that’s no longer the case. Everything old and busted has been replaced with brand new materials, starting with a new cedar-chip roof.
“Before we step inside, and I should’ve mentioned this to Jackie, Tony, and Angie earlier, take a look at the long cement slab below the window,” he said, pointing a small flashlight at a narrow flowerbed located beneath the window sill.
We followed him over to it. Most of the slab lay hidden behind a row of rose bushes, just beyond the reach of the security lights’ soft glow.
“Jackie, would you mind holding this for a moment?”
Tom motioned for her to take the flashlight. Then he carefully pulled the plants away from the slab. Fiona was the first one to gasp this time, and only because she immediately understood what the words and numbers meant, illuminated clearly by the flashlight’s bright beam.
Nathaniel Smith…born January 24 th , 1893…died July 7 th , 1945.
“Now that’s jacked up!” said Justin, while the rest of us…well let’s just say the rest of us were murmuring. Unfinished, nonsensical thoughts, like a Sunday Pentecostal service. “You mean to tell me some dead guy is buried here, in your yard? ”
“So it would seem,” said Tom, chuckling. “When I first noticed it a couple of months ago, it gave me a start, too. I should’ve told everyone then…. But, as it turns out, no one is actually buried here. At least according to the state archives. Mr. Smith is buried in Chattanooga. Apparently, this is just an extra marker.”
He turned toward us, smiling. It must’ve been a sweet moment for him…all of us with mouths hung open until we realized there really wasn’t a body there.
“I might add that Nathaniel was the second to last owner of this property, right on up to his death in 1945,” added Tom.
Well, maybe the sucker’s buried here after all. I shuddered for a moment, and Fiona did too. Not a good omen.
“Come on in, everyone,” he said, ushering us inside. “Let me show the best evidence to Jimmy, and if anyone else wants to hang out afterward, we can look over some of the other pictures and audio recordings I haven’t had time to examine yet....”
I’m not sure if Fiona and I fully heard what he said after that, since our eyes were drawn to the opulence inside. Very little expense had been spared in outfitting the room with state-of-the-art recording equipment and a large monitor for close examination of visual images and deeper analysis of electronic voice phenomena, or EVPs. Even the long control board and furniture in the room looked expensive. Not to mention the hardwood floors, a second furnished ‘office’ complete with another computer system, and a small bathroom. That’d definitely be a necessity, as it seemed quite possible to never want to leave this place for days at a time, if one had enough paranormal data to review. A small fridge next to the main console would answer the remaining needs a serious investigator might require.
Hell, if Tom had added a sound booth, I might be tempted to commandeer the studio to record my band for a week or two.
“Is this place booyakasha or what?!” Justin enthused, laughing while laying a damned good Ali-G on us.
“It’s just so sweet, man!” added Tony, sliding down into one of the high-back leather chairs in front of the console. “You’ve definitely outdone yourself, Tom. This will take our ghost investigations to a whole new level, y’all.”
“Yes, it really is something special,” said Fiona, admiringly. “I can’t wait to see what everything looks like using this new equipment, Tom.”
“Better than my old system,” he said, moving over to the other chair. “ Much better.” He sat down and turned on the main board, which quietly came to life. Green, orange, and blue lights began to flicker across the console’s face. “Okay, Fiona…Jimmy. Gather round a little closer and get ready to see something special.”
She and I moved over to where we stood
“Before we step inside, and I should’ve mentioned this to Jackie, Tony, and Angie earlier, take a look at the long cement slab below the window,” he said, pointing a small flashlight at a narrow flowerbed located beneath the window sill.
We followed him over to it. Most of the slab lay hidden behind a row of rose bushes, just beyond the reach of the security lights’ soft glow.
“Jackie, would you mind holding this for a moment?”
Tom motioned for her to take the flashlight. Then he carefully pulled the plants away from the slab. Fiona was the first one to gasp this time, and only because she immediately understood what the words and numbers meant, illuminated clearly by the flashlight’s bright beam.
Nathaniel Smith…born January 24 th , 1893…died July 7 th , 1945.
“Now that’s jacked up!” said Justin, while the rest of us…well let’s just say the rest of us were murmuring. Unfinished, nonsensical thoughts, like a Sunday Pentecostal service. “You mean to tell me some dead guy is buried here, in your yard? ”
“So it would seem,” said Tom, chuckling. “When I first noticed it a couple of months ago, it gave me a start, too. I should’ve told everyone then…. But, as it turns out, no one is actually buried here. At least according to the state archives. Mr. Smith is buried in Chattanooga. Apparently, this is just an extra marker.”
He turned toward us, smiling. It must’ve been a sweet moment for him…all of us with mouths hung open until we realized there really wasn’t a body there.
“I might add that Nathaniel was the second to last owner of this property, right on up to his death in 1945,” added Tom.
Well, maybe the sucker’s buried here after all. I shuddered for a moment, and Fiona did too. Not a good omen.
“Come on in, everyone,” he said, ushering us inside. “Let me show the best evidence to Jimmy, and if anyone else wants to hang out afterward, we can look over some of the other pictures and audio recordings I haven’t had time to examine yet....”
I’m not sure if Fiona and I fully heard what he said after that, since our eyes were drawn to the opulence inside. Very little expense had been spared in outfitting the room with state-of-the-art recording equipment and a large monitor for close examination of visual images and deeper analysis of electronic voice phenomena, or EVPs. Even the long control board and furniture in the room looked expensive. Not to mention the hardwood floors, a second furnished ‘office’ complete with another computer system, and a small bathroom. That’d definitely be a necessity, as it seemed quite possible to never want to leave this place for days at a time, if one had enough paranormal data to review. A small fridge next to the main console would answer the remaining needs a serious investigator might require.
Hell, if Tom had added a sound booth, I might be tempted to commandeer the studio to record my band for a week or two.
“Is this place booyakasha or what?!” Justin enthused, laughing while laying a damned good Ali-G on us.
“It’s just so sweet, man!” added Tony, sliding down into one of the high-back leather chairs in front of the console. “You’ve definitely outdone yourself, Tom. This will take our ghost investigations to a whole new level, y’all.”
“Yes, it really is something special,” said Fiona, admiringly. “I can’t wait to see what everything looks like using this new equipment, Tom.”
“Better than my old system,” he said, moving over to the other chair. “ Much better.” He sat down and turned on the main board, which quietly came to life. Green, orange, and blue lights began to flicker across the console’s face. “Okay, Fiona…Jimmy. Gather round a little closer and get ready to see something special.”
She and I moved over to where we stood
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