The Ghost Chronicles Part 11

Turning to Marc, Ron said, "That's typical, just keep shooting." Sometimes when a spirit pa.s.ses in front of a lens it interferes with auto focus. Without missing a beat, Ron turned his attention back to me and asked again, "Who are we speaking with? Is it Mr. Houghton?" The pendulum swung a resounding yes. just keep shooting." Sometimes when a spirit pa.s.ses in front of a lens it interferes with auto focus. Without missing a beat, Ron turned his attention back to me and asked again, "Who are we speaking with? Is it Mr. Houghton?" The pendulum swung a resounding yes.

"Do you want to leave this place?"

The pendulum swung wildly, indicating no.

Ron turned to the group, as if to explain my silence and the change of my demeanor. "Maureen's also an empath. She can pick up on how somebody died."

I found my voice. "I can't feel my arms. They're so heavy," I said, tears running down my face, nearly dropping my grandmother's rosary beads I had clutched in my hand. "The grief, it's so horrible. The pain," I said, grabbing my left arm. "I think he died of a heart attack. I can't feel my arm, it's numb. I have to break the connection."

"Do you want to go outside?"

Mimicking Ron's words, I begged, "I have to go outside." Ron closed the gap between us and grabbed my arm.

Invisible electrified hands pushed up and under my ribcage and shoved me back. In an unnatural motion I doubled over slightly in pain, recoiling from Ron's touch. "Oy, it hurts!" I said, my hand covering my abdomen.

"What the h.e.l.l was that? You're not going to get outside that way."

"He's trying to keep me here," I said, shoving the pendulum into Ron's hand. Regaining strength I shook off Houghton's advances. With Ron's hand on my arm, we headed for the door.

Stepping into the night, a cool breeze touched my face. With it came a welcome sense of relief that the spirit was no longer with me. Bent over, my hands on my knees, I took several deep breaths to clear what felt like cobwebs in my brain. The last remnants of residual energy finally dissipating, I turned to look up at Ron for his reaction to what he'd just witnessed.

Through furrowed brows, Ron asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I guess," I lied. Not wanting to look as weak as I felt, I pushed my raw emotions to the recesses of my mind and stood straight and tall. But I really wasn't ready.

"Let's go back in?"

"I'm right behind you." Great.

Drying my eyes and freshening up, I reentered the meeting room, which was alive with chatter, where we wolfed down the last remnants of the pizza and endured interviews with the reporter.

"Ron, now what?" I asked.

"Okay, let's do a sweep of the building."

Nick, all too anxious to start, bolted down the hallway. Both Ron and I had to hustle to keep up with him, the rest of the entourage close on our heels. We followed him down the old creaking stairs to the bowels of the building. The bas.e.m.e.nt was a maze of brick rooms in various states of decay. I coughed as I took in the thick musty smell of damp dirt. Pa.s.sing from room to room, we searched for any indication of paranormal activity. Our search was interrupted by the squelch of the two-way radio. It was Jan from base camp.

"Ron, we lost radio signal from the infrared camera to the base camp."

"Maureen, wait up," I said, as I responded to my wife's update over the walkie-talkie. "c.r.a.p. Well, there's no point in staying there. Why don't you join us?" That's typical That's typical, I thought. "It looks like they're s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g with us again." More often than not, paranormal investigation and electrical interference problems go hand in hand because it is believed that the spirits use the energy to manifest.

With that we continued our sweep. Walking down a long, dark corridor, we entered the farthest room on the right, the boiler room. We stopped abruptly in front of the ma.s.sive cast-iron furnace, where we attempted to make contact.

"I can feel something," Maureen blurted out.

"I'm not picking up anything," I said, with an arcing motion of my EMF meter.

"I'm telling you, someone's here," she said, more insistently. "They're hesitant, not sure whether we can be trusted. It's almost as if they're skirting us."

I began haphazardly scanning the area in an attempt to catch the spirit. Reaching below waist level the meter came to life.

"I told you," Maureen interjected. "It's a little girl." She closed her eyes as if to concentrate. "She's playful. I think she has blonde hair."

Nick chimed in. "I don't know of any little girl that would have died here."

"That's okay. It doesn't matter. I'm telling you, she's here."

Agreeing with Maureen, I said, "Nick, we are the first team to really investigate the mansion. There may be spirits here that you don't even know about."

Maureen did say she was playful, so I attempted to provoke the child spirit. "If you're here, can you show us? Give us a sign." I thought for a moment. "Can you knock my cap off my head?"

We paused, giving her a chance to respond.

Nothing happened.

As if rus.h.i.+ng to the spirit's defense, Maureen said, "I think she's scared. After all, she's not used to anyone knowing she's here."

Unable to get any more information from our reluctant visitor, I turned to the team. "I guess we're done here. Let's go upstairs."

We left the bas.e.m.e.nt and continued our sweep of the house. With Nick still in the lead, we climbed the regal stairs to the second level, pa.s.sing through endless rooms with little result, until we came upon Mary's room. Although my EMF meter remained silent, Maureen felt an energy swirling about her. Unable to make contact, we ventured on until we reached a set of ma.s.sive doors. "What's this, Nick?"

"It's our Masonic Lodge. Want to see something cool?" Nick asked, his lips twitching up in a smile. "Check this out." Raising his arm, he gestured us to follow him.

We stood in front of a wall full of large wooden levers and watched as Nick, grabbing a fistful of wood, flipped each switch. Motioning us aside he threw open the door of the lodge, then summoned us into the darkness.

"Wait for it," Nick said, giddy as a schoolboy.

As if by magic the parade of lights began. From right to left, the old bulbs came to life, jumping from one bulb to the next, causing a domino effect of illumination around the room. We stood transfixed for a moment as the room swelled with light. The feeling of serenity pa.s.sed over us as if we'd entered another realm. It was simply amazing. At each end of the hundred-footlong hall stood three velvet thrones on platforms, and burgundy benches lined the sides of the walls. As we walked past the Italian tile portraying the image of Galileo, we approached the kneeling altar in the center of the room. "Wow. This is awesome." I said.

"Oh my G.o.d, the energy is so peaceful," Maureen added.

"You feeling anything here?" I asked.

"Yes. Safe." Maureen smiled. "They can't touch me here."

The feeling of euphoria resonated with the team; we all seemed at ease here. As if not wanting to leave, we lingered for quite a while. Never having had the opportunity to be inside a Masonic Lodge before, we were like kids in a toy store, eager to explore. The time flew by as we asked endless questions of our hosts. Soon, though, I realized it was time to move on. There was still so much to do.

Most of the group headed back to base camp while Greg, Nick's son-in-law, led me up a metal ladder to a door in the roof. Stepping over puddles of water we made our way to its edge. The view was breathtaking. The lights of the town illuminated the spires of the churches and the fog-covered mountains in the distance. Awesome Awesome, I thought. It was a picture-perfect view. We chatted for a moment, then turned to head back. As we walked across the tarred roof, we heard what sounded like footsteps slos.h.i.+ng in the water behind us. We quickly turned, only to be greeted by a rush of cold air and the beep, beep, beep of my EMF meter.

There was no one there.

We were alone.

Greg and I looked at each other, momentarily stunned.

We stood transfixed to the spot. Waiting for something, anything, to happen.

Silence.

Excited with what had transpired, but unwilling to wait any longer, we shrugged our shoulders and climbed down the ladder and headed back to base camp.

It was now nearing the "witching hour," two o'clock in the morning, the time, according to folklore, when the veil between the living and the dead is the thinnest, and creatures of the night are at their strongest.

"Team, let's finish this investigation," I said, as I reached under the table where I'd hidden the tarnished, silver candelabra. For the last few days, I'd been thinking of how I'd like to wrap up the investigation. But, knowing how strong Maureen felt about this little subject, I thought I'd spring it on her at the last moment. "What do you guys think about doing a seated communication by candlelight?" I said, barely able to contain the excitement in my voice.

Maureen spoke through a m.u.f.fled yawn. "What, you're kidding, right?" She frowned at the white, half-melted-down candles and the pack of matches I'd just laid down on the table.

Ignoring Maureen, I turned to Nick. "Hey, wouldn't it be awesome to do a seated communication by candlelight, in the study?"

"Call it what you like, Ron, but it's still a seance." Maureen slowly studied the faces, scanning the room for a reaction. Although she didn't say it, I could tell by the look on her face that she was thinking about the many years she'd spent as a medium for seances. She'd warned me about her concerns weeks ago, when I'd mentioned my growing interest in having one. "Seances in the wrong hands can be extremely dangerous. Sometimes doors opened are not so easily closed. Not to mention what may slip through," she'd said. But not one to be easily dissuaded, and wanting to experience it all myself, I didn't let up.

"Come on. It'll be great." I did my best to guile Maureen, but so far, she wasn't budging. "Look, what could it hurt?"

"I'd be interested in trying it. I've never had the opportunity to be involved in one," Nick said. "I've only been able to see them on television."

"Me too." Sarah, Nick's daughter, joined in. "Oh my G.o.d, that would be incredible!"

"Fine," Maureen grumbled under her breath. "We'll have a seance, but only if you take it seriously, Ron. It's not something to be taken lightly."

"You will? Great!" On some level, I was disappointed; I'd half expected to have to fight a little harder for it. Man, she must be tired. Now I felt bad. "You're sure you're okay with this?"

"Whatever."

Grabbing the candelabra, I made a beeline for the door. You have to strike when the iron's hot. The dining room was a large room off the foyer, with rich mahogany wainscoting. The temperature sensor in the room had read 66.6 degrees all night long. So it only seemed natural that, if we were going to perform a seance, this room should be the place.

Nick and I grabbed a round banquet table and placed it in the center of the room in front of the green marble fireplace. Positioning the infrared camera on the mantle, we adjusted the focus. While Nick and I organized the chairs around the table, Marc, our cameraman, set up the camcorder on the tripod in the corner of the room. Since everyone was partaking in the seance, we left base camp unmanned.

Maureen, after placing a variety of crystals and other items for protection on the center of the table, beckoned to the team to take their seats. "You guys are sure you want to do this, right?"

"What are you, crazy? Of course we do," I said, speaking for everyone present. I closed the pocket doors and turned off the lights, setting the stage for what was to come.

Taking a seat to the left of Maureen, I positioned the EMF meter, along with my 35mm and temperature sensor, directly in front of me, and then turned toward her, silently signaling for her to take over.

"Here's the deal," Maureen said. "Everyone please hold hands. But I want to make sure you are aware of a couple things before we start. First and most importantly, never, and I mean never, break the circle until I say so. Think of our hands like a continuous chain of energy. If the chain is broken, even if you clasp hands again, you risk allowing unwanted spiritual energy to enter."

"So, if someone pulls their hand away, and even if they clasp them again, it's similar to a repaired part of a chain-link fence being the weakest link, right?" I asked.

"Yes," Maureen answered. She looked from me to those seated at the table. "This is why I don't want you to be caught unaware. It's pretty common that your body, because of the strong bond of holding hands, begins to feel odd. In fact, don't be surprised if you start feeling what I do. But please don't panic." Maureen picked up the salt that Nick had retrieved from the kitchen earlier and made a full circle around the table and all those who were seated. "The salt will help protect us from unwanted energies," she said, capturing the curious stares of all present. She took her seat once again. "Okay. Is everyone ready?"

With an air of uncertainty, the group collectively agreed.

We all joined hands.

"I hope you don't get offended, but we'll be saying the Lord's Prayer." Not waiting for a response she continued, "Our Father, who art in heaven..."

"We invite only spirits that do not wish us harm to enter this circle," Maureen finished.

The protection seemed to be working, maybe too well, for nothing was getting through. But it wasn't long before a banging shattered the silence. Startled, the group turned toward the pocket doors. "Did everyone hear that?"

"Yes," Nick replied, a quiver in his voice.

My EMF meter went off, and a familiar look of pain pa.s.sed over Maureen's face.

The atmosphere in the room had changed. A cold air began to dance at our feet.

"Do you guys feel this too? My feet are freezing," Sarah said, s.h.i.+fting uncomfortably in her chair.

Maureen's words echoed in my brain. "Don't break the link." Lifting my left hand, I grabbed Janet's right hand and placed it over my own right hand, freeing me to grab the camera. I shoved it under the table and pressed the shutter. The light from the flash frightened the group. "My bad," I exclaimed, meeting nervous laughter.

I began asking questions with no reply. "d.a.m.n, looks like the protection is too good."

"Fine." Maureen called out as if to remedy the situation, "Okay, we will allow whoever is here to join us, as long as you mean us no harm."

Words we would later regret.

Anxious to continue, I began my questioning again. "Are there any spirits who would like to talk?"

Maureen slowly raised her head. Through a voice not her own, she replied, "Yes, why are you here?"

My heart began to thud wildly in my chest. I stared into her vacant eyes for the s.p.a.ce of a heartbeat. "Who are you?"

"It-it-it's Mary," Maureen said through ragged breath, in that same strange voice.

A collective gasp filled the room. Raising my head; I looked up into the wide-eyed stare of the group. Ignoring the fear in their faces, I continued, "Is this your house? Did you die here?"

Maureen shook her head from side to side, then began rocking back and forth in her chair, her voice barely above a whisper, "Where's my John?"

Was she referring to John Widder? Curiosity piqued, I gazed at Maureen. Her face mere inches away, I looked into the abyss that once was her eyes. Repulsed by her look, I couldn't help but turn away momentarily. I had never seen her like this before. I said, "Did you and John have a thing going on?"

My meter immediately went dead.

The coldness that we had been feeling at our feet now filled the room.

Nick began fidgeting in his chair, all the blood drained from his face.

The silent veil was shattered.

Maureen bellowed, "GET OUT!"

Nick, as if unable to contain himself any longer, yanked his hands free and jumped to his feet. "My a.s.s!" he screamed, running for the pocket doors.

I stood there in shock as everyone, with the exception of Maureen, ran for the door and out of the mansion. She closed her eyes, as if working things over in her mind, and sighed heavily before exiting the room.

Squelching my concerns, I remained behind. Still fascinated with what had just transpired, I took my EMF meter and scanned the area. Hmmm, little to no readings. When I placed it back on the table in front of where Maureen had been sitting, it went off the scale. With my hand I felt a cold spot, but the thermometer sitting only a few inches away was reading normal (6870 degrees). Using a handheld laser hanging from a lanyard around my neck, I began taking temperature readings from different angles. They revealed that the temperature by my EMF meter was considerably different (5254 degrees) from the temperature near the thermometer sitting on the table. Had we opened up a portal? Or was there a spirit still here? Without a moment to spare I began taking infrared shots and continued with the measurements of the area.

After a while the group began to drift back into the room, excited about what had just happened. Over the buzz of chatter, I decided to review the tapes. To our dismay, we discovered that the camcorder had shut itself off shortly after we had made contact.