Venture with me, dear reader, this dark season into a macabre and wondrous world not unlike our own, because … it is our own! Plot twist! It’s actually not unlike our own at all! Anyway, keep reading … IF YOU DARE.

Tale One: The Banbury Mystery Cloud

Stories have been whispered for over a century about a mysterious cloud of phantasmagorical vapor emanating from what we now call Banbury Place. Legend has it, on some nights, the cloud swells big enough to settle over entire neighborhoods. It all started back when Banbury Place was the Gillette Safety Tire Company, and reports of the phenomenon endure to this very day. People claim an odor most foul lives within the Mystery Cloud. Some say it smells like rubber. Others say it’s more like a chemical. None enjoy the phantom stink.

And there are those who claim, deep in the darkest stretches of the deep, dark night, a Survey Monkey public input form will appear on the city’s website asking people about their haunting experiences with the evil odor. But I’ve never seen it.

BWA-HA-HA.

Tale Two: The High Bridge Creeper

Back when an old, defunct railroad bridge stretching high above the Chippewa River near downtown Eau Claire was repurposed into a charming walking bridge, the people of this town rejoiced. What a great addition to the evolving downtown area, they said. But the bridge holds many secrets, and one was soon to sprout.

Deep within one of the High Bridge’s stout stone pillars, evil was germinating. An unholy monstrosity was taking root. It grew slow, biding its time, allowing our love for the bridge to grow. And then it struck! Not all at once, but over, like, months, or maybe a year. Or longer. Its leafy malice snuck deep into the cracks of the foundation, widening those horrible gaps until it had … DEGRADED THE BRIDGE’S STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY!

No one was hurt, not physically. But mentally, the anguish was nigh incalculable. The financial horror, however, was totally nigh calculable. When all was said and done and repaired, the High Bridge Creeper had cost our fair city … WELL OVER THREE MILLION DOLLARS!

THUNDER CLAP!

Tale the Third: The Scenester Moan

Bone-chilling tales of disembodied voices whispering or screaming into the dark night air exist in communities across the globe. And Eau Claire is no exception. We have our own legends of ghostly murmurs. For years, if you listened closely, you could hear a certain moan come creeping down the streets after midnight. Usually outside of the bars along Water Street and South Barstow. It started as a whisper … there’s no good live music … not like there used to be ...

Before long, if you strain your ears, you can hear the words morph into a kind of moan. A pitiful lament for a time that shall never return. A disgruntled longing for … what? A happier time? A better time? Or maybe it’s just the swan song of countless aging locals who miss their sweet, precious youth.

Yooooou should have seen Jimmy’s Cooooomet at the Stooooone’s Throooow … I was there for Aaaaaaaaaaaamateur Loooooooove’s first time at the House of Roooooooock … one tiiiiiiiiiiiime I had Sleeeeeeeeed Naaaaaapkin play in my mom’s rec roooooom … there was a night I found mooooost of Theeeeeeee Liter Hit passed out in someone’s front laaaaaaaaawn … one time I saw Beeeeeeeen Shaaaaaaaaaw making out with a girl in the Joynt’s bathroom … and it was the womaaaaaaaaan’s … I’m pretty suuuuuure the Drunk Drivers still plaaaaaaaaaay sometiiiiiiiiimes …

And then one day, the ghastly moaning just stopped. Because everyone got on Facebook. Spooky stuff, my friends.

There are many more terrifying tales of Eau Claire’s delightful frights, to be sure, but that’s probably all the blood curdling terror you can handle for now. Good luck trying to sleep tonight.