Telluride, CO—The first segment of this epic four part Haunted Colorado series begins in one of the coolest towns in the country. And, at an elevation of nearly 9,000 feet, Telluride is so cool there’s still residual snowpack…in July. The town is named after the mineral Tellurium, which was used to enhance the hull-plating during one of the Enterprise’s missions threw a particularly hazardous region of space known as The Expanse. Or, maybe it’s named after that Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy character. Ok, I don’t really know, but I have posited two plausible theories so lay the hell off.

Some of you may have noticed how our para-abnormal research team here at the Discord only investigates alcohol-friendly-haunted-sites (AFHS). I’m developing an important theory. Ghosts tend to manifest only in places where good ale is served. Paranormal activities seem strongly linked to the brewing process. In fact, my controversial theory on sudsular generated apparitions (SGA) is gaining considerable support from the Paranormal Research Society, or at least my last email from them sounded less hostile. Baby steps, Mick, baby steps.

Only my wife would accompany me on this historic journey, as Alex Bone was unable to convince his parole officer of the importance of this truth seeking quest. And my other partner in crime, Bald Tony, has recently de-evolved into a sloth-like creature, completely incapable of lifting pen to paper, or even ass from couch. I am officially demoting him from ‘Vegas Great’ Bald Tony to ‘Vegas Meh’.

This might come as a surprise to some of you, but I don’t always do my research before arriving in any given town. My instincts are my greatest asset. They almost never fail me and by ‘almost never’ I mean always.

The last couple of miles into Telluride there’s a 15-mph speed limit, so we lost a day just driving into the place. I guess the average resident is on an elementary school level and might jump out in front of my Impala at any moment. We parked outside of town—as walking proved much faster—and then schlepped ourselves and our equipment to the first place of interest, the Sheridan Hotel.

After casing out the joint, I opened my laptop and Googled ‘Haunted Telluride Sheridan’. Damn, this very hotel is the most haunted place in town. Hundreds of apparitions were filmed here! See, it’s all about instincts. I completed my research and saddled up to the bar, where I proceeded to ask the bartender about the ghost of Wild Bill Cody and of the hotel’s first manager, Miss Katy, and of the Indian chief who is said to still haunt the second floor. The guy had no idea what I was talking about. Perplexed, I returned to my laptop where I quickly discovered I had Googled the Sheridan Inn in Cheyenne, Wyoming.

For F*&%’s sake!

Don’t Guinness and ghost hunt, people. Just sayin’.

After taking a moment to collect myself, the investigation continued. After all, I am a professional. Ahh, here we are. It’s called the New Sheridan Hotel. It was built in 1891 and promptly burned down in 1895. The last hotel burned down, fell over, and then sank into the swamp, but the fourth one stood up (sorry, I have PTSD — Python Traumatic Skit Disorder). It’s truly an absurd condition…Pining for the fjords?! See?

After burning down in 1895, the hotel was rebuilt the same year and has been open for business ever since…so, umm, new? That’s stretching the word new to the point of absurdity. She turned me into a newt!…Sorry, my condition flares up at the worst possible Time Bandits (1981).

Anyway, 1895 doesn’t seem horribly new to me, unless we’re talking about geologic time. So I guess everything post Miocene is new.

The image below was taken in a room off the back of the bar at the Sheridan (The Colorado one, not the Wyoming one—my zoom lens isn’t that good).

This is one of our most intriguing pieces of evidence to date. No member of our research team could explain what we were seeing in this image captured in the bar room—that is, until my 12-year-old daughter explained the picture was taken on ‘landscape’ mode and not, as she would have suggested, using ‘night shot’. We can’t completely rule out the possibility these lines are demonic in origin. They could still be forces created from an energy as yet unknown to science…we just mostly ruled it out.

Night shot, check .

I took the picture below from a small gaming table on the second floor. Our research team was initially intrigued by the red glow above the door. We spared no expense to have this image digitally enhanced by NASA.

This picture, too, is not proof of any paranormal activity, but it is good to see that the Sheridan management team is keeping up with all of its fire and safety codes.

The dark and compelling image below is of my wife. The horns are simply a reflection of the photo flash in her hair. I can assure you her real ones are much larger. The bluish eye-thing is either a reflection off her librarian-style glasses or she’s been possessed by a Smurf. I’m sure it’s one of the two.

Well, after sending all of my findings to Discord Research Headquarters in Philadelphia, I was promptly told the rest of the trip would not be funded. Bastards! How could you do this to me, Winslow?! …even after all the further evidence…like when my wife tried ordering the Smurf & turf.

Sorry about that one. I’m under a lot of pressure here. Thank god for those little blue pills. Unfortunately, I could not find any other haunted spots in Telluride, despite entering every place where fine ale is served. Here is a summary of my other investigations:

O’Bannon’s Irish Pub –When I’m in one of the most scenic towns in America on a picture perfect day, I like to climb down into a dank basement pub. But I’m not well, but we’ve already established that, right? A nice Guinness pour. There were no shamrocks on top of the foam but, no worries, if you drink long enough, you’ll start seeing them. No ghosts though.

Smuggler Joe’s—The weather took a turn for the worse and not five minutes after arriving at Joe’s a lightning bolt knocked out the power. Perfect time to take pictures! If the batteries on the camera hadn’t died. 17 beers on tap….seventeen! Now that’s a brewpub. I couldn’t sample all of the brews, mostly because the cash register needed power. I had other business in town anyway, like hitting Telluride Brewery. Despite the darkness, no ghosts.

The aforementioned Sheridan Inn is also an atmospheric place to enjoy an imperial pint of Guinness. I believe it’s in Cheyenne, Wyoming.

But notice how all of the places I frequent serve alcohol. I think that’s beyond random chance….er…

Dear Mr. Winslow,

Admittedly, this investigation was not my best work. But I stand by the important work I do here. A major breakthrough is coming—a paradigm shift or tipping point that will prove, once and for all, that I should seek professional help.

Mick Zano