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 fully not unlike our own! Which is to say, it’s all the way like our own. KEEP READING IF YOU DARE.

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Tale the First: Elepha’thulhu

There are those who swear they can still hear it, trumpeting through the depths of a deep October night. And no! I do not speak of the face-melting jazz solos produced by Robert Baca, Professor of Trumpet and Director of Jazz Studies at the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire! I speak of Ella … the Elephant. A beast of great size who suffered a most hideous death, or so the legends claim.

Ella’s sad tale is one we’ve all heard before: The circus comes to a small town. As they set up their tents, the sky above conjures a vicious thunderstorm! An ungodly bolt of lightning strikes a tent pole, blasting both man and beast to the ground! When the smoke clears, all but one animal stands back up. ‘Tis Ella, electrificated to her demise. She is buried on the spot. And later dug up and moved and reburied. And later dug up and moved again. And though everyone who’s heard the story at least once says they know the final resting place of them big ol’ ella-bones, who can say for sure? None!

Except for me. For I know her bones were not buried, but fashioned into a devilish gate and hidden within a secret chamber. And this gate ain’t no normal gate, mate. ‘Tis a portal to an unfathomable dimension. And on Hallo’een night, the grey-robed monks of Ella’s Order will murmur their salacious hymns, opening the Ella-gate, releasing into our world the gruesome old god Elepha’thulhu! She will erupt from the earth to trumpet her evil call to the sickly, yellow moon! TOOTIE-TOOT-TOOT! ALL SHALL PERISH, TOOTIE-TOOT!DOUBLE LIGHTING CRASH!

Tale the Second: The Clueless Whisper

Across the misty hills and farmland, somewhere betwixt dusk and twilight, the whispers roll into town. Can you hear them as they scratch across your glowing windows? Perhaps it’s just your imagination. Maybe you watched too many episodes of that goofy sleuth Scooby-Doo. Mayhaps you had too many hard blue razzberry lemonades.

Or maybe the whispers are real. Listen close: “…only in Eau Claire…”

Over and over: “…only in Eau Claire…”

Whenever they raise the wheel tax: “…only in Eau Claire…”

Whenever you see a liberal bumper sticker: “…only in Eau Claire…”

Whenever you see a racist bumper sticker: “…only in Eau Claire…”

Whenever gas prices are high: “…only in Eau Claire…”

Whenever the city closes down its social media comments: “…only in Eau Claire…”

Whenever the Chinese Buffet is closed on Mondays: “…only in Eau Claire…”

Whenever there is any kind of road construction whatsoever: “…only in Eau Claire…”

And the city slowly nods in agreement, despite these things happening pretty much everywhere. But sure, “Only in Eau Claire.”DISTANT WEREWOLF’S HOWL!

Tale Number the Third: The Birds

They lie there like dead bodies after the apocalypse. Gathered on street corners. Near parks. Around downtown. The scooters. Silver and blue.

But they are not lifeless. They move.

I’ve never seen them move, but I know they do. Every morning, they appear in different places. Arranged in strange, occult patterns. Sometimes, a single scooter somehow ends up on a neighbor’s lawn, far from its pack. Why is it there? What’s it all mean?

I swear to you, on the black night you read this, I will decipher their devious doings. I will track the patterns. I will find their purpose. Before it’s too late. Before the Birds come for us all.

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OPENING THEME TO STRANGER THINGS!

Dear reader, 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.