The Elaine Investigates index page.
©1 January 2025 Levite
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1.
Once again I had a series of normal assignments, including an employee of another county agency suspected of abusing the Family Medical Leave Act. It didn't take me long to come back with a report that said that while their use of the law to take care of a cousin probably wasn't adhering to the letter of the law regarding 'immediate family member', the cousin had no other relative to act as care giver, so it was in the best interest of everybody involved to allow it for the time being.
Another case involved a forged vacation request from an employee of Corrections who had been off without leave. It turned out he was working another job, without quitting his first job, and his roommate had put in the request for time off to keep a check coming into their shared account. The vacation request was denied, but he was paid for his earned time and placed on terminal leave from the Department.
And then another unusual request came in, this time from a State Park on Long Island Sound that, frankly, I'd never been to. I'd heard of it, of course, but I had just never had occasion to go out there. For one, I don't golf, I seldom go hiking or picnicking, and I tend to go to the beaches on the Atlantic.
But, there it was, an email from Office Manager Margaret at the Sunken Meadow State Park, requesting that I come out and see if they really had a problem.
I called her and we discussed what was going on, and she said she really wasn't comfortable talking about it on the phone, but it involved a new staff shelter near the golf course. I agreed to come out to the office and talk to her, then we could go out to the course and she'd show me the shelter.
We agreed that I'd come out the next morning and meet with her and the park manager. And she made sure to tell me to park in the employee lot next to the office. "It'll save you a lot of walking," Margaret said.
I spent the rest of the afternoon learning everything I could about the park I'd never been to, including that since the day it became a park in 1927 it has been exceedingly popular with the public and for most of its history, the facilities in the park have been used to the point of failure. And that now, even with an eight dollar entrance fee, ten during peak times, the park is one of the busiest in the state park system.
The only thing I couldn't find was the origin of the rather odd name, Sunken Meadow. I saw the suggestion that that was what the salt marsh was called, but to me, the images I saw of the tidal creek and salt marsh didn't say "meadow", sunken or otherwise. But they had to name it something, and that's a somewhat memorable name, so it works.
2.
Early on Friday morning I drove up and got on the park's Parkway. Yes, the state park has a state parkway that leads right to it.
I showed my badge to the man at the booth to get into the park and he asked me if I knew where I was going.
"Yes, sir." I answered, "They even told me where to park."
"Very good, ma'am. Enjoy your visit."
But even then it was still a long drive through the park and across the creek to the office building. I parked in an open spot in the employee lot and went in to look for Miss Margaret.
She was expecting me and asked me if I wanted a cup of coffee and to see the big map of the park so I could get my bearings while we waited on the manager to come back in from the maintenance building, "there was a lawn mower emergency."
"Sounds good," I answered.
By the map, the park is a lot bigger than one would expect, with parts of it running well inland.
But she singled out a spot near the golf course along the coast west of the office, "That's where we're going to go. The new booth for the golf course parking area."
"At least it's not Snake Hill," I said pointing to the name of a feature along one of the trails.
"That's one of the hardest hills on our cross country course, it isn't as famous as the other one, but it'll let you know you've climbed a hill."
About then we heard the manager come in and I didn't have to go out and run up the hill.
"Thanks for coming out," the manager said as the admin introduced us. "You come very highly recommended."
"Thank you, sir. I'll do my best to not disappoint." I nodded at the map, "Ms. Margaret said there was an issue at the staff booth, but she didn't say what it was."
"I think we stirred up a nature spirit."
"That's probably not a good thing," I said into the silence after his statement. "What gave you that idea?"
"One of our park volunteers is a Shinnecock. He said that their people tell stories of the nature spirits on the Island all the time."
"Sounds right to me."
We all piled into a large golf cart and I listened as the manager drove us out to the golf course.
There had been an issue with controlling traffic at the entrance to the golf course parking area during various events. So two years ago the park had brought in a temporary shelter for a staff member to use to manage traffic flow. The temporary was a success and enabled a staff member, or an event volunteer, to have someplace to go to get out of the sun, and on one weekend, rain. Then the park decided to make a permanent shelter nearby with power and a phone and all that.
And that's when the problem arose.
We pulled just off the road to the gold course alongside the shelter that had been built near the entrance to the driving range and got out and walked toward the building as the manager explained, "The rental was right here, and it worked pretty well, even though it got sideswiped by a car mirror a couple of times, that's why we decided to move the new one over."
The new building looked like a modern version of an old style guard shack with just enough room for a couple of people to sit inside and watch the entrance.
"You said there have been problems with a spirit," I said as we looked inside the empty booth.
"It began when we cleared some of the trees that were here," he gestured to the row of trees and bushes that lined the road. There was a gap where some of them had been removed. "The conservation manager made sure we planted two for every one we cut elsewhere in the park."
I looked at them, "what kind of trees are they?"
"These are European Elders, with the dark purple berries. Some of these hedgerows go back to colonial times when they were planted for the berries, and they've been regrowing in the same place ever since."
The admin, Margaret, added a bit of relevant information, "some made wine or even brandy from the berries. There are some old timers around that still do."
"But what about the nature spirit?" I asked them.
"It started as just a flicker of light from the ground where the trees were, even before we put in the rocks and the footing for the shelter."
We walked around to the back of the shelter nearest the trees.
"Do you only see it at night?"
"No, but it is more noticeable at night of course." The manager said, "I saw it here myself Tuesday morning. It lit up this whole area, but you couldn't tell where the light was coming from."
"What color was the light?"
He paused for a moment, "the best I ever saw it, it was kind of a greenish yellow. Why?"
"It could be important determining what, if anything, is here. It could be a natural discharge or some off atmospheric phenomenon, or it could be something, or some body, else."
I looked over at the admin, "have you ever seen it?"
"No," she said quickly, "and I do not want to."
The manager called one of the grounds crew to stop by and speak to me, the worker answered and said he'd be there in a few minutes. We walked around the booth and looked at the trees until the groundskeeper arrived in an aging pickup truck full of brush.
"John, tell her about the light you saw that one Thursday morning."
"Oh, yeah. I was here early making sure everything was opened up. You know, getting the gates open and unlocking the buildings over at the course before everybody else came in. I was just coming in and I saw this shack lit up like somebody had left the light on in it. But then I noticed that it was light on the backside too. And there's no outside light back there."
"So the light was in the booth, and back here as well."
"Yeah. And it was bright."
"What color was the light?"
"Oh. It was a kinda, I don't know, I never thought about it. Maybe a bit yellow."
I asked John a couple more questions, then thanked him for his information and he went back to dump his brush.
I told the manager that I'd like to set up a couple of cameras back away from the booth to just watch for activity. "And who would I have to check with to come in during the night just to watch it for awhile to make sure somebody isn't pulling a hoax on us?"
"I hadn't thought of that," the manager said, "Anyway. That'd be me. I'll show you how to get in off hours."
"Thank you."
We rode back to the office and I thanked them for their assistance, then I went out and drove my car down to the booth and actually began my investigation.
3.
Back at the office I spent some time reading the history of the Sunken Meadow area, but there wasn't a lot there.
Like almost every other part of the Island, this regions history goes back hundreds of years. I found records of land claims that were never acted on, and outlines of where various boundaries had been in 1780. The original tract that became the park was purchased in 1926, and since then the park itself had grown to what it is today. With the first part of the gold course being built in the early sixties.
I was able to confirm part of what they had said about the treeline along the road by the driving range by looking through old photos and a description of the original driving range. I couldn't trace the treeline back to the Colonial period, but they had been there a long time anyway.
Something else I looked up were the local native people's nature spirits, and while I was at it, the lore about elder trees.
As it turned out, the locals weren't the only ones with spirits. The stories about spirits living under elder trees came across the Atlantic with the early settlers as well. And according the both the native and colonial folklore, the spirits were usually not happy about being disturbed.
And, per the literature I could find, a greenish light, sometimes leaning toward a bit yellow at times, was a sign of their presence. Also, the longer it went on, and the more disturbed they were, the more hostile they could get until an area was no longer habitable.
It was my l3earning things like that that made this job a lot more interesting that perhaps it needed to be.
Then I went home early and got some sleep. Then, at about "oh, dark thirty" I was in my car on my way to the park with my roll of paper and cup of coffee, and, for tonight, I stopped at a market on my way to the park and got a couple slices of their specialty pizza.
I had marked where I wanted to park along what they called Naples Avenue near where the turn off for the maintenance area and the third course was. I slowed down and turned off my lights and eased off the road and stopped where I could just see the booth on the other side of the short clearing.
As soon as I shut the car off the darkness and stillness could well have been the most intense I'd ever experienced on the Island.
There hadn't been anybody in the park when I drove in. While there were caretaker facilities, there was nobody out. I put the code into the side gate and it opened as promised, and I was able to drive along, past the empty parking lots and distant and dark office building toward the golf courses.
I got out of the car with my camera and took a long slow look around.
The road was visible in the moonlight, and I could hear the distant sound of a boat out on the Sound. But other than that, it was pitch black and dead quiet. So I took a walk along the road toward the booth.
I knew where I'd put my cameras, and I was certain that the one on the other side of the road had already seen me, and, hopefully, recorded twenty seconds of night vision video of my walking by.
The other one, on a post across the grass more toward the driving range would see me soon enough, and snap three quick still photos of me.
A third camera was closer to the booth, and was what I was here for. I was going to turn it on to take a single picture every three minutes, the rest of the night. Just in case a glowing light didn't activate a motion sensor.
The camera was right where I'd left it, aimed at the side of the shelter. I didn't activate it at first, but, instead, went to the booth and opened the door and just sat in it for a bit. Listening to the night and trying to sense anything unusual about the small dark building.
Other than being the loneliest place in Suffolk County, there wasn't anything odd about it.
After a few minutes in there I decided it was time for hot coffee and almost warm pizza and got up to activate the camera and head back to my car.
I couldn't be sure, but the area felt different as I walked away from the time lapse camera than it did when I got there. I stood still and just slowly looked around and tried to not let my imagination get the better of me. Finally I gave up and headed back to the car.
My coffee was still hot, and my first slice of pizza was still warm. I listened to the night and had a very agreeable snack. And waited.
Just as the sky behind me began to get lighter I went and swapped out the memory cards on all three cameras and left.
I stopped at home for a shower, then I went to the office and went through the images on the cards from the cameras.
I had good images of deer, and a red fox, and some stray female police detective.... and something else.
"I didn't see that," I said to myself as I reviewed the time lapse.
At about three AM there was a sequence of photos that showed a definite glow around the rear of the shelter. I remembered walking right by there and I didn't see anything that could have caused the light. It wasn't much, it certainly didn't light up the entire inside of the booth, but it was there. And it did not set off either of the motion sensor cameras.
I enlarged several of the images and zoomed in on where the light was coming from the ground right next to where I could see the concrete pad the booth was on. If it was a hoax, somebody had buried some sort of lighting device behind the booth, perhaps on a timer or remote control.
After lunch I drove back out to the park, waving at the same guy in the toll booth.
I parked next to the booth and went over the area where the light had appeared with everything from my metal detector to my hands.
The gravel behind the booth hadn't been disturbed, there was no string of lights buried in the rocks, and nothing else that could have caused the light, such as a phosphorescent chemical mixture. The electrical supply was run underground, but came in the front corner of the booth from the maintenance shop across the road, and both outlets were on the side wall well away from where I'd seen the light. So if it was an electrical short, it was a traveling one.
I went over the area with my electromagnetic field detector, and while there were a few low spikes here and there, most of the area anywhere near the booth and the trees came in at background levels from very close to the ground up to about waist high.
With a deliberate hoax and a power malfunction all but ruled out I began to think that maybe there was something going on with something that was manifesting from underground. Just what was manifesting was something that I didn't even want to speculate on.
Could it be naturally occurring static electricity discharging through some minerals in the soil under the booth? I spent some time reading about natural electrical discharges and decided that this was something else. I thought it was possible, but the phenomenon didn't seem to be dependent on the weather, which would influence the discharge.
So I kept looking. Then later, I went home, got some sleep, and then a couple of hours before "oh dark thirty" I was up and on my way back to the park.
This time I parked closer to the booth, and went around it with my EMF detector and checked for any unusual readings.
Even with the detector laying on the ground, the level just above where the power cable ran into the building was just barely over the baseline for the area. As was the inside of the building except near the light switch and power outlet.
Then I took several photos of the area with, and without, the flash from the same position, just to have for reference. Finally I just walked around and stood and looked. The place was dark and still and quiet, and it was even darker and stiller and quieter.
Then I sat on a bench near the driving range and had some coffee and what the young lady at the market called "a taco wrap" while I filled up my thermos with coffee. I told her I'd try one, and a slice of pizza for later.
It may have been a wrap, and it was rather tasty, at midnight on a dark golf course, but it wasn't even a second cousin to a taco, and I wasn't sure I'd ever buy another one.
It was about one AM. My wrap was long gone, and the coffee in my cup was low. And I realized that I could see the back of the booth.
While I was eating, the area behind the booth was pitch black, I could barely see the top of the booth reflecting a light in the parking area across the road and behind some other trees. Now, I could see the back wall of the building.
I left my cup sitting on the bench and began to walk the long way back to my car where my camera and EMF detector were. On the way I stopped several times and looked and listened. Tonight I couldn't even hear a boat out on the Sound.
I thought maybe there was a light pointed at the back of the booth from back in the trees. Which means I would be able to see a light source. So I walked over there and looked. I even stood between the trees near the booth and on the other side of the road and waved trying to make a shadow on the building. It didn't work, the light appeared to be coming from ground next to the booth.
I slowly opened the passenger door on my car and got my camera and the meter. Then I closed the door just as slowly and walked back the way I'd come. I could still see the back of the booth, and now I could tell where the concrete pad ended and the rocks began from some distance away.
I took several pictures with the full spectrum camera, then slowly walked toward the booth with the EMF detector down as load as low as I could hold it and still walk VERY slowly.
The light didn't vanish or get more intense as I approached. But the reading on the meter increased by a few points as I got closer. But it never got as high as it had been next to the outlet or light switch inside. I thought it was odd that I got the highest reading, by only a couple of tenths, just to one side of where the light was visible. I spent quite a bit of time trying to get photos of the readings on the meter in various places without using the flash. Finally I got tired of doing that and just hoped that enough of them would come out legible.
I went inside the booth and could see inside the building. And it wasn't obvious where the light was coming from. Which proved that the light source wasn't outside and shining in or I would have made a shadow.
Later I was sitting on the bench with my pizza and a fresh cup of coffee.
"It's getting dimmer." I said to the last few bites of pizza.
I left it and my coffee and went and took several more pictures. The area behind the booth was almost totally dark again, and I could see some light in the crack between the rocks and the cement. But even as I was standing there, the light got dimmer and then vanished.
I reached down with my pen and marked the concrete as close as I could to where the last of the light had been, then I gathered my stuff up and went back to my car. That's when I realized that I'd spent all night either sitting on the bench or walking around, and hadn't spent any time at all sitting behind the steering wheel just watching.
I stopped at home and got a shower.
4.
In the office I went through the photos and found that I had several of the meter that showed the slightly higher readings.
But it was the photos of the light itself from back by the bench and the ones I'd taken by my car that were more interesting. There was a lot more of the light than I could see with my eyes.
And it was those photos that confirmed that the source was underground. It didn't confirm that the source was natural, or paranormal, or even a hoax, but it did show that it was coming from underground.
Back at the park I dug down into the rocks near where I marked the pad under the booth. I went down to the bottom of the foundation, and never found any artificial light source.
Which meant that while the light was real, its source wasn't man made. Which left something that I didn't think we could control. However, the one upside was that I never felt threatened. But I didn't think a sprinkle of blessed sand would contain something that was accustomed to being held in the Earth by elder trees for the last two hundred years or more.
An elder tree.
I had an idea.
In the office I met with the park manager and Margaret.
I showed them the photos and explained how I didn't find anything anywhere around that would explain the light.
"But, while unsettling, it doesn't appear to be dangerous. Yet." They both looked at me with wide eyes. "According to what I've read, if it goes on for an extended period, and isn't appeased, it can become... not dangerous, but, unpleasant. And could lead to problems with staff and guests in that area. But I have an idea that might keep it, or at least most of it, underground, and maybe make it happy again. Or at least happier than it is now. Let's go out there and I'll explain."
We stood around the back of the booth and the manager nodded, "this is exactly where I saw the light coming from as well."
"I'm proposing we transplant an elder tree from elsewhere in the park and put it right here," I gestured to around where I'd dug my hole at my mark on the pavement.
The manager peered into the hole, "but from your photo, it looked like the light may be coming from under the foundation."
"It might be, yes."
He stood up straight and nodded to us, "OK, go find a small elder we can move, I'll be right back."
"Where are you going?" Margaret asked.
"To get a jackhammer," he drew a circle roughly completing where I'd dug my hole. "We'll put the tree right here, and train it away from the building."
It took a couple of hours, but we found a nice sized elder that was movable and dug it up while the manager and a couple of the grounds crew used a jackhammer to break up the concrete and moved it and the rocks out.
Then once the hole was made we put in several bags of soil and a good bit of their compost and sat the transplanted elder tree in it.
Then, as an afterthought I put a pinch of my sand around the tree, "May this living tree appease whatever spirit of the earth we have disturbed. We ask your patience and understanding with us, because, after all, we're only human."
"So say we all," the manager added.
Somebody else then whispered, "Amen."
We watered the tree in and put a fence around it.
"I'll come back and check on it a couple of times. Just to see if it worked." I told the manager as we packed up.
"I'd appreciate that."
I didn't buy another taco wrap. Instead, I made due with their special pizza. And while I did see a bit of a glimmer from around the tree on the first night, that's all it was. And the next two times I was out there in person, and the several nights being recorded by the stop action camera. The light never reappeared.
So I considered the case closed.
-end forgotten-
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[NOTE: The above story were written as adventure fiction, and is to be taken as such. While most of the geographical features of Suffolk County exist, such as the Sunken Meadow State Park, the rest of the setting is fictional.
Thank you, Dr. Leftover, TheMediaDesk.com]
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