All Souls Week 1, Ep. 39

Episode 39: Celebrating Arizona

Julie visits a solitary remnant of pioneer life in the Arizona desert thinking about who came before, then Lisa visits a Prescott haunted hotel, and in return may have gotten a visitor who wasn’t really there.

Mug: Prescott Frontier Days

She Never Checked Out (Abbie Hotel Vendome)

From Chief Yellowhorse Loves On!

by Lisa Schnebly Heidinger

“An earlier owner described to me some of the actions the staff attributed to Abbie.  The call bell behind the desk would show someone in Roob 16 needing service even when the room was empty.  Maids would go up to find the television blaring.  Guests would wake up in the night to find the bathroom door locked from the inside and water running in the tub.  All satisfactorily unnerving, but benign.

       I have told my children that as a woman who can’t explain how a document is faxed, I cannot dismiss the idea that many things I don’t’ see or understand do exist.  Radio waves. Cell phone service.  God whistles.  So far be it from me to say there is no such things as ghosts.

       Once hen my sister stayed at the Hotel Vendome with s a group, several of the guests remarked on the very cold spot on the stairs.  But only those few felt it.  Doesn’t extreme cold indicate the presence of a spirit?  And did those who picked up on it have a talent just like someone with perfect pitch?  Some people have better eyesight than others.

       The hotel is a lovely old building, with a wide welcoming porch and cozy lobby.  Upstairs, a broad hallway runs to the gallery overlooking the street. It’s a building that could fit right in any quaint town back eat or production of “The Music Man.”

Copyright Arizona Highways 2003, Used with permission

Transition Time

by Julie Morrison

A punk band, Transition Time

is made up

of Times family members

whose lack of harmony

is least disturbing

when dissonance

is a group project:

Travel Time vocalizes—

out of time and off key—

Difficult Time strums—

sounding blisters—

Sometime plays bass—

ever a hard line—

Hard Time drums—

less rhythm than riot—

noise like the walls of wind

preceding twisters, pressing

people into panic,

unable to both pack

and seek cover,

there is no preparing,

only reaction

as the band wails

neither giving

nor taking breaks.

Copyright 2025 Julie Morrison, All rights reserved