getting you some first aid.”
Several hours later, Gil, Heath, and I and the rest of the crew were standing at the entrance to one of the creepiest-looking caverns I’ve ever seen. And it was even more unsettling because it so closely resembled the one from my OBE.
We were standing in the cavern that ran directly under Briar Road, and at least there was one good thing about it—Heath and I weren’t feeling the distress of all those burned souls from above. Still, the place didn’t feel pleasant. It felt oppressive.
We’d had to descend two separate sets of stairs to reach this underground web of tunnels, caverns, and corridors, and even though I had meditated for an hour beforehand, coating my aura with a form of reflective and protective energy, I still felt the goose bumps rise along my arms. Next to me, I heard Gilley audibly gulp. “Ick,” he said. “This place is ick.”
I completely agreed. “It makes the haunted houses on our side of the pond seem like an amusement park, huh?”
“It’s just so intense!” Heath said. “I mean, it’s like radiating something bad from every crevice.”
I was fully conscious of the fact that there was a camera recording our reactions, and I wondered what the viewing audience would think about these not-so-brave ghostbusters standing frozen in fear at the entrance to a simple underground tunnel. “Okay, boys and girls,” I said, trying hard to keep the quiver out of my voice. “Let’s get this party started.”
Heath and I stepped forward alone, and when we’d gone a few paces, we both realized that no one was following. I turned to look over my shoulder and I saw every member of the crew holding fast to his position. “Gil?” I called.
Gil’s eyes were wide with fear. “I don’t wanna go in there,” he admitted.
“You’ve got your sweatshirt on,” I reassured, referring to his specially made sweatshirt with glued-on magnets from the cuffs to the collar. “Nothing can come near you while you’re wearing that.”
Gil’s eyes continued to stare wildly at me. “Uhuh,” he said, shaking his head no. “I think I’ll head back to the van and set up the equipment from there. I’ll record and monitor your progress where it’s safe.”
I felt a smile pull at the corners of my lips. Gilley was scared to death of things that went bump in the night—and for good reason. He’d seen a lot of crazy spooky stuff over the years, and he’d never grown comfortable with chasing after the ghoulies. He preferred the safety and comfort of a ghost-free zone—like our van back home or the one we’d rented here. “Okay, Gil,” I conceded. “But the rest of you are coming with us, right?”
I directed my comment specifically at Gopher, who also appeared rooted to the spot. Jake and Russ looked at Gopher as if waiting for him to order them forward, and after a minute’s silent contemplation, he did. “Um, yeah,” he said. “Yes. Let’s go, guys.”
Reluctantly, our sound and camera crew followed their producer and together the five of us entered the close.
I kept my sixth sense wide-open, with one hand on a canister that held a magnetized metal stake. We call these grenades, because their effect on grounded spirits is rather explosive.
When a powerful magnet is introduced into the electromagnetic field of a ghost’s energy, it can severely alter that energy and make it impossible for the spook to stick around. The magnetic spikes act like a blaring fire alarm amped up one hundred decibels, and they make it exceptionally uncomfortable for any grounded spirit to continue to occupy the area. The minute the canister is opened, the electromagnetic frequency changes and the ghosts typically flee.
My grenades have been tested against even the most powerful of malevolent spirits—and so far, they’ve worked every time.
For the first part of this ghost hunt—what we called setting a baseline—we were intent only on laying out our equipment in certain hot
Several hours later, Gil, Heath, and I and the rest of the crew were standing at the entrance to one of the creepiest-looking caverns I’ve ever seen. And it was even more unsettling because it so closely resembled the one from my OBE.
We were standing in the cavern that ran directly under Briar Road, and at least there was one good thing about it—Heath and I weren’t feeling the distress of all those burned souls from above. Still, the place didn’t feel pleasant. It felt oppressive.
We’d had to descend two separate sets of stairs to reach this underground web of tunnels, caverns, and corridors, and even though I had meditated for an hour beforehand, coating my aura with a form of reflective and protective energy, I still felt the goose bumps rise along my arms. Next to me, I heard Gilley audibly gulp. “Ick,” he said. “This place is ick.”
I completely agreed. “It makes the haunted houses on our side of the pond seem like an amusement park, huh?”
“It’s just so intense!” Heath said. “I mean, it’s like radiating something bad from every crevice.”
I was fully conscious of the fact that there was a camera recording our reactions, and I wondered what the viewing audience would think about these not-so-brave ghostbusters standing frozen in fear at the entrance to a simple underground tunnel. “Okay, boys and girls,” I said, trying hard to keep the quiver out of my voice. “Let’s get this party started.”
Heath and I stepped forward alone, and when we’d gone a few paces, we both realized that no one was following. I turned to look over my shoulder and I saw every member of the crew holding fast to his position. “Gil?” I called.
Gil’s eyes were wide with fear. “I don’t wanna go in there,” he admitted.
“You’ve got your sweatshirt on,” I reassured, referring to his specially made sweatshirt with glued-on magnets from the cuffs to the collar. “Nothing can come near you while you’re wearing that.”
Gil’s eyes continued to stare wildly at me. “Uhuh,” he said, shaking his head no. “I think I’ll head back to the van and set up the equipment from there. I’ll record and monitor your progress where it’s safe.”
I felt a smile pull at the corners of my lips. Gilley was scared to death of things that went bump in the night—and for good reason. He’d seen a lot of crazy spooky stuff over the years, and he’d never grown comfortable with chasing after the ghoulies. He preferred the safety and comfort of a ghost-free zone—like our van back home or the one we’d rented here. “Okay, Gil,” I conceded. “But the rest of you are coming with us, right?”
I directed my comment specifically at Gopher, who also appeared rooted to the spot. Jake and Russ looked at Gopher as if waiting for him to order them forward, and after a minute’s silent contemplation, he did. “Um, yeah,” he said. “Yes. Let’s go, guys.”
Reluctantly, our sound and camera crew followed their producer and together the five of us entered the close.
I kept my sixth sense wide-open, with one hand on a canister that held a magnetized metal stake. We call these grenades, because their effect on grounded spirits is rather explosive.
When a powerful magnet is introduced into the electromagnetic field of a ghost’s energy, it can severely alter that energy and make it impossible for the spook to stick around. The magnetic spikes act like a blaring fire alarm amped up one hundred decibels, and they make it exceptionally uncomfortable for any grounded spirit to continue to occupy the area. The minute the canister is opened, the electromagnetic frequency changes and the ghosts typically flee.
My grenades have been tested against even the most powerful of malevolent spirits—and so far, they’ve worked every time.
For the first part of this ghost hunt—what we called setting a baseline—we were intent only on laying out our equipment in certain hot
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