The Ghost Chronicles Part 9

As Brian and Ron left to hang the pictures, I sat beside Brenda on the couch. "So, Brenda, how are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling worlds better. It's amazing. I'm so grateful for everything all of you have done for me." As Brenda lifted her purse off the floor beside the couch and rummaged for her wallet, I could tell she wanted to offer us monetary compensation.

I placed my hand on top of Brenda's. "Please. We appreciate the offer, but this is volunteer work. We're just happy that you're going to be all right."

Brenda looked a little taken aback. Tears glistened in her eyes. "You're sure?"

"Positively." I smiled. Warmth spread through me. Although I'd been fearful of coming here, one look at Brenda and I was extremely happy that I did.

"Brenda, we're all set here," Brian said as he and Ron stepped off the last step and walked into the living room. "As you can see, Ron and I have finished hanging the images. Also, we've blessed all the doors, windows, and the rest of the rooms with holy water, so you should be all set." He smiled. "Do you have any questions for me before we head out?"

"You feel confident that it's gone?" Brenda asked, her voice sounding a little unsure, afraid to believe the horror she'd been living was now gone for good.

"Yes. But make sure you follow the directions I gave you. If you have any more problems, feel free to give Ron a call and we'll come back out as soon as possible. But truthfully, I know you're going to be just fine."

Two weeks later, while writing an article about protection, I went to my jewelry box for a better look at the scapular that I'd worn that night. The instant my hands came in contact with it, I dropped to my knees. A searing pain pierced my heart. I gasped for breath. My hand on the dresser, I steadied my breathing and pulled myself up and off the floor. It took a moment for my mind to clear. To realize what had happened. The scapular had indeed been my protection, absorbing the negative energy, protecting me, like St. George, s.h.i.+elding me from the dragon's breath. My mistake was not realizing that I should have cleansed it, blessed it with holy water. I'd learned an invaluable lesson. One that I would never forget...

RESULTS OF THE INVESTIGATION.

Research revealed that the original owner of the house was a Catholic who had committed suicide by hanging. Brian determined that Brenda was plagued by a demonic obsession, not a possession. It appears the exorcism was successful. Neither Brenda nor Duke required our services again.While writing this episode we were plagued by odd events: computer and electrical problems, water damage from a pipe bursting, and perhaps the eeriest occurrence of all, the unexplained removal of Ron's scapula and exorcism medal. The medal, the one worn during the exorcism, which was safely secured on a chain, was torn free.

episode seven

ASHES TO ASHES.

CASE FILE: 6281763.

ASHES TO ASHES.

Location: Chester, New Hamps.h.i.+re.History: A split level home built in the 1960s, surrounded by woods.Reported Paranormal Activity: Ghostly figure appearing in photos, noises in the bas.e.m.e.nt, apparitions, and disembodied voices.Clients: Andrea (owner), Robert (Andrea's husband).Investigators: Ron (lead investigator), Maureen (trance medium), Leo (photographer), Karen (EVP specialist).

What would you do if you found the ashes of the former owner of a house you just purchased in the closet? Or what if your young daughter came up to you and said, "Tell that man to get out of my bed?" These aren't hypothetical questions. These events really happened to a family in Chester, New Hamps.h.i.+re.

Ring, ring, ring.

"Good afternoon, New England Ghost Project."

"h.e.l.lo, Ron, this is Andrea. I Googled 'ghosts' and found your website. I was the one who sent you the email about what's going on at our house. Ahhh, you know, the house with the ashes in the bas.e.m.e.nt."

"Oh yeah. Now I remember." Hmmm, that's a little strange Hmmm, that's a little strange, I thought. "Whose ashes were they?"

"George, the former owner. And things have escalated since the email."

"What do you mean, 'escalated'?" I asked, hoping my voice didn't sound as apprehensive as I felt.

"There are voices coming from the woods." With the sound of panic in her voice, she continued, "Evil laughter. We can hear a little boy crying, 'Mommy, Mommy, Mommy.' And if that's not bad enough, they're commanding us, 'GET OUT!' Even my husband's starting to hear them. We feel like we're losing our minds. Ron, we don't feel safe here anymore. And I'm really worried about my daughter."

The thought of a child in danger tugged at my heartstrings, and being the sensitive sort, I said, "How about Sat.u.r.day night?"

Her voice quivered, sounding on the verge of tears. "Thank you. That would be great. I realize it's short notice, but we're desperate."

"Don't worry, we'll be there." As I hung up the phone, a sense of dread a.s.sailed my senses, my gut twisting in a knot. I couldn't help but wonder if it was a premonition of what was to come or the kielbasa I ate for lunch. I was hoping it was the lunch, but we would soon find out.

"Brrrrr." My soul s.h.i.+vered as I stepped out of Ron's car, my foot coming into contact with Andrea's paved driveway. I cringed at the sudden sharp pain boring a hole through my heart. Ron was right; it was apparent to me that the ent.i.ties had come out to answer the challenge, to check out the fresh meat that dared enter their s.p.a.ce.

The hair at the base of my neck p.r.i.c.kled to attention. I didn't know about anyone else, but I was ready to call it a night even though we'd only just arrived.

"Maureen, are you coming, or are you going to make a night of it?" Ron sarcastically remarked.

Pus.h.i.+ng away the threatening feelings, I pretended to be calm. I was determined to keep up the charade as long as I had to. "Yeah, just a minute," I quipped, doing my best to push my fears to the recesses of my mind. Ron can be such an a.s.s at times Ron can be such an a.s.s at times, I thought. And besides, we'd come to help, and there was no way I was turning back now.

As we reached the front door I turned to look at the remaining members of the NEGP for some sort of sign, any reaction to show me they had picked up on something too. But it looked like I was alone.

"Hi, I'm Andrea, and this is my husband, Robert. Glad you could make it."

First stop on this little tour of horrors would be to find George, or what was left of him. "So, Andrea, what happened to George's ashes?" I asked.

"Well, you see, from what we were told, George wanted his ashes buried beneath the maple tree he had planted in the backyard. But..." She hesitated, giving Robert a cold stare. "But Robert cut it down. That's when we started hearing noises. Doors slamming, boxes being dragged across the floor, and throaty whispers emanating from the bas.e.m.e.nt."

"Oops. So what did you do?" Ron asked.

"To try and appease George, we scattered his ashes in a simple ceremony on Memorial Day weekend, at the site of the former tree."

"Did it work?" I couldn't help wondering.

"For a while. But that's when the voices started, and that's when we contacted you guys for help."

"Do you think you can find the place where you scattered his ashes in the dark?" Ron asked, digging in his pocket for his flashlight.

We followed Robert as he cut a zigzag path through the dried twigs and branches, stumbling over fallen trees and unseen rocks.

Twenty minutes later, briars stuck to my jeans, we stood where Robert thought he had laid George to rest. "Is this the spot?" I asked.

"I don't know. It's dark, and it's been six months."

Judging from the path he cut, I had my doubts.

"Want to try and communicate?" Ron asked eagerly.

With my pendulum held tightly between my thumb and forefinger, I attempted to make contact. "Are there any spirits here with us?" I asked, as Ron began to scan the vicinity with the EMF meter.

Was this the resting place of George's ashes?

My pendulum remained still. No response. Nothing. From what little I could sense, our friend George was not hanging out in the woods with his ashes. If they were even here.

I stuffed my pendulum back into my pocket, while Leo, our photographer, began taking infrared shots.

Ron looked at me. Without even speaking I knew his thoughts: There's nothing out here.

I shrugged in response.

Turning our backs on the buzz of the group, we began our trek back, the dim lights of the house acting like a beacon in the star-filled night. Approaching the rear of the house, we stopped momentarily, as if at a crossroads. I closed my eyes, breathing in deeply the frigid night air, and waited for my instincts to kick in. That's when it came to me. We had to go toward the right side of the house. I had no way to explain it. I just knew. Like a magnet to iron, without the time to explain, I took off at a near run. "This way," I said, stepping over weathered landscape timbers and around a child's swing set. Turning, looking over my shoulder, I cried, with a sense of urgency in my voice, "Hurry, over here."

Ron quickly joined me. As we neared the right front corner of the house, the pull became stronger. This was it.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

My third eye pulsated. Energy was everywhere. But I was having trouble discerning who or "what" it was. The beeping of the EMF meter was amplifying the feelings surging through my veins.

The energy grew thick, suffocating, like a storm cloud starting to envelop us. As if reading my thoughts, Ron said, "Yeah, I feel it too." He paused. "What the h.e.l.l is it?"

"I don't know. I wish I knew," I said, unable to focus. "I just can't make it out." The intensity was growing around us, reaching a crescendo, when-bam-it was gone. The beeping of Ron's EMF meter was quickly replaced by the footsteps of the approaching group, who looked totally oblivious to what had just transpired.

Robert, Leo, and our EVP specialist, Karen, meandered by us, laughing and chatting about something that sounded like ghosts in period clothing and flowing dresses.

"I think we're done here," Ron said. "Let's go in."

Andrea was sitting at the kitchen table, laptop open; Leo and Karen were already perched over her shoulder, mouths agape, apparently enthralled by the photo on the screen.

"What's that?" Ron asked, walking up to the table.

"Check this photo out." She paused, angling the LCD screen so we all could see.

Peeking over Andrea's shoulder I caught a glimpse of the head of a shadowy figure behind a toy Oscar Mayer Weiner mobile. Its eye sockets were intently focused on the toy in front of it. Curious about what I was looking at, I asked, "Where did you take this?"

Andrea pointed to the L-shaped counter top. "Right there. I sell collectibles on eBay, and when I take the photos, these 'things' show up."

"Now, that's something you don't see every day," Ron commented, as we both knew that was good evidence that something was going on here. Looking down at his watch, he continued, "Let's finish up the investigation."

Leo picked up his 35mm, Karen her recorders, and we followed Andrea down the narrow hallway, with Ron and I bringing up the rear. One by one we entered each room with little result, until we reached the daughter's room. I was struck with a familiar feeling as we entered. "Has anything ever happened in here?"

"Funny you should ask. My daughter had an invisible friend she would often play with in here." Andrea paused, carefully considering her words. "But that was before we 'buried' George's ashes."

Ron turned to me, "Isn't this the corner of the house where we picked up our readings?"

I nodded. Now I knew what I had felt-it was the same energy. Although there was energy present, it was fleeting, and unfortunately for us, I had a feeling the worst was yet to come. And oh boy, was I right...

Having checked out all of the rooms, we were done with our investigation of the first floor of the split-level, and we headed to the bas.e.m.e.nt. In single file we traversed the narrow steps to the cellar.

It was chilly. Although the thermostat on the wall read 70 degrees, an unnatural coldness penetrated our bones.

"This is where we found the ashes," Robert said, as he pointed to a small closet in the corner. "And this," he said, grabbing an old office chair gathering dust, and shoving it across the cement floor, "is the chair that always moves around on its own."

Above the sound of Robert's voice I heard Ron yell, "Maureen, come here." I followed his voice. We found ourselves standing just below the daughter's room.

"Karen, you want to try some EVPs?" Ron asked.

"Sure, Ron," she said, adjusting her recorder and pus.h.i.+ng her long hair, reminiscent of the sixties, out of her face. "But you need to be quiet."

Ron turned down the volume on his EMF meter.

A dead calm settled over the group.

In a slow drawl, Karen asked, "Is there anyone here wis.h.i.+ng to speak to us?"

The light on Karen's recorder sprang to life, indicating it was recording.

Suddenly, with all the intensity of a piranha feasting on a fresh kill, the ugliness I'd pushed away when we'd first arrived had returned. Dumbstruck, I stood there trying to get a handle on what I was sensing. I had the uncanny feeling I was being summoned. And whatever "it" was, it wasn't pretty.

Karen continued her recordings as I reached in and pulled my pendulum from the safety of my jeans. Despite my feelings, I knew once again I needed to attempt to make contact with whatever it was that was haunting this family. Only this time I wasn't feeling as confident. Whatever it was that was waiting was ready to pounce, and I knew that if I left an opening, it would.

Ron, realizing Karen was through recording, turned the volume on his EMF meter back on. As I stood there, my pendulum swinging to and fro, George's thoughts bombarded my consciousness. "He wants you out," I said, as I raised my head, catching the intensity of Robert's stare. All the while the staccato beep, beep, beep of Ron's EMF meter peppered the silence.

"Why?" Andrea asked, her voice trembling with fear.

"It is 'his' house. And, as far as he's concerned, you are intruders."

Ron drew closer to me. "Bbbbeeeeeppppp," the meter screeched, turning from staccato to shrill. "I think we have another visitor," he said. "The needle's off the scale."

In my mind I could feel George's anger, but I sensed something much darker. The evil toying with me since I'd arrived was suddenly upon me. My body struggled for control as the energy intensified tenfold. The invading darkness gave George a karmic push out of the way. Suddenly I was repulsed by the anger, the hatred, and the sins of the undead that clung to me like a foul second skin.

"Hey. Are you with us?"

Unable to respond I doubled over, clutching my ribcage. My mind fought for control, while Ron's words of concern sounded like a garbled voice spoken to me under rus.h.i.+ng water. The harder I fought back, the worse it got, until searing pain akin to a hot poker being jammed up and under my ribcage held me temporarily immobile. Just as I felt my knees buckle, I felt Ron's hand on my arm as he held me up.

"Okay, that's enough. Let's go outside."

Stepping through the door, the crisp, cool night replaced some of the burning, but instinctively I knew it wasn't going to be enough. And it was only temporary. This thing, this pariah, had latched itself to me and was sucking my energy, like a bloodsucker on damp flesh. I needed to remedy the situation and fast or, at the very least, risk spending the next few days in bed rethinking my career choice.

"Maureen, where are you going?" Karen said, walking at my side. "Need some help?" Although she was short of stature, I'd learned quickly that she was big of heart.

"Yeah." Not having time to explain, and remembering the added protection I'd left in the car, I took a few deep breaths, inwardly prayed for protection, got my second wind, and headed for Ron's car. The high-pitched, rapid beeping of the EMF meter was indication enough that Ron was close on my heels. G.o.d, give me a break G.o.d, give me a break. Sometimes I'd like to take that EMF meter and- Sometimes I'd like to take that EMF meter and-. Ignoring Ron and his d.a.m.n meter, I turned toward Karen. "Here, hold this for a minute," I said, dropping the pendulum, chain and all, into the palm of her hand. "Ron, you want to give that EMF meter a break for a second and hand me your holy water?"

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a vial of holy water and handed it to me.

I blessed the car windows and opened the rear door.

Feeling a momentary sense of safety, I reached into the backseat, digging into my bag of goodies. Pulling out a sage bundle, I stepped away from the car and shut the door. I struck a match, and anxiously waited for the sage to ignite before smudging. The aroma of smoldering sweetgra.s.s bound with sage hung in the air, permeating my senses. Almost immediately I could feel the s.h.i.+ft in the energy. The night air had lightened. The evil that had been d.o.g.g.i.ng me was temporarily held at bay. Amen Amen.