Tag Archives: ghosts

Journal – Ghost Hunting

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Some of my siblings and I went ghost hunting! It’s tremendous fun, especially if you don’t find anything.

We stayed a night at the Lemp Mansion. It was beautiful and eerie. We had a great time exploring the place at night after the lights went out and everyone was gone. They really set you up for ghost hunting there. The staff lock you in and leave at nine. You get to be alone, and if you’re lucky enough to schedule a night without any other guests, you really will be alone. Unfortunately we had a couple of rooms with other guests that night, and they were loud and constant talkers! But they didn’t leave their rooms much.

We went exploring, it felt pretty dumb, because the stairs and doors were creaky… not just eerie creaky, but cringy LOUD creaky. We got to be the ghosts for the other guests once because the door was so loud, they heard it and called, “hello?” And we crept away. I actually didn’t get why my siblings did that to them…  maybe because it was nice to let them believe in Santa. Or maybe it was because we didn’t want them to find us four grown-ass idiots tiptoeing around the mansion in our socks and jammies. We did a lot of sneaking around those people, that was probably the silliest and most fun of everything. They never caught us! As far as we know. They were pretty drunk. At one point a guy walked by, and my sister and I stood still in a dark corner as our only defense, and he never saw us. It was crazy.

Our room was the Lavender Room, haunted by the Lavender Lady, and also by Billy Lemp who was a playboy in life and a nasty shower-peeper in death. My sisters and I tried to lure him out in the bathroom by flashing him but he didn’t manifest.

The bathroom was magnificent. It had a giant bay window, a marble bath, a shower with a built-in spot-free lateral rinse, and extra space enough to perform several backflips. It was excessive, but hey, excessive bathrooms are what money’s for, amirite?

My ghostiest moment: when I was alone in this bathroom pooping, the overhead light came on, then after about ten seconds it turned off again. Maybe Billy was a coprophiliac? They didn’t mention that in the brochure. I, er, finished up, then tried the light. It was one of those lights on a dimmer switch which shouldn’t be on a dimmer switch. If you turned the knob slowly through the low, medium, high settings, the light went: low, higher, lowest, bright, off. With much flickering in between. 

The whole building’s electricity was on the fritz. Lights flickered weakly all the time. It started to remind me of Stranger Things. Their wiring must have been SUPER old. Why pay for expensive rewiring when it’s spookier for the guests this way?

Also, there were some brutal cold spots from the overhead AC ducts in consistent places.

When we went down to the basement, we got our worst scare of the night: the ice machine. We could hear it from around the corner. It said, “whirrrr whumpity whumpity BANG!!” *dead silence* “whirrrrr, whirrrrrr, whir-whir-bumpity thumpity kkkk clack rattle whirrrrr” and so on. The poor machine was choking to death on the flickering electricity. Once we realized it didn’t want to eat us, I pitied it.

There were an inordinate number of mirrors hanging on the walls. I had to wonder if the owners decorated it that way on purpose, to increase the suspicious photos and reflections we might see, or even just to give us a good jumpscare around corners.

It was beautiful though, it has a scary atmosphere, and we had tons of fun. I highly recommend it. I hoped I would see something, but in my heart I knew I wouldn’t. Still, we ate a lot of brownies and stuck close to each other nervously and felt like kids again on a great big sleepover. Go check it out, unless you’re a sensitive, then maybe don’t, because it’ll probably end like The Shining for you. I’m still not discounting the possibility of ghosts, and I definitely don’t want anyone getting scarred for life because I told them this place was delightful and unhaunted!

I like ghost hunting, especially if I get to do it with good people. Next time I’ll apply what I’ve learned and catch me that big ten-point ghost I’ve heard about, and get him mounted on my wall.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On perception and belief

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In the middle ages, everyone saw angels, demons, pixies, leprechauns, and other such folk.

Today, we get abducted by aliens.

People in Malaysia see a creature which is just a floating woman’s head and her attached entrails.

Our perceptions are influenced by our beliefs.

While reading a scary story

You get scared

And hear something unnatural in the walls.

Was it the house settling,

Or a ghost?

If you pursue an interest in the occult

You will see more.

Those who fear they’ll be possessed

Are most at risk.

We see

What we expect

To see.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Man with the Flat Cap

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Flash fiction again.

 

The Man with the Flat Cap

She sat looking out the cafe window at the cold white Christmas lights and tried to remember who she was. Her husband gone. All alone.

Her coffee was cold. She didn’t care. She sat and stared at the lights, longing to be one of them, to not feel anymore.

Something passed in front of them, obliterating her view in dark shadow.

Fuck it.

She got up and paid, leaving her coffee on the table.

 

She walked to her car when a chill swept under her skin, colder than the cutting winter wind. She turned and saw a man with a flat cap silhouetted, a dark shadow against the lights.

Although she couldn’t be sure, he seemed to be following her. She shuddered and walked faster.

Straining to hear his footsteps behind her, to keep track of how close he was, she hurried to her car. With trembling hands she unlocked the door and climbed in. Slamming the door shut and locking it, she peered out, but the man was gone.

She felt silly. But glad to be safe.

Why didn’t she hear his footsteps?

Shaken, she pulled her gloves out of her pocket, dropped one on the floor under her seat, reached for it.

In the dim glow of the lights, she saw something else under the seat.

Her husband’s flat cap.

She realized that terror she’d felt was the first time in a month she’d been glad to be alive.

She chuckled at his sense of humor. He was always one for pranks. And she didn’t feel so alone anymore.

Something metallic lightly tapped her window.

She glanced up and into the face of the man who had been following her. He was grinning at her, all brown mangled teeth, and tapping on her window with a knife.

She screamed, started the car, and veered away, leaving the man in the street, laughing hysterically under the cold white lights.

On Ghosts

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You might call me a ghost agnostic.

One time I found a video of a ghost. It was shot in a dark room with poorly balanced lighting on the camera, you know how it goes. The footage said something like, “MOST AMAZING SUPERNATURAL FOOTAGE etc etc.” You clicked on it, and watched a murky silhouette of a ghost. It was sitting in a chair. It kind of shifted around, like it needed to get its buttcheek meat properly situated. Then it disappeared. Wow. Most amazing.  People are thrilled to the toes when they see something they can’t explain, so they don’t seem to realize what boring lives ghosts lead. All of a ghost’s angst and drama is built around wanting to move, to get out, but being trapped by their own bitterness or sense of responsibility. It’s just office life all over again.

 

Ghosts are people too.

Ghosts wear too much perfume

They smoke inside.

They enjoy a nice rocking chair.

They use the stairs

Turn on the stove

Get annoyed at closed doors.

They pace when troubled.

They trip people

And pull hair.

They make phone calls.

They battle household pets.

They drop dishes

And run loudly into furniture

And knock over lamps, they’re clumsy as shit.

Ghosts go for walks.

Use umbrellas.

They’re very stealy.

Ghosts love musical instruments

But are painfully tone deaf.

Anytime a ghost manifests and picks a wedgie

There will be an idiot with a camera

Who distributes this fascinating footage

To the awestruck, stupidstruck living.