"Paranormal entities are always attracted to events we would only describe as terrible; some beings have preferences, others requirements; some pretend, others possess; some feed on substances imperceptible to our senses, and others feed on us. While the latter are always more immediately dangerous, they are the most easily understood."

- Carey J. Trinh, Paranormal Corporeal Manifestations, Lead Anatomist

the Logrolling

Benton, Ohio

Though young Jacob Taylore was an outsider, he was a welcome outsider. Handsome, ambitious, and single, many sought his attention for themselves or their daughters. A logrolling was in order.

Not grand events, the thrown-together affairs were nonetheless exciting. For a day, villagers put aside their own duties to gather and work as one; the land would be cleared of trees, stumps, and brush. But after, fires and food and dancing and plans. One day, Jacob would be expected to do the same for new and old faces alike. He would also be expected to give special favor to those who contributed the most.

By sunset, the gathering had grown loud. Spread out over smoothed earth, fires arose, encompassing piles of debris atop rough stumps. The clink of cookware and savory smell of meat filled the clearing with not only light but fellowship. Laughter, singing, and the tapping, shuffling of feet joined the happy chorus. Only a handful of particularly diligent women continued to work into the twilight. A sudden shriek, however, stilled everything, even the firelight.

Tripping on her skirts as she twirled, Miss Beth Turner fell headfirst into the largest bonfire. A twisted ankle kept her grounded; tangled among the burning brush, she could not pull away, only scream. An unexpected horror, a few seconds passed before help rushed to her thrashing side. So badly burned and cut were here hands that they sloughed off and fell back into the flames. Water extinguished the suffering woman, the bonfire, the logrolling festivities, and her hands. They sizzled and smoked atop the charred branches.

The gathering wordlessly collected their tools and dishes, leaving the new resident a solemn pile of leftovers. Everyone avoided looking at the stump, though a few paused to say a prayer for Beth and those treating her. Her wounds tended as best as they could be, the last of the party carried her down the trail to rest. Jacob had seen plenty of burns, but none this bad. Before returning to his rented room, he decided to take care of the hands first; if she were to die, it would be proper to bury all of her－not leave those for the animals to devour. Unfortunately, they were already gone.

Beth lived for another three days. Her hands were never recovered, though, people still claimed to see them. In the forest, they were lost. The disembodied fingers pulled their palms across the ground, wandered on burnt fingertips, and scurried away from view. Sometimes, though, they were malicious: chasing, grabbing, and scratching those unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Was Beth's fearful, angry spirit trapped in her disembodied hands? Were the hands possessed by residual emotional energy? Was something more malicious at work in the forest? Or was it all just a story? While the tale evoked more questions than answers, it was the beginning of great discoveries.

Investigations proved the bit of folklore to be at least somewhat true: there was an entity living in the woods and Beth was a real person. But, these disembodied hands were most certainly not Beth. These things were not trapped souls, but organisms - life from another dimension. Was there another Ohio ghost story linked to a real organism? Was this just a stroke of luck, or were most, if not all, ghost stories partially true?

A New Name

"Pike Lake Ghost" was an unsuitable name for the being: the lake wasn't in existence at its birth, only built in 1930, and it wasn't a ghost (a category of paranormal entity). I decided to give it a new one: "Path Hands." Traveling wild game and hiking trails, the hands are an inseparable, clumsy pair.