The Halloween 'Hook' Up on Le Soups!

In the center of Ferndale’s downtown there is a shop that conveys great terror!

Or at least a consistent rate of vacancy that in the spirit of the season can seem quite spooky. The structure that stands at 317 Nine Mile, and has long since (well, at least 2009) sat empty to any customers; it is named Le Soups!

Inside the building sits dusty counters, unused spoons, and the ghosts of soups, salads, or sandwiches that shall be had by no one. Servicing customers, nevermore.

The sun-faded posters, taped to the windows hide the shadows, fogs, and potential dust bunny monsters... Welcoming customers, nevermore.

It’s green and yellow sign stares out exclaiming to outsiders of their past glory of 10 delicious soups, and their long feared “kicking clam chowder!” Pleasing those who heart soup, Nevermore.

More accurate accounts will tell you how this store went from service to a spook fest, this is the tale I know to be true.

Old Man Marley the fictional owner of Le Soups! was closing up shop. It was a dark night, a foggy night, and a night where you would want your night-light. As he did his work he was listening to the radio.

A voice cut right thru the song Use Somebody by Kings of Leon: “Attention Ferndalians! Attention Ferndalians!” The voice said in an urgent tone. “Be aware that a crazed lunatic is about. He cut loose from the insane asylum. He was last seen headed toward Ferndale, for the great shopping, restaurants, and general vibe of awesome. Anyone who might notice a strange man with a hook on his right hand lurking in the area is advised to immediately contact authorities. We now return you to the over play of what could at one time could be considered a decent jam.”

Old Man Marley was not one for spooking too easy so he thought nothing of it as he continued to close up from a long day of bisques and baguettes.

A moment later there was a knock on his back door. Old Man Marley looked at the door to hear another, somewhat louder, knock. He walked to the back door opened it to find nothing.

“Hello?” he called out.

A small rumble of thunder rattled off and it seemed a small voice whispered, “I know what you served last summer.” Old Man Marley raised a brow, waited another moment then closed the door. With a shrug he assumed the sound was just an echo of the storm, and returned to his duties.

A moment later another series of knocks. This time Old Man Marley hustled to the back door throwing it open, at the same time a great lighting bolt flashed. The great light lit up the entire alleyway showing absolutely no one in either direction.

Frustrated he called out in the alley, “If you have the courage to knock, have the courage to say something. I’ve got work to do and I want to go home to watch my TiVoed, Big Fat Obnoxious Fiancé!” He waited to see if this would stir anything.

Then a deep voice replied, “I know what you served, last summer.”

A growl from the growing storm kicked up and with a huff Old Man Marley slammed the door.

He was shaking: “What did I serve?”

Old Man Marley shook his head. It was probably his imagination he told himself, as he quickly finished his tasks.

Within a few minutes he was ready to leave for the night. As he reached his hand out to turn the knob, the door carried a heavy knock through its fibers to ring in front of Old Man Marley’s face.

With a tremble, he opened the door.

Standing before him was a man. A strange looking man, with a hook on his right hand, staring directly into Old Man Marley’s eyes. “I know what you served last summer,” the man growled.

Old man Marley cowered back, “What do you mean?”

The hooked man lifted up a receipt. “One kicking clam chowder, extra croutons. That is all I ordered, but when I brought it home, Mr. Old Man Marley, there were no croutons to be had. This would not have been an issue, except when I reordered the same dish, again it was wrong. The next day it was wrong. That whole week that July, Mr. Old Man Marley, every order made was wrong. I know what you served last summer.”

Old man Marley now cowered at his feet, “What are you going to do to me?”

Taking his hook up the strange man rested it against Old Man Marley's face, “I curse you Mr. Old Man Marley. I curse your Le Soups! to never leave but never open! Your business will be nevermore. Nevermore. Nevermore.”

With a cackle the man stepped back, into the dark and in between lighting flashes he disappeared.

Old Man Marley was left alone in his store, cold sweat greased down his back, and his hand shook. “Was this a dream?” he muttered.

The storm continued on Old Man Marley shook his head, “How could someone do such a thing? This must have been a dream.” As he reached down to lock the door he noticed a hook hung from the knob.

It was then that the mad man’s curse was laid upon the space. The storm rolled on, and that night Old Man Marley had to leave Ferndale, to open his store never more.

No one ever had Le Soups!, or saw Old man Marley ever again. If you stand to look to close for to long you can hear a cold whisper say, “Heart Le Soups! Nevermore”

There may have also been a heart buried underneath the floor with a Native American burial ground, but the Mystery Machine never showed up to fully investigate.

Happy Halloween!