by Shyla Colt
“Welcome to mi casa.” She gave a weak smile.
“We’re going to take down the photos and place them face down on the table if that’s okay?” Trisha said.
“It’s fine.” The oceanic colors continued in the kitchen on potholders and tea towels that dangled off the handle of the stove. No religious items caught his eye as he moved into her space.
“Do you want to see the rest of the place?” Daize asked.
“Yeah, I think Trish has this room taken care of.” Micah followed her into the bathroom. An ombre blue shower curtain and light blue towels and rugs kept the light feeling flowing into the space. Nothing personal jumped out, and we moved to her room. Closed, the bedroom door loomed ahead ominously.
“Take your time. There’s no rush.” He stood a few feet behind her, allowing her to go at her own pace. She placed a shaking hand on the knob, turned, and pushed it in. The door opened easily.
“What?” Everything from the wave patterned bedspread to the bottles meticulously lined across the dresser were in their proper place. “This is not how I left it.”
I’ve heard of ghosts destroying a room while the owner was out but never cleaning it up. She stepped inside and spun around, shaking her head. “I swear I’m not crazy.”
“Hey, no one said you were,” he assured her.
“I feel like an idiot.” She covered her face with her hands.
“Let’s get all your photos taken down and get set up.”
She dropped her hands and nodded her head. Shoulders slumped, she moved as if she hurt physically. Together, they got the telling items stored away and moved to the living room.
“Are we all set here?” Micah asked Trish.
“I think we’re ready for Carl.”
“Excellent. I’m going to send you and Trish to go grab a coffee and give us about thirty minutes here. When you get back, everything will be set up.”
“If you think that’s best.” Daize glanced from him to Trish.
Trish placed a gentle hand on her arm. “It is. It lets him work freely and gives you a break from the situation to come back fresh.”
“All right. Let me just change out of my uniform.”
She walked from the room.
“What did you find in the bedroom?” Trish asked once the door closed.
“Absolutely nothing. It was in pristine condition.” She blinked. “I know. It’s unusual. She seemed sound of mind when we spoke, and there’s no history of mental health. I think bringing in Dr. Jay to examine her would add some validity if we need to dig deeper.”
“I don’t feel unsettled or apprehensive in here, Micah.”
“Me either.”
The door opened. Daize emerged in a pair of form-fitting blue jeans, an oversized white cable knit sweater, and knee-high brown boots with fringe.
“I love those boots,” Trish gushed.
“Thank you. I’ve never gotten to do fall and winter, so I’m taking advantage of the different clothing options.”
“I’ll drive. You relax.” Trish sweeps her out the door with easy conversation. She has a knack for people. He’d never been sure if it stemmed from her bubbly personality or her deep involvement in her Christian faith.
Micah grabbed the walkie-talkie. “Go ahead and send up Carl.”
Carl walked through the threshold and frowned. “There’s an energy here. This land has seen many lives pass, and their energy lingers.” He stepped through the door.
“Do you think it’s residual?” Micah asked.
“A portion of what I’m experiencing is. But, there’s ...” frowning, he continues his walk to the kitchen, “something else. It’s masked, or maybe slumbering is a better way to say it.”
“So, you think there is paranormal activity going on here?”
“I believe so.” His brow wrinkled. “It’s hard to get a read. It feels like a bad connection. There’s a lot of static. I haven’t experienced that before.”
“What do you think it means?”
“It could be crossed signals, too many energies trying to be noticed at once maybe. I’ll need to research it. I’ve never run into anything quite like this.” He moved back into the living room and hummed. “There’s so much here. I wonder if this is a vortex situation.” His eyes took on an unfocused appearance. “So many lives, all different paths.” He slowly walked into the bedroom. “It’s concentrated in here.” He approached the window and frowned, stepping back. Carl cocked his head and closed his eyes. “Perhaps there’s an item, native to the apartment or the building itself that’s collected all this energy.”
“Do you think it’s malicious?” Micah whispered.
“I can’t say definitively,” Carl answered apologetically.
“I think we have a base reading. Let’s get everything set up.”
SEATED ON THE COUCH, Micah watched the monitors via the computer. They’d begun their official investigation at midnight. Three hours later, they had nothing to show. Daize’s sleep had been undisturbed. There were no hits on the motion detector or the 3D Mapping camera.
“Is this thing hiding or what?” Micah asked quietly.
“Or what,” Brendon replied.
“I think we should use the Spirit Box and do some EVP sessions before we wrap. It’s three o’clock. If it was going to speak, it’d be now in the dead of night.” Micah rubbed the back of his neck.
“Let’s put Mel on the EVP, and you can take the voice box. I’ll man the computer,” Brendon suggested.
Eager to leave the couch, Micah handed over the headphones and stood.
“Mel. Do you want to do an EVP in the restroom? It’s closer to the bathroom. I’ll do a voice box session in the kitchen.” Seated on the cool tile, Micah turned on the machine—the radio signal’s cycle continuously creating a robotic static. “Is there anything here that wishes to speak to me?” the channels cycled. “If you have something you want to say, now is the time.” He leaned back against the kitchen island.
“Hungry.” The mechanical voice made him jerked.
“Did you just say you were hungry?”
“Hungry.”
“Is that because I’m in the kitchen?”
“Below. Hungry.”
The words chilled him.
“You’re hungry below?” Was this spirit referring to hell?
“You’re hungry below?”
The silence that followed stifled. Had that been a threat? Another twenty minutes without a hit forced him to end the session.
“Did you get anything, Mel?” Micah asked as he helped pack up the equipment.
“Starving. Does that make sense to you?”
“The spirit box said they were hungry below,” Micah admitted.
“I don’t like the sound of this.” Trish shook her head.
Micah sighed. “The real question we need to answer is what this thing is, and what it’s hungry for. Attention, energy, a soul?”
DAIZE
“I’m glad you finally agreed to come out with us.” Sophie grinned at her.
Daize smiled down the bar at her other co-workers, Joshua and Stephanie. Hard workers with kind, upbeat attitudes, they were her favorite people to be on a shift with. She’d begged off after work outings, but the thought of going home to an empty house before she talked with Micah didn’t sit right. Since they would not meet until nine, this left her with time to kill.
“Now that I’m finally settled in, I’ve been exploring the city. I never would’ve found this place by myself though.” She marveled at the atmosphere the Prohibition Bourbon Bar had managed to cultivate.
“It’s a bit of a well-kept secret. It’s only open Thursday through Sunday from five to eleven, and five to one on the weekends.” Now freed from his work braid, Joshua’s dark brown hair tumbled around his shoulders; the thick locks were enviable.
Why do men always get the best hair and lashes?
“We only found it because Josh is a bourbon fanatic,” Stephanie added. The perky, petit
e blonde with bright blue eyes was anything but a stereotype. Her platinum locks were streaked with purple, and Daize often enjoyed serious conversations about the newest developments in their field with her. The bar was tiny but quaint with its dark wooden bar tops, a dark yellow wall, and matching shelves fully stocked with bottles. Brown cushioned stools and a few tables with woven wooden-backed seats in the smaller space behind them kept the authentic vibe of a 1920s speakeasy.
“It has the largest collection of bourbon in the world ... over fifteen-hundred types,” Josh said. His hazel-colored eyes lit up, and she smirked.
“That’s impressive. Too bad I’m more of a scotch girl.”
“Boo. We’ll convert you,” Josh promised, lifting his glass of dark liquor.
Daize wrinkled her nose. “You’re welcome to try.” It felt good to be out and focused on normal things, like getting to know the people she worked with better.
“First drink is on me,” Josh insisted.
She perused the lengthy menu. “That decision is going to take me a while.”
Josh laughed. After all she’d been through, a nice stiff drink sounded just about right. She chose a tried but true drink, an Old-fashioned. Bourbon, bitters, sugar, and a splash of water were mixed together with expert precision. The slightly sweet, potent beverage served with a slice of lemon went down smooth.
“Are you making any plans for Halloween? It’s coming up fast,” Sophie said.
“I hadn’t put much thought into it. Back home, I’d be going to a Halloween party with friends.”
“We’re doing a ghost tour.” Stephanie gestured between herself and Josh.
“Here?”
“In the tri-state area,” Josh replied.
“Is Cincinnati really that haunted?” she asked, tensing.
“It’s not a ghost mecca, but with the buildings and land being so old, there are things said to linger. We’ve also got a lot of underground places still in existence.”
“What do you mean?” Images of tunnels running beneath her apartment complex made her nervous.
“Well, they started building a subway system in the early twentieth century, and the city ran out of money and scrapped the entire thing but left the start of the project behind. It’s the largest abandoned subway in North America. You can go once a year to view the abandoned tunnels. It attracts plenty of people who want to go down there solo and take photos and what not. But so many of them claim to be chased away by angry spirits. It’s a little too IT for me.” Josh gave an exaggerated shudder.
“That is creepy but fascinating at the same time. Why would spirits be down there? You say it was never used, right?”
“Yes, but the rumor is, the real reason the project was abandoned was the spirits in the first place,” Stephanie said.
“Are you trying to freak me out?” Daize narrowed her eyes, searching for signs that they were pulling her leg.
“No. If you go to the Cincinnati Museum center, they have a video and books on it. They’re the ones who actually host the tour every year. I’d be afraid of getting lost down there.” Stephanie held up her hand.
“We also have a past with mobsters. There’s a gangster tour you can take. You know what they say, ‘Live by the gun, die by the gun’. The tour isn’t pitched as haunted, but that level of violence must leave behind an imprint,” Sophie said.
“I never would’ve guessed that about Cincinnati.” Daize digested the information, wondering if it was a possibility she lived by a site that once saw criminal activity.
“People always think Chicago or New York, but the mobs were everywhere.” Stephanie gestured with her hands.
“Fair point. I want to hear more.”
“Oh, now she’s getting into the spirit,” Josh crowed, rubbing his hands together. “The Cincinnati Zoo is the second oldest in the world. So, it shouldn’t be surprising they have a ghost lion.”
She laughed. “Are you kidding?”
“No. They say he walks through walls,” Josh assured her.
“I don’t even know what to say to that one. Are there any major things that have happened?”
“Hmmm. There was an explosion at an artillery factory, but that wasn’t a high body count. Maybe I’d say the old Dunham Tuberculosis hospital. Most people went there to die, and the tunnels probably saw thousands of bodies in the fifty years it was open. They used to call tuberculosis the white death, and by the time most came to the hospital it was already too late to help them.” Stephanie shook her head.
“Wow. Is it still standing?”
“No, the tunnels are really all that remain other than a plaque and a stone pillar left from the original building. The Dunham recreation center now stands above the site. Plenty of workers say it’s active, and refuse to set foot in the tunnels underground,” Josh added.
“Is that anywhere near me?” Daize whispered.
“Where do you stay again?” Sophie asked.
“At the Claymore apartments in Clifton Gaslight district.” The thought of the ghosts of people who had spent the end of their lives in pain and torment from a disease with no real cure, and at that time, no treatment to bring comfort disturbed her.
“Oh, it’s about twenty minutes from you, so not really.” Sophie shook her head.
She relaxed. “I think I’ll try another bourbon drink,” Daize said.
They laughed, dispelling the tension that had built up.
“SHOULD I BE WORRIED that you’re plying with me cookies before you give me bad news?” Daize took in the ‘Insomnia Cookies’ in purple above an awning of the same coloring.
“Why does the half-eaten cookie have a moon background?” Daize asked, intrigued with the late-night cookie theme.
“Because this place is open until about three a.m. and will deliver warm cookies and milk.”
“Oh my God. Why didn’t anyone think of this before now?” Daize gushed.
Micah chuckled. She liked the rich sound. “The best ideas always make you ask that question, don’t they?” He opened the door. “And to answer your question, news delivered with chocolate is always better, and what I have to say isn’t that awful. You just looked like you could use a pick me up.”
“To say it’s been a rough week would be an understatement. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.” Don’t treat a casual business meeting like a date. It’d been a while since she had a steady beau, and with his dark hair, wicked sense of humor, and kind, brownish-green eyes, Micah was just her type. Wrong place. Wrong everything. I know my house is being haunted, and I’m freaked out, but let’s date doesn’t compute.
The smell of freshly baked cookies and the mouth-watering arrangement in the plastic case chased away her lingering doldrums. They had the classic snickerdoodle, chocolate chips, and sugar along with more exotic breeds of baked goods like the S’mores.
“We’re going to need a twelver,” Micah says.
“A what?”
“A box of twelve. I like you pretty well, but I draw the line at sharing my favorite cookies fresh from the oven.”
She laughed. “Good, then we’re on the same page.”
He grinned roguishly.
“This time, the food is on me.”
“I’m never going to object to a beautiful woman buying me dessert.” He winked.
She glanced away, secretly pleased by his flirting.
After placing an order for an assortment of cookies and two large milks, they retreated to the bar against the window. Watching the students travel to and from, she enjoyed the flavor of melted marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers. Her taste buds sang, and the chocolate soothed her nerves like an old supportive friend.
“Are you ready to talk now?” Micah asked.
“As ready as I’m going to be. I’m ready to take my medicine.”
“There’s something there. Whether its residual energy from an event that happened or an imprint that’s playing on a loop we’re not sure. It could be an item there that a spirit is attached to.
We didn’t get any activity other than an EVP, and a few phrases on the spirit box.”
“Oh.” She sat up straighter. “That’s not what I expected.”
“Here’s the not so great part. The voice said it was hungry and below. Starving.”
“What the hell does that mean?” The words formed a hard ball in her stomach.
“We’re not sure.”
“Is it ...” she glanced around and leaned in, “from hell?”
“We don’t believe so—”
“But you don’t know,” she finished.
He nodded. “One thing I won’t do is lie to you. We’re researching the land your building sits own, the surrounding area, and making a plan for another session. We want to search for any particular hotspots for paranormal activity.”
“Why didn’t it do anything while you were there?”
“It might’ve been exhausted from the big display.”
“Or hiding.”
“That is another possibility. Carl did detect a presence. We’re not going to call the case solved and walk away until we’re confident we’ve done all we can, and you’re going to be fine on your own.”
She exhaled slowly. “So, we set up another session?”
“Yes.”
“And in the meantime?”
“You have my cell phone. You can call me anytime if you have a problem or feel unsafe. If you have a religious item that gives you comfort, I’d suggest keeping it close, and drawing from your faith.”
“I have a cross that used to belong to my maternal grandmother.”
“I’d wear it.”
“Do you think it’s dangerous?”
“We can’t say. So far, the goal has appeared to be grabbing your attention. Perhaps this is why it cleaned up. It’s speculation of course. For now, it’s all we have to go by.”
“I can’t say I love the odds.”
“I know. I wish I could give you better. Unfortunately, a case is like a puzzle with lost pieces. It takes time to gather them all and figure out how they fit together.”
“Logically I understand that. I’m just ...”
“Scared? It’s okay. Would having me go home with you tonight and staying for a while make you feel better?”
