Ouija Demon Rantor Rantic - PART 3

KEN KORCZAK:

And so the marathon session continues ... not to newcomers here, this is Part 3 of my session contacting the "demon" that identified itself as Rantor Rantic. Scroll down to find parts 1 and 2.

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Question: As always, MOMMY, all your statements only produce dozens more questions for us. It makes me wonder -- are you an encystment process, and is The Nothing Chamber some kind of encystment process?

ANSWER: NO, HONEY. THE NOTHING CHAMBER IS A PLACE WHERE THERE IS NOTHING. THERE IS NO DIMENSION.

Question: I was afraid you would say that. But getting back to Rantor Rantic … I’m not sure what to ask first. You say I met Rantor Rantic twice. I would think I would remember meeting this remarkable apparition -- or whatever -- a second time. Can you prompt me about the second time I saw Rantor Rantic?

ANSWER: IN THE WOODS WITH THE BEAUTIFUL COMPANION. THE BEAUTIFUL COMPANION WOKE YOU JUST IN TIME TO SEE RANTOR RANTIC. THE BEAUTIFUL COMPANION WAS STANDING ON YOUR CHEST.

(Note: When this message came across from MOMMY, I was just … well … it is difficult to find the right words. It wasn’t really a feeling of shock, or amazement. It was a feeling like my head was suddenly swarming with hornets, or perhaps nuclear-powered goose bumps -- and then a feeling like my entire head turned into one gigantic shivering goose bump.

I quickly excused myself and told all the guys I needed a minute, and perhaps the session was over. I went into a bedroom, sat down in the dark, and I’m a bit embarrassed to admit that I wept for about 10 minutes. For I now remembered the second time I confronted Rantor Rantic.

Here is what happened: The year was 1995, during which we experienced one of the coldest periods in Minnesota history. It was the week the record was set at 60-degrees-below zero (Fahrenheit). One of my favorite things to do during these extreme cold snaps is ride my mountain bike along a series of snowmobile trails, which become very hard-frozen. The trails are compacted and solid, so the bike does not sink, yet the snow on either side of the trail remains soft -- thus, if one slips up and goes off the path, and if you are going fast enough, you can get pitched off the bike and into the snow.

What made it even more fun for me is that my “beautiful companion” -- my big dog -- always ran with me along the frozen trails. I cannot tell you the dog’s name for a reason you will find very strange -- it was because this dog had a “secret name” that only he and I knew -- there is a long story behind that, but I won’t go into it here. Anyway, I’ll just use MOMMY’S apt description of this dog, and refer to him as BC, which, again, was not his real “secret name.”

So, anyway, one night I was staying out at the cabin with BC. At about midnight I noticed it was 42-below-zero outside. BC brought me my riding boot, which meant he was all revved up for a daring midnight mountain bike ride in the frigid cold of night. I agreed and so “suited up” against the deep freeze. Before suiting up, BC ate a pound of raw salmon, and I ate almost as much of the same, which is excellent fuel for extreme cold activity.

Shortly, BC and I were heading out into the icy night. A cheery moonlight cast a silver sheen across the snow, making the snow-encrusted Minnesota countryside look like perhaps the Sea of Tranquility on the Moon.

After about a half-mile jaunt down a gravel road, we plunged into the dark forest on a snowmobile trail -- this path winds deep into the woods for as many miles as one cares to go. On this night, I figured that I could last 5 to 10 miles before getting into serious trouble through loss of body heat -- the key is to keep peddling the bicycle like mad, keeping your blood flowing and muscles working to self-generate warmth.

In a way, this is stupid and dangerous, especially if you do it alone in a remote location, even if you have a good dog as your partner in the endeavor -- but that’s the nature of all extreme sports, right? An element of danger.

As always, BC was always well ahead of me. He was impervious to the cold. His quarry on these runs were the gigantic snow-white jackrabbits that always seem to be around no matter how cold it is, but he also sometimes scared up weasels, deer and other critters of the woods. For BC, these runs were paradise.

Suddenly about three miles deep into the woods, I was peddling like a madman and right in the middle of the trail there was a sudden soft spot - these are sometimes created when a snowmobile stops, then spins out, digging up the icy surface a bit. When my front wheel hit it, the bike stopped dead, and I was pitched up and over, doing a flip over the handle bars and landing flat on my back with tremendous force. I also conked my head on the hard ice. (No helmet -- dumb, I know).

I felt crushing pain in my chest and my head was vibrating -- I saw sparkling lights. I was momentarily immobilized there down on the frozen surface. But even my brief delirium, I knew I was in big trouble -- just a few minutes of lying there in the 42-degree-below would quickly rob my body of heat. Your fingers and toes go first -- they start to tingle and burn … then you have a problem …

Well, there was a moment of confusion, an intense feeling of disorientation, and suddenly I felt a thumping on my chest, and I could hear BC barking aggressively very close to my head. I opened my eyes and realized BC was standing with his front paws on my chest but he was very focused on the woods -- I heaved myself erect, BC jumped off and charged the woods. I looked at what he was after and I saw a flash of deer antlers in a ray of moonlight filtering through the trees -- and for just a split second -- a nanosecond -- I had the crazy impression that BC was chasing not a deer, but a man, whom for some reason was wearing a strange hat festooned with deer antlers, maybe like some kind of primitive Viking helmet. Of course, my head was all blinky, so to speak.

But then I instantly forgot about it because a nanosecond was all I had. The urgency to get up, get back on the bike, and start peddling out of the forest was critical, or I might have frozen to death. Of course, I made it back to the cabin, but my fingers were totally without feeling, and both my feet felt like a couple of frozen hams. I had a dime-sized patch of frostbite on my cheek.

So, anyway, I never thought of the incident with the deer-man after that -- until MOMMY suggested that what we actually confronted in the woods that night was the Artifact -- Rantor Rantic.

The reason I became so emotional when MOMMY prompted me to remember this event, and the heroic aid I received from my Beautiful Companion, is that after 17 years of wonderful life and many adventures with my best friend, I buried my Beautiful Companion under a sugar maple in my yard last summer. If you have ever had a dog that you truly love, you know how it is. You want them to live forever, but of course, they don’t, not in the physical sense anyway. And when they leave, they take your heart with them.

So that’s where this session ends -- but in the future, I’ll give you MOMMY’S explanation of how I could have confronted the Rantor Rantic Artifact in the past, how and why it could appear in human-like form, though not even a living entity, and even though I had never heard of him before we started this particular Ouija session -- on a dare.

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