Decemystery (2024) 15: The Glowing Toe of North Dakota

 

I want to paint a picture for you, dear reader. One of melancholy, “what could have been,” and hopefulness.

After I finished last year’s Decemystery duology, I had three stories picked out for the start of this year. One of them has been on my to-do list since this blog began; I’d been searching high and low for it. I’ve written a portion of the article, but the majority remains incomplete, though I ended up using a section for “The McDonald’s Blob” write-up’s intro and My Take sections.

I never began the other two for two reasons. The first was that my bipolar exited remission. I started experiencing terrible mood swings, ranging from feelings of loneliness and hopelessness to believing that I was invincible.

For the most part, those contrasting emotions were active at the same time in what’s known as a “mixed episode.” For those who don’t know, a mixed episode is when you experience a manic/hypomanic episode and a depressive episode simultaneously. I have type 2 bipolar, so I have hypomania, which isn’t as severe as regular mania.

All of this started in January and didn’t end until mid-August. But, the not-so-ideal circumstances didn’t end there. At the end of the month, my grandmother passed away. She was my last surviving grandparent, and I found myself wishing I’d spent more time with her.

Then I got sick, which was salt in an already degloved-sized wound. If you didn’t know, I hate getting sick—a lot. I contracted some sort of cough while I was in New York for the funeral wake. It wasn’t COVID; that was saved until July.

Suffice it to say the start of my year was a grand disappointment. My plans didn’t come to fruition, my hopes to make 2024 an amazing year for this blog floundered, and I kept blaming myself for not being better in every possible way. I thoroughly believed that it was my fault nothing went right.

Now, as of this writing, I’ve accepted that that isn’t the case. While I could have (and should have) posted an update or two, I felt too ashamed at the time—especially when I couldn’t make any promises for this year’s Decemystery.

But not posting any updates is beside the point. No, the point is that I wanted to cover one of the three stories I planned to start 2024 with. I also wanted it to be one that’d remove the melancholy I’ve come to associate the start of this year with.

That task proved easy since the story I’d begun work on will most likely be the inaugural write-up for Decemystery 2025. Meanwhile, the second story will be covered at some point next year—if all goes well, anyway.

That left me with the third story, the one I’d planned to do at the end of January. It’s another Fortean Map Enigma, and it’s one that I considered covering last year. I forget what it was replaced with, but that’s unimportant. No, what is important is we’re going to retroactively make 2024 feel like a success story by covering a mystery that’s sure to leave you flabbergasted! Come along, dear reader, as we investigate the absolutely bonkers story of The Glowing Toe of North Dakota!

Decemystery (2024) 11: The Durham Force Field

When it comes to Fortean mysteries—or any type of mystery, really—there’s something about ones that lack much, if any, information that makes me excited. It’s something I’ve come to love in the past couple of years; it sets off a fire inside me that causes my mind to wander.

Now, sure, I hate making an abundance of assumptions, but I do enjoy a good rabbit hole—especially when I’m one of the first people to go down it—if not the first person to do so. There’s a certain thrill to it if that makes sense. If it doesn’t, then perhaps I enjoy covering ridiculous stuff a bit too much.

Regardless of how I feel, there’s one place that best exemplifies this thrill, and that’s what’s known as the “Fortean Map.” If you’ve been visiting this blog since 2021 and haven’t stopped under the assumption that it’s dead, thanks to the content droughts that have plagued it ever since 2022, then you might be familiar with that name. If you aren’t, it’s a massive map that someone made; it’s filled with a plethora of mysteries from across the planet.

As it stands, I’ve visited it a total of four times: twice for Decemystery 2021 (where I wrote about “The Elevator Riddle” and “The Signal of Isla Han Samar”) and twice during last year’s Decemystery duology (where I covered “The Groves Kurt Incident” and “Terry Lopi’s Disappearing Barn”). This year will mark the fifth and sixth times I’ve visited it.

Now, each time I visited the map in the past, I’ve covered something that I now refer to as a “Fortean Map Enigma.” They’re stories that have little to nothing about them available on the Internet. In the previous four write-ups, I’ve labeled them as stories made up by the map’s creator for fun. Today, however, all of that’s about to change because there’s a new possibility at play, and it all but makes me want to go back to the previous four write-ups and reexamine them with a fine-toothed comb.

So, for our inaugural visit to the Fortean Map, we’re taking a trip across the Atlantic Ocean and going to good ol’ England—northern England, to be exact. It’s here where we’ll find something labeled The Durham Force Field. On its own, that name is fascinating and would pique my interest. However, the summary given makes border on irresistible. In fact, I considered writing about it last year. However, I believe I swapped it out with Terry Lopi’s case.

Ah, but I digress. Come along, dear reader. Let’s discuss another Fortean Map Enigma and find out how everything’s about to change with these cases!

Decemystery (2022.3) 23: Terry Lopi's Disappearing Barn

 

I won’t lie; I spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to think of an introduction for this story. I swear, this is the hardest part of these write-ups; it wasn’t always that way. Oh well, I shouldn’t complain too much about my woes because today’s story is one I alluded to earlier this month!

Back when I wrote about The Kentucky Horsewalker, I said that I hoped there were no stories of disappearing barns. Well, surprise, surprise, there are. One of two safe havens for one man in Utah disappeared; that’s like a 50% Defense nerf! But what could cause one man’s barn to up and vanish? Well, come along, dear reader, let’s find that out; it’s time to dive into the story of Terry Lopi’s Disappearing Barn.

Decemystery (2022.3) 12: The Groves Kurt Incident

 

Snow: it’s that thing I remember loving when I was a kid. Then, as I got older, I began to hate it since it was a herald of unbearably cold weather and, more often than not, ice. Still, as a child, I remember going outside and pretending I was Godzilla and the snow was a city. I’d also make snowballs and throw them like they were bombs. Yeah, I can’t say I was a very imaginative youngling, but it provided a bit of entertainment until I’d go inside and pass out from a hard day’s work (see: being a child).

Despite all of that fun, I can’t say I recall ever being involved in a snowball fight. I was a loner of sorts when I was young (not that things are much different than nowadays). The kids who lived near me were into sports and other athletic activities, while I was more of a bookworm and loved video games. Sure, they enjoyed the latter, too, but they still liked sports games. Even when they played things that weren’t throwing balls around like candy, they still liked throwing balls around in the digital world. Eh, to each their own.

My point is I do wish I got to partake in a large-scale snowball fight like I always saw in the cartoons I watched. It always seemed like a bunch of fun—though I would definitely hope it didn’t involve some snot-nosed brat putting ice or rock into one of the snowballs. I sure as heck wouldn’t have wanted to get stitches for a gash on my face—or worse, end up like one of the folks in today’s story.

Two years ago, I covered a story called The Elevator Riddle, a story that I sent to Jason Carpenter, the host of Dead Rabbit Radio. In that write-up, I mentioned another story: The Groves Kurt Incident. When I had Decemystery 2022 planned, I was going to cover that story, but we all know how that went. Lucky for me, I have two brain cells that aren’t fighting for third place in a marathon, so today, we’ll be covering that story for Decemystery 2022.3! So come along, get your snow gear on, and let’s take a trip over to Illinois; it’s time to investigate the story of killer snowballs! No, seriously.

Decemystery (2021) 23: The Signal of Isla Han Samar

Today’s story is yet another one from the Forteana Map. It, much like the story of the “Elevator Riddle”, has virtually nothing on it. However, I opted to still cover it for two reasons. The first is that I wanted something else that was rather easy to cover (I stand by the excuse I gave when talking about the Elevator Riddle: I’ve had a rough year, please cut me a break). The second is that it doesn’t appear that anyone—not even Dead Rabbit Radio—has talked about this story. So, I figured it could be fun to be the first person to cover it.

At least, I believe I’m the first person to have covered it. If I’m not, I feel silly for missing whoever did. They didn’t appear in either Google or Bing’s search results, no matter how many times I tried to look up information on this story.

Ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start from the beginning. This is the story of the Signal of Isla Han Samar.

Decemystery (2021) 12: The Elevator Riddle

Obscurity is something that I believe has gotten me the most microscopic level of fame. Sometimes, when I look up certain stories I’ve written about, I notice that my blog is either the top search result, or on the first page. It always fills me with happiness. However, at the same time, I feel kind of weird about it. I tend to not think of myself as anyone special, and I often just parrot a lot of what I see written on other websites.

Still, the level of joy outweighs that thought—and it’s a very, very, very minor reason why I wanted to cover today’s tale. Known as the Elevator Riddle, this is a story that… honestly doesn’t really feel like it can be properly described in any meaningful way. So let’s just jump right into it.