Foreword
When I approached The Devil's Chair in Cassadaga, Florida, for investigation, I had no preconceived notions. My immediate observation was the remarkable beauty of this unincorporated Volusia County community. Cassadaga exuded a rich cultural atmosphere, evident in the tranquility of Colby Lake and its historic town charm.
As I explored the graveyard and surrounding area of Colby Lake, I encountered an individual who shared their knowledge of the Devil’s Chair, immediately capturing my attention. For the purpose of this novel, I have altered names and supplied possible details that were unknown to the person I spoke with.
This is a story based on a legend. If this story inspires you to visit Cassadaga and the chair, always be considerate in your conduct.
CHAPTER 1
DEVIL’S CHAIR
Present day
Arya ran her hands over the cool stone exterior of the Devil’s Chair, half expecting his hand to reach out and grab her. After all, it has been said this is his chair. Weather-beaten throughout the years, the surface was semi-smooth, and the seat had lost all of its callousness and even had a slight, worn impression in it.
“Take the picture now,” Arya said, and grabbed her collar and shook it. “It’s hot as shit and I don’t want the sweat ruining my makeup. How is my hair?”
“Unchanged,” Mila said. “Like it was shaped in the eighties and hasn’t moved since.”
“Screw you.”
“Not today. Sit still and smile. I want you to act like you’re sipping a bahama mama on the deck of a cruise ship.”
“Now why would I picture myself on the deck of a cruise ship? Isn’t living in Florida supposed to be living in paradise?”
“Well, yeah, I guess so,” Mila said. “Until you actually live here. Oh, and here comes the guy that’s going to serve you drinks”
“Now you’re talking,” Arya said, cozying into the seat. “So what does this servant of mine look like?” She cracked a smile.
“He’s hot. Well, not just because it’s hot out. He’s smoking because he’s got a nice body that’s greased up all nice and shiny. And he’s wearing a banana hammock.”
Arya’s shoulders slumped and her smile disappeared. “Seriously Mila? You had me until the hammock thingy.” She pretended to vomit. “Gross. I was instantly reminded of that time we went to the beach and that old guy with the hairy chest–”
“Blue.”
“What?”
“The hammock he was wearing. It was powder blue.”
Arya puffed her cheeks. “Now I ain’t kidding. I think I’m going to be sick.”
“What wonderful memories we have of living here in paradise.” Mila laughed. “Now, on a serious note, I want you to smile and say blue banana hammock on an old man makes me happy.”
Arya gave her the stink eye. She raised her arms and smiled. “How is this?”
“Fabulous!” Mila said and took several pictures.
“I’m getting bitten up,” Arya said. “Are you ready to get out of here?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” She put her phone away and gathered her things. “And I think we did our due diligence. We have a long ride home and it’s starting to get dark.”
“Other than the heat, the bugs, the inaction and the mental picture of the old man, I had a great time,” Arya said in a hurry. She started for the path that would take her back to their waiting vehicle.
“Wait. Hang on,” Mila said. “Take a few pictures of me! I want to post the visit to our Social. We need to show our seventy-five adoring followers that we both sat in the Devil’s Chair and walked away unscathed.” Mila smiled. “Well, mostly.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Arya said, and took the phone from Mila.
Mila got into the chair, crossed her legs and gently smiled, taking her own advice and acted like everything was perfect. Heck, she even pictured a buff twenty something year old guy wearing a banana hammock.
“You’ve got a shit-eating grin on you right now and I don’t want to know what you’re thinking,” Arya said, snapped a few pictures and then swatted at a mosquito. “These damn bugs are tyrants! That freaking thing was buzzing right in my damn ear!”
“One last thing,” Mila said and stood. She pulled a bottle of beer out of her pocketbook and placed it on the Devil’s Chair.
“Our gift to you. Thank you for having us,” Arya said. “Now drink up.”
The two girls hurried to the car, Mila got in the driver's seat, and she started the engine and cranked the air conditioning.
“Well, that was underwhelming,” Arya said. “And I don’t think the experience was worth the bug bites!” She scratched at her forearm. “I hate the way they dive bomb you!” She shivered. “And the buzzing sound they make! They make me want to scream. Why couldn’t I find an indoor hobby instead of running through graveyards in one of the hottest states?”
“Because indoor things are boring and I thought the chair was rather cool,” Mila said. “It wasn’t that bad. I mean, the bugs were beyond horrible. But the chair and the surrounding area is really cool. I get a nostalgic sort of feel.”
Arya glared at her. Sweat and frustration coated her face. “Really? Look at me, I’m a hot mess. The humidity is miserable too.”
“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to come!”
“Well, duh!” Arya adjusted the air vents on the car's dashboard so the cold air was right in her face. Her hair still hadn’t moved. “After that night at the Devil Tree, it only made sense to come to this place next.”
“The Devil Tree and the Devil’s Chair, I’m noticing the themes. Welcome to Florida people. Maybe we should come back after dark?”
Arya shrugged. “Who knows, maybe it would change the experience?” She sat in silence, mulling the idea. “We can always try it. I felt nothing around the chair. As far as I’m concerned, it’s just a cement and brick seat with a bad rap.”
“I’ve always wondered if demons or ghosts or whatever are light sensitive? I mean, why do they wait to come out at night when I can see perfectly fine during the day?”
Arya smiled. “I’ve wondered that, too. Maybe it has something to do with adding to the creep factor. Ghost code or something. Anyway, let’s have a look at those pics before we start the drive home. I’m not having something posted on the internet where I look horrible.”
“You’re a ghost hunter, not a model on a runway.”
“Whatever. Let’s have a look.”
Mila started flipping through the phone, examining the pictures. “You photograph well, Arya. That says a lot being sweat and impatience were all over you.”
“Ha ha, very funny,” she said. “Let me see. I trust you enough, I suppose, but I need to verify.”
Mila handed the phone over. She watched Arya zooming in on a picture of herself and it was obvious she was being vain. “Give it back,” she said and went to grab the phone, but Arya was too fast. She pulled the phone away.
“Hang on, I want to see the ones I took of you.” Arya scrolled, furrowed her eyebrows and started to swipe left and right. “That’s odd.”
“What is?”
“I took multiple pictures of you but only one of them came out. All the others are black.”
“Let me see,” Mila said, and looked at the pictures. “Did you have your hand in the way?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Maybe when you were trying to swat that mosquito?”
Arya shook her head. “No, that was after I took that last picture.”
“Are you sure?”
“I think so, yeah.”
Mila zoomed in on the one picture that came out correctly. She stared at the screen, her mouth hanging open.
“What is it?”
“Look,” Mila said, and handed the phone back to Arya. “What do you see?”
She looked at the phone, then at Mila. “What the hell?”
“That’s freaking really creepy,” Mila said, smiling although nothing about this was funny to her. “Was someone standing behind me while I was sitting there?”
“No, not that I saw at the time. If that were a person, I’m sure I would’ve noticed them.”
“There goes some of our theories. I think we caught a shadow person and we did it during the day.”
“I mean, whatever it is, it is clearly there.”
Mila’s skin goosed. “It’s semi-transparent though, right?”
Arya handed her the phone. “Take another look and zoom in over your shoulder. It’s right freaking there, standing in the graveyard!”
Mila did, and she could easily see the semi-transparent black figure standing near the fenceline by a headstone. “OK, we have to slow down a second here. Remember, cooler heads prevail.”
Perhaps it was a trick of light? She wasn’t sure so she referenced the pictures of Arya and looked at that exact spot. Every single picture was absent from that figure.
“You have to be kidding me!” Mila said. She shut the car off, and kicked the door open. Arya followed and the two ladies arrived at the chair. Mila held up the phone to compare what was captured versus what she saw with her naked eye.
“Well?”
“Whatever is in this picture isn’t there now and it certainly wasn’t in any of the others,” Mila said. “Sit back down and let me take another picture. I want to try and recreate it but with you in the seat instead.”
Arya shook her head. “I don’t want to sit there right now.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m not kidding, Mila. I don’t feel good all of a sudden. I want to get out of here and think about everything that’s been happening.”
“Alright, I understand, but give me another minute,” Mila said and moved to the chair and sat. “We need to do this at least. Take my picture. Try to stand in the same spot.”
“Mila?” Arya said, her face flushed.
“What is it?”
Arya raised a shaking hand and pointed. “The beer.”
Mila looked. In all the confusion, they didn’t notice the empty beer bottle they left for the devil to drink.
Mila jumped up. “Are you freaking kidding me? Someone has to be messing with us.”
“Yeah, like I said, I’ve had enough. I really want to go,” Arya said. And then with a sudden surge of anger, she shouted, “I want to get out of here and now!”
“No, wait! We need to calm down. This is what we came for,” Mila said and stood on the bench. She yelled into the graveyard, “You’re not scaring us, and you’re certainly not going to chase us out of here!”
“Mila, stop and let’s just go!”
“No,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m not kidding, screw that. We need to try and debunk the things going on here.” She turned her attention to the graveyard again. “Did you hear what I said? You’re not scaring us!”
As if in response, the empty bottle that was sitting firmly off to the side on the cement chair tipped over and rolled off, falling into the dirt. This prompted the fight or flight response in both women, and they ran for the car.
Locking the doors, they started the car, shouting over one another to get out of there as fast as possible. Within seconds, the car sped away.
When I approached The Devil's Chair in Cassadaga, Florida, for investigation, I had no preconceived notions. My immediate observation was the remarkable beauty of this unincorporated Volusia County community. Cassadaga exuded a rich cultural atmosphere, evident in the tranquility of Colby Lake and its historic town charm.
As I explored the graveyard and surrounding area of Colby Lake, I encountered an individual who shared their knowledge of the Devil’s Chair, immediately capturing my attention. For the purpose of this novel, I have altered names and supplied possible details that were unknown to the person I spoke with.
This is a story based on a legend. If this story inspires you to visit Cassadaga and the chair, always be considerate in your conduct.
CHAPTER 1
DEVIL’S CHAIR
Present day
Arya ran her hands over the cool stone exterior of the Devil’s Chair, half expecting his hand to reach out and grab her. After all, it has been said this is his chair. Weather-beaten throughout the years, the surface was semi-smooth, and the seat had lost all of its callousness and even had a slight, worn impression in it.
“Take the picture now,” Arya said, and grabbed her collar and shook it. “It’s hot as shit and I don’t want the sweat ruining my makeup. How is my hair?”
“Unchanged,” Mila said. “Like it was shaped in the eighties and hasn’t moved since.”
“Screw you.”
“Not today. Sit still and smile. I want you to act like you’re sipping a bahama mama on the deck of a cruise ship.”
“Now why would I picture myself on the deck of a cruise ship? Isn’t living in Florida supposed to be living in paradise?”
“Well, yeah, I guess so,” Mila said. “Until you actually live here. Oh, and here comes the guy that’s going to serve you drinks”
“Now you’re talking,” Arya said, cozying into the seat. “So what does this servant of mine look like?” She cracked a smile.
“He’s hot. Well, not just because it’s hot out. He’s smoking because he’s got a nice body that’s greased up all nice and shiny. And he’s wearing a banana hammock.”
Arya’s shoulders slumped and her smile disappeared. “Seriously Mila? You had me until the hammock thingy.” She pretended to vomit. “Gross. I was instantly reminded of that time we went to the beach and that old guy with the hairy chest–”
“Blue.”
“What?”
“The hammock he was wearing. It was powder blue.”
Arya puffed her cheeks. “Now I ain’t kidding. I think I’m going to be sick.”
“What wonderful memories we have of living here in paradise.” Mila laughed. “Now, on a serious note, I want you to smile and say blue banana hammock on an old man makes me happy.”
Arya gave her the stink eye. She raised her arms and smiled. “How is this?”
“Fabulous!” Mila said and took several pictures.
“I’m getting bitten up,” Arya said. “Are you ready to get out of here?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” She put her phone away and gathered her things. “And I think we did our due diligence. We have a long ride home and it’s starting to get dark.”
“Other than the heat, the bugs, the inaction and the mental picture of the old man, I had a great time,” Arya said in a hurry. She started for the path that would take her back to their waiting vehicle.
“Wait. Hang on,” Mila said. “Take a few pictures of me! I want to post the visit to our Social. We need to show our seventy-five adoring followers that we both sat in the Devil’s Chair and walked away unscathed.” Mila smiled. “Well, mostly.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Arya said, and took the phone from Mila.
Mila got into the chair, crossed her legs and gently smiled, taking her own advice and acted like everything was perfect. Heck, she even pictured a buff twenty something year old guy wearing a banana hammock.
“You’ve got a shit-eating grin on you right now and I don’t want to know what you’re thinking,” Arya said, snapped a few pictures and then swatted at a mosquito. “These damn bugs are tyrants! That freaking thing was buzzing right in my damn ear!”
“One last thing,” Mila said and stood. She pulled a bottle of beer out of her pocketbook and placed it on the Devil’s Chair.
“Our gift to you. Thank you for having us,” Arya said. “Now drink up.”
The two girls hurried to the car, Mila got in the driver's seat, and she started the engine and cranked the air conditioning.
“Well, that was underwhelming,” Arya said. “And I don’t think the experience was worth the bug bites!” She scratched at her forearm. “I hate the way they dive bomb you!” She shivered. “And the buzzing sound they make! They make me want to scream. Why couldn’t I find an indoor hobby instead of running through graveyards in one of the hottest states?”
“Because indoor things are boring and I thought the chair was rather cool,” Mila said. “It wasn’t that bad. I mean, the bugs were beyond horrible. But the chair and the surrounding area is really cool. I get a nostalgic sort of feel.”
Arya glared at her. Sweat and frustration coated her face. “Really? Look at me, I’m a hot mess. The humidity is miserable too.”
“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to come!”
“Well, duh!” Arya adjusted the air vents on the car's dashboard so the cold air was right in her face. Her hair still hadn’t moved. “After that night at the Devil Tree, it only made sense to come to this place next.”
“The Devil Tree and the Devil’s Chair, I’m noticing the themes. Welcome to Florida people. Maybe we should come back after dark?”
Arya shrugged. “Who knows, maybe it would change the experience?” She sat in silence, mulling the idea. “We can always try it. I felt nothing around the chair. As far as I’m concerned, it’s just a cement and brick seat with a bad rap.”
“I’ve always wondered if demons or ghosts or whatever are light sensitive? I mean, why do they wait to come out at night when I can see perfectly fine during the day?”
Arya smiled. “I’ve wondered that, too. Maybe it has something to do with adding to the creep factor. Ghost code or something. Anyway, let’s have a look at those pics before we start the drive home. I’m not having something posted on the internet where I look horrible.”
“You’re a ghost hunter, not a model on a runway.”
“Whatever. Let’s have a look.”
Mila started flipping through the phone, examining the pictures. “You photograph well, Arya. That says a lot being sweat and impatience were all over you.”
“Ha ha, very funny,” she said. “Let me see. I trust you enough, I suppose, but I need to verify.”
Mila handed the phone over. She watched Arya zooming in on a picture of herself and it was obvious she was being vain. “Give it back,” she said and went to grab the phone, but Arya was too fast. She pulled the phone away.
“Hang on, I want to see the ones I took of you.” Arya scrolled, furrowed her eyebrows and started to swipe left and right. “That’s odd.”
“What is?”
“I took multiple pictures of you but only one of them came out. All the others are black.”
“Let me see,” Mila said, and looked at the pictures. “Did you have your hand in the way?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Maybe when you were trying to swat that mosquito?”
Arya shook her head. “No, that was after I took that last picture.”
“Are you sure?”
“I think so, yeah.”
Mila zoomed in on the one picture that came out correctly. She stared at the screen, her mouth hanging open.
“What is it?”
“Look,” Mila said, and handed the phone back to Arya. “What do you see?”
She looked at the phone, then at Mila. “What the hell?”
“That’s freaking really creepy,” Mila said, smiling although nothing about this was funny to her. “Was someone standing behind me while I was sitting there?”
“No, not that I saw at the time. If that were a person, I’m sure I would’ve noticed them.”
“There goes some of our theories. I think we caught a shadow person and we did it during the day.”
“I mean, whatever it is, it is clearly there.”
Mila’s skin goosed. “It’s semi-transparent though, right?”
Arya handed her the phone. “Take another look and zoom in over your shoulder. It’s right freaking there, standing in the graveyard!”
Mila did, and she could easily see the semi-transparent black figure standing near the fenceline by a headstone. “OK, we have to slow down a second here. Remember, cooler heads prevail.”
Perhaps it was a trick of light? She wasn’t sure so she referenced the pictures of Arya and looked at that exact spot. Every single picture was absent from that figure.
“You have to be kidding me!” Mila said. She shut the car off, and kicked the door open. Arya followed and the two ladies arrived at the chair. Mila held up the phone to compare what was captured versus what she saw with her naked eye.
“Well?”
“Whatever is in this picture isn’t there now and it certainly wasn’t in any of the others,” Mila said. “Sit back down and let me take another picture. I want to try and recreate it but with you in the seat instead.”
Arya shook her head. “I don’t want to sit there right now.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No, I’m not kidding, Mila. I don’t feel good all of a sudden. I want to get out of here and think about everything that’s been happening.”
“Alright, I understand, but give me another minute,” Mila said and moved to the chair and sat. “We need to do this at least. Take my picture. Try to stand in the same spot.”
“Mila?” Arya said, her face flushed.
“What is it?”
Arya raised a shaking hand and pointed. “The beer.”
Mila looked. In all the confusion, they didn’t notice the empty beer bottle they left for the devil to drink.
Mila jumped up. “Are you freaking kidding me? Someone has to be messing with us.”
“Yeah, like I said, I’ve had enough. I really want to go,” Arya said. And then with a sudden surge of anger, she shouted, “I want to get out of here and now!”
“No, wait! We need to calm down. This is what we came for,” Mila said and stood on the bench. She yelled into the graveyard, “You’re not scaring us, and you’re certainly not going to chase us out of here!”
“Mila, stop and let’s just go!”
“No,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m not kidding, screw that. We need to try and debunk the things going on here.” She turned her attention to the graveyard again. “Did you hear what I said? You’re not scaring us!”
As if in response, the empty bottle that was sitting firmly off to the side on the cement chair tipped over and rolled off, falling into the dirt. This prompted the fight or flight response in both women, and they ran for the car.
Locking the doors, they started the car, shouting over one another to get out of there as fast as possible. Within seconds, the car sped away.
