Tag Archives: Mississippi

Is It a Government Conspiracy?


Meriwether Lewis

I watched a television program last night that totally fascinated me. It was about Meriwether Lewis. Those of you who are not familiar with him, I will tell you a little about his background. He was born on August 18, 1774 in Charlottesville, Virginia. He became a soldier, served under William Clark who he later picked to be co-charge for the great exploration of the west, authorized by Thomas Jefferson.  Meriwether started out as the personal secretary to President Jefferson, but Jefferson gave him another job to explore the Louisana Purchase and  westward.

President Jefferson also gave them a mandate to see if there were signs of Welch occupancy in the west. Since Lewis had served under William Clark, they knew each other well. The two gathered their supplies and other men and left for the unknown in May 1804.

Meriwether Lewis kept journals of everything he saw during his mission. He retured in May 1806.  Documentation along with drawings showed President Jefferson what was seen on the journey.

Three years after returning home, Meriwether was going back to Washington DC with his Journals  He was staying at an Inn on the Natchez Trace. The Trace was a well used 440 mile trail from Mississippi to Tennessee.  At the Inn on October 12, 1809, a couple of gun shots were heard and Meriwether Lewis was found dead. He had one shot in the abdomen and one through the head, with blew part of the skull off exposing the brain. It was ruled as a suicide.

Since that time there has been a theory that the United States Government had him killed because he had found something during the expedition that would threaten the United States right to the lands west of the Mississippi. Such as the Welch having been there before which would give England the right to the land.

Pages had been torn from his journal and were never seen again. Lewis was a Mason and had his apron in his pocket. When they removed it, it was blood spattered. The apron is on display in Montana. Blood samples were taken and it has been shown that it came from two different men and not Meriwether Lewis.

I think it’s fascinating to know that even back when the country was new that a National Hero could have been killed because of knowledge he had that could harm the government. It’s something we will never know for sure but does make for a good story.

The Find


I have always been fascinated with archeology. The findings of our ancient world and what they could mean to us in the time. In Mississippi I remember looking at the southern submarine they raised from the mouth of the Yazoo River. Those men sitting scrunched up with their hand cranks. Our forefathers were very ingenious.  I have written a fictional short story that i hope you enjoy reading. You might have figured out by my previous statements it has something to do with archeology, but you wouldn’t have figured it doesn’t have anything at all to do with that submarine.

The Find

I’m falling through the earth. It feels like a giant slide, and I never reach the bottom.  What is going on?  I hear chanting, and I can’t get my eyes open.  I can’t move, what is happening to me?  I can’t open my mouth, but my mind is screaming.  Can I move my hand?  I can turn it slightly but not lift it.  I feel cold stone.  I’m lying on stone. The chanting is louder, I have to open my eyes, but I can’t make them open.

I am Dr. Mary Danvers, from The University of Virginia Archeology Department. For the past three years, I’ve been the Chair of the Archeology Department. I’m in Guatemala studying the ritual sacrifices of the Aztec. My love affair with archeology began as a child, when my father and I found a piece of gold jewelry. It was a gold nugget with a tie, which would let it be worn around the neck.  When my father had the tie radio tested, it shows the age to be AD 620.

My father was strict and extremely straitlaced when it came to rules and regulations. That reason in itself made it difficult for me to understand what my father did the day we found the nugget necklace. He stuck it in his pocket and never mentioned again. The Oxford Archeology Department who was funding my father’s dig made it known that everything found was to be cataloged and turned in. In effect, he stole a nugget necklace that belonged to the university.

My father died six months ago, and as I was going through his safe-deposit box, I found the necklace. I’d forgotten all about it. I’m one of those out of sight, out of mind, kind of people. As soon as I touched it, I knew I’d be returning to the site where the necklace was found.

I made it to the site within three months. There was a force driving me that I couldn’t understand. Everything in my life seems to have led to this moment in time. My years of study about the Inca’s and their belief system would give me information that kept driving me forward.

They worshipped the dead, ancestors, founding culture heroes, their king whom they regarded as divine, nature and its cycles. The worship of nature and its cycles suggest that for them time, and space were sacred, and consequently the calendar was religious, and each month had its own festival.

Another part of Inca religious life was divination. Everything, from illness, to the investigation of crimes, or the definition of what sacrifices should be made to what gods, was all done by consulting the oracles, observing in a dish the meandering of a spider, or disposition of coca leaves, by drinking ayahuasca (a hallucinogen), or even by examining the markings on the lungs of a sacrificed llama.

On special occasions, human sacrifice was practiced, or to ward off a natural disaster. We found where 200 children were sacrificed when a new king ascended to the throne. Adults as well as their animals served as sacrifices also.

My eyes are opening and I can see what is going on around me. I’m naked lying on cold stone. Men and woman are on their knees bowing towards me and chanting something. A man is walking around  the stone. He has to be their religious leader. He has on a robe of bright-colored feathers and a headdress that looks like a crown of feathers. He is holding up the nugget necklace, and a straight blade knife with a gold handle for all to see, then bends down to my face and places the necklace around my neck. Everyone cheers. I know what is happening. I’m going to be their sacrifice. I still can’t speak. This can’t be real the Inca civilization is gone. I know they’re gone and have been for a thousand years. All this feels real, I can’t move my body and that man is coming at me with something that looks like a cockatoo head. No, No, I’m not drinking it, I’m not. He holds my nose, and I feel liquid fire going down into my stomach. The world is fading from sight.

“Dr. Danvers, Dr. Danvers, wake up. Can you hear me, Dr. Danvers?”

One of my students is sitting by my bedside holding my hand as I slowly open my eyes. I could see I was in my tent. What has happened to me?

“We found you by the entrance to the pyramid. You had a high fever and were delirious, ranting about birds and feathers and a gold nugget.”

“I’m wearing a gold nugget necklace that my father found here when I was a child.” I put my hand to my neck but could not find the necklace. “What happened to my necklace?”

“Doctor, you were’nt wearing a necklace when you were found. We did find a gold handled knife by your side.”

“What did you say?”

“We found a knife by your side.”

I know I had that necklace around my neck. Was what happened to me real? It couldn’t have been, but the necklace is gone and the knife is here. The necklace was used in their sacrifices, but so was the knife. What happened makes no sense. Maybe I will find out the meaning in time.

Ever Lasting Love (Short Story)


I have always been blessed or cursed with being drawn to the supernatural things of this world.  I can’t put a name to it, but I know it is always with me.  The telephone will ring and I know who is calling, or I know something is going to happen before it
does.  This preference of the unknown forces of this world has caused me to experience things that have caused me great pain as well as joy.

April 1, 1992 is a day I will never forget. It starts as any other day, except it is my day off which makes it special
for me.  After I work twelve hour shifts, three or four days in a row I am more than ready for my time off.  My name is Janice Smith, and I work as a labor and delivery nurse in Greenwood Mississippi.

Today I am driving and sightseeing to just have a relaxing day.  I am going to visit the national park in Vicksburg.  I have lived in this state all my life, and I have never visited the battlefield.  I always have this unsettled feeling whenever the battlefield is mentioned around me.

I am the fourth generation from Mississippi. My great-great-grandparents owned a plantation, right in the middle of
what is now Vicksburg National Park. Back in the early 1800’s it was known as Magnolia Springs, because of the magnolia trees and fresh water from the numerous springs scattered over the land.  After the National Park Service took over the property, it became known as the Shirley House.

I visit the Park Information Center gathering information and looking at astounding pictures of men and action during the Civil War.  I leave the center starting my driving tour.  The closer I get to the Shirley House the heavier the feeling of gloom surrounds me.  I feel like someone is talking to me, but I can’t understand what is being said.

I am the only one on the road, which is a good thing because I just do not feel right.  I pull up in front of the Shirley property, get out of my car and start walking towards the house.  I can see the dugout areas in the side of the hill where the Confederate Soldiers camped and tried to defend the property.

I suddenly find myself in a ball gown on the front porch of the house.  My head is spinning and I feel very unstable on my feet.  Something is happening to me.  The world around me has changed.  I am in the same place but a different person.

“Amanda, where are you?  Amanda, there you are, what are you doing on the porch?  You should be inside dancing with your young man.  He is going to be leaving soon.  Amanda, are you all right?”

I see this woman walking towards me, and I have to assume she is speaking to me.  I actually know what is going on and who she is.  “I am not feeling well, so I stepped out on the porch for some fresh air.  All the cigar smoke in the house is making me feel faint.  This blasted corset is killing me.”

Amanda Shirley, watch your mouth.  You are a lady, and ladies do not swear.  Get your fresh air and come back inside.  You
have guests to attend to.  This is your engagement party, you know.”

“Yes mama, I will be come inside in a couple of minutes.  I want to stay on the porch with the cool breeze, and the smell of magnolia trees in the air.  This is such a wonderful time of the year.”

Mama goes into the house and leaves me alone.  I can’t imagine what our world is coming to, especially if this war happens,
as everyone says it will.  I don’t want my world to change. It is just too wonderful as it is.

I leave the front porch, and go back into the ballroom. I am immediately met by Lieutenant Patrick Allan Coker.  He looks
so dashing in his uniform.  I am fond of the bright red sash around his waist.  It makes him stand out from everyone else in the room.

He sweeps me out onto the dance floor, and we waltz, just floating in each other’s arms.  We will be man and wife in a couple of weeks, and I can’t wait.  He has been my love for as long as I can remember. He grew upon the Coker plantation, which is just up the road from where I live. We spent many hours together playing, and then later,  planning our future.

We dance until the party is over and everyone has left.  Mama and Papa have gone upstairs for the night.  A couple of the servants of cleaning things up so the furniture can be brought back out in the morning.

“Amanda, you are the love of my life, and I will love you for all eternity, I swear.  I can’t wait for you to become my
wife.  We will have such a long happy life and many children.  No one will be as happy as you and I.”

Patrick, I love you also.  Kiss me and go home, it is getting late.  I do want to get a little sleep before the sun comes up, and the air starts getting hot.  Besides I want to get out of this dress.”

Patrick kisses me good-bye, and I close the door as he mounts his horse.  I turn to start up the stairs, and the next thing I
know, I am standing at the top of the stairs in my wedding gown.  What has happened?  Am I losing my mind?

My father is at the bottom of the stairs, and has his arm out for me.  The wedding march is starting as I go down the stairs.  I walk into the parlor holding on to Papa’s arm, and he takes me to Patrick.   I am going to be his wife now.  Whatever is going on is a blessing.

Patrick and I are finally man and wife.  The pastor tells him to kiss his bride and as his lips touch mine, I find myself back in my car in my modern clothes.

Oh my God, I have to get back to Greenwood.  I am losing my mind.  I remember everything about the house and the wedding.
What am I supposed to do?  I start the car and begin driving.  I end at the Vicksburg National Confederate Cemetery.
I don’t want to go inside, but something keeps pulling me in that direction.

I drive down a couple of the gravel roads they have built between the graves. The dread gets heavier, the longer I drive.  I have to stop.  I get out of my car, and walk to my left, to the second row of stones.  I hear a scream, and I am back at the Shirley House.

I am standing on the front porch screaming as Mama and Papa comes rushing out.  I can’t even catch my breath.

“What child, what is wrong?”

“Excuse me Ma’am, but I am Corporal John Jones from the 1st Mississippi.  I just gave Mrs. Coker some bad news.  Her husband, Lieutenant Coker died last week. One of those damn Yankees shot him.  I am so sorry to have given you this news.  Please accept my condolences Mrs. Coker.  I must rejoin my regiment as we are heading north today.”

“Blessing to all of you Corporal Jones, we will keep you in our prayers,” Mama said.  “Amanda honey, come in the
house.  I will watch Junior for you, while you go upstairs and lie down.”

The tombstone reads: Lieutenant Patrick A Coker, CSA, born July 3, 1840, Died April 22, 1862.

I know I was his wife, and the war left me a widow with a child.  My ancestor wanted me to know about her life and the love she had for her husband. May they rest in each other’s arms forever.