The Ghost of Moonlight Beach

 It was several decades ago now that the rumors were swirling about a possible ghost @ Moonlight Beach. There was a definite "buzz" among the Coast Highway vendors and their customers - enough to keep the conversation rolling...  Ronnie, for example, the short-order cook at the 1-11 Diner used to compare notes with Sue-Ellen - owner of the guitar shop about the latest "sighting" while Eduardo who owned the Taco Shack near the corner of D Street asked Mel who ran the old movie theater across the street if the real headquarters for the poltergeist might be in one of the older buildings - maybe an attic space. Maybe it's a ghost that goes on field-trips now and then - agreed Manny Uwanco - proprietor of the used book store and cousin to George Uwanco - the owner of George's diner.  Everyone tried to convince Lou - of Lou's Records that this thing was real - but he proved to be the skeptic of all skeptics. Truth be told - it was hard to imagine a less haunted or gothic-sounding place than this North County hamlet - the oldest building of which dated back only to the 1920s. Moonlight was just a cozy little cove down the hill on C Street - a beach with sidewalks and pavement, two volleyball courts, a snackbar with restrooms, outdoors showers and a gigantic life-guard stand that always made people feel safe.  Beloved by the locals for its golden-white sand - this was the epicenter of sunshine and transparency and NOT the sort of gothic outpost that anyone would think of as attracting nocturnal spirits... Granted - there was that narrow stretch of shoreline (below the high cliffs) connecting Moonlight to Swami's that got a little dicey during high tide - and perhaps a little spooky when the fog rolled in... A person might lose their bearings there under the right conditions... as Lifeguard Rick explained - it was just something weird about the tides and the fog that set in after midnight that got you thinking... Yet - how many people ventured out along the shoreline at the wee hours of the morning?

A few things were known about the ghost - and these facts were confirmed by Reese - a budding cartoon artist and his girlfriend, Lane. I guess you could call them the local, uncertified ghost-chasers - inspired by their favorite movie (or was it a cartoon?). They took it upon themselves to compile the reports of the various sightings of which their had been 7 in the course of the past 3 years. Based on these eye-witness testimonies - the ghost was a young girl anywhere between the ages of 12-17 - who appeared at the shoreline in the early morning hours - usually between midnight and 3:00 a.m. For those who got a good look at her - she had dark hair and wore blue jeans, flip-flops and a tye-dyed shirt. Did she have a name? Some gave her the name of Gina; some called her Nina or Melba; others just referred to the ghost-girl.  For the unsuspecting beach-comber - trudging along after curfew and hoping for a glimpse of clear sky and moon beams - the ghost would appear ever so quietly just like a subtle walking companion, making conversation. There came a point, however, where the ghost would ask a pointed question or two.

Among the surfers who usually hung out at Swami's Beach near the Self-Realization Institute - was an athletic chap by name of Wilson - who claimed that the ghost-girl asked him if he ever cheated on Math tests back in high school. Caught off guard - the decidedly non-academic minded surfer - mumbled - "Uh, probably... or yeah - absolutely - had to pass the class - ya know?" at which point the ghost followed up with : "Did you ever not cheat on a Math test?" Wilson had to think long and hard about this one - remembering that he received an exemption to skip Math during his Senior year. "Well - let's see - when my buddy James got sick that time - I was royally up a creek for May and June - but I squeaked by with a 67 for the year..." Wilson - like the others - drawn into such banter - was not really busy processing that there was any kind of spirit walking beside him. The ghost seemed satisfied with his honesty - but maybe - at a loss for giving advice... When Wilson told the story - his surfer buds wanted to know: "Then what? Then what? Did she dunk you in the waves? Did she bury you under the sand?" - "Um - no..." said Wilson .... she just said " ' I guess we're done here.' And then she said, "Oh - one more thing - did you ever know a guy named Chad ..." "Was he in my class?" - asked Wilson. "'Bout a year older - I think..." "Um - yeah rings a bell - if he rode a motorbike..." "That was the kid..." "Was he fierce - a heller?" "You could say that... a bully. Not a nice person..." "Do you want me to look this guy up? - Wilson asked, somewhat confused. "Think about whether you ever bumped into him. How did that work out for you?" "Uhhhhmmm." Now Wilson was stumped. "Sorry - can't help you."  "Okay - we're done... Thanks for your time." But at this point - Wilson's curiosity had been piqued... still thinking that the ghost was real... "Hey - who told you about Math class and me?" It was at this point that he found himself alone - the stairs at Swamis coming into view - illumined by the moon.

One of Wilson's classmates - from the class of '84 - was a girl by the name of Monica - who worked at the consignment / beach wear shop next to George's restaurant  - and had a similarly strange conversation with the ghost-girl. After getting into a mild tiff with her aunt (also her landlord at the time) - Monica found herself walking down the beach just to let off steam on a warm Tuesday night in April... While looking up at the cloud-strewn sky hoping to catch a glimpse of something - she heard a voice at her side... a soft yet rather chatty voice beside her - going on about Social Studies class with Mr. Gaines. "You used to sit next to your friend - Amelia was it?" Too distracted to be startled - not at all intimidated by her beach-combing partner... Monica wondered casually: "Were you in that class...?" "Um - yeah - I sat in back - I guess you might say..." "What did you think of Mr. Gaines?" "Very sincere... but also unhappy... he couldn't get anyone to love the history of the Americas with the same sort of devotion that he had..." "Yeah - that's a good way to put it..." Monica - at this point - decided to look the ghost in the face so to speak... and saw a face of someone that she recognized. "Do we know each other? I know where I've seen you before...You moved away didn't you?..." But just as she finished her question the girl had vanished...

A third sighting was reported by "good guy" Nick - local Jack-of-all-trades and raconteur - a frequent "camper" at Swami's - with a tendency to embellish things. One morning - the typically goofy-happy, shaggy-bearded one with the credulous face, looking more ashen than sunburned, was going around telling everyone his story... how he'd been stumbling down the "corridor" of shoreline after a casual night of "just a few beers" - getting his feet wet in the waves - when he heard a voice beside him asking him if he'd sold his green VW bug yet... Not such a shock since everyone who was anyone knew about the mythic VW sitting in Kenny's garage that had not been driven by Nick since 1978... It was sort of a running joke. But then this ghost person... (what did she look like, Nick? How old was she?) - 'bout 14 maybe 16 - serious looking...black eyes - covered in mist... It was more her voice - asking about my lost dog - How would she know a thing like that?  

A fourth sighting - was from Sue-Ellen herself - who for reasons not yet established - had been strolling along the corridor round about 1:30 a.m. of a Thursday night in early September - this after having a long and stressful conversation with her tax accountant - in a wistful mood - wondering whether the guitar shop was on life-support - and would she be forced to Jack Struthers who wanted to expand his embryonic surf-shirt empire to the store-front next door. Barely able to make out the cliffs in the fog - she heard the voice of someone telling her that the guitar shop would be around for a long time ... it had to keep going because it was such a part of that mythical stretch of coast highway... why - a guitar shop was a practical requirement of every town in north county... You sound like you've been there - my girl - Sue-Ellen found herself saying. Oh yes - I've heard Marcus - shredded his Stratocasters - and he plays weddings too - right? Yes, yes...he does... at which point the ghost disappeared - leaving Sue-Ellen feeling renewed in spirit.

The fifth sighting was from a juvenile delinquent (name of Matty) arrested for stealing a motor-scooter belonging - as it happened - to a prominent architect in town - and who was ditching this and other contraband along the corridor - who mentioned in passing while being interrogated that he had every intention of returning the bike after being admonished by the "dark-haired girl in blue jeans and flip flops"... Where'd you see this girl - asked local cop, Vince Shutter, wiry, tightly-wound officer with Korean war forearm tattoo and crew cut.  "Well she's not really alive - anymore..." say that hoodlum. "Everyone says she's dead. But she threatened me if I didn't at least give the bike back."

What to do with all of these sightings? And how to judge among the credibility of the claimants? It's a fair question why such visitations happen to some and not others... Is it meant to be a secret - which gets spilled over and over. Does the ghost take a special liking to the people themselves or are they just conduits meant to "get a message out"?

The ghost-chasers, Reece and Laney were no doubt jealous of these reported encounters and sought out to have a ghost-talk of their own. First they consulted with Father Pat - a genial, aging Irish priest at the parish of St. Michael's - that charming old wooden church structure that used to sit a few blocks behind Juanita's Mexican restaurant (coast highway staple) in Leucadia  - mere blocks from the beach - at a time when more and more people were still discovering the potencies of all the real estate sitting west of highway 5. This church - maybe because of its relaxed ambience - maybe because of its non-judgmental vibe - attracted a decent portion of "surf kids" who had grown up in town. It was likely that their parents would drag them to church for the 5:00 Sunday night mass - but some of them seemed to enjoy their affiliation with this local hub of serenity. The dress code was quite comical -  seeing young and old alike dressed in shorts, Hawaiian shirts, surfer hoodies, and flip flops going up for Communion - and Father Pat gently admonishing his flock to cover up as much as possible - even during the summer heat. (If only they had realized the deep sense of loss that would come in later years when they built the modern light and airy church edifice up the hill, east of the highway and the little church finally got sold - but that's a story for another day...) Reece and Laney were part of the young people's group - which didn't really have an official name; it was just a means for a select group of teenagers and nerdier variety high school alums to hang out and watch movies on Saturday nights... Reece hatched the idea of going on a ghost-chasing excursion - which he thought was consistent with the live-and-let-live ethos of the church. It wasn't a matter of "chasing down" the ghost as much as just wanting to "have a conversation" - and a new story to tell everyone. Father Pat - a cautious, unassuming, ginger-haired Irish septegenarian with pale skin - "from the old country" - the last person you'd ever envision as as your beach priest - was wary about going knocking on the door of the supernatural. He advised a campfire and marshmallow roast at the usual locales - and before curfew. This was a bit deflating for Reece and Laney - who agreed to host the campfire - while harboring other plans for afterwards...

    The night of the campfire proved a big deal for Chip - who was always looking for an excuse to show off his acoustic guitar chops. His instructor was none other than Sue-Ellen's nephew Marcus -  the resident "guitar pro" and local legend of the guitar shop - a 31 year old who had formed his own garage band back in the day - gone out touring with Bananarama one summer - and whose first love were Fender Stratocasters and Telecasters (cranked up real loud) - but who condescended to teach easy acoustic lessons for novices. Marcus was the guy who was shredding sample guitars while people walked by and Sue-Ellen had to tell him to tone it down once someone walked in the store. Chip came to the beach with a setlist - knowing that someone would ask for staples like Dust in the Wind or Landslide. He compromised with his own extended version of Horse with No Name and an unspecified composition that sounded vaguely like Neil Young channeling James Taylor. Reece was happy to let Chip have his moment; the real business of the night would commence when the others had left. Everyone was half-singing, half-humming along to a one-hit-wonder from 1982 - when Carmen pressed the issue: uhm - are we going hunting for that girl-ghost after this 'cause I gotta be home by 11:30? Carmen! Laney was miffed that she'd alerted the uninitiated to the real itinerary...

The church-going teens - exchanged very unconvincing if predictable stories of haunted houses, UFO's, urban legends and celebrity gossip involving death or other scandal - but weren't feeling frightened (of ghosts) in the slightest; most of them anyways - conked out rather early - fearing only curfew - they said their goodbyes as of 11:00 p.m. After that it was just Laney and Reece watching an ego-inflated Chip pack up his gear. Think I really made a statement tonight... Gabby says that I may have the songwriter's gift. Did you play any of your own songs? Laney asked rather snarkily. Well - yeah - that instrumental thing I played ... That's not Neil Young... Not Jeff Beck... It sounds like a late-60's riff said Reece - like the Grass Roots or Three Dog Night... No, no, no... Chip insisted. That's my little chord progression. I played it for Marcus - he said - it's certified original. Okay Chip - thanks for coming.... 

With the departure of everyone, the night was suddenly still - except for the quiet pounding of the waves - it was just Lane and Reece - sitting by the fire - roasting the last marshmallow - discussing their favorite Marvel heroes and which ones they should draw next. At the stroke of midnight, Reece looked around wondering if Lifeguard Ron or Officer Shutter would be making the rounds - both of these authority figures having made some pact at George's on that Saturday back in March to keep the corridor clear at night. Ron's apartment was up the hill - and Officer Shutter was known to be a night owl with insomnia. 

Now's our moment said Lane and she started running ahead northward toward Swamis... Wait up said Reece who was awkwardly stumbling behind with his un-athletic gait. There came a moment when Reece finally caught up to her that something like a sparkler was flickering in the distance. Could this be our ghost? Lane wondered excitedly. I'm not so sure. It could be someone else - said Reece - suddenly wary. Maybe it's Chip or someone else come back to frighten us... said Lane. Okay - who is the pyromaniac of the group? That would be Carmen (?) wagered Lane... And as they were chasing after the little light - running through the partial mist - Reece found himself out of breath... A voice was talking beside him ... It's weird when no one remembers you... Huh? He ran closer to catch up with Lane... What did you just say to me? Nothing - you were back there. No - you said something about remembering... The voice returned - I know all about so many people - some of them nice, some of them not so nice. Where are they now? Lane's face registered shock. Do you guys remember me from school? You sound really familiar said Lane - were you in Ms. Dugan's class. Ah - Ms. Dugan... she had those candies on her desk - and she had us memorize that poem by Wordsworth... So - you're not a ghost then. Is this a prank? No - I am a ghost you could say. I've disappeared. Does your family know where you are? No - I've moved around so much. Did you graduate? No. I moved on... It's just strange that no one remembers me... Everyone's talking about you now... you're the "ghost"...