The Spirits of Brady Hall

by M. L. Bullock

  “Nothing is wrong with this unit, lady. I’ve replaced everything I can. Are you sure it’s not one of your kids just having a bit of fun?” And he had the nerve to ask me this as I stood there with Emily on my hip.

  “I only have one child and as you can see, she’s not walking yet. Much less have the ability to reach the freezer.”

  That offhand comment had ticked me off but it got me thinking. I knew what was up. I’d known from the beginning. And one night, as I went to the kitchen in search of a snack, I caught the culprit.

  A dead teenager.

  A messed up kid who, from what I gathered, had been killed in a car accident and not that long ago. I tried talking to him but he wasn’t coherent. I gathered he was still in a state of inebriation and not the alcoholic beverage kind of inebriant. This kid had been as high as a kite when he left this world. His death came quickly and with no warning. He spent half his current existence mourning his passing and the other half out of his gourd and unaware that he’d passed on.

  After a few attempts at communication, I banished him from my home. It was the only way to get rid of him.

  Luckily for me, he wasn’t as strong as he could have been and it was a fairly simple procedure. But I hated doing it. I silently prayed that somehow, someone would eventually be able to get through to him. I didn’t even know his name.

  I got out of the vehicle and glanced up and down the sidewalk. Not a lot of pedestrian traffic out today but there weren’t many pretty spots on this street. Brady Hall had a small, unimpressive front yard. Besides this historical building, there was an empty utilities building was for sale next door. A shabby looking antique store and a defunct restaurant were across the narrow street.

  Uh oh. I see you. Stay over there, please and I’ll stay over here.

  The ghost in the window of the antique store scowled at me and vanished as she backed away from the glass.

  I had known I was a medium since I was a small child. Gosh, why was I being so mired in the past today? I couldn’t say, but I definitely was all up in my feels. Was it possible to have postpartum depression this late in the game?

  Yes, I do remember that first ghost.

  A little girl spirit who “lived” at the Greater Mobile Library. It took me six visits over the course of the summer to realize that the girl I was interacting with was actually dead. She always appeared in the same dress and wore an oversized ribbon in her hair. Her clothing wasn't white per se, but it was kind of colorless. Like a sort of gray, washed-out hue and so was her skin.

  At first, we played together quite easily; she was a nice kid, just a little strange. She didn’t talk much and sometimes she kept her face hidden behind a book. I didn’t like those moments. But over that awakening summer, I began to realize our differences. Oh yes, she and I very different. I just wasn’t sure how at first. It’s not like ghosts were a part of my vocabulary at this time. My family didn’t believe in that sort of thing and we never talked about anything remotely strange.

  But after about the third visit, the Girl with the Bow began to act a little meaner, more aggressive. She scratched me, whispered constantly in my ear. She was mad at me for some reason or another. At first, our visits were enjoyable and I found her to be sweet. During later visits, she was moody and angry.

  On one of her nicer days, it occurred to me that I didn’t know her name so I asked her and she screamed it at me. So loudly and violently that I thought everyone in the library heard her.

  “Virginia!” she screamed as if I were hard of hearing. I got the feeling that she was extremely frustrated with my stupidity. I realized that she’d been trying to tell me her name the whole time. I’d run from her that day and the Girl with the Bow. Virginia began to cry and faded away, right before my eyes. The strange thing was--as if that wasn't strange enough, I could hear the sounds of her crying long after she vanished from sight. If I closed my eyes and got very still even to this day I could summon up those memories and the sounds of her soft, sad crying still broke my heart. I visited the library dozens of times since my childhood but I never saw Virginia again.

  Why on earth was I thinking of that long ago ghost?

  I strolled up the sidewalk. I’d parked a little way down so I could stretch my legs and put out my “feelers.” I believed the client had been telling me the truth; I could hear the fear in her voice on the phone. But it was best to go into these investigations with an open mind and to avoid coming to any conclusions about anything too early. I was doing my best to practice what I preached to the rest of the team. Although I was confident about the things I saw and felt--and sometimes smelled, I was also a damn good researcher. I tried to bring the best of both worlds into all of the Gulf Coast Paranormal investigations. But it wasn’t all about me.

  My husband Joshua knew everything there was to know about paranormal related technology. He was the smartest guy I knew when it came to cameras and the like. Except for maybe Pete Broadus. Pete used to excel at finding new technologies, but he was long gone. Totally out of the picture and good riddance. Who takes off and leaves their fellow investigators in the woods? What a jerk. Not to mention all that passed between us before. Nope. Not going there.

  Joshua was the kind of guy that enjoyed pushing the envelope in everything he did. Fortunately for him, I discouraged his ideas about taking up parachuting from twin-engine planes. To be fair, Joshua was much more grounded than he used to be. When he wasn't spending time with our daughter or working at his “real job” as his mother described it, he was tinkering around with some new gadget that he believed would help us at Gulf Coast Paranormal. I was excited about his work not only because it would help GCP but because he loved it.

  And he wasn’t deliberately falling out of airplanes.

  Paranormal investigation was certainly a labor of love because it sure as heck didn't pay the bills.

  Luckily for me, Midas had a little nest egg stored away and he paid me on time every week. We never charged clients for our work so the financing was all on him. It wasn’t my brilliant fundraising that kept us going. Sara, Midas’ ex-girlfriend used to do all that. She’d been brilliant at drumming up funding but I sucked at it. Sara had a lot of connections into local Mobile society, more specifically the paranormally inclined society. But other than selling a few T-shirts now and then, I wasn’t doing much to bring in any extra cash. I really hoped I could change that. But how?

  I had no idea.

  Midas was our leader, but to me, he was a big brother. That’s what I called him most of the time. Big Brother knew everyone in Mobile and had the biggest heart of anyone I’d ever known. I was glad that he and Cassidy were together. She was good for him and vice versa.

  Cassidy was a psychic artist who drew pictures of the dead and often times uncovered key components of our investigations. Cassidy was always one to share a painting or a sketch or drawing. Unfortunately, we wouldn't have her help on this case. I wasn't sure that she knew about Brady Hall but I left that up to Midas. If he didn’t want to tell a team member about an investigation that was on him.

  If we officially took this case I would most likely bring in Bruce and Helen, our two most faithful part-time investigators. We would definitely have to bring on some new team members soon though. Helen had decided to gift the Dixie House to her niece and she and Bruce were moving to Gettysburg in the fall. He had a son up there and Bruce was particularly fond of investigating in the Gettysburg area. They would be missed, but I understood their decision. Helen's health had improved a great deal over the past few months, but she just wasn't happy investigating ghosts like she used to be and that was a problem. I couldn't say that I blamed her – after all, she had a few close calls with death recently.

  I stared up at the brick façade and searched, not only with my physical eyes but my spiritual ones. For a second or two, I experienced an intensely creepy sensation that I was being watched, but it did not last long and I was not able to make contact with anyone. Or anything.


  There is no sense in hanging out here, Sierra Kay. You can reminisce about the past later. You've got work to do.

  I remembered to smile as I walked up the steps. Sometimes my intensity came off as unfriendliness. I didn’t want that, but nevertheless, it was challenging to not look like some unhappy weirdo. I remembered to lock the door of the vehicle and tapped the fob in my pocket. As I did that I was immediately awash with bad vibes.

  Yikes! I peeked over my shoulder at the antique store, but it was definitely not coming from there. It looked like whoever owned the place had shown up. Two women were walking towards the store with armloads of items. No, not from there. This persistent “go away” feeling wasn’t coming from that poor ghost. The dead lady at the antique store might be a little territorial, as most intelligent ghosts tended to be, but she wasn’t sending me this dark energy. So where was this coming from? If I had to describe it, I would use my mother-in-law’s terminology.

  This place had some bad juju.

  I immediately began visualizing a protective white light around me and felt better in a few seconds. The outside of the building was made of red brick, but I knew this was not the original appearance. When it was built, Brady Hall had a wooden front with many odd, carved details. Scrollwork to the max. Were those letters inscribed in the woodwork? And then the veil fell and I couldn’t see the house as it used to be anymore. Just the bricks and the concrete and some freshly painted iron railing.

  White light, Sierra. Put your shields up, idiot!

  A woman waved at me from the porch. “You must be Sierra McBride. Hi. My name is Bonita. Thanks for coming on such short notice.” Bonita startled me, but I remembered to keep my composure as I stepped back into this world. She had a tidy appearance just like she stepped out of a professional business women's magazine. She sported low heels, shiny pantyhose, and a fitted black suit. Her hair was cut in a short pixie style, but it suited her. If Bonita Hutchinson was going for the total-professional-no-nonsense look then she’d definitely nailed it. Her face, while friendly, was absent of a smile and she didn't waste any time with chitchat. “Please, come inside.”

  “Nice to meet you in person. Thanks.” I followed her into Brady Hall and immediately knew we weren’t alone.

  "Helen told me about your organization. She speaks very highly of you all. I’m hoping you can help me get rid of this thing. It’s dangerous, Mrs. McBride. It’s not just a ghost. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t want it to stay here; it can’t be allowed to stay. Let’s be clear about that. It has to go.”

  “It’s Sierra. Please call me Sierra.” I understood she felt desperate. People in her situation often did feel desperate, but we were going to take this one step at a time. I needed to make that plain to her right from the beginning. We had a certain way of doing things and we weren’t going to do them any differently in this case. I understood she was terrified, but I didn’t think she was in imminent danger and this was not her residence.

  I prayed to God that Helen hadn’t unknowingly misled Bonita about what we could do for her.

  “I’m not sure what all Helen has shared, but I can promise you that we will do our best to find answers for you. I have to be honest though, Bonita. Getting rid of a spirit is not always easy and it’s not always an option. But first things first, let’s figure out what kind of haunting you are experiencing.”

  “There’s more than one?” Bonita asked breathlessly as she smoothed out her jacket awkwardly.

  “Yes. Lots of different kinds. Sometimes we follow up an initial meeting like this by talking to other witnesses to hear their stories. I’ll walk around the property and take a look at some of the potential hotspots. I've done a little research before coming today. That’s standard practice, but we’ll do more research during the course of the investigation. It takes time to compile information about whom or what may be responsible for the haunting. If there is a haunting.”

  Bonita’s eyes narrowed and she sagged slightly on the elegant couch. I sat across from her and resisted the urge to hold her hand. I couldn’t offer that kind of comfort at the moment. I didn’t need to confuse her energy with whatever else was in Brady Hall and if I touched her, I certainly would.

  “There is a haunting. I can promise you that. I saw the face in that mirror over there and then the other thing; it was black, like a shadow. No! Like a mist! I can’t be sure, but it grabbed my legs and wouldn’t let me go. First my feet and then my legs…then everything. I thought it was going to smother me."

  “Go on. You didn’t tell me about that, Bonita. When did this happen? You say the same day you saw the image in the mirror? That mirror?”

  “Yes, that one. I’m not particularly proud of what happened after--I’m almost sixty, Sierra. I had an accident and I haven’t peed my pants since I was a toddler. I am ashamed to say it but when that thing manhandled me I peed on myself. Right there, on that rug. I thought I was going to die.”

  Bonita’s body language backed up her statement. She seemed terrified.

  “I see. And that was here?” I pointed to the rug in front of the couch. I didn’t see any stains, but the fear in her voice was palpable. It was a damn expensive rug that was for sure. And I couldn’t be sure, but this couch looked like a Michael Amori Manor Wood Sofa. And if it was, wow. Those things were pricey. I was impressed with the beauty of the room. I got the feeling that Bonita really loved this place, felt a sense of ownership.

  Hmm...That might be a problem.

  That’s when I heard an unusual sound, like a bowling ball rolling down bare wooden stairs. Bonita heard it too because she gripped the carved wooden handles of the sofa as I jumped to my feet. No time for any more of this interview. The spirits of Brady Hall didn’t need a spokesperson.

  They wanted to meet me personally.

  Chapter Three—Sierra

  “I know this sounds crazy, but I feel like there should be stairs right here. I don't see any stairs. You heard that sound too, right? And it was darn close.” That wasn't a question-- more like a statement. I was pretty good at locating the origins of phantom noises. Not as good as Joshua, but I usually got things like this right. And in my mind’s eye, I saw a narrow stairway with golden and red floral carpet.

  "It's true there used to be stairs here but that's been a hundred years ago. Maybe more. They took these particular stairs out way back when G.L. Lawson bought this place in the fifties. I can’t say why he did it, but they moved the staircase to over there." Bonita pointed towards the end of the hallway. We traveled down the hallway cautiously, but everything was all wrong. This was not something that happened normally but seeing two time periods superimposed over one another was making me slightly ill. I had to pause to make sense of it all.

  "I feel like I need to get a handle on this layout. It's much bigger inside than it appears from the outside, isn't it?"

  "Yes, it is." For the first time in our conversation, Bonita smiled. It was a careful smile and there was no hiding the terror in her eyes. "Just through this door is what used to be called the lecture hall and later the theater. Unfortunately, none of the original stage or chairs remains.” She sighed sadly like that was the biggest crime in the world. “It's more like a big, empty warehouse here. I am trying to sell the place as a venue. One can easily envision weddings and receptions here. Or at least I used to but now I can’t imagine selling this place. What if someone gets hurt?"

  "Interesting," I said as I stepped into the large, empty room. She was right; it was kind of too vacant. Derelict. Kind of sad, despite the modern light fixtures and elegant furniture. It was as if the place had lost its identity.

  “Bonita, let's just walk around and tell me about any experiences you had or any feelings. Anything at all. Be honest. I'm not looking for validation for what I see or feel."

  "Oh! You're a psychic? I didn't know that. I thought you guys were more of a science-based organization."

  I remembered to smile despite Bonita's possible wavering trust in me. "I
have some abilities, yes, but I don't rely solely on them. Sometimes, what I sense gives me clues and places to start, but the investigation will move forward in the most scientific way possible. I'm just doing the preliminary walk. If we take this case the whole team will come together to gather evidence to present to you. And possibly a solution."

  “Possibly a solution?"

  "Yes, ma’am. That’s all we can offer you. I'm afraid there is no guarantee that we will be able to find anything or be able to get rid of any spirits if we do find evidence. It's just not a black-and-white science. I am sorry and I hope you're okay with that?"

  Bonita thought about the question for a moment and eventually nodded her head slowly and said, "I understand. As I don't know what I am dealing with I can’t say no. Who else will help me?”

  "Has anyone else experienced anything similar to what happened to you? Anything at all?" I felt a little desperate because the energy here kept moving. I remember to keep my game face on--I didn't want to frighten Bonita further but man, this energy! It was intense for sure, which could only mean it was an intelligent energy. Not a collective but multiple entities. Yes, there's more than one.

  Shades of the Leaf Academy… Nope. I'm not going there.

  Why would I even think of that now? The Leaf Academy was a one-time deal. This was no maelstrom.

  "I'll be honest with you, Sierra, I think people are having experiences but they aren't sharing them. You have to remember that the utility board was here before and, boy, the most closed mouth group of folks you've ever seen in your life. Casper the Ghost could confront them and they wouldn't admit it. But I guess it wouldn't hurt if I quietly asked behind the scenes if anyone has seen anything. As far as I know, the only people that have experienced anything in this house besides me is a member of the realty company’s staging crew. Her name is Britney. She's young and more open to these things than I am or so I believe but there's nothing to suggest that she’s making any of it up. And she has evidence, a photo. It’s the same apparition I saw in the mirror."