One Kiss Under These Wings And You're Done

 

The Black Angel rises out of Oakland Cemetery in Iowa City—ten feet tall, solid bronze, dark as a storm rolling in. Her wings are raised, her head tipped downward, like she’s watching something you can’t see. Or waiting for it.

People will tell you all kinds of things about her. She moves. Cries at midnight. If you kiss under her wings, you’ll be dead within a year.

It might be nonsense. Maybe not. Either way, nobody walks up to her like she’s just another statue.

People don’t understand that she didn’t start out that way.

When the statue went up in 1913, it was bright bronze. It was commissioned by Teresa Feldevert after the deaths of her son and husband. She wanted something permanent that would hold their memory in place.

Something Big and Wooden Is Happening in Iowa

 

Fjord Ferryman at the Museum of Danish History in Elk Horn

Something weird showed up in Iowa, and for once it wasn’t a rumor or a blurry photo of something out in a cornfield.

It was a troll.

 

A big one.

 

If you’ve been near Elk Horn lately, you’ve probably seen it or at least heard someone mention it. It’s become a thing to take your picture next to it and post it on Facebook.

 

They named it Fjord Ferryman. Sounds like something out of a storybook, which doesn’t exactly scream “western Iowa,” but here we are.

 

It went up at the Museum of Danish America, which makes sense once you think about it. Elk Horn leans into its Danish heritage. Windmills, festivals, all of it. So if a giant wooden figure was going to land anywhere in Iowa, that’s one place it wouldn’t feel completely out of left field.

 

Still, it’s something to see.

 

It’s sitting in a wooden boat, holding what looks like a tree branch for an oar, like it’s rowing across… nothing. Just prairie. No water. No river. Just dirt, grass, and sky. And somehow it works.

 

When you get closer, the scale hits you. It’s bigger than it looks in pictures. Way bigger.

Something Is Watching in Okoboji Lake… and People Won’t Talk About It

Lake Okoboji Serpent

If you’ve ever dipped your toes in West Okoboji Lake, you’ve probably felt that little jolt when something brushes against your ankle. A strand of seaweed, maybe a fish, or… something else.

 

Something long. And scaly. And watching.

 

The locals will tell you it’s probably just the Okoboji Serpent. Then they’ll smile, like they’re kidding, but maybe not.

 

Ever since white settlers arrived in the Iowa Great Lakes region, there’ve been whispers about something big—very big—lurking beneath the blue-green waves of Okoboji. Something that leaves waves when there’s no boat, casts shadows longer than any muskie, and with a head like a horse, a neck like a garden hose, and a tail that goes on forever.

The Strangest Creatures Ever Seen in Iowa (Real Sightings, Real Places)

The Van Meter Visitor

It usually happens fast.

 

A shape crossing a road. Something moving where nothing should be. A second too long to be a mistake.

 

Then it’s gone.

 

Most people don’t report it. They tell a friend. Maybe a neighbor. Then they stop talking about it.

 

But the story doesn’t go away.

Low Moor Days July 10, 11 & 12

 

The Most Haunted Places in Iowa (Real Stories, Not Legends)

 

Villisca murder house in 1917

Iowa doesn’t try to be spooky.

 

No haunted house gift shops. No fog machines. No one sells ghost tours out of a van.

 

It’s just… normal.

 

Which is exactly why these places stick with people.

 

Nobody goes looking for something weird out here.

 

They just run into it.

A Job Offer Turned Deadly: The 1860 Iowa City Murder Case

 

Jerry Boyd and his wife were offered a good paying job in Iowa City

How does that old saying go? If it’s too good to be true, it probably is.

Jerry Boyd learned that lesson the hard way back in 1860. Boyd, a free man of color, and his wife, Mary, lived in Galena, Illinois. From all accounts, Jerry was a hardworking man. Twenty years before that, he saved his money and purchased Mary from her previous owner, a man named Vandeventer in St. Louis.

 

Two men, George Goodwin (also known as Wilder) and Peter Boulton offered them good paying jobs if they would move to Iowa City.

 

A few days later, Jerry and Mary Boyd, a fourteen-year-old mulatto girl who lived with them, a younger white girl whom Mrs. Boyd was nursing, and Goodwin and Boulton were headed west in a covered wagon.