Fetal Bait Apocalypse: 3 Collections in 1

After they unbound me, after they led me back to Gerta’s room, after I slept for many hours, I at last awoke to the sound of crying.

I was alone in the room with — with that thing.

I wasted no time.

There was a creek outside, frozen over with a rind of ice. I set the thing in the snow, and with a large rock, chipped through the ice until there was running water.

I took it — I took the child — and held it beneath the icy water.

But Christoph; you know that I have always loved you.

I am a sentimental, foolish man.

Mr. Krenshaw;

That’s the end of them. Crazy shit, huh? But just because the letters end, doesn’t mean the story is over.

Let’s just imagine that the paternal side of Brahm Zwick took over. Perhaps as he held the child-thing in the freezing water, he felt it struggle and kick, and he could not go through with it.

Just imagine that.

And imagine that he lifted the child-thing from the water, wrapped it in his coat and brought it back to Gerta’s room. He fed it. Stroked its face. Perhaps kissed it on the forehead, held it, felt it warm in his arms. Imagine…

Imagine Gerta and Hastings raising the child in the privacy of the institution, the patients treating it as one of their own, playing with him, teaching him the things they knew.

And imagine that one day, when the boy was a young man, his mother took his hand and they walked from the asylum’s grounds, never to return.

And imagine that young man had a child, and that child had a child, who bore another child.

One generation translating into the next.

And that last child grew up to be me.

Gerta found the letters not long after Brahm Zwick left. He’d gone back to the cave and left them crumpled on the cave floor. Gerta saved the letters and eventually gave them to Christoph, and they were passed down from generation to generation.

Stuvey was Gerta’s maiden name.

So do with the letters what you choose. I still have the originals. And if you think this a hoax, well—

I’ll always know the truth.

Sincerely,

Jim Stuvey

A Bride’s Head, Revisited (compiled by Joel Arnold with the assistance of Park Historian Lee Bartlesby)

“I saw her. I swear to you, I saw her.”

—from the suicide note pried from the hand of John Paris.

From the managing editor of American Highways Magazine:

From: Doherty, Arlene

Sent: Thursday, July 24, 2008 2:58 PM

To: Paris, John

CC: Doherty, Arlene

Subject: Old Faithful Inn Ghost Anniversary Query

John,

I love it! Let’s schedule this. Yes, weave the legend of the headless bride through interviews with the Inn’s employees and guests. Perhaps some can join you to observe the anniversary of this event? Bring the Inn to life as much as possible — figure about 2800 words, due December 1. As far as photos, take lots, particularly of the Inn — I hear it’s beautiful — the people, the amazing scenery. Remember, we need at least 300 dpi. I’ve got a contact with the WY Dept. of Tourism, so can possibly get you a few nights comped.

Any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.

Arlene

From the Wyoming Department of Tourism:

From: Lemon, Cynthia

Sent: Tuesday, August 12, 2008 10:34 AM

To: Paris, John; Doherty, Arlene

Subject: Old Faithful Inn lodging request

Dear Mr. Paris:

I’ve arranged a room in the old house of the Old Faithful Inn for the nights of September 4^th and 5^th. The Inn’s manager, Dale Shroud, is a great guy, and it might behoove you to shake his hand and tell him thanks for putting you up gratis. I also recommend talking to Craig Vetter from Bozeman, cell # 406- 555-3281. He’s the one to talk to regarding your ghost. He knows the place like the back of his hand and was interviewed for some show on the Travel Channel about it. He came off as quite the colorful character.

Let me know if you need anything else.

Warmly,

Cynthia Lemon

Publicity Liaison, Wyoming Department of Tourism

Portion of Craig Vetter interview transcribed from a micro-cassette tape found in John Paris’ belongings:

Paris: It’s 5:20 PM Mountain Time, September 4^th, 2008. I’m here at the Bear Pit in the Old Faithful Inn sharing a couple pints of Black Dog Ale with Craig Vetter, who is here to tell me all he knows about the ghost bride of the Old Faithful Inn.

Vetter: (chuckles)

Paris: Mr. Vetter, you worked at the Inn?

Vetter: The only one calls me Mr. Vetter is my tax guy, and only because he’s a jerk. So, please — it’s Craig.

Paris: Craig, then.

Vetter: Started bell hopping here the summer of 1970. The Yellowstone bug must’ve bit me, ‘cause I kept coming back every summer and winter until ‘98. Became Bell Captain in ‘74, and worked in that capacity until ‘92. Went on to be Assistant Location Manager, then finally Location Manager of the Inn in ‘96. Finally left on account of getting married to a beautiful woman who happened to also work here as a front desk clerk, and found ourselves with a brand-spanking-new bouncing baby girl. Yellowstone is a great place to work and live, but not a great place to raise kids. So we moved to Bozeman.

Paris: What do you do now?

Vetter: Personnel manager at the Doubletree.

Paris: Okay, let’s get right to the tale of the headless bride.

Partial Transcript of daily talk given by Old Faithful Inn tour guide, Tammy Whitney: