Monague O'Hara Paranormal Detective

Monday morning, bright and early, Monty was at the Brooklyn College library. He now had a place to make a good start from, to sort all of this out. He started by looking into Sanskrit a bit. He had been introduced, to the basics of this language, back at university. Furthermore, he did not know it in any great detail, as he had specialized in early European mythology, but he must be getting a bit rusty as he, should have at least recognized this ancient language even if he did not have enough knowledge to have made a translation.

Before long Mira, James, Francine, and Jefferson strode confidently up to the desk where Monty was seated. The large smiles plastered over their face indicated they were all pleased with themselves. Mira began to speak.

“The chest is not European. It is of Indian origin. Most definitely very old. The symbols are an ancient form of Sanskrit.”

Monty knows not why, but he felt a little proud of the efforts of these “Montague O’Hara, Paranormal Detective” followers.

“Yes you are correct. I have just come to the same conclusion, over the weekend myself.” answered Monty.

He did not mention that this information had come to him through a rather vivid dream. They had found this out, all by themselves, by a good bit of research.

Monty wished he could gain a position at a place like this. He felt he actually belonged at this college. His old friend Hank was here, the academic staff that he had come across were much easier to get on with than the pompous twits he encountered in academic circles back home.

It was now Friday night. Gloria Sullivan was now having a rather vivid dream. She was sitting in the same room, at the same round table that was in her second dream, last weekend. This time she was alone. In the middle of the table was the same pink candle, marked into seven sections. Gloria lit the top of the candle.

“Montague O’Hara.” she loudly called out. Then, Gana, be with me in all that I do. Gana, please bring me a love who is true. Give him the strength to put into words, his feelings, and sing like the song of the birds.”

Then she thought intensely of Monty, just as the instructions from her previous dream. Next she repeated the chant until the candle had burned down to the first line. She snuffed out the candle in the manor instructed, in that dream. Then she woke up.

It was a confused Gloria Sullivan laying in her bed, awake after that strange dream. Why is this happening ?. She is not looking for romance in her well-ordered life. And if she was, a scoundrel like Montague O’Hara would be her last choice. But he is such a hansom devil. It must be just her hormones over reacting. There can’t be any sort of future with the likes of Mr O’Hara. Now that they have gotten to the bottom of all this, Montague O’Hara will be off and back to his own world.

If he believed any of this mythology crap, Monty concluded, the ritual that the Gypsy woman, Lavinia, would need to be re-created, to put all the Sullivan family troubles and worries back into the old chest. He is not supposed to believe this sort of bullshit.

Making up some sort of ritual, to send all the evil spirits back to where they have come from, is his normal way to conclude a “paranormal case”. This ritual would just be nothing more than bullshit, all from his own mind, leaning heavily on films, horror stories and his own imagination. For some reason, totally against his beliefs, this “made up” ritual, Monty felt, was not good enough, in this instance. It was the thought of conning Gloria Sullivan, that just did not sit right with him. He felt obliged to do her no harm, keep her safe, and protect her from all evil.

To come up with the correct ritual, he would need to do some proper research.

Monty had now been here in New York for nearly a month now. This was way longer than he would normally spend on a “case”. From his normal business perspective, this was not good. Staying in the hotel alone, has sent his expenses way through the roof. The fee he would need to have the Sullivan’s pay would need to be quite sizable. This also did not feel right.

Monty was back in the Brooklyn College Library. His access was supposed to have been only for a couple of weeks. He has been coming here for over three weeks, but no one seems to mind. Some academic staff, have come up to him and introduced themselves. This lot are way more friendly than those posh, pompous twits he had encountered back in his home country.

Monty was even encountering an awake Hank more often. The Jackson household, with their new arrivals must have started to slip into a more normal routine. Hank had even asked him if he would like to come around sometime before he returns to Britain and meet the rest of the family. He has penciled in a date in his diary, next week.

The Hank the Tank, that Monty had known back in those wild student days, was just a big kid. He took nothing seriously, and having a cushy job lined up already back home, life was just one big fun party. With some stupid things they both did back then, it was just good blind luck, that both of them never hurt themselves, or anyone else, or got into too much trouble that they could not wriggle out of.

Monty realized, coming up with the proper ritual, would be quite a task, so he called Mira Watson and asked if she would bring her little group into the library and lend him a hand with the project he was working on. The reaction from Mira at this request was as if she had just won the top prize in the lottery, or inherited a small fortune from a long-lost relative.

Mira and her team were all gathered around Monty’s little corner at the Brooklyn College Library. Monty the began to explain, what he needed them to help him with.

“It all concerns the old chest I had you researching. As we both worked out, it is originally of northern Indian origin.” Monty began. “Here is the part you do not know about yet.”

Monty then went on to explain that the chest had arrived with an Irish immigrant family around the time of the Great Famine. This family did not bring this from Ireland, but it came into their possession by way of an old Roma Gypsy woman on the ship they were traveling on. After a low point in this journey, when two members of the family passed, one old, and the other just a baby, the Gypsy woman, making use of this artifact, and an old ritual, cast all the fears, worries and concerns into the chest, so they would not affect their new hopes and dreams in their new life in America.

This has all worked well, as the new country has treated them all rather well, over the generations that followed. Someone in this family inadvertently, opened the chest and released all these troubles and fears back into their real world. We need to find the way to put them back.