Ghost Hunt: Chilling Tales of the Unknown

by Jason Hawes

  COPYRIGHT

  Copyright © 2010 Jason Hawes and Grant Wilson

  GHOST HUNTERS® is a registered trademark and service mark of Pilgrim Films and Television, Inc., in the United States and other foreign countries. The GHOST HUNTERS logo © 2004 by Pilgrim Films and Television, Inc. All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Little, Brown and Company

  Hachette Book Group

  237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017

  Visit our website at www.HachetteBookGroup.com

  www.lb-kids.com

  Little, Brown and Company is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  The Little, Brown name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

  First eBook Edition: September 2010

  The events in this book are based on real investigations by the authors, Jason Hawes and Grant Wilson. However, the authors have fictionalized the stories, and any similarity to actual events or people, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the authors.

  ISBN: 978-0-316-12913-8

  I dedicate this book to my ever-loving wife and true friend, Reanna, and my loving boys, Connor, Noah, and Jonah. You have been with me through the thickest and the thinnest and always support me, comfort me, teach me, and laugh with me. I could never find truer friends nor closer family. I look forward to an eternity spent in great company.

  —GRANT WILSON

  This book is dedicated to my wife, Kristen. Thank you for standing beside me and allowing me to follow my dreams, and helping me with making all things possible. To my children, Samantha, Haily, Satori, Austin, and Logan. You have showed me what it is to be young at heart again. You have also all shown me how to be a father and a friend. I love you!

  —JASON HAWES

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Copyright

  Introduction

  Pennies from a Ghost

  Ghost on the Water

  Ghosts with No Legs

  The Haunting of Fort Mifflin

  Knock Knock, Who’s There?

  The Jealous Ghost

  Fresh from the Grave

  The Ghost of Grandma Helen

  The Ghost Hunt Guide

  Acknowledgments

  INTRODUCTION

  Here’s an easy question: Do you like ghost stories?

  Of course you do. Everyone likes a good ghost story. Everyone gets chills from stories about a mournful voice that whispers one name over and over again…

  A face that appears from nowhere and then disappears in an instant…

  An invisible hand that reaches out of the darkness and grabs you…

  We’ve all heard stories like these. Maybe your older brother told you a ghost story to scare you when you were much younger. Maybe you told a ghost story to scare him! Or maybe you sat around a flickering campfire and listened with all your friends to a creepy story and were scared together.

  People have always told ghost stories, but the stories in this book are different. These stories are our job.

  Our job is to go into places that might be haunted and look for ghosts or other evidence of paranormal activity. Paranormal means beyond normal.

  For example, let’s say you hear a knocking sound in your room at night. If the noise comes from a broken shutter that hits the side of the house when the wind blows—that’s normal. But what if there is no normal reason, no banging shutter? You try but you can’t find any reason for that sound. Then, it’s possible that the reason is paranormal. Maybe the sound was made by a ghost.

  Our job is to look for evidence. We have been investigating cases and looking at evidence for a long time. We started an organization called The Atlantic Paranormal Society (TAPS), and now we do some of our investigations on a TV show called Ghost Hunters.

  Along the way, we’ve come across some amazing ghost stories. We have picked out some of the most interesting ones to share with you in this book.

  Some of these stories are mysteries that we had to solve. Why don’t the ghosts that Bill sees have legs? The answer will amaze you.

  Other stories are really sad. Why does a child’s voice call out in the darkness of an old Army fort?

  And some of the stories are truly scary. Just wait until you read about the Ghost on the Water. It is guaranteed to give you a chill.

  The stories in this book are all different from each other—but they have one thing in common: they are all based on what really happened when we did our investigations. An invisible hand really did try to push Grant off a ladder and we really did see a face in a dark dungeon.

  Go to www.GhostHuntBooks.com and you will be able to hear and see some of the amazing evidence from the cases for yourself!

  Then check out the Ghost Hunt Guide in the back. It will show you how to do your own investigation. Who knows? Maybe the next ghost story you tell will be your own.

  Good Luck!

  Jason Hawes and

  Grant Wilson

  PENNIES FROM A GHOST

  There’s nothing to be afraid of, Scott Briscoe thought.

  For the last five minutes, maybe more, Scott had been standing in the hall just outside his own bedroom. His hands and feet felt like heavy bricks. He couldn’t move. His stomach was full of butterflies. Actually, whatever was causing his stomach to churn felt a whole lot bigger than butterflies. He couldn’t bring himself to turn the doorknob and go back into his room.

  Okay. Stop acting like a stupid wimp, Scott told himself. Still, stupid was better than another word he could think of that started with the letter s.

  S for scared.

  The truth is, he was terrified. Weird things were happening all over Scott’s house. But the stuff that happened in the room he shared with his older brother, Jerry—that was the weirdest stuff of all.

  Scott had gotten up to go to the bathroom. And now here he was in the hall, afraid to go back into his own bedroom.

  I have to go in there, he told himself. I can’t leave Jerry all alone.

  Scott took a deep breath. I’m going in on three, he thought.

  One. Scott’s right arm came up. His hand reached out toward the door.

  Two. He wrapped his fingers around the doorknob. Slowly, feeling as if it took super-human strength, he turned the doorknob to the right.

  Three! With a burst of energy, Scott pushed open the door. Quickly, before he could chicken out, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

  Click.

  It’s so dark! Scott thought. Too dark. Why wasn’t the night-light on? It was on five minutes ago when he got up. Who—or what—had turned it off?

  “Scott.”

  The whisper snaked through the room like a current of cold air. Scott shivered. He took a step back. Just one step. That’s as far as he could go. He felt the doorknob digging into his back.

  “Scott.”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” Scott said in a loud voice.

  “Are you nuts, or what?” Jerry whispered. “It’s only me. And keep your voice down.”

  “How come?” Scott whispered this time too. “And what happened to the light?”

  “I turned it off.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to try and catch it,” Jerry said. “I didn’t want the light to scare it off.”

  “You want to try and catch it?” Scott echoed. “And you’re calling me nuts?”
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  “We have to catch it,” Jerry answered. “It’s the only way to make the weird stuff stop.”

  “But how are we going to catch it?” Scott asked. “We don’t even know what it is. We only know what it leaves behind: pennies.”

  Pennies that appeared out of nowhere on their bedroom floor.

  Pennies that were always arranged in a deliberate design.

  Pennies that told Scott and his brother they were not alone.

  “I don’t know how we’re going to catch it,” Jerry confessed. “I was waiting for you to come back so we could figure it out together.”

  Slowly, arms out in front of him, barely picking up his feet as he walked, Scott felt his way across the dark room.

  Bump. His right knee collided with the side of his bed. Scott turned around and sat down, hard. His heart was pounding, the way it did when he ran the hundred-yard dash.

  “Maybe we should sleep in the living room.”

  “No way,” Jerry said. “This is our room. It’s up to us.”

  Jerry had a point. And now that his eyes were used to the dark, Scott felt a little better. A glow came in from the big streetlight at the end of the intersection. Scott twisted around. He could just make out Jerry, huddled in the bed next to his.

  “Maybe we should think like Spock,” he suggested. Scott was a huge Star Trek fan, but Jerry was all about Star Wars. “We should try and be logical. Let’s name all the places where the pennies showed up. That way, maybe we can figure out where it will go next. Then we can set a trap or something.”

  “Okay,” Jerry said. “That’s good. I like it. Last time they were at the end of my bed.”

  “In front of the dresser before that,” Scott said, continuing the list.

  “And before that, outside the closet,” Jerry went on. “But the first time…”

  The first time was the creepiest of all, Scott thought.

  The pennies were by his bed that time, on the side where he always got in and out. He put his bare feet right on them. The room was very warm, but the coins were as cold as ice.

  “I don’t think the list is helping,” Jerry said.

  Scott had to agree. The pennies showed up all over the place. It was impossible to figure out exactly where they would turn up next. But one thing they knew for sure: the pennies only showed up in their room.

  “So now what?” he asked.

  “Well—” Jerry began. He broke off. His head swiveled toward the window.

  “What’s that? Did you hear that?” he asked in a tense voice.

  Scott nodded. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t talk past the giant lump of fear in his throat.

  The sound grew louder, louder, LOUDER. A deep throaty rumble. Like thunder, Scott thought. But it wasn’t thunder.

  Without warning, a burst of light appeared on the wall across from the boys’ beds. Scott heard Jerry make a strangled sound. The light flickered. It seemed to hover in the same place.

  Then it began to slide along the wall.

  It’s looking for something! Scott thought. It’s looking for Jerry and me.

  The light was almost to the bed now. Another minute and it would…

  “A truck,” Jerry choked out. “That’s all it is. It’s a truck.”

  Scott bolted out of bed and dashed to the window. He was just in time to see an old pickup rumble past the house. It was heading away from town.

  Scott turned away from the window, back toward his bed—and felt a shiver of pure ice shoot straight down his spine. He tried to speak, but the only word he could get out was: “Jerry!”

  “No way,” Jerry said at once.

  Scott knew he didn’t have to say any more. He heard the rustle of covers as Jerry got out of bed. Jerry walked over to the window and stood next to Scott.

  On the floor in front of the window, barely visible in the glow of the streetlight, were seven coins. Seven pennies. Six arranged in a circle with the seventh in the middle.

  “It’s the same shape as before,” Jerry said. “Like a daisy.”

  “But this time is different,” Scott said slowly, thinking hard about what he was about to say. “They weren’t there when we went to bed. We checked the whole room. Right?”

  “Right,” Jerry said.

  “So that means that whatever put those pennies here could have done it just a little while ago.”

  “Yeah,” Jerry agreed.

  “And it also means that whatever put those pennies here could be here right now!”

  Brrring. Brrriing.

  Lyssa Frye jumped. Her pen flew from her fingers and sailed across the room. It landed with a smack on Grant Wilson’s desk. Papers flew off onto the floor.

  Brrriing. Brriiiiinng.

  Lyssa looked around the TAPS office. She had several weeks of training, but today was different. Today was her first day as an official member of The Atlantic Paranormal Society.

  It’s like the first day at a new school, she thought. That’s the nervous feeling I have.

  Like the first day at a new school. Only this was a job. Here she was, with her own desk.

  People called TAPS when they were in trouble. They called when they heard or saw frightening things in their houses. Were they living with ghosts? Were they living in a haunted house?

  Sometimes people didn’t know what to think. They were afraid they were going crazy.

  Brriiinngg. Brrriinnnggg.

  Lyssa cleared her throat and forced herself to pick up the phone. “The Atlantic Paranormal Society. How can I help you?” she said.

  The woman on the other end of the phone started talking loud and fast. She was so loud that Lyssa pulled the phone away from her ear.

  “Okay, Mrs. Briscoe,” Lyssa said. “Yes, I understand why you’re upset.”

  Lyssa tucked the phone against her shoulder and dug out another pen. Then she flipped to a clean page on her yellow notepad.

  “Let me just get some basic info from you, all right? Please give me your address and phone number. And tell me the names of the other people who live in your house.”

  Still listening, Lyssa began to write.

  Lyssa learned this during her training: first ask the really easy questions. Easy questions help people calm down. Then you can ask them about the stuff that freaked them out.

  It worked. The woman on the phone lowered her voice and stopped talking so fast.

  “Thank you,” Lyssa said as she finished jotting down the address. “You say that’s out in the country? In southern Massachusetts? Good. That’s close to us. We’re in Rhode Island, you know.

  “All right, now that I have all that,” Lyssa continued, “let’s talk about the reason for your call. Your sons think there is a ghost in your house?” She paused. “Yes. I see why they are so frightened.”

  A blast of chilly air made Lyssa look up. She turned toward the open door in time to see Jason Hawes and Grant Wilson walk in.

  Grant gave her a thumbs-up. Jason flashed her a smile. They walked quietly across the room to their desks. Lyssa mouthed a quick “I’m sorry” as Grant knelt to pick up the papers on the floor.

  Jason and Grant were the two guys who started TAPS. They wanted to help people who thought they were having a paranormal experience.

  Lyssa remembered how Jason explained it to her. “Paranormal means beyond the normal,” he said. “Strange visions, weird sounds, objects appearing and disappearing—weird stuff that can upset and frighten people.”

  “So we go investigate,” Jason told her. “Sometimes we find paranormal things going on. Sometimes we even find evidence of a ghost. But that’s not our first job. Our first job is to try to help people feel less scared and upset.”

  Lyssa had gasped in surprise the first time she saw the TAPS office. “It’s an old house,” she said. “A very tiny old house.”

  A funny thought had flashed into her mind then: Maybe it’s haunted by very tiny old ghosts!

  But then Lyssa looked around. The living room of the ho
use had been turned into the main work area. It didn’t look like a spooky place at all.

  The walls were painted a creamy white and decorated with maps from all over the country. Lyssa liked the big brick fireplace on one wall.

  Jason’s and Grant’s desks stood on either side of the fireplace, facing each other. Lyssa guessed this made it easier for them to talk about the cases.

  Lyssa’s new desk stood on the other side of the room. She and Jennifer Shorewood, the technical manager, would work side by side.

  The other two members of the TAPS team, Mike and Mark Hammond, shared a big worktable along the back wall. The Hammonds were identical twins, both tall and serious-looking, with dark eyes and straight brown hair. Mike studied evidence the team collected. Mark researched the places they investigated.

  Lyssa was afraid to admit that she couldn’t tell them apart, even after several weeks. Was Mark the one with longer hair? Was Mike the one who kept sneaking looks at Jen?

  “All right, Mrs. Briscoe,” Lyssa said into the phone. “I think I have everything I need for now. I’ll tell your story to the rest of the team, and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can.”

  Lyssa hung up the phone.

  “Your first phone call,” Jason said. “Someone in trouble. How did that make you feel?”

  “No problem,” Lyssa said. No way would she admit she was almost too nervous to answer the phone!

  Grant leaned forward. His dark eyes stared into Lyssa’s.

  “Why don’t you tell us what that was all about?”

  “Wow,” Mark Hammond said the next afternoon. He stared out the front window of the SUV. For once, his hair didn’t flop down into his eyes. That’s because both he and Mike were wearing Red Sox baseball caps.

  “This place really is in the middle of nowhere.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Mike piped up from the backseat.

  “We did go that far,” Mark joked.