by Maureen Wood
“Yeah. It smells very antiseptic, like blood, I don’t know,” Maureen said with a puzzled look as she sniffed the air again. “Like a hospital.”
“Very, very steroid, isn’t it?” Gavin added in his thick Welsh accent. I looked at Ron Jr., sure that Gavin meant “sterile.”
“Yeah, but what’s the smell?” I asked.
“It smells like a hospital,” Maureen said.
“Ether?” I guessed.
“Yes, that’s it,” Maureen said, nodding in agreement.
With the smell still permeating my nostrils, I decided to explore it more. “Jim, hand me the UV light.”
ULTRAVIOLET LIGHT (UV)
As in the television show CSI, UV light can be used to identify traces of blood and other fluids. It is also utilized by some paranormal investigators to illuminate dust particles, to rule them out as a source of orbs.
Jim reached into the holster on his belt and handed me a small ultraviolet flashlight. I switched it on and scanned the carpet and the rest of the room for hints of blood or other bodily fluids. Without finding a trace, I stopped my scan and asked the two psychics if they were picking up on anything.
Maureen answered, “I feel someone was sick in this room.”
“I feel a female energy,” Gavin said. He put his fingers to his chin and said, “I’m getting a name, not a first name…its Sulliban, or something like that.”
“Sullivan?” I said.
“Yes, that’s it. She’s not the one who was sick. She’s a servant.” He paused, his eyes moving as he searched his mind. “I am picking up on a lodger, a boarder. I know it’s a bed and breakfast, but this was before.”
“I wonder, can you get confused by different time periods?” I asked. “I know we have found some places that are haunted by spirits who have lived at different times.”
“Yeah, absolutely,” Gavin said. “The older the place, the more layers there are, and it can get confusing at times.”
Maureen spoke up. “You know what’s interesting? My ears are fluttering like there’s talking, talking…” she said. “There’s some kind of confusion going on.” She paused for a moment. “Combined with the sick person I mentioned before, it doesn’t feel good up here at all.”
“When you first entered the room, you got a ‘swoosh’ of energy. Now that you have been in here for awhile, is it different?” I asked.
“Yes, my body is getting used to it. It’s sort of leveling off,” Maureen said.
“Like when you go into the water, your body gets used to the temperature,” Gavin added.
“All right, let’s try some EVP work now,” I suggested.
Jim placed his recorder on the bed where I had sat down and waited for the room to become quiet before beginning to ask questions. He started, “Are there any spirits here that would like to speak with us now?” A few seconds passed. Next he asked, “Can you please let us know you’re here? Give us a sign.” After a moment of silence, he continued, “This is my recorder; can you please tell us your name?”
“Hold everything. Did anybody see that?” I said, looking around the dimly lit room. There was no reply. “I just saw something run across the bed. Not a person, but maybe an animal,” I said, searching the befuddled faces of the team. “Ron,” I said to my son, “did you see anything through the camcorder?”
“No, I didn’t see a thing,” he replied.
We asked a few more questions and then ended our EVP session. As we walked out of the room, Maureen said to me, “I don’t know if Jim got anything on the recorder, but when he was asking the questions, I could hear a high-pitched whine like they were trying to respond.”
Byron joined in our conversation. “I thought I heard a cat,” he said.
“That’s interesting,” I replied. “There’s supposed to be a ghost cat here.”
We entered the last room on the right, adjacent to the top of the stairs, a small bedroom where the ceiling matched the slope of the roof. I knew I would have a problem standing, so I sat on the end of the twin bed. Byron, also tall, joined me. Maureen, bent over by the low ceiling, said, “The energy is different here. I feel like my heart just skipped a beat. There’s anxiety here, but not like the other room.”
Gavin spoke up. “I’m getting the name Mary or Martha.” Gavin was snapping his fingers, as if trying to get a mental grasp on it. “She seems a bit put off. People are talking about her, and she wants to get something off her chest.”
“Why don’t you try to contact her?” I said.
“Okay,” Gavin replied. “I can’t say if her name is Mary or Martha, but the name Sullivan comes into play. I feel lots of static in here. My skin’s all tingly. Ms. Sullivan, can you please make a noise to let us know you’re here? Bang something. Give us a sign.” Fingers spread wide, Gavin clawed at the air. “She’s feeling really anxious.”
“Skittish,” I added.
“Yes, she’s skittish, like she’s not sure,” Gavin said.
“As if she doesn’t know who she can trust?” I asked.
“Yes, yes, that’s exactly it. She doesn’t know if she can trust us.”
Pippa said, “Ms. Sullivan, we mean you no harm. Can you please affect someone in the room? Touch someone please.”
I sat waiting for a reply, when once again my “psychic nose” kicked in. “Does anybody smell anything?” I asked.
Ron Jr. answered, confirming the blank stares of the group. “There’s no smell in here.”
“There is,” I said as I sniffed the air. “I smell rose, kind of powdery, like a rose powder.”
Gavin took a deep breath. “I have a hard time smelling anything with this bloody cold,” he cried.
Pippa, sitting on the floor in the back of the room, said, “Let me try, maybe she doesn’t like men.”
“Feel free,” I said.
She began, “Ms. Sullivan, we have the utmost respect for you, and we mean you no harm. We want to help you. Can you please make a noise or give us a sign that you are here?” She continued her query. Silence was her only answer.
Maureen soon drew closer and said, “I think she’s trying, but having a tough time. She doesn’t have enough energy.” Then she paused. “I smell it too. It smells like baby powder only different… I know! It’s the powder they used in the old days. A rose dusting powder,” she said as she made a swirling motion with her hand in the air.
“It’s funny,” I said. “I smelled it before, then it went away, and all I could smell was Gavin’s leather.”
“Leather?” Gavin replied. “I have no leather on. Ron, you cheeky boy. I would never wear leather.”
“That’s weird,” I said. “I really caught the strong odor of leather.”
“Maybe someone else dropped in,” Maureen said with a smile.
“Hey, Ron,” Martin asked, “do the names make any sense?”
“Not to me,” I replied.
“There are some photos behind me on the floor,” Maureen said.
Jim left his perch in the back of the room and crawled over to look at the photo sitting on the floor in front of an old steamer trunk. Illuminating them with his small flashlight, he read a name, “Bridget Sullivan.”
“Really?” Gavin said.
“Good job, Gavin. At least you got the last name,” I said.
“Ron, the energy is waning here,” Maureen interrupted. “I think we should go downstairs.”
* * *
I descended the stairs to the second floor, following behind Ron and Gavin. With no more than the beam of the flashlights and camcorders guiding our way, we passed through a series of rooms, feeling little to no energy. We continued down the hallway until we reached what Lee Ann referred to as the John V. Morse room, a comfortable-sized bedroom facing the street.
“Okay, I want you and Gavin to walk around this room and tell me what you feel.” Ron motioned with his flashlight. The narrow beam of light sliced a path over the room, brightening the white cotton bedspread that was swallowed by darkness.
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Gavin and Maureen give their psychic impressions of the events that transpired in the John V. Morse bedroom.
Suddenly feeling like a trained monkey performing for an audience, Gavin and I walked around the far side of the bed. I began to feel the swirl of energy encircling us. Almost in unison we said, “Someone’s here.”
My breathing became shallow, labored. I sighed heavily. “Gavin, are you feeling this?”
“Yes.” His voice sounded distant as the energy closed in on me.
“Why don’t you two hold hands?” Ron said. “Let’s see what you can pick up as a team.”
Hesitantly, almost as if we both were afraid that we’d somehow hurt each other, we took a step, closing the gap between us. Slowly, we reached out and took each other’s hands in our own. I closed my eyes and focused my intentions. A spirit was with us. Of this I had no doubt. But who? Was it Lizzie? Abby? Mentally I reached out. Suddenly, my world began to spin out of control. It was too late to turn back now. My consciousness faded into the background.
* * *
I stood closer to Maureen and Gavin. Her body swayed. She raised her head slowly. Her eyes were piercing. It was the look I’d seen many times before. It was no longer just Maureen.
Camcorder rolling, seizing the moment, Byron spoke up in his heavy British accent. “If you’re here, can you step forward for us?” He paused, only for a second. “Can you let us know that you’re here?” Barely pausing, “Can you step through. . .okay, do you want to speak to us?”
No response could be heard except the sound of Maureen’s labored breathing.
“Hold up,” I said to Byron, realizing that Maureen needed time to adjust to the alien energy pulsating through her body.
As she raised her head, she stared at me. By the look in her eyes, I knew it was no longer Maureen. “Who’s with us now?”
Eyes now closed, Maureen inhaled deeply. A series of moans escaped her lips. Sighing heavily, she lowered her head, slowly shaking it from side to side. In a voice not her own, she spat, “Dirty girl.”
“Who are we speaking with?” I asked.
In a throaty whisper, barely audible, she said, “Abigail.”
“Abigail,” I said, repeating her name. “Do you have something you want to tell us?”
Maureen inhaled. Exhaled. She sighed deeply once again. She groaned. “Never turn your back.” Penetrating eyes met my stare. “In this house,” she finished with a hiss.
Not wanting Gavin to become a hindrance, I leaned in and whispered in his ear, “Let her go.”
All too eager to comply, Gavin quickly released her hands and scurried to the edge of the room.
I addressed Maureen once again. “Abigail, why are you still here?”
Her breath raspy, once again she began shaking her head side to side. Her voice thick with emotion, she replied, “I—can’t—leave.”
Touched by her sorrow and eager to understand, I asked, “Do you want to leave?”
She slowly moved her head from left to right, pivoting on the balls of her feet. Her body swayed to and fro. She stumbled backwards.
One look at her awkward movements and I realized Maureen, teetering on the brink of consciousness, was losing the battle. My arm reached out to steady her.
Her breathing stopped for a mere moment as an inaudible gasp escaped her lips.
“Abigail,” I repeated. “Why can’t you leave?”
Agitated, Maureen drew a long agonizing breath, tearing away from my grasp. She retreated backwards, mere inches from the wall. Doubling over, her body rocked up and down. She expelled a sudden, high-pitched moan, obliterating the growing murmurs of the onlookers. Just then her body stiffened. Her eyes were engaged one moment and haunted the next, as if vanishing behind a mask. The entity had taken control.
Maureen was gone.
“Abigail. Abigail!”
She turned to her side. Her body writhed in pain. She coughed, choked. Wet gurgling sounds emanated from deep within her throat, as if she was vomiting. Violently she dropped to the floor, screaming, kicking, gagging, as retching sounds continued to spew forth.
Reacting quickly, I tossed the microphone on the bed and dove to the floor. I grabbed her flailing legs. My only reward was a kick to the groin. I gritted my teeth as I heard her head slam against the wall. I reached for her legs once again, pulling her away. Leaning my weight on her I screamed, “Maureen! Maureen!”
Still gurgling, gagging, spewing, to all in the room she sounded as if she were puking.
“Where’s the light? Get a flashlight over there,” Ron Jr. cried out from the back of the room.
“No. We’re using infrared, it could screw ’em up,” I commanded. Maureen whimpered as I continued to wrestle with her convulsing body. “Maureen! Maureen!” I repeated, as I placed my hand on the side of her head. “Abigail, leave. Leave this body. It’s not yours.” I repeated, “Leave this body, it’s not yours.”
Maureen’s body went limp for a fraction of a second.
When she regained consciousness, her body jerked in response. She bolted upright. The palms of her hands digging into my chest, she shoved me back. “Get—off me. Get off me. Get off me,” Maureen cried. As I stood up, she cowered in the corner, both hands clutching her head. “My freaking head. It’s killing me!” She cried out. “Oh my God. It hurts.”
“Did it feel like forty whacks?” I chuckled, in an attempt to lighten the moment.
“Ha, ha.” Maureen grimaced as she continued to clutch the back of her head. She looked down at her bare feet. “Where are my shoes?”
I knelt down and ran my hands along the pile of the carpet. “I don’t know where they are,” I said. Grabbing a flashlight I looked under the bed. “How the heck did they get way over there?” I lay down, chest on the floor, and stretched to reach them. “Here.” I tossed them to her.
Maureen pushed up on her hands, then dropped back down.
Realizing her plight, Gavin hurried over and placed his hands in front of her. “How about a bit of energy to get you going?”
A few moments later, Gavin stood up, reached out his hand, and helped Maureen off the floor.
Ron Jr. turned on the bedroom lights and walked over to where Maureen and Gavin were standing. He looked at the carpet. “There’s nothing there? I could have sworn you threw up.”
“Maureen,” Byron screeched. “Look at this.”
Maureen and Gavin stopped talking between themselves and turned to look over Byron’s shoulder, at the faded photograph hanging on the wall.
“Oh my God, Maureen,” Gavin said, pointing at the picture, then at the flowered carpet beneath our feet. “You almost landed the same way Abby did.”
Maureen, looking a bit stunned, said, “‘Oh my God’ is right. That’s disgusting.” She hesitated. “Ron, come here. Take a look at this.”
I went to see what the buzz was about. Looking at the photograph, I said, “Wow, that’s great. A dead body. Now let’s get going.” Maureen sighed heavily.
“What? What’s the matter?” I looked at Maureen once again, then stopped short. “Are you okay? Seriously, you’re not looking so hot.”
“Well, actually, I’m feeling like crap.” She turned her wrist over. “It’s after ten o’clock, and I have to get up at five for work.”
“And your point?” I grinned. But I knew where she was going with this. She had stayed way longer than originally planned. Not to mention the beating she took.
“I’m going to get going. I have a long ride home.” Maureen looked around the room. “Sorry, guys.”
“Would you mind dropping me off at the hotel?” Martin asked.
“No problem. Let’s go.” With that she and Martin headed downstairs.
With Maureen gone, we continued our investigation. Emily, a tour guide for the B&B who had just arrived, led us to the basement.
“Gavin, what are you feeling?” I asked.
Gavin paced back and forth across the dirt floor. “The darkness I felt befor
e when Maureen and I first entered the house is gone now.”
“What do you mean it’s gone?” I asked. “It just disappeared?”
Gavin replied, “Ron, as I’m sure you must know, the energy can move around. Here one minute, gone the next. Sometimes not restricted to one room, or the house for that matter. In fact, it takes a lot for a spirit to manifest. The energy can dissipate as the night goes on.”
“Oh, then they’re not much different than we are,” I said.
Gavin half laughed. “No they’re not. Oh, wait, I’m getting something,” he said, putting his fingers to his temple. “A coffin?” He twisted at the waist, turning to look at the rest of us. “Yes, I think there was a coffin here at one time.”
Emily said, “Come with me.” She motioned for us to follow.
Curious, we hurried through an opening in the basement wall, entering a small, cluttered room. There, to our astonishment, tucked into the corner was a pine coffin.
“Oh, do you believe this?” Gavin said.
“It’s not a real coffin. It’s one that we use for Halloween decorations.” She smiled. “But the fact that you picked up on it is cool, just the same.”
Just then my EMF meter blared, startling the group. “What’s that?” Gavin asked.
“Oh, that’s nothing.” I said as I took the meter and raised it to the wires running along the rafters. “It’s just the wires. Electrical wires are a natural source of EMF.”
Gavin frowned, looking a little disappointed.
I still wanted to try some experiments to contact the spirits, so we cut short our investigation of the basement. As we stepped into the kitchen, we found Lee Ann.
“How did it go down there?” she asked.
“Not too bad. Actually, I did pick up on the coffin you have stashed away.” Gavin beamed.
Lee Ann looked a little puzzled, then her eyes sparkled. “Oh, my Halloween decorations.”
“Lee Ann, do you have a small table?” I asked. “I want to do a little experiment.”
“Table tilting?”
“Yes.” I watched as the look of pride washed across Lee Ann’s features. Evidently she’d had experience with this before.
TABLE TILTING