Unsettling Murmurs at George Washington Masonic ‘Temple’

While checking my email inbox the other day, I received a most distressing email from a gentleman who wishes “to remain anonymous.” The gentleman in question, while doing research on the internet, came across my curious Washington, D.C. area blog and had a tale of his own to add. I have kept the errors, he appeared to be typing in a hurry. Said gentleman wrote his email as follows:

Dear Sir,

I hope this email finds you well. The other day I came across your extraordinary web log and wish to relate to you a strange and unpleasant incident which occurred just before the peculiar incident at Fort Ward Park. I am not sure if the tale I am about to relate corresponds with what occurred at the park, yet, the close proximity of the two locations bears some consideration. I don't have much time.

However, please allow the indulgences of an old man and allow me to provide you some background information. I have lived in the Washington, D.C. for many years. I have been retired for the past thirteen years (previously, an officer in the United States Army, my last post was at the Pentagon). I tell you this so you do not think of me as some addle brained old fool who sits around idly and makes up tales to entertain himself. I was an infantry officer, Sir! And a damned fine good one!

When I retired my wife and I purchased a modest but tasteful colonial style house on Hilltop Terrace, in the city of Alexandria. For many years, I was a serious runner but due to knee surgery and other physical ailments, I had to stop and took up walking instead. I am very familiar with Fort Ward Park, Sir, since I would take long walks around that area, from my home no less (I told you I wasn’t some frail, indolent old chap).

At any rate, my dear wife passed on a few years ago from cancer. In order to ameliorate my grief and loneliness (we never had any children due to my constant deployments), I purchased a most astonishing Welsh Corgi. “Jacob” as I call him, is smart as a whip, like many of his breed and a wonderful companion to an old widower such as myself. Jacob loves going on long explorations outdoors on his leash and me at the helm. We go for long walks together around Alexandria, especially down by the Potomac River.

As I stated before, I live on Hilltop Terrace, in the shadow of the George Washington Masonic Memorial, or the ‘George Washington Temple’ as many of us in the neighborhood refer to it. It is a beautiful stone structure with a large expansive well kept lawn at its front. The building is in phenomenal shape considering it was built in the 1920s. Jacob and I have always enjoyed walking around the outskirts of this building on our way home from our outdoor excursions. However, during the bitter and overcast winter months, the building takes on a sinister façade. The cyclopean stone structure becomes forbidding and almost sinister. For the most part, I have always dismissed these sentiments as a seasonal affectation, until recently.Jacob and I were completing our daily walkabout, both of us looking forward to a well deserved supper. As we walked up King Street, with the ‘Temple’ on our left, I observed a most strange affair. I observed a small cluster of men in dark hooded robes dashing into the ‘Temple.’ I had never watched anyone with such strange raiment near the ‘Temple’ before. My first thought was that the men were a part of some religious order, although the robes appeared too dark to be a Catholic sect. I must admit, although I am not a nosy man by nature, curiosity got the better of me. These people clearly were not the usual tourists who come to take pictures!

Jacob and I began mounting the grassy knoll towards the main entrance, it was steep and my joints were taking a pounding, but the devil was upon me at that moment and I had to know what was going on! Jacob and I came to the column adorned main entry. Inside, I swore I heard some sort of outlandish chanting from within. I could not make out the language for the life of me (I know some Latin and a smattering of ancient Greek and it was clearly none of these languages). I even walked up and placed my ear to the door. The language was intolerable. I could only describe it as hoarse, guttural utterances. A strange transformation overcame Jacob, usually quiet and well behaved, he began to make a low growl and foam at the lips. Throughout the chanting, I only heard one word repeated over and over again, it was ‘Dagon’ I believe. It was then I heard the terrible, retched voice behind me hiss.

“This is a private ceremony, you will leave now!” I turned around a man in a light blue security guard uniform stood before. In his left hand he held a large heavy flashlight, as wicked looking as any police baton. I noticed the man’s right hand hovering near the revolver he wore on a shiny leather pistol belt around his narrow hips. Even in the waning twilight light I noticed his queer physical appearance. He was going absurdly bald, with large round bulbous eyes, an unpronounced chin that had failed to grow into adulthood with him. His form was almost skeletal to behold and his skin, my God, his skin was afflicted by some sort of eczema, giving it a dry, scaly look. He appeared to have some sort of speech impediment, which gave his voice a raspy, raucous quality.

I have witnessed such horrors on the battle field, Sir, but I am ashamed to say, I could not be in the same proximity as this creature of a man anymore. “I am sorry, I was merely curious, we are leaving now.” I mumbled to the man as I as quickly walked away, while Jacob still in a state of frenzy barked at the man (?) and tried to break from his leash, it took all my strength to drag him away.

The worst…the worst I have saved for last. The smell, my God!!! The smell that emanated from that creature. I can only liken the smell to what one smells when standing on a beach and the stench of decaying fish hits ones nostrils from the wind coming off the water. The smell made me want to retch and it took all my discipline to keep my stomach acids where they belong!

However, as I was pulling Jacob away from the property, I had enough sense to take out my digital camera from my jacket (I carry it with me during our walks, in case something strikes my fancy and I wish to preserve it). As I raised the camera, the security guard turned around and stared straight into the lens, I snapped off a quick picture and retreated home quickly.

In the safety of my living room, near a roaring fire, I fortified myself with some Virginia Gentleman bourbon whiskey. Once my frayed nerves were calm, I looked at the hideous picture of the security guard, he glared back at me with his leering countenance. What horrific gene pool could have produced such a monstrosity? I put the camera on my book shelf and sat on my favorite leather sofa, throwing back another glass of bourbon. Jacob had also calmed down as well and was whining for his supper.

The following day, I had several errands to run in the morning and this distraction was exactly what I needed considering the previous evening. I put Jacob outside in the large fenced in back yard, since it was warm and the sky was completely blue. As I pulled my dark Red Jeep Patriot on to King Street, I noticed two men in a black Chevy Tahoe staring at me, both men wore dark watch caps and dark wraparound sunglasses, such unusual characters in such as middle class neighborhood full of families and retirees. Since most of the windows appeared tinted, I could not make anything else out. As I drove to Costco, I assumed my paranoia was due to recent events. As I drove north, my mind calmed and I thought the men were probably undercover police officers on duty.

I returned home much later in the afternoon than I had anticipated. What I found chilled me to the bone. As I parked my Jeep and closed the garage door there was a profound silence hanging in the air. I walked out back to see to Jacob, instead…I found nothing! Jacob was no where to be found. The only door to the fence was shut and secured. I checked inside the house and Jacob was not there either. My heart began to pound against my rib cage and my breathing increased exponentially, I began to panic. I ran outside calling his name like a mad man! Neighbors came outside when they witnessed my frenzied state. Once I was calm enough to talk, I told them about Jacob missing. Several of the other retirees (who also greatly prized their dear pets) offered to help me search the neighborhood; we did. It was to no avail, Jacob was never found.

Once the sun had gone down, I knew I could do nothing until morning. I collapsed on my comfy sofa, which this night gave me no succor. It was while lying on my sofa that I noticed it or I should say the lack of it. My digital camera was not on the bookshelf, where I distinctly remembered placing it. I searched the house anyway, no camera was found. Suddenly, a dreadful thought came into my mind. I walked outside and looked at my front door, I observed very faint scratches around the area where the key inserts into the lock. Sometimes, I forget to engage the dead bolt and for my lack of detail in fully securing my home, Jacob had paid the price.

don’t know why, intuition maybe? At that moment, standing outside, looking at my lock, I turned my head around. Standing at the other end of the street was a figure, who appeared to be watching me, without my glasses, I could not make out any detail, every fiber of being whispered to me that this watcher was part of this violation of my domicile. As I started walking towards the man, he simply turned and disappeared around a bend in the street. By the time I reached the bend, he was gone.

Time ticked by inside my abode, I reached for my phone on several occasions but I stopped myself every time. How could I report this to the police? Someone broke in and stole my dog and camera? How could I explain that several expensive art pieces, gold coins, computers and a flat screen TV were untouched, even the petty cash I kept in the kitchen hadn’t been handled? They would think me an elderly fool who lost his dog and misplaced his camera. I knew then that the watchers, whoever they were would eventually stop watching and instead act. So for the past week, I have discontinued my long walks, I rarely go out at all. Instead, I comb the internet, searching for information. Every night I sit in my well fortified study with my freshly cleaned .45 ACP…waiting. Already, as I sit here typing, I smell that noxious miasma hanging in the air outside my door step, they have come for me, but I will not go without fight, Sir!

That was the end of the email. I have tried to contact our anonymous retired soldier on several occasions, but get no response. I will continue to attempt contact…

For those unfamiliar with the George Washington Masonic Memorial in Alexandria, further information can be found here: http://www.gwmemorial.org/

From the above referenced website:

This magnificent structure is privately funded through the grateful contributions of Freemasons and others, yet remains open to the public, free of charge, seven days a week.

The George Washington Masonic Memorial is more than a colossal memorial and museum. It is a tourist attraction and destination; research center and library; community center; performing arts center and concert hall; banquet and celebration site; and meeting site for local and countless visiting Masonic lodges and organizations. However, first and foremost, it is a memorial to honor and perpetuate the memory, character and virtues of the man who best exemplifies what Freemasons are and ought to be, Brother George Washington. The George Washington Masonic Memorial provides a diverse set of impressive facilities for public and private functions complete with a variety of furnishings and amenities.

I have never been on the public tour myself, it is offered a few times a month I'm told. I have heard that both the Memorial Hall and North Lodge Room are quite impressive. I cannot help but wonder what better place for a repugnant secret society or cult to hide then in the confines of a more public and accepted ‘secret society.’