Ghosts Next Door

Ghosts Next Door
by Lopaka Kapanui

Aug 23, 2023

100 Ghost Stories Counting Down To Halloween 2023. #32 That Ain't No Way To Have Fun

 The head of the well-noted secret society exited from the second-floor stairway of his establishment, dressed in his signature suit.

 Even in the balmy weather of our island state, it seemed that he never appeared in public wearing anything less. No one ever knew the reason why he dressed that way. People had their own ideas, and many blogs have passages discussing the issue, but the honest truth has yet to be discovered. His face was always stoic, and he was hardly ever seen wearing a smile. He stepped into a dark, brooding wraith of a car. A Rolls Royce of the same name. It silently pulled out of the parking lot and traversed the streets of Honolulu. A 1991 Honda Civic exited from the same parking lot and began to shadow the luxury vehicle from a safe distance.


Randy Tavares managed to ingratiate his way into every paranormal group on the island and, in turn, would contaminate their investigations. He would either plant evidence that he would conveniently find and take credit for, or he would pre-record his EVPs and then try to pass it off as a genuine find from some spot where the investigation was taking place. Randy would also pass out his business cards the second the investigative team left a site to promote his interests. However, Randy's primary purpose during his time with each group was to cause dissension among them. He was the disease that would fester in the wounds he would create. Once the group members were at each other's throats and everything began to fall apart, Randy would conveniently make his exit and move on to another group. It was 2:19 in the afternoon when he saw the head of the secret society exit the building through a side door and descend a flight of stairs. Randy cracked every paranormal group on the island except for the one headed by the man who drove the black Rolls Royce. The man himself was nameless; he was someone who lurked in the shadows. He let the work of his secret society speak for itself. Countless television interviews, hard copy articles, and online documentaries featured the society members themselves but never the man to whom they answered. They were known as the 13 Skull Society and comprised 13 official members. There were initiates, but one stayed at that level until one of the official 13 died or was kicked out. To be an initiate was by invitation only; no one could apply. Randy knew this, so his pursuit of the head of the society was out of frustration. It was a challenge in Randy's mind, but it was also his ego.

"Who the hell does this guy think he is? He's not above the law; how dare he act as if he is better than the rest of us?"

The head of 13 Skull Society was a nut he had to crack, so Randy fired up his 91 Honda Civic and followed the Rolls Royce just after leaving the parking lot. The passenger seat of his old car was littered with several letters the society sent to Randy's home address. Each letter was a cordial warning, advising him to not loiter on their property to take pictures or recordings as several signs cautioned the public against trespassing. Several emails and text messages flooded his phone advising Randy against contacting them for a petition to become a member. The last straw was the restraining order presented to him at his home earlier that same morning. As the officer handed Randy the papers, he looked over the officer's shoulder and saw the black Rolls-Royce parked across the street. Enough was enough. Randy headed straight to the non-descriptive two-story building in Kaimuki, parked in the empty lot, and waited. The black luxury car sat in its stall for most of the day until the grand poobah of the 13 Skull Society made his appearance.

Exit stage, right.


Randy tried to stay out of sight by lagging behind two cars. The Rolls took a circuitous route toward what would be its usual destination. The vehicle usually came from a large double gate from a historic mansion at the foot of an eastern mountain in Manoa. So, it was natural for Randy to expect the vehicle to return to where it had emerged earlier that morning. However, it passed the Wilder exit as well as the Lunalilo off-ramp. It passed Vineyard and was now taking the Pali off-ramp. Proceeding up the Pali highway, it passed church row and finally lumbered at the traffic light fronting Pu'iwa Park. It took the right cut-off, going up the Nu'uanu Pali drive. Now, no cars separated Randy's vehicle and the black Rolls Royce. He had to be mindful and keep his distance, but he nearly lost it when he saw the Rolls pull into the tiny parking space near the reservoir. It took everything for Randy to drive by at a reasonable pace without looking at the man in black as he exited the Rolls and walked up the road. Randy eyed his rearview mirror and saw the man suddenly turn right and disappear into the bamboo forest.

"Shit," he said to himself. "He's going up to Kanikapupu in a two-piece dark suit? What the hell?"

Parking in a small space further up, Randy grabbed his digital recorder and camera and headed down the road, where he found the opening to the trail. The excitement made the blood rush to his head, so he was forced to take a moment to catch his breath. He had to remind himself that he couldn't scare the man in black by running upon him. He had to hang back far enough to see the man but not lose sight of him. However, throughout the trek, he noticed that the man in black was gone. He was beginning to worry, but just at the end of the trail, he saw the man disappear into the abandoned structure that was once the summer home of Kamehameha III.

Questions rattled his mind; which one was he going to ask first, and really, how should he pose these questions without coming off like an idiot? Stepping through the coral block archway, Randy looked about and found the spacious interior of the structure to be entirely empty. The man in black was nowhere to be found, or so Randy thought.

"Want some whiskey in your water?" the voice seemed to come from nowhere, yet it came from everywhere under the afternoon sun. Instinct told Randy to look to the left, and that's when he saw the man in black manifesting out of the corner of the old crumbling wall.

"Some sugar in your tea?" The man in black asked. "What's all these crazy questions you're asking me?"

"I'm sorry," Randy was disoriented for a second, but the man ignored him and continued to speak as if he were reciting some kind of mantra.

"This is the craziest party that could ever be. Don't turn on the lights, 'cause I don't wanna see," his eyes were intense and colored in yellowish-green.

"Hey, this is kinda weird.…just back off, alright?" Randy held his hand out to the man in black, indicating that he now wanted distance between them.

"Mama told me not to come," the man whispered in a sing-song voice.

"I'm warning you," Randy's voice was shaking. "I know how to defend myself!"

"That ain't no way to have fun.…no," the man shook his head and smiled.

Randy stepped backward and tripped over a rock embedded in the grass and hit his head. The man in black took two steps forward and placed his sized 13 boot on Randy's throat.

"That ain't no way to have,"

Every moment Randy struggled and squirmed, the man in black applied more pressure and more weight to the insole of his shoe.

"Wet shoes," Randy coughed. "You're former military or CIA?"

The man in black applied just enough pressure to Randy's throat so that his mouth opened up. The man removed a pill from his shirt pocket and popped it in Randy's mouth.

"The pill dissolves very quickly and works its way into your system even before you realize it's working," The man began. "You'll be out for a while, but it will be night when you wake. I'll make you a deal, my hard-headed friend. Tonight is the first of the last four moon phases of the Hawaiian Lunar Calendar. It's the night of Kane, the night of the Night Marchers. If you can survive the night in this place, I will make you a fully-fledged member of the 13 Skull Society. You'll skip being an initiate and go straight to the box, so to speak. If not, I have a cadre' of police officers further down the trail awaiting your arrival. I called them as you were following me from my building. They've promised me that they will give you the individual treatment even before you make it to the station,"

The man could see that Randy was now considering the offer; he removed his foot from Randy's throat and took a few slow steps backward. Randy made several attempts to stand, but his legs would not cooperate.

"It's the pill," the man in black told him. "It's just doing its job. Consider my offer when you wake up.…. there's really no consideration, is there? You're damned either way,"

The man in black turned, left the open structure, and went down the trail, disappearing into the overgrown bamboo forest. "Mama told me not to come, Mama told me not to come. That ain't no way to have,"


Kaniakapupuu had been vandalized on several occasions with graffiti and the removal of rocks or plants. It was and still is very frustrating for the group that cares for and maintains the area, as it is disappointing for the Hawaiian community. However, as far as anyone knew, Kaniakapupu had never been the scene of a murder until the naked body of Randy Tavares was found the following day about twenty feet away from the old royal home. He was riddled with large gaping wounds all over his body; his eyes were frozen with a look of absolute terror. His clothing was found scattered about within the confines of Kaniakapupu as if he had to strip naked suddenly. The entire scene was strange because no telltale evidence of a murder scene was present. It seemed as if phantoms appeared explicitly to commit the brutal murder and then disappeared into the night air of the Nu'uanu forest.


"I have seen so many things I ain't ever seen before, I don't know what it is, I don't wanna see no more. She said, "That ain't no way to have fun, son. That ain't no way to have"

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