. I sat on the steps to pet him and he jumped into my lap and licked my face. He’s way too adorable for his own good.

There is no middle ground with Frenchies, either you love them or hate them. We just think he is too freaking cute. We can’t help it. He’s a fawn color but he looks more like the color of butter­rum. He looks like he is part pig and part pigmy hippopotamus. It’s like staring at an adorable rump roast with pork chop legs. I pondered how a French bulldog wound up with an Italian name. Our cat Aslan was Pagliacci’s very first friend. Amazingly, the two of them get along rather nicely. Pagliacci wanted in our front door to offer greetings to his buddy Aslan, so we obliged.

He scurried past me, past Aslan and ran right for Aslan’s food dish. I ran after yelling “No, Pagliacci, stop!” He

ignored me. I got to the food dish before he managed to lick it up. After the food dish was off the floor, then he ran over to the cat to give licks. “That puppy can’t hold is licker.” I said. “That’s an old saying.” Christian said with his usual smile. We arrived at the fish hatchery and park and Christian and Anne loving placed Lachi, as they call him, on the longer leash. After he was harnessed up, we went tearing off ahead. Christian and Anne walked hand in hand. Pagliacci ran ahead at a quick pace. Every once in a while he’d look back to see if his human

entourage was still in tow. Jon and I took in the beautiful scenery and the sunlight glistening on the water. It made for a beautiful leisurely Sunday afternoon stroll.

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