ROBERT MORRISS: CANNIBAL SLAYER

"Za-Zammmm!" Quoted "RT"...
Driving his vintage Bentley, he remembered the last time he was on Rt 24 in Virginia.
His band played at a redneck country bring your own bottle bar called the AVALON CLUB in 1976 on a Saturday night in August. After about the fifth song, the audience got rowdy, the music not to their liking, they charge the stage, bottles and chairs in hand, seeking good 'ol boy satisfaction.
Unconsciously rubbing the scar of his face from a wielded jagged Wild Turkey bottle, he remembered how this short fellow who said his name was Rufus, helped him and his fellow bandmates escape the melee that destroyed must of their musical guitar.
He was holding onto his favorite Fender maple neck butterscotch Telecaster as Rufus led them into the a nearby wood, as the singer mumbled something about that Altamont gig not being this bad.
As he drove into Lynchburg Rufus's words came to mind as their roadies drove up in the tour bus, " Za-Zammmm".
Wild horses couldn't drag him back to that bar.
 

" Twistin , twistin twistin the night awaaay" played quiet on the radio in the background as Jack sat nervously while the medium finished his preparations.
" Are you sure you want to do this instead of me"? the medium asked.
" Oh yes" Jack replied ," I must have the truth first hand".
" Very well ,follow my watch ,to and fro..to and fro......"

Jack found himself...no ,it was some one else ,but it was him......odd...sitting at a writing desk in a gloomy room.
Some thing was wrong ...nothing was happening.
He gazed into the glim on the desk and felt some one else's thoughts take over.

Be it finest gold ,or pore-est clay a glim is only worth the candle....Candle.

While I ponder weak and weary ,tossing this and another theory......I gaze glumly at my pen ,which sits dumbly ,still past ten..
I have my hero ,tall dark and handsome ,who a treasure he had ransomed....what to do with he and crew ,I seek vainly what to do.
From twisted history I've created ,something mysteriously belated , now I need to leave a clue for my readers to pursue...

I' ll have to off my characters crew , all 31 ,or 32...but leave a tempting residue or readers won't believe it true.

With stub of candle burning low , my candle box where I have stowed , my key to see when light is low ,is now opened aloft -a low...
To reveal a single taper...and in the bottom a past due bill paper ,from the local candle maker.

A key ,a candle and a box. A paper/ papers ...yes! Why...bless my socks . I will leave them to some just a stranger, then write party off with some vague danger...
Leaving treasure unaddressed , to vex my readers and their guests...
Add some puzzles , two or three ,to contribute to the glee .

I can do this yet tonight ,before my candle loses sight.
Yes ,the glim is worth the candle ,and this tale of gaming I can handle. Tis most surely worth the flame, they won't even know my name!

Jack awoke , gazed about and then focused on the medium watching him.
Then asked " Are you ready to start yet?".
The medium did a palm slap against his own forehead.
 

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... " Are you ready to start yet?"...
"How deep do you want me to go", inquired the medium
"All the way", replied Jack with excited anticipation.
"So be it Jack and be nimble for the game is worth the candle"
Slapping his forehead, the medium spun around like a dervish casting omniscient shadows dancing in the flickering candle light.
As the medium fell back onto a hardback chair in total oblivion trance, Jack was transfixed at the shadow display on the wall.
Nebulous forms were slowly emerging on the wall, shadow puppets from beyond forming a hand reaching out from the wall.
Jack screamed like a girl causing the medium to jump upright, wide awake from his trance.
"I have seen all things Beale, know all the secrets", announced the medium.
"Tell me, tell me", gushed Jack in total wonderment.
"I will, but first you must sign a NDA".
 

Opening a desk and pulling a paper from it,"I have the NDA form here".
"Yes, hand me a pen, I just got to know".
"Well it must be notarized, and lucky for you I happen to be a notary" stated the medium, "but first you must pay my fee before signing".
Reaching for his wallet, and counting the bills inside, Jack inquired, "How much"?
"Ten Franklins, bro".
 

Jack thumbed through his wallet, pulling out a twenty, two fives, and several crumpled Washingtons laying them on the table.
Disdainfully, the medium glared at the small clutch of currency, mumbling," Got any change in your pockets"?
Jack stood up and with hands in his pockets began to jingle his coin change reserve.
"Well empty your pockets, lets see what you got", instructed the now aggravated medium.
Emptying the contents from his pockets on the table, the medium began sorting the coins from old gum wrappers, some skittles and M&M's stuck to an occasional Tic Tac, and a folded dollar off coupon for Long John Silvers.
The pocket coin bounty consisted of Chucky Cheese and Buster & Dave tokens, three Canadian cents and Beaver nickle, one of those gold tint president dollars with Millard Fillmore on the face.
Even with the Long John Silvers coupon it was still under forty bucks.
Well, thought the medium, almost forty bucks is better than no bucks, and turning to Jack in a smooth soothing tone, " I like you Jack" pausing for a section "Tell you what I'll do, and bear in mind I have never done this for another, for all the money on the table, I'll reveal the limerick that is in the Beale C1 cipher. Do we have a deal"?
"That would make me special. Yes, yes indeed".
 

"There was this treasure of Thomas J Beale
He took to Bedford to conceal
Beale dug a vault not using the cave
Gave Morris an iron box to save
Then went to Buzzards Roost for a Burma Shave?
"Amazing", exclaimed Jack," You must be the only person who decoded that in C1. Can I write that down"?
"Yes, I am the only one to decode the ciphers, and no you can not write that down or tell anyone".
"But, but, what can I say when someone asks me about the Beale codes"?
" Just say that you know that I am the only one to solve them. Now if you will excuse me, I have a date with fish and chips with coleslaw and hush puppies at Long John Silvers".
Sweeping up the cash and Long John Silver coupon from the table, the medium escorted Jack out the door.
 

"Surprise! Surprise, Surprise!" Quoted Rufus, the Troll (aka "RT")...
As Jack walked to his to his car a vintage Bentley pulled up to where he was standing.
The windows rolled down as smoke billowed out from the Bentley's interior.
Behind the wheel was that guy who played the father of that Captain Sparrow in those pirate movies, and sitting on the passenger was the ugliest troll looking dude he had ever seen.
Could that be who stole his teacher's car, Jack wondered?
Leaning out the passenger window the troll giggled, " Surprise, Surprise, Surprise"!
 

These are the authentic statements regarding events in Bedford county in the years of 1820-1822 as told to me by my uncle, Robert Morris, during the second year of the Confederate War, concerning the visit of Thomas J Beale.
James Beverly Ward-1882.
Lindy walked down Court Street to the Lynchburg Historical Museum and walked up the steps of this former courthouse building to begin her shift in the basement archives.
Her professor arranged for this job as additional college credit, but the real purpose of this apt pupil was to discover anything concerning the Beale Papers in her position of assistant to the under curator sorting through forgotten boxes of archives in the dark recesses of the basement for possible future exhibits.
It was boring work, and nothing about Beale or James Beverly Ward for that matter.
She pulled out another box, covered in dust, brushed it away and read the handwritten description on its contents:
"OLD LETTERS,ESSAYS, MISC PAPERS"
Putting on a pair of white gloves, Lindy began going through the box's contents, sectioned by cardboard separations.
Seeing nothing of interest, she began rifling through at a faster pace that was not proper procedure, when something caught her eye and she suddenly stopped.
Carefully she lifted the handwritten manuscript from the box, carry it to her desk, placing the several pages on it well worn surface.
Turning on a green shaded bankers style desk lamp, she almost screamed with joy, for there were the names of Robert Morris and Thomas J Beale and it was signed by James Beverly Ward.
This must be what her professor wanted her find.
Putting on her reading glasses, Lindy began to read the fine cursive handwriting of James Beverly Ward.
"It was January of 1820 when Thomas J Beale and friends first hired rooms at the Washington Hotel...
 

...
About a half mile from Buford's, we encountered a curious sight by the side of the road.
One of Beale's men, named Lister, I believe, was standing over the body of old man Witcher, with Witcher's still beating heart in his mouth, spurting blood covering his face.
Sarah screamed, Lister lifted his head and slowly came toward us.
I always carry a shotgun when traveling, which I grabbed, leap from the buggy, slapped the horse's rear, sending Sarah in the buggy to safety, as I faced the approaching Lister...
Lindy's fascination turned to shock as she continued to read Robert Morris's account of his encounters with Thomas J Beale and his companions and the horror set loose on Bedford county by the Beale Party.
 

...
As we reached our Washington Hotel, we observed someone on the porch, sitting in the bent wood rocker, holding an iron box on his lap. It was Beale.
Beale stood up from the rocker as Sarah and I ascended the hotel's steps.
He reported that he had urgent business to attend to in New Orleans and must depart post haste.
Handing me the iron box, Beale told me that if he did not return in ten years, that I was to open the box and read the contents contained therein.
With that, Beale mounted his dapple grey gelding and rode off.
That was the last time that I ever saw Thomas Beale.
There actually was an iron box that Beale had given to Morris, and the ten year wait was also mentioned in THE BEALE PAPERS, and it appeared there was some truth in that 1885 job print pamphlet, concluded Lindy.
But, she wondered, what has the cannibalism of Beale's associate called Lister have to do with any of this?
 

As the years passed, the events of the summer of 1820 faded into dim memory...
I retrieved the dust covered iron box from where I had placed it over twenty years ago, and proceeded to break the lock with a heavy hammer. After several attempts, it gave way. I opened the box.
Inside were several papers, folded in two, and it was a letter addressed to me.
ROBT. MORRIS ESQ
"My esteem friend...
Lindy's excitement grew as she read this.
There really were Beale letters, the actual Beale Papers in the iron box.
She began to read the letters as presented by Morris...
 

"...Ever since leaving my comfortable quarters at your home, I have regretted that which I brought upon Bedford county. With regards to the box left in your charge, I have a few words to say to enlighten you concerning the events of this horrid year.
During our fine meal which included Reverend Clay, if you remember, I mentioned an Indian medicine man and his warning about entering the cave of the ancient ones. We all ignored his warning as native superstition.
We entered the cave.
Eyes wide, Lindy read faster wanting to know what Beale's party found in the cave of the ancient ones.
Could this be the source of Beale's fabulous treasure, she wondered?
 

With oil lanterns in hand, we entered the dark cavern, which was much larger than we thought. As the yellow glow from our lanterns illuminated the caves walls, we were stricken with awe and wonder at what we observed. On both sides of the cavern were human skeletons stacked to the ceiling like cord wood. We all just stared in silence.
I thought of the medicine man's warning as a cold shiver ran down my spine.
One of my men, Jean Lafferty, we all called him Laf, had ventured further into the depths of the cave, and gained all our attention on his running return, shouting, "I have found what dreams are made of".
Releasing a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, Lindy gasped reading the last line on that page, quickly turning to next handwritten page of Ward's account on what his wife Harriet's uncle had told him during the second year of the Confederate War.
 

Simpson, who had joined our party as a friend of Laf, was the first to reach the second chamber with Laf. Both began laughing and yelling in jubilation, we soon saw what raised the men's commotion. This chamber was filled with all wonderment of treasure. Silver bars with strange symbols marking their surface, weird shaped statues of solid gold, bowls made of gold filled with greenish blue stones, wonder upon wonder wherever we looked.
"Unbelievable", Lindy said aloud, " There really is a treasure"!
Her outburst brought the attention of her boss, the under assistant curator who rushed in, inquiring, "Have you found something in these archives for a future exhibit"?
Quickly Lindy placed another folder on top of these Morris Papers by Ward, not wanting to reveal to her superior what she had discovered.
"Not yet", she replied," I was just surprised of the unbelievable amount of hidden treasures being encountered in these archives".
"Well, carry on, Lindy", remarked her departing boss while walking up the stairs.
Relaxing, that was close thought Lindy, making a mental note to be more discrete in the future.
 

The medicine man stood in the center of a many colored sand circle, shaking a rattle in his left hand, a burning bundle of sage in his right, all the while chanting in his tongue.
He then turned his eyes to me, and spoke.
"You were warned not to enter the cave of the ancient ones. You steal from the dead. What you caused to wake will follow you and your men. Stay and die now, leave and die later."
Continuing to read once she was positive that her boss was long departed, Lindy read realized that a Native American shaman has placed a curse upon Beale and his party.
Was the treasure also cursed, she wondered, and should she mention to her professor this curse, knowing his views of all things considered supernatural.
Lindy knew there were more things to heaven and earth that his philosophy would not allow, or even consider.
She decided not to mention this curse at all, and read on.
 

POST SCRIP-James Beverly Ward
I invited my cousins, F C Hutter and John William Sherman, along with my good friend, Max Guggenheimer, to my study for some imported French brandy. Max supplied us all some very fine Cuban cigars that he recently acquired for his store. I showed them the account of Uncle Morriss, and discussed into the night.
Sherman, a member of the Lynchberg Thespians a actor and playwright, novel writer, and always a dollar short since he purchased the newspaper, said this would make a great western treasure story, with a touch of Poe, but what it needed was a cipher like in Poe's "THE GOLD BUG".
Cousin Hutter said he had experience with ciphers during the Confederate War, and could create one using his father's copy of the Declaration of Independence.

Lindy realized that the 1885 published pamphlet of THE BEALE PAPERS had nothing to do with real events of that reign of cannibal terror that Thomas Beale brought to Bedford county, but rather a collaborative effort among immediate cousins and one old valued friend.
She could hardly wait to reveal all of this to her professor.
 

When N H Hazelwood had me make eight copies of sheets with random numbers when we both worked for the NORFOLK & WESTERN RAILROAD, I had no conception where that simple favor would lead.
I wish to this day that I just made those copies in 1897, then let the matter be.
Clayton I Hart, Roanoke, Virginia
Carefully placing what she referred to as Ward's "Morris Papers", Lindy notice another handwritten account in this forgotten box of files, this written by Clayton Hart.
She ignored it, dismissing the entire Hart affair as nonsense because it was based on the "sightings" of a medium.
Lindy would later come to regret this decision.
Departing the basement, she was ready for the weekend and revealing to her professor what she learned in the archives, minus the cannibal stories that she considered period passed down lore.
 

After Lindy told the professor all that was contained in Ward's handwritten Morris Papers, and a committee of his cousins, wife, and one old and trusted friend created the Beale Papers story as a dime novel adventure treasure story from the account of his wife's uncle Morris.
The most important information that Lindy brought forth was that there was a real treasure.
The professor quickly made plans to do a concentrated search of the Peaks of Otter for the next weekend.
Lindy of course would be the most valuable of the team, and the teacher Poe would also be included, who wanted his student Jack included for shovel work if needed.
Sitting at his desk, and considering others to be added to this adventure, not so perilous, but perhaps rewarding beyond expectations, he looked at his contact list of those who have claimed to solved the Beale codes.
Two names immediately jumped from the page in front of him.
Pulling the phone from its cradle, he punched in a series of numbers, the purring ring pulsing his expectations of a fellow intrepid adventurer ready to join the search.
 

The first call the professor made was to Lagrange Bower, a janitor at a medical silicon breast implant manufacturer.
Bower had gained notoriety by claiming solution of the Beale codes by using Chaucer's "Miller's Tale" as the key, and that the author of WALDEN's POND, while in solitude seclusion wrote the Beale Papers, then faked his death, moving to England to collaborate with Robert Louis Stephenson on a grand pirate story.
After the professor saw an interview on an early morning talk show with Bower explaining his discovery, the became fast friends, supporting each others claims of solutions.
Bower was excited to join the professors perilous adventure on the Peaks of Otter.
 

Delbert Drywell listened to the Professor on the phone, detailing his plans to locate the Beale vault in the Peaks of Otter.
While not fond of the Professor and his theories, or of that teacher Poe and young Jack, he considered coming along on this perilous adventure because of Bower.
Bower had recently introduced him to the works of a Nigerian telemarketer who discovered codes hidden in Alexander Dumas's "THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO" which led to several locations of Lafitte's buried treasure.
One location was in Florida's panhandle, where Andrew Jackson conducted his Florida campaign, Ward's grandfather Risqué was Jackson's aide-de-camp, and most import, three of Ward's children moved to this location in Florida.
Drywell was sure, because of the Dumas codes and Ward's children that the Beale Papers were a cover story for a Lafitte treasure of which Jackson and Risqué had knowledge.
He thanked the Professor for his offer with a smirk unseen on the telephone, and passed on this treasure trek.
 

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