June 21, 1976

June 21, 1976

June 21, 1976 is a day that I would like to forget but I can't. On June 21st in the year o 1976, my husband and I rented a cottage on a quiet lake...and I do mean quiet. There was not another soul or cottage around.

We both had been working very hard at our respective careers. Christopher, my husband is a psychologist/life therapist. Myself, a fledgling writer who enjoys writing horror stories . Well I never suspected my horror stories would come to life.

The cottage itself was as plain as they come. No indoor plumbing...no electricity...nothing but it was clean inside not a speck of dust was covering anything. It had an area cordoned off for a kitchen...a sitting area where we could read or write by the lantern light. There was also two bedrooms. Neither my husband or I bothered with the second one as we could not get the door open. It was somewhat locked. Both of us just shrugged it off and used the other...bedroom.

So this vacation, my husband thought that he would get a lot of fishing in. Great for him. He needed to relax after 10 months of listening to a bunch of paranoids and schizo's, he was happy to get up here and just relax.

I wanted to go boating, swimming, hiking and go so far as to find a stable where there horses to ride. Reluctantly, I would go fishing with my husband but i couldn't fish. I hate that slimy feeling of the fish's body. But unfortunately or fortunately, depending on your point of view, I had brought along a huge stack of notebooks, sharpened pencils, erasers, and sharpeners. I was always plotting my next book of horror stories: the paranormal, vampires and the odd ghost. I just couldn't put my pencil down.

But June 21st 1976 is a summer that I will never forget. Jackson the guy whom we rented the cottage from, told us that this cottage has been in the family for six generations. When we arrived, we unloaded the car with our stuff and settled in. Naturally, his fishing rods and gear went straight down to the docks and the boat that was there all ready. This made my husband, Christopher smile from ear to ear.

Our first clue kind of slapped us up the sides of our heads when we went to get supplies of groceries and worms...for my husband'

s fishing trips. Taking our purchases to the man whom seemed to be in his sixties or seventies, head full of gray hair, he took a look at us and realized that we were new to the area. He smiled at us and asked us where we are from.

"Toronto!" Christopher piped up, feeling so relaxed; happy that he was out of the city.

"May I ask where you folks are staying?" the man asked.

"At the Jackson Cottage on Lake Horny! Chris smiled back.

That is when the smile on the old man's face vanished: " Jackson Cottage?" he repeated.

"Yeah, " I chimed in, placing two chocolate bars onto the counter to buy.

"Please be careful ...of whatever you do...there..." the old man advised us, adding: "Don't be bothered about" he looked around the store as if he was on some Federal Government secret, " about the second bedroom."

"Did something happen there...at the Jackson Cottage, " I asked which was my right.

"I can't tell you anything..." the old man replied, " Just be careful of what you do...and ignore the second bedroom."

Both Christopher and I were a bit perturbed but my interest was piqued. Well I do write horror stories based in reality of my research. I even brought my Canon Power Shot camera. Maybe I will take some pictures of the cabin both inside and out.

But it was one night though that that i recall: Christopher had been out on the lake, fishing and caught a couple of trout. He was in a good mood so I let him cook dinner. I sat at the table, pencil in hand, poised over an empty page in a notebook. That is when I felt or thought I heard a voice coming from the second bedroom. It was only me that heard the voice. My husband was too happy cooking dinner.

At once, I stiffened, the pencil in my hand that was poised in my hand over the empty page of a notebook...began writing. Or was I dictating what I was hearing. I sort of fell into a trance. It was a voice of a woman that was whispering into my ear. It was telling me how she died. I started writing down all that was being said.

The spirit of this woman who had been murdered, told me " You will find the answer at the bottom of the lake."

What I had written down in notes would be given to the police. They will have to open up a cold case that had happened back in 1953. A woman by the name of Helen Grayson had been found murdered in the second bedroom of the Jackson Cottage. Murdered on the account of a love triangle.

It was the next day over I gave my notes to the provincial police. Later that afternoon, police officers from several detachments had landed on our beach and dock. They were going to scour the bottom of Lake Horny...to find a certain clue to her murder.

Helen Grayson was in love with a man of the Jackson family. Her current boyfriend at the time became jealous. He murdered Helen Grayson in the second bedroom where he had found her in bed with Paul Jackson. After the murder, the cottage was closed up, taped off but it was never opened again until June 21st 1976 when we rented the cottage. Helen Grayson was murdered on June 21st 1953.

An arrest was made on June 23, 1976. The old man whom we brought our groceries and worms from, had handcuffs slapped on his wrists.