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24HourForums.com > Supported Forums > MrParanormal's Paranormal Phenomena > One of my Favorite Ghost Investigations |
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MrParanormal Original500© Member  A soft answer turns anger away
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In July of 1970, my friend and associate Glenn had received a lead on a haunted house in a Midwestern college town. Before the house had been vacated, two elderly sisters had lived there alone. According to a number of police officers, who had themselves witnessed the appearance of a ghost, nearly every night a glowing something would manifest in the lane, walk to the house, enter it, and converse with the sisters. On several occasions, the police had received calls from frightened neighbors who had seen the thing. These people thought the police should do something about the spook-light, but the officers who responded to the call really didn’t know quite how to handle a ghost. They would just sit in their squad cars outside the house and watch the two elderly women ladies talking with the glowing ghost. After one of the sisters passed on and the other was taken to a nursing home, the ghost light continued to make its appearance. It was midnight when we arrived at the lane of the once elaborate and well-maintained estate. The headlights picked up the image of a wooden gate bearing an warning to any trespassers to keep out or to risk being prosecuted. Glenn said that he had arranged for the caretaker to meet us at the estate on the next day. He had also requested a police officer to accompany us just to be certain a passing squad car didn’t pick us up as vandals. In our group was the famed Chicago seeress Irene Hughes, who noted the thick, drooping branches of untrimmed trees that virtually blanketed the narrow lane. Glenn said that from our present position we wouldn’t be able to see more than the edge of what had once been one of the city's loveliest estates. "What's that?" I don't remember who first saw it, but no one had to point out the sudden glowing intruder upon the dark and quiet scene. There appeared to be a very large mass of light moving in front of us down the lane. Glenn turned off the headlights, and the strange orb glowed brightly in the total darkness. The moon was covered by clouds that night. The nearest street light was a vapor-light, completely cut off from the old estate by the thick wall of trees. As we watched, the orb of light--that had by now assumed the dimensions of an average adult male-- moved toward the old house. Everyone turned to look at Irene Hughes, who was seated in the middle of the backseat. “Shall we go right now and investigate the whatever it is?” someone wondered. “No," Irene answered firmly, breaking her silence. “Not tonight. I have a very bad feeling that it would not be good for us to walk down that lane right now.” There was a certain tone to her voice that indicated that she meant exactly what she said. Her psychic impression told her that the time was not right to invade the darkened lane and approach the shimmering orb that seemed more and more to be moving toward the deserted house. “Let’s leave ... now!” Irene said suddenly. No one argued with her.
It was nearly midnight again on the second night when we approached the eerie mansion. Earlier that day, in the company of the caretaker, we had walked around the house and allowed Irene to pick up psychic impressions about its past inhabitants. At first the caretaker had been very skeptical of the idea of a psychic tromping about the grounds of the estate, seeking to pick up impressions from the past inhabitants. He had been quite reluctant to take time for such foolishness, and it had required a good measure of Glenn’s persuasive abilities to convince the caretaker that he should bother with us at all. It had been most interesting to watch the caretaker’s obvious change of attitude as his exchange with Irene Hughes brought him deeper and deeper into a mysterious territory whose boundaries he had never before dreamed of transgressing. He knew that there had been no way in which Mrs. Hughes could have gained any information about the house and its inhabitants. All Glenn knew about the house was that some police officers had seen strange lights moving around inside. Neither Glenn nor myself had researched the house in any manner whatsoever, and it is doubtful that even the most exhaustive search of public records would have turned up the personal minutiae that Irene Hughes had siphoned from the psychic atmosphere of the old house. When I asked the caretaker afterward how he would assess Irene Hughes’ percentage of accuracy, he grinned, and his answer came quickly and easily. “I'd have to give her a ninety percent,” he admitted, “and it would probably be higher if there was some way to check out every name she gave. Just about everything she said fit in. I don't know how, but she really knew.”
As we visited the estate on the second night, we had the caretaker and a policeman with us in the station wagon. This man was not the same open-minded police officer who had accompanied us that afternoon and who been one of the officers who had previously witnessed the glowing entity in the lane. This fellow had joined us earlier that evening and had been openly skeptical, even mocking, toward our efforts of investigating haunting phenomena at the mansion. We opened the gate, drove cautiously down the lane. When we were adjacent to the old house, Glenn stopped the car. “Let us just sit quietly for a few moments, and permit me to gain some psychic impressions of the house by night,” Irene requested. As our medium sat in meditation, I glanced absently out the windshield. Then I blinked my eyes rapidly. There was a glowing, mist-like substance forming directly in front of the station wagon’s hood. The ghost was beginning take shape right before my eyes. “What is that?” asked the police officer sitting beside me in the front seat. Because he had announced himself as a professional disbeliever in such things as ghosts, I could not resist having a bit of fun with him. “What is what?” I asked blandly. “I don’t see anything.” “There,” he said in a harsh whisper. “Right there in front of the car! What in hell is that?” I started to deny seeing anything one more time, but decided against further teasing the officer when I saw that he was nervously brushing the strap that held his service revolver in its holster. It was clear to me that this man was now dealing with something that was not covered in the police manual and that he was having an extremely difficult time fitting the reality of the materializing entity into the world view that he had only moments before held so sacrosanct. At that moment, Glenn whispered over our shoulders in response to our overheard conversation. “I've been watching it for a couple of minutes now,” Glenn said. “At first it was just a wispy tendril that seemed to come from that clump of bushes over there. Then it stopped directly in front of the car and began to take form.” By now everyone in our research group was watching the glowing, mist-like thing, and we all sat in silence for a few moments, as we observed the orb grow larger and denser and begin to assume a humanlike form. We decided to get out of the car for a closer inspection. It was a very warm evening, but as I extended my hand into the midst of the glowing mist, I felt its very cold interior. Such a bold act may have been considered very rude by the entity, for suddenly the glowing image vanished. Before we could speculate on these ghost’s rapid disappearance, Irene whispered loudly from the other side of the station wagon: “There are some people coming through the bushes by the house!” I did not hear the sounds of footsteps and crackling brush myself, but others in the group swore that they could hear the approach of two or more people coming toward us. Then the footsteps stopped, and one of our group directed everyone’s attention to the reappearance of glowing images between two trees. But before any of us could approach it, the lights winked out, as rapidly as if they had been extinguished candle flames. “I swear the ghosts looked real to me, more than spirit,” Irene said. Perhaps Irene’s greater sensitivity enabled her to see images where we could only see the glowing mist and orbs. Irene suddenly put her hands to her ears and said that she heard the terrible sound of a woman screaming. “There! There in the bushes,” she directed us. “Can you see her head?” Glenn and I told her that we could see a glowing orb, but we were apparently not sensitive enough to tune into the vibrations on the estate and see distinctive features on the entities. “Well, there are plenty of vibrations around here to tune in to,” Irene remarked. “This place is just drenched with psychic vibrations.” None of us researchers were unable to confront any of the glowing lights and observe them transform themselves into clear images of men and women. It appeared as though the sound portion of the ethereal broadcast had been received well enough, as most of the members of our midnight expedition insisted that they had heard the sounds of footsteps and brush being parted, but other than on Irene’s super-sensitive receiving set, the video portion of the program had been blurred. Every member of our party, including the police officer and the caretaker, had seen the ghostly glowing orbs, but only Irene Hughes had been able to adjust the fine tune mechanism within her psyche clearly enough to pick up distinct images of the forms that had been preternaturally recorded on the grounds of the old estate.
There are a couple of eerie postscripts to this case. The first occurred approximately one calendar year after our visit to this home when Glenn and I were conducting some follow-up research on the old mansion. We pulled into the lane about midnight in the company of three investigators, only one of whom had visited the place on a prior occasion. We took careful notice of a wire stretched across the lane. Someone, undoubtedly the caretaker, had strung a number of white and red strips of cloth from the line. We switched out the headlights, got out of the vehicle, and prepared to await the ghost--which had been sighted by Glenn and a university professor just a few nights before. We did not have long to wait before a column of light about the size of a human being of average height appeared off to the right of the automobile and made its traditional trek down the lane toward the old mansion. We viewed the glowing orb until it disappeared inside the house, then, satisfied that the phenomenon continued unabated, we turned to walk back to the car. As we were approaching the automobile, we were startled to see that a three-tine pitchfork had been shoved into the ground just a few feet in front of the vehicle. We all knew that the pitchfork had not been there before we had switched off the headlights and began to walk down the lane. The pitchfork had been driven into the ground just in back of the white and red stripes of cloth on the wire that stretched across the driveway entrance. Since everyone had commented upon this colorful addition to the environment, we would certainly have noticed such an obtrusive element as a pitchfork added to the mix. If that shimmering column of light had truly planted that pitchfork before us, then I must admit that I was becoming concerned that we may have worn out our welcome at the haunted estate.
Three years later on Halloween, Glenn learned that the old mansion was about to be torn down and replaced by a new home. We drove out to the estate for a farewell viewing, and on that particular occasion, even though it was Halloween, we saw nothing out of the ordinary. We decided that the glowing entity must have learned of the imminent destruction of the mansion and had at last moved on to a higher spiritual plateau. Later that evening, we were invited to stop by a Halloween party in which a number of police officers were in attendance. Egged on by one of the officers who had experienced the haunting at the mansion on many different occasions, Glenn and I began to regale the party-goers with some spooky Halloween stories about our encounters with the glowing ghost. The next day, before I left the city to return home, Glenn and one of the police officers stopped by the motel where I was staying to share the perfect capper to the haunting at Sinclair mansion. It seems that a couple of the police officers who had attended the Halloween party the night before had been highly skeptical of our accounts of the glowing ghost. Since they had to go on duty after the party, they decided to take the squad car out to the estate to see for themselves. Amidst howls of laughter, Glenn told me that the two officers had sat drinking coffee in the squad car, commenting derisively about our abilities as ghost researchers. Then, to their utter astonishment, the glowing entity materialized directly in front of their squad car. Begrudgingly admitting their terror, the two men confessed to their fellow officer that they had burned rubber getting out of the lane. From cynics to believers in ghosts in a matter of seconds. Republished with permission by Brad Seiger http://www.bradandsherry.com
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24HourForums.com > Supported Forums > MrParanormal's Paranormal Phenomena > One of my Favorite Ghost Investigations | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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