A Decade of Shadows Chapter 2

Then…
“We’re Under Here”

Years ago, a young and impressionable inventor by the now infamous name of

Thomas Edison had an irregular (for that period in time) and unusual theory that one of

his amazing creations could not only be considered a form of high value entertainment,

but also possessed the unlikely ability to intercept eerie, sometimes disturbing

communication from the other side. To all of you out there that cannot utilize the ability

to process context clues, this invention was called the “phonograph”.

How, some may inquire, does this intricate and most of the time underestimated

tool of our modern society serve as a telephone service to the nearly departed? Well, as

you may or may not know, sound waves are nothing more than an invisible form of

energy. Theoretically, when a spirit materializes, it causes an absence of energy in the

position in which it does so. This is why paranormal investigators claim to be coming in

contact with an entity when they experience a “cold spot” or a place where there is an

absence of heat in an otherwise heated area without the presence of a draft or cooling

source…because heat is another form of energy. In theory, regardless of whether it is a

residual haunting (events that are possibly trapped in some kind of time loop) or an active

haunting, ghosts can use sound wave energy to communicate. This communication is

commonly referred to as EVP (Electronic Voice Phenomenon) and can be picked up and

recorded with the most basic of recording devices, if in fact, you’re lucky enough to have

a spirit want to conversate with you. Now that I have a somewhat basic explanation of

EVP out of the way, I can continue on to the fun stuff, my first official investigation!

For months, I had been dying to begin what I had been dreaming of for

years. You see, being a young and impressionable child in the midst of mid eighties pop

culture heaven, you wanted to be one of two things when you grew up: A Jedi or a

Ghostbuster! Well, trying frantically, sadly, and unsuccessfully to move things with the

power of my mind had made the Jedi dream unobtainable. However, paranormal

investigation technology and popularity grows more everyday. There may not be

backpacks that fire beams of proton energy and one hundred foot tall marshmallow

sailors threatening to destroy our lives, but our televisions are bombarded with shows

detailing the chronicles of professional paranormal investigating organizations, no matter

how “hokey” some of them are. I personally think that one of my biggest and most

recent influences is an investigation group out of Rhode Island known as T.A.P.S. (The

Atlantic Paranormal Society). These guys go into places with reported paranormal

activity and try to “debunk” activity by giving occurrences a scientific and normal

explanation. However, when they do discover something that is unexplainable, the

footage is usually amazing…unlike some others who turn the camera and scream or

claim to be possessed. Getting a member of T.A.P.S. to say that a location is actually

haunted is like getting a three time scorned man to say “ I Love You “. There was only

so long that a television show could captivate my longing and I was literally dying to go

out and conduct these investigations on my own. Another of my greatest influences, of

course being my partner in everything that I do, my girlfriend was just as excited as I was

to begin this hunt into the unknown.

Early one afternoon as I was conducting my daily routine of suiting up for

work, I presented her with a spontaneous idea that I had concocted while showering,

which is where I have been known to come up with some of my most brilliant ideas. My

presentation contained the key words “tonight” and “cemetery” which, in fact, are two of

the words contained in the combination to unlock one of her most devious and seductive

grins. It had begun.

Something was missing, though. Knowing that neither of us would run

hysterically into the night screaming at the discovery of any type of paranormal event,

we decided to invite one of our female friends along, not only for the value of her

company, but for the fact that every Scooby Doo organization needs its own “Shaggy”.

She normally acts a little skittish towards these types of scenarios and I thought that it

would make the investigation more enjoyable if she were to come along…not to mention

that she owns all of the camera equipment. To my surprise she made not a whimper,

acting highly professional, and I personally hoped that she would remain the third

member of our team regardless of the barrage of personal criticism that I knew she would

have to endure if she decided to do so. With the plan in motion, I left for work, eagerly

awaiting the end of my shift to begin the fulfillment of my childhood dream of becoming

a paranormal investigator.

As we entered the darkened gates of McWright cemetery, the three of us

unanimously and simultaneously agreed that flashlights would have been an awesome

idea but were not readily available or obtainable in this wooded, country cemetery at

10:30 pm on a Sunday night. Once I extinguished the vehicle headlights, it seemed an

eternity before our eyes could adjust to the ambience of the moonlit cemetery. I pressed

“record” on my micro cassette recorder and began to recite aloud the place, time, and

date in which our investigation was being conducted but was suddenly distracted by the

hysterical laughter of my co-conspirators in this midnight intrusion of afterlife privacy.

Perhaps they believed I was taking this a bit too seriously? Perhaps I was, and regardless

of the personal experiences that I had witnessed over the past couple of years, there still

remained a bit of a skeptic in me, a belief that nothing would be discovered and all that is

“paranormal” would continue to remain a mystery to me revealing nothing. As we

walked along the white rock pathway that circled the perimeter of the weathered

headstones we came upon the landmark that made McWright remain in my mind as my

initial investigation choice. In the center of the cemetery lies an open air mausoleum

that, over time, had sunken into the ground revealing only about three feet of the walls,

the headstones, and a roof that now begins at chest level of the average man…which

means it begins at neck level for me! My girl snapped a photo on the digital camera, and

upon its appearance on the camera’s view screen, she noticed that it contained an “orb”

next to the roof of the sunken enclosure.


Some say that orbs are balls of spirit energy that can be digitally photographed

and are highly regarded by some paranormal investigators to be proof of the existence of

life after death. I, on the other hand, feel that some investigators go for years without

finding any other evidence and possibly even begin to falsify their findings. Orb

photograph, personally, is nothing more that a camera’s flash reflecting light from dust

particles or even nocturnal flying insects. Passing this oddity off as either of the above,

we pressed on into the darkness occasionally enduring the temporary blindness caused

by the flash of the camera. We began to hear human voices nearby; possibly from one of

the homes in the area wondering what was causing all of the flashing. It was at this point

we came to the decision that we should draw our maiden investigation to a close

before we inadvertently became the receivers of a shot gun blast by one of the curious

members of the living. Disappointed, I made the suggestion to take more photos and

recordings near the sunken mausoleum for the simple fact that it was the only spot that

we had encountered anything out of the ordinary, even though it was just an orb. (o.k.,

now I was reaching!) As we were venturing through the labyrinth of headstones, a bright

ball of light passed quickly a few feet above my head! I never said that I didn’t believe in

orbs that can be seen with human eyes!

“Did you just see that”? I asked the other two excitedly.

Luckily, I wasn’t the only one who had seen it and together we brainstormed to

figure out its origin. There was no rain in the forecast which ruled out lightening and

heat lightening was out of the question due to the fact that it was late October. We had

no flash lights and no pictures had been taken in quite a while. With a renewed sense of

enthusiasm, we continued towards the sunken structure.

When we reached the mausoleum, my girlfriend began to share with us a little of

the history of McWright cemetery and informed us that at one time there had been two

mausoleums, side by side, but one had mysteriously been destroyed by a fire long ago.

She recalled some of the writing on one of the headstones that had since been erased by

time and the elements.

“A Loving Wife, A Mother Dear, A Faithful Friend Lies Buried Here”. “Kind of

creepy, huh?” she inquired.

We shuffled back to the car to put an end to the events of the evening and I spoke

aloud to all that were listening.

“If anyone has anything to say, you’re running out of time.”

I lit a cigarette and, one last time, did a 360 degree viewing of the moon

drenched, peaceful landscape. When it’s my time, I thought, this is where I’d love to be.

No city lights to block the view of the stars, and nothing to hear but chirping crickets, the

distant howls of a pack of coyotes, and the chatter of country dwellers loading their guns

and wondering what is really going on in that cemetery down the road. Receiving

another set of twin laughs from my female companions, I spoke aloud into the recorder

“end of recording”. I started the car and turned towards the other two, congratulating

them for we had now had our ghost hunting cherries popped. I activated the headlights

and off we sped into the darkness of normalcy.

Once we returned home, the audio tape was rewound to the beginning and we

huddled close together, eagerly awaiting the presence of anything that didn’t belong,

anything that was not spoken by any of us, and anything that was paranormal. We

attentively listened and, half an hour into the playback, the only discovery that I had

made is that everyone I know has been right all this time: I am, indeed, the cockiest

person that I’ve ever had the displeasure of listening to for half an hour! I have since

apologized to almost everyone I know and even a few complete strangers. With my ears

on fire, the playback continued.



As we came to the spot in the audio tape in which we encountered the orb, there

was no type of disturbance caught on the tape that we could decipher and nearing the end

of the recording our morale began to plummet. We continued, listening ever closer,

waiting for anything to reveal itself.

“A Loving Wife, A Mother Dear, A Faithful Friend Lies Buried Here, pretty

creepy, huh”?

“Carla”

STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“What was that? Who in the heck said that?”

We ran the tape back again and again and clearly, each time, a male voice whispers the

word “Carla”. Our spirits soared to new heights as we had discovered our own evidence

of any otherworld existence. We had just captured our first EVP! High fives and hugs

all around. Thinking that this was the pinnacle of the night’s findings, we settled in to

endure the remainder of the recording, not knowing that the best, if not the eeriest

moment of my life, was merely minutes ahead.

“If anyone has anything to say, you’re running out of time”.

This is it. We had captured an EVP and were ecstatic about it, believing that

nothing more awesome than that could have ever been found in our initial data

collection.

“We’re Under Heeeeere”

Electricity engulfed my spine and both our jaws fell open as the ghostly words

were spoken again and again as the segment was repeatedly rewound and reviewed. A

distinct female voice upon my taunting had stated to us the obvious explanation as to

why no one could hear her speak….

”We’re Under Here”.

We were no longer people who had an interest in hunting the paranormal. In two

hours time, we had been christened by the voices of the unknown, given the title of

paranormal investigators. Not just any paranormal investigators, mind you, but such that

had obtained evidence. Our own evidence!! I have since played these recordings to

friends and co-workers, skeptics and hard core believers, with the results resembling a

shocking likeness to my own upon first discovery. I have so wanted to post these on the

web site to share with the world but I’ve hesitated due to the fear of an investigator being

less fortunate and copying them and claiming them as their own.

We needed a name. A clever name, like so many others, that could spark easy

recognition and, when the time came, would look awesome on a T-shirt!

Thus, P.R.I.N.T. was born: Paranormal Research and Investigations of North

Texas. I haven’t yet discovered the time to return to McWright to see if I can find the

identity of “Carla” because we need to go in the daylight hours to be able to read the

headstones…not to mention that neither of us had gathered the nerve to enter a sunken

mausoleum in pitch black conditions. Not yet!

It had begun:

P.R.I.N.T. is a non-profit organization that is dedicated to furthering the research and exploration into the scientific aspect of paranormal investigation. We are not psychics, nor are we "Ghost Busters". However, we believe that there is something more out there than what the powers-that-be have led us to believe. If you believe that you have a paranormal problem, or blessing depending on if you're one of those "glass is half full" kind of people, we would be honored to assist you in discovering and verifying the activity in a scientific and rational manner. To initiate an investigation, leave us a personal message containing your name, a phone number that you can be reached at, and a brief description of the activity. From there we will conduct a telephone interview to determine if your problem requires further investigation. Please do not falsify information or contact us because you are a skeptic that finds those sort of things humorous. We take our work and beliefs very seriously. By no means will you be charged for any of our services. If you have not experienced paranormal activity personally but know of a particular location that has, please feel free to contact us also. It's all about discovery and the quest to further our knowledge into the unknown to share with one and all. Until then....Keep believing.

Now…

Wow…how naive we were. A borrowed digital camera and a cheap tape recorder. I actually still have the tapes in my equipment bag but I haven’t listened to them in ages…probably because we’ve uncovered a ton of evidence since then that runs circles around a few simple EVPs. Equipment wise, we roll out with multiple digital night vision cameras and several digital audio devices now…not to mention a few other really sweet toys that have been invented since that fateful night. Clients are required to submit to a video taped interview that is reviewed by professional lie detectors before we will even step foot in their house instead of a simple phone call. For the record, I think T.A.P.S is a joke now. Sometimes I yearn for the simpler times though. Trial and error…

A Decade Of Shadows Chapter 1

This is a compilation of my journal entries as a paranormal investigator over the last decade. These were originally released by Publish America Publishing years ago under the titles "A Ghost Hunter's Journal" and "We Believe You". I am re-releasing them as a Kindle exclusive soon with updated 'Now' sections at the end of each chapter to explain where things have gone since writing them. Here is chapter 1. Enjoy.

Then…

“The Converted”

In the beginning, I didn’t believe her. Sure, I had my share of unexplained events

that had occurred around me, but I could always find plausible explanations such as

alcohol, illegal drugs, sleep deprivation, or second hand information. For instance, an

uncle of mine witnessed my deceased Great-Grandmother floating above him while he

lay sleeping. A mere five seconds later, a house not more than fifty yards away from us

exploded due to a gas leak or a drug lab…take your pick. Did the house really explode?

Yes, as a matter of fact, I witnessed the aftermath with my own eyes on several occasions

because they took their sweet time cleaning up the debris. They later rebuilt it and rented

it out. I always wanted to go inform the new tenants just to scare the living heck out of

them. Next question, did my uncle see a ghost? Who knows! Explanation: He was

quite the little expert when it came to the subject of the exploration of the effects of

illegal substances. Hey, man, it was the eighties!

My next unexplained experience came when I was but a young lad with

my hormones raging and stupidity at an all time high! My best friend and I, probably no

older than fourteen if I recall correctly, were lying on our backs in a drainage ditch

waiting for my latest conquest’s parents to go to sleep so that I may venture through an

open window and lay waste to the spoils of their daughter. O.K., you win, I was a virgin

and only wishing that the above mentioned scenario would play out identically to the way

I had dreamed it up. All jokes aside, we were lying on our backs, staring blankly and

lethargically up at the midnight sky when suddenly we began to bear witness to an

awesome meteor shower. The freaked out part about this particular event was the fact

that there was one object, among the thousands that were streaking towards our

atmosphere that was a lot larger, significantly brighter, and moving at about half the

speed of its celestial brothers. Suddenly, the object stopped dead in the middle of its

decent and hovered completely motionless while the remainder of the heavenly debris

continued to plummet all around it. Without warning, the hovering object shot skyward

in the opposite direction and out of sight. Needless to say, the only things remaining in

our site of temporary refuge were the shape of two young boys that remained in the

flattened grass. Was it a UFO? I can’t say. I had only seen stars “fall” before, not

change their minds in mid-drop and return home. Explanation: We were drunk as

skunks! The two of us had raided an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels from his parent’s

liquor cabinet and had easily consumed at least half of it before we began the trek.

Shortly upon our return, we ascended his ancient childhood tree house and accidentally

caught it on fire with the remainder of the whiskey. Man, you’ll never have friends like

that again. Sometimes, I really miss him.


We skip ahead in time about four years from that fateful night in which I

unexpectedly got to try my luck at performing the duties of an amateur fire fighter, to

find myself in my senior year of high school. Living with my grandparents in the same

house that my uncle had witnessed the floating apparition, strange noises and things of

that nature were a pretty regular occurrence. I thank the powers that be everyday that

those unexplained noises in the night were not being emitted from my grandparent’s

bedroom, causing some type of repressed erectile dysfunction that would probably still

effect me to this very day. My uncle and his girlfriend were sitting in the living room

with me when we began to hear footsteps in the hallway coming towards us. My only

thought was that my grandmother had been removed from a dead sleep either by the

sound of a blaring television or the ear-piercing chuckle of our female companion.

When the footsteps reached our location, we simultaneously turned towards the doorway

to receive our latest scolding and to be reminded of what time it was, regardless of how

may clocks were contained in that particular room of the house. We were pretty

awestruck to discover that we were blankly staring into the darkness of the hallway. Our

puzzled stares were quickly transformed into frightened faces as a bluish colored,

transparent hand reached into the room as though what remained of this being lay in

waiting around the corner. The girl screamed and the hand was no more, now being

replaced by my real grandmother who was now cutting us to the bone by an evil gaze for

taking her away from whatever childhood backwoods farmhouse of a dream that we had

inadvertently awoke her from. You can never quite forget the unmistakable scent of

Menthalatum, cold-cream, and unconditional love. I miss her, too. Since her death, my

grandfather has re-married and, at one time before an awesome renovation took place,

had put the house up for sale. It was offered to me just to try to keep it in the family, but

I refused it. I no longer can tolerate a Texas summer without central air conditioning, and

quite frankly, as much as I would love to, would absolutely hate to be summoned into the

kitchen late one evening because the ghost of my grandmother had whipped me up her

famous meatloaf, fried potatoes, red beans, and cornbread. I take that back…two wives

later and I still can’t get a woman to duplicate her awesome cooking. She was loved, and

she is missed.

The question that weighed heavily on my mind was: Did the three of us just have

a supernatural encounter? Were there spirits running amok somewhere in the quaint and

quiet dwellings of my grandparent’s home, deep in the dark and eerie nights when only a

select few could possibly discover their presence? After all, if you catch an old person

awake at midnight, they’re not your average, ordinary old geezer and probably have some

interesting tidbits of life saving information that could possibly assist you in your

whirlwind of a life, if not save it someday. This being the case, immediately snatch up

this vessel of ancient wisdom and entertain them with some type of alcoholic beverage,

for they have earned it, two or three times over. But, to the question at hand: Did we see

a ghost? Explanation: We were stoned out of our ever loving minds! Will I ever be able

to explain the unexplainable without blaming it on the effects of controlled substances?

Just wait, there’s more!


We jump ahead five more years and I’ve become someone’s ex-husband and the

father of the world’s most beautiful little girl. Then, I accidentally get the rebound girl

pregnant, and BLAM, I am the father of two of the most beautiful girls that I have ever

had the privilege of laying eyes on. As if I didn’t have enough joy in my life, the

rebound girl had a daughter already. I was in love with this one from the first day I saw

her. (The daughter, not the rebound girl, to hell with the rebound girl!!!!) She was so

tiny and adorable, and she crapped all over a fifty dollar silk tie that I happened to be

wearing at the time. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is! In my early twenties, with

three daughters and no wife, I made an irreversible, drunken decision that

would change the course of my life forever. Not only did I wake up one morning in the

Army, but I awoke more confused and lonely than I had ever recalled being before. In

times like these most men turn to God…and so did I. Military church was not at all like I

expected. I had attended service to find shelter, advice, and possibly some kind of

loophole in the whole military experience that could provide for me a way out of this

voluntary hell hole. All I got in return was a “holy” explanation as to why God wanted

me to follow the orders of my superior officers, straight to my own death if they so

desired it. I believed exactly at that moment that God let me down. Spiritually lost, I

mentally wandered desperately seeking answers into the unknown. Then in a fateful turn

of events, I came across a fellow soldier sitting on a stone wall staring with undivided

attention at a small patch of ground. When I asked him what he was doing, he informed

me he was studying an ant bed. Being the jerk that I was, I inquired as to why in the heck

someone would want to burn their free time by watching insects? He told me that it

made him understand nature better, and that it helped him to better understand the way of

the goddess. He later loaned me a book titled “Wicca, For the Solitary Practitioner” by

Scott Cunningham (Llewellyn Publishing). All at once, my entire life seemed to fall into

place and the next thing I knew, I was watching ants also. I found the drive, strength

and courage to remain in the Army, but with one major drawback. I came home and

married the rebound girl.

Enter Ft. Huachuca, Arizona. A beautiful yet rustic military installation nestled

deep in the valley of the Huachuca Mountains, some fifteen minutes away from

Tombstone. I was in a nature lover’s heaven! With nature, however, comes the presence

of spirits and spirits, in the hands of a young, curious and inexperienced student in the

ways of Old, can be a dangerous combination. The thing that needs to be noted about the

nature of spirits is their origin. Ft. Huachuca was the home base of the Buffalo Soldiers

in the late 1800’s and they are famous for their courageous duty during the infamous

Mexican and Indian wars. There were a lot of lives lost in that desert, and psychic

energy built up over time can be a tempting lure. Ft. Huachuca had more domestic

violence incidents and divorces than any other military installation in the world. A lot of

people believed it was due to the simple fact that all of the military housing was located

on land that was used for both the living areas and burial grounds of the Indians that were

eradicated from that area. Now, the thing to be noted about witchcraft is that its user

thirsts greedily for knowledge, for with knowledge comes power and with power comes

the ability to accomplish awesome feats of the supernatural. Eventually, the beginner

books no longer satisfy.

Midnight, Halloween. You can see where this is all leading, even if you’ve never

watched the movie Poltergeist. Reading through some advanced incantation, something

was set free in my home. Over the next year, it continued to scare my young daughters

and the rebound wife even claims to this very day that a female apparition materialized

and actually spoke to her crying desperately for help. Using the power of the ancient

religions, did I actually conjure up some dangerous and evil spirit? Explanation: Little

children have awesomely vivid and powerful imaginations and my wife at the time was

on some serious drugs. Long after I’d given up on the partaking of illegal substances, my

immature military buddies found companionship in the form of my young burnout of a

wife which, in fact, stayed pretty much baked out of her bleached blonde mind on a daily

basis. Of course frickin ghosts were talking to her!



Now you can plainly see why I had remained a bit of a skeptic for so many years.

I never had tangible evidence to back up any of the paranormal experiences that had

occurred in either my own life or in the lives of my friends and family. I stopped

practicing the craft; however, I remain a faithful holder in the beliefs of natural co-

existence and conservation. Another child, another divorce, and a failed career later,

something amazing happened.

I ran into a girl that I had not seen in years. A girl that had been an intricate and

very special part of my life for as long as I could possibly remember. Recently

weathering the storm of a romantic relationship gone horribly wrong, we clung to one

another for sanctuary. Anyone who owns half of a brain and believes in romantic fate

can figure out the rest of that storyline, but what I would like to do now is skip far away

from the details of my past because I think you can gather the type of person that you’re

dealing with by now. If not, stop reading now because this is actually where it begins to

get complicated. The “her” that is mentioned in the very first line of this work of literary

lunacy is, in fact, my girlfriend. One night, after she had moved in with me, she began to

tell me a story. According to her, she had been stalked by a spirit over the course of her

entire life. Nothing more than a large shadow in the shape of a man, it had followed from

her youth in California, to every home she had ever settled in locally. Imagine my

surprise to discover that this, by all means, was not a part of her creative subconscious.

Our spiritual houseguest first appeared to me late one evening while she and I

were camped out for a cozy evening on the sofa, watching whatever visual junk that was

being offered by our local cable distributor, when she whispered for me to look in the

doorway of our bathroom. As a bolt of frightened energy strategically worked its way

from my feet to my spinal column, I came to the eerie realization that my uncle had at

one time witnessed my long departed great grandmother floating inches from his face,

that I could have possibly witnessed an unidentified flying object while lying in a ditch

down a country road, that myself and two others had once been on the receiving end of a

ghostly handshake, and that I, quite possibly released an evil spirit into my old house that

threatened my children and had conversations with my ex wife just by reading a few

simple verses that can be found on the pages of witchcraft books that are sold by the

thousands in bookstores nationwide. Not to mention that I, one hundred percent stone

cold sober was staring at an actual ghost! So, being the man that I am, I mustered up the

courage to do what any red blooded figure of masculinity would do given a similar

situation. I threw back my shoulders, tightened my arms, and ran towards the entity!

However, as I arrived closer to its location it was no longer visible. When I reached the

exact spot in which the bastard had spiritually taunted me, a sudden feeling of extreme

and bitter cold came over me causing every hair on my body to stand at electrical

attention. Now, armed with my trusty vacuum cleaner, I swore at the now empty corner

promising to suck him up if he had the balls to show himself again. He did, time and

time again, over the period of a year. Sometimes, he appeared during some highly

awkward situations. I’m here to tell you from first hand experience that seeing a ghost

during the course of committing unspeakable acts can make you lose concentration faster

than if your girlfriend’s mother had walked in and caught you…depending on how hot

your girlfriend’s mom is.

When we relocated to a larger apartment on the opposite side of town, I was

curious to see if our shadow stalker would again follow suit and travel alongside her to

our new dwelling. Without missing a beat, the sightings began within a week but this

time there was an added bonus (if you consider strange phenomena a bonus). After

finally getting unpacked and settled in I was wakened one night by the feeling of being

touched by small cold hands, accompanied by an innocent and childish giggle. When I

had finally taken all I could stand, I sat up in my bed and yelled loudly

“For Heaven’s Sake, Will You Frickin Stop!!!!!!!”

No sooner had I done so, the meanest sounding and loudest evil hissing noise that I had

ever experienced came from the direction of the giggling like I had just stomped on the

tail of the world’s largest cat. In the far corner of the bedroom stood a small shadow, half

the size of the other, cowering like a scared child. Suddenly, the shadow jumped and

disappeared through the ceiling. Where did this one come from? One of my developing

theories is that the spiritual energy of our shadowy hitchhiker somehow woke a sleeping

entity that had lay dormant in the new place in which we were living. Or, perhaps, the

spirit was already there before we arrived, and is possibly lending strength to our original

buddy because of the fact that he is no longer lurking in the shadows but de-

materializing when I get too close. Recently, I’ve witnessed him darting down well-lit

hallways and materializing close by me, unexpectedly, just to make sure that the living

daylights are officially scared out of me. To boot, our young child spirit, which has now

been recognized as a female, is no longer a shadow but an illuminated being with

recognizable features that enjoys making appearances at the foot of our bed.

Why is this happening to us? Why were the two of us being chosen to play the

part of some type of paranormal magnet? Somehow I’m going to find out. I needed

answers.

I never meant to take things this far. After having my first unexplained paranormal experience, we decided to start ghost hunting as a hobby. As far as the writing goes, it was always a way to pass the time and express my feelings through twisted little short stories and poetry. I never knew I’d go public with it because, when I first began, I never really had any subject matter to write about that could hold a person’s interest. I honestly don’t recall at exactly what point it all got out of hand.
My name is Chad. As you already know from even glancing at the cover of this literary journey, I am a ghost hunter. What you are about to read is the documentation from the journal that I wrote during my first year as a paranormal investigator. None of the following information has been altered and none of the evidence we uncovered has been falsified or exaggerated.
When I first co – founded the group that I belong to, P.R.I.N.T. (Paranormal Research and Investigations of North Texas) it was originally meant to be and unusual and cool way to pass the spare time. At first, even though I had encountered a paranormal event that couldn’t be explained by alcohol or drug usage or even severe exhaustion, I was still convinced that all the paranormal shows on television were completely full of it. I wasn’t trying to say that I didn’t believe in ghosts, I just wanted to prove that all of the televised EVP and spirit photographs were fake. I was wrong.
I grew up and lived the majority of my life in the mid sized North Texas town of Greenville. It was the home of Audie Murphy (the most decorated soldier of WWII), Collin Raye (a country singing superstar) and twenty six thousand of the most conservative non believers that you’ll ever come across.
Greenville was the center of the cotton industry in this area long ago during the days of slavery and beyond. We had a baseball team that played and won, I think, against the New York Yankees, burned a man accused of rape on the steps of the courthouse, and boasted a sign that hung near the town square that read ‘Welcome to Greenville: The blackest land, the whitest people’. Trust me, this place has multiple skeletons in their municipal closet that some people don’t want discovered. You figure it would be a cool place to find something unusual.
My co – founder Shahnez ‘Nez’ Ragosino moved here from California when she was very young. Through some unseen circumstances we became the best of friends growing up, coming and going with other relationships until we both ended up taking things to the next level several years later. Her husband and my wife both had bad habits of sharing the cold side of the pillow with various people other than the one they were married to. You could say that we had something in common. We hated cheating, lying, and abusive spouses. It was the perfect way to start a relationship. When she moved in, she unintentionally brought along the paranormal friend mentioned above. Now, I’m hooked.
The hard part in all of this was making people in such a conservative town to take us seriously. According to local belief, ghosts do not exist within the city limits of Greenville. When we started out, we were scheduling places to investigate on our own. I would come home afterwards and document what we found on my web page and the few friends that I had would comment and anxiously await the next adventure. Four hundred friends, four thousand readers, two radio talk show interviews, and a years full of investigations later, we’re networking with over three hundred different paranormal investigation groups world wide to find the answers to the unknown. Needless to say, we don’t have to schedule our own adventures anymore.
I’d like to think that we accomplished what we originally set out to do by proving to the local community that there is the possibility that things exist outside of human comprehension. Its something that has slowly came to pass with the select few but there are some minds you can never change. To these people, what we’re doing is wrong and there’s no way to make it right. We’re the epitome of all that is evil. Even if we somehow landed a television gig and became loved by millions, we’d still be loathed entirely in this town.
Well, I think I’ve set you up to continue the rest of this journey on your own. I seriously hope that you enjoy reading about this little life of ours as much as we enjoyed living and writing it. Even if you’re not a true believer, maybe before it’s all said and done you’ll hopefully raise an eyebrow to the events that have occurred around us and the evidence that we’ve uncovered. We hope that the next time you visit or drive by a cemetery, you’ll ponder the fact that there might be something more going on there other than growing grass and weathering head stones. We hope that when you visit an old house that you’ll see beyond the dust and age and recognize the history and the soul of the house itself. This is a way of life and a gift that I never once asked for. My life and my beliefs changed forever suddenly and without warning.
There are times when I look back on my life, a different life, and remember fondly when I didn’t have to lie to my children and tell them that ghosts and things are all in their head. There was a time when I didn’t lead a secret life and hide it from my conservative friends and family. Those times are gone forever. In the beginning, I didn’t even want Nez’s name involved in this. You’ll notice that she’s referred to as my partner, co – founder, and girlfriend for quite some time as you begin reading.
To the skeptics, keep in mind that I didn’t choose the entities, they chose me. You’re time could come sooner than you think when they choose you also. To the believers, keep believing. You’re the only ones who can vouch for me and prove that I’m not a complete psychopath that is suffering from reoccurring hallucinations.
This is a ghost hunter’s journal. Feel free to walk in my shoes but don’t forget where you found them. Some day soon, I’ll need to strap them on again to continue the journey.

Now…

If I’d only known back then, back when I first wrote that journal entry, what I know today…