So about a week ago my girlfriend and I drove down to Domingo’s for dinner. She loves it there, and I have been eating there as long as I can remember, phenomenal Mexican food. Though I admit, not as good as it used to be since Domingo sold the place to his cousins. After dinner I took her out to where my dad lives, just to show her where it is. On the drive out, things got spooky.
My dad lives in a little plot of land in the middle of no where that is called, Aerial Acres (here is a map). To get there you have to get off of Highway 58, go through the small unincorporated town of North Edwards (on the North side of Edwards Air Force Base of course), and then drive about five miles down a dark, narrow, windy, two lane, crumbling asphalt road. My girlfriend started becoming fidgety about the time we hit North Edwards, became worse once we cleared the town and started down the dark road, and about two thirds of the way down the road looked at me and asked “Was their a fire out here?” This spooked me as I knew the answer was yes, but I did not answer her right away.
We drive by my dads, and my brother Dan’s place (they live next to each other, but hardly ever talk to one another), and then were on our way back down to the highway. She was uncomfortable the whole time. Once we were back on Highway 58, and headed West towards Mojave, she asked me if a lot of people had died out in the area, I answered in the affirmative. She asked if one was a boy, and if he was beaten to death. Very freaked out, I again answered in the affirmative. She asked me to tell her about the area….so I did.
I told her that their had indeed been a fire out near my dads. Their were ranches out in that area (some of the foundations and other things still exist) that dated back to the early 1900’s, in fact Aerial Acres exists because of a gigantic alfalfa ranch that used to be out there. Back just after World War Two, one of the ranches was supposedly owned by one of the original members of Our Gang (also known as The Little Rascals). Some time after that it was sold to the Grantham family.
I don’t know the details, but I do know that some time after that the ranch house burned down and had to be rebuilt. I am not sure how, but the ranch ended up with the eldest Grantham son, who was friends with my mother. Some time in the 70’s he hung himself out at the ranch. After that it sat empty for many years until his brothers family moved in, they were also friends with my mom. I spent a lot of time at that ranch house as a child, and I will tell you that I never liked it. I was always afraid of the place, and would get scared out of my mind going out there at night.
After a while, due to some personal things, my mom and the Granthams fell out of friendship. Over the years that family imploded, a lot of bad things happened to them. I really don’t know what happened to them in detail, only that after they went their separate ways and left the ranch house did they start doing better. The ranch became a very short lived alpaca ranch, not sure what happened after that. I don’t think that the ranch house is stall standing any more.
I then told her that the while desert was the grave yard for test pilots from Edwards Air Force Base. After WW2, it was the dawn of the Jet era and Edwards was THE place to be for test pilots. Many pilots died in those days, including the man they named Edwards AFB for, Glenn Edwards. However, their were other deaths out their as well, and one of those had indeed been a young man.
II was told this story by my grandfather, but I don’t remember the exact details. California was either building Highway 466 (the precursor to Highway 58) or turning 466 in to 58 by making it a 4 lane highway from Boron to Mojave. While building the road workers dug up a skeleton of a boy/young man with a deformed leg. A article was ran in a couple newspapers about it.
As I said before, their used to be ranches out in that area. It wasn’t always scrub desert land, it was high desert, at least until Mulholland came along (but that is a story for another day). One of the ranches was about a days ride from Mojave, and on that ranch was a family, and a member of that family was the boy with the deformed leg. His father was supposed to make the trip in to Mojave with the wagon for supplies, but his son begged him to go in his place. The father relented and the son was sent to Mojave with cash, a buckboard, and a couple mules to drive the wagon. The boy, mules, and money were never seen again. The wagon was found about half way to Mojave. Investigators believed that these were the remains of the boy, found about 50 or 60 years later.
After the article was ran, a old woman came forward and sad that she had some details about the remains. She said that she had worked in a hospital years before, and that one of the patients was a elderly man that was dying. One day, he decided to confess his sins. He told the nurse a story about the thing he regretted the most…… killing a crippled boy in the desert outside of Mojave for the money on him and his mules.
After I related these stories to my girlfriend she sat in silence for a bit. She then looked at me and asked if I would never take her out to my dads again. She felt like their was something out in that area (the area of the ranch house) that was evil, and that it had been watching us, and that it would of come home with us if it could have. I agreed to that, I don’t like going out there much myself. I asked her about the kid on Highway 58, how she knew about it. She said she could just feel it, just knew it.
What I did not tell her was that not far away from my dads, across the desert, is the Rand mining district, and other mines in the Garlock area. Their were horrible atrocities committed to the Chinese miners in these areas. Ghosts have been seen in the hills, and along Garlock road, and one always has a bad feeling traversing that desert alone.
I was talking to my brother (the one that does not live next to my dad) about this, and he agrees with my girlfriend. He thinks that their is a bad spirit out their, a dark entity, and that it will drag you down if you let it. He reminded me of the time (about ten years ago) we were standing in my dads front yard. The sun was going down, the coppery red had all but faded from the sky, stars were beginning to come out. Every dog in Aerial Acres started howling at the exact same time. Not a few with more joining in, but every single one and at the exact same time. It was summer, but a cold breeze kicked up, and every grass killing cotton tail rabbit ran for cover. We looked at one another and walked back in to the house. The dogs quieted down a short time later.
I think my dad and brother need to move out of that area.