A Caretakers Anger

This happened on the Island of Kauai. I don't know why I went to investigate, but I kept feeling drawn to the location.

The old Caretaker (? Not sure what the building is) Cottage is a dilapidated building, sitting in the middle of nowhere. There use to be electrical wires connected to a wood pole, but there is no power to the building any longer.

The first time I drove by, I wasn't aware it was there. In fact, I had driven past it for years. It was isolated off a small turn about, and there was never a reason to drive up that way.

I feel silly admitting I never knew it was there, but I wasn't called. When I use the word, "called"...I mean I was summoned. By who or why?, I don't know. This is not something I go out of my way to do. If I had a choice, I would NEVER check out an empty building.

This was different. It had a lonely quality connected to it. I stared at it for a while, before I wandered over to get a closer look. I made sure I looked it over in the daylight. It looked like it was about to collapse in on itself.

It was a pathetic little house. It had one living area, no bedroom, and a tiny outhouse on one side. There appeared to be a small kitchen or laundry area on the other side of the building. A wood pole jutted straight up into the air. It looked oddly out of place. The area was a junkyard of old cars, thrown out rubbish, and abandoned furniture.

I felt so sad just looking around. How could anybody have lived here? I am certain it must have been a lonely existence. There aren't any homes around, and the nearest property? A cemetery across the road on the other side of the street.

I think I understand now. Maybe this little house was a Caretakers home overseeing the cemetery. I wondered what his story was. Somehow, I knew it was a male entity pulling me here. I don't know how, I just "knew".

I carry my camera, wherever I go, and I decided to take a photo. It is posted on my Photos page of my Website. It is a unique building, and I wanted to look at it later. You know, study it, try to figure it out. It would take me a couple more weeks before I returned. The final visit (and I say "final" for good reason) came on a evening around nine p.m.

This is what I saw that night. Driving around, the air felt charged with energy. It was a beautiful evening, and the air was still. The trade winds had stalled, and I could hear every bug, every toad, every cricket. It was magical. To my left the ocean pounded against rocks and cliffs. I could smell the salty seawater, and it invigorated my senses.

My skin was tingling with anticipation, and I didn't know where I was headed. I just drove along, waiting for a signal to stop. I found myself near the cemetery, and then I turned onto the dirt road leading to the place I call "The Caretakers Cottage".

It was disorienting. There are no lights along the street. It is completely black in there, and you feel like you are driving through a cave. My headlights penetrated the darkness to a degree, but I couldn't see beyond the light. It felt as though the light was being gobbled up by the hungry blackness. It was unnerving, to say the least.

It was so quiet, I could hear the gravel and dirt beneath my tires. I felt like I was making so much noise. Pulling to a stop along the Caretakers Cottage, I didn't dare step out of the truck. Instead, I grabbed my camera, and started snapping away. My heart was beating rapidly, but I was not scared. There was this feeling, I would finally get some answers in that oily darkness.

I was right. By picture number four, I started to hear footsteps coming from the inside of the building, only I didn't see anything. I could feel him there, and I took another picture. A kind of hostile yell (I can't describe it) came from the right of the building. It was a mans voice, but I couldn't tell what he was saying. One thing I couldn't miss, that was the anger emanating from the voice. He was beyond angry. It was then I heard him step outside and start to walk toward my truck. I backed away as quickly as I could. Driving away in my truck all I could think about was the photos. Would I get to see him in any of the pictures?

I drove straight home, and pulled the disc from my camera. Plugging it into my computer, I waited to see what images popped up on the screen. To my surprise, I found myself looking into the face of a very angry man. It was the last photo taken. This photo is posted at the bottom of my photo page on my Website-if you are interested.

The Ghostly Caretaker has his mouth open as if he was saying something (which he was). One hand is balled into a fist, and you can clearly see his fingers. The other hand is being held up to his upper chest area. The rest of his body didn't manifest. His face and hands are sickly white.

I remember trying to take a last photo, but the batteries were already drained. Ghosts will do that to electrical items. They drain us, our equipment, to pull and use the energy to appear, etc.

The next day, I asked the local police about the caretaker cottage, and they didn't know who had lived there, or why the building was there. Many of the local people, who had grown up in the area, always remembered it as being there. In that same, horrible, sad condition.

No one remembered a Caretaker living there. Growing even more frustrated, I wondered why I was lead there. It was obvious. This Ghost man didn't want any help from anybody. I think he just wanted to remind someone, anyone, He did exist.