Guardians of the Mountains

I don't know where or when I first heard about the Guardians. It could have been my grandfather; after all, he told me numerous stories about the myths, legends and realities of the island and the Wabanaki people from when I could barely walk. It could have been my uncle, who claims one of the creatures tore up his leg - it's why he was limping half his life, he said. He vanished in the woods one day, in '03, and nobody ever found any sign of him. He just vanished into thin air.

It could have just been a story I heard in the trailer park - over a cold beer, or under the stars one evening, with Joseph smoking his pipe and Frank strumming the guitar. It's the kind of story old Joe enjoys telling.

I don't know when I first heard about the Guardians, but one thing is for sure: I've heard about them on many occasions. There are numerous stories about these mystical creatures, and they have all of them left their impression on me.

A friend of my uncle's drew this, based on his description and that of other people - my grandfather, Joseph, other Wabanaki, even townsfolk. Sure, at night it's easy to mistake a big dog or a wolf or a coyote for something else. Shadows play tricks on you, and when you're spooked you see things. But there's been many reports and sightings over the years, more and more recently, and some say that the Guardians are portents of dark days coming.

What are they? Legends speak of them as watchers and gatekeepers of something ancient and vast and evil that sleeps in these mountains. And when this evil stirs, so do the Guardians...

The Truth (is out there?)

My grandfather, a member of the Wabanaki tribe, was the first to tell us about the things that haunt Solomon Island. We didn't believe him, not in the beginning. Not until he showed us evidence.

A thousand winters ago, he told us, our people were visited by warriors from across the great sea - where the morning light breaks. They arrived in long ships, carried by wind and destiny, and they arrived just in time to help the People of the Dawn fight a great enemy serving the dark spirit of the mountains. The Darkness War was won, at great loss to all, but evil wasn't vanquished completely. Some of the darkness remained behind when the outsiders left; some was already here since before the mountains, buried deep, sleeping; and some came crawling back into the light, stirred by the scent of death.

The Pale Men, my grandfather told us, followed the warriors in their long ships from the sunken city, fought on their side in the war, but they were of darkness, and when the visitors left, some of the Pale Men remained, marooned in deep water. Waiting to be called again. We didn't believe him.

He showed us.

From that day on, I never disbelieved anyone who spoke of the things that haunt our woods. From the Pale Men to the forest moths, from the Wendigo to Glooskap. From the pestilent Revenant to the legend of Jack O'Lantern. Behind every myth lies a greater truth.

I'm here to document that truth.

This place is insane

My name is Tyler Freeborn. I'm a native of Solomon Island, one of the most beautiful spots in Maine - in all of New England, I think. I live ten minutes out of Kingsmouth, a tiny seaside town that's been here since 1667, according to the official site. But this blog isn't about me, and it's not about the history of this island - not really. It's about the strange things that have happened - and are happening - here.

For as long as anyone can remember, Solomon Island has been a hotbed of paranormal activity and monster sightings. Locals know this all too well, it's not a secret although some try to pretend it is, but no one ever really talks about it - not off-island and not to non-islanders. "Keep our secrets to ourselves" - that's the unofficial town motto. Outsiders aren't welcome, not when it comes to what goes on in the dark places of Solomon Island.

Which is why I'm starting this blog. I was going to do it anonymously but then I figured I had nothing to be afraid of. Worst that can happen is someone spits in my coffee at Susie's, or my mail doesn't get delivered. It's time someone stepped up and said what everyone here's thinking:

This place is batshit insane.