by Maureen Wood
A week or so later I received a call from my sister. “Maureen, it’s Evon. How are you doing?” She paused. “We received the pictures you sent us from the investigation, and, oh my God, they’re freakin’ scary.”
She must have been referring to the photograph that was taken during our first encounter with the “negative energy.”
“Yeah. Are you talking about the one with a skull-like image over my face? I know what you mean. It didn’t make me feel too cozy either.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine, Evon. Don’t worry.” I waited for a moment, almost afraid to ask. “How’s Deborah doing? Does she want us to come back in?”
“Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I think we’re going to wait a while for things to quiet down.” She continued. “We had a meeting and decided it’s time for us to find a new location. Besides, the space is small and we’re looking to expand.”
I had my doubts about their reasons for leaving, but kept them to myself. “So, now what?”
“Well, we were wondering, when we move, do you think you can help us out? You know, so nothing follows us.”
“We’ll see what we can do. You know, it would probably be a good idea if we came back to do a cleansing of sorts.”
There was something in her voice that told me I wasn’t going to like what she was about to say. “Actually, Deborah felt embarrassed; she didn’t want me to say anything. But the other night, right after the investigation she started to feel sick: migraine, nausea, and vomiting.” She hesitated. “I told her it was a coincidence, but what do you think?”
The investigation had taken a toll on me as well: I had felt exhausted, lightheaded, and the area around my heart had felt sore and swollen, overworked, and stretched, like an old wornout dishrag. Not knowing what else to say, I said, “Evon, please tell Deborah I’m sorry.” I had a thought. “When I offered the use of the holy water I’d brought, do you remember if she used it?”
Evon was silent for a moment, as if contemplating what I had just asked. “No. She didn’t.” Her voice barely above a whisper, she added, “I know because I used it, then offered it to her, but she opted against it.”
That explained it. At least to me. I would never force my beliefs on another, but Ron, myself, and the other members of the NEGP have run into similar “negative energy” situations and have no doubt that holy water is one of many choices of strong protection. I also believe it’s the faith and belief in its power that make it so. I chose my words carefully. “Evon, please send my best to Deborah, and give us a call when you’re ready to take action. We’ll help you as best we can.”
* * *
Months later, while waiting in an airport terminal, ready to board a plane on our way to meet our agent, Deidre, for the first time, Ron and I received an urgent phone call.
“Maureen, can you hear me? I’m sorry to bother you; is this a bad time?” Evon yelled. “My phone’s cutting in and out. Crap,” Evon said, her words quick and loud, like she feared her cell phone connection was about to drop.
Covering my other ear with my free hand, I struggled to hear over luggage wheels scraping on linoleum and the whirring of conveyor belts. “I’ve got a few minutes. What’s up? Are you okay?”
“Well, yeah. Sort of.” She hesitated. “We’re moving to the new building today…Our team is here, and we were hoping you could guide us through a prayer. You know, to make sure nothing unwanted follows us.”
I motioned to Ron to help me move our luggage to a more private, quiet part of the airport. Not an easy task. “All right, do you have the St. Michael prayer card I gave you?”
“Yes. But what do we do with it?”
Not comfortable with just whipping off a quick fix, I said, “Evon, Ron and I are just about to board a plane. Maybe it’s best that we meet up with you guys when we get back.”
“Maureen, please. Just tell me what I can do. Everyone’s anxious, and like I said, we’re picking up the last of the boxes.”
Still uneasy, but realizing their predicament, I said, “Does everyone there feel comfortable creating a prayer circle?”
Her voice grew distant, as if she was holding her cell phone away from her ear. However, I heard enough of their conversation to realize they were all in agreement. “Okay, now, I want you to say the Lord’s Prayer, followed by the prayer on the back of the St. Michael card I gave you.” I waited for a moment, listening for any questions. When I didn’t hear any objections, I continued, “Next, state that although you wish no harm on any beings residing there, you wish only for them to find the light, and that they can not, will not, do not, have permission to follow any one of you while you’re leaving the building.” I really didn’t believe Evon and her co-workers would be followed; however, these situations are extremely delicate. And intent and belief in what can occur is at times a contributing factor of the end result. Doing my best to hide the concern in my voice, I then asked, “Does what I’m saying make any sense?”
“Yes, I think so. Maureen, thanks for your help.” The sound of relief evident in her voice, she said, “Look, don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine. Have fun on your trip.”
With that she hung up the phone.
That ended our association with the stone house. But I had my doubts about the dark entity. We had crossed paths before, and I had the sneaking suspicion we would meet again.
RESULTS OF THE INVESTIGATION
Since we investigated the stone house, we’ve been informed that the property has changed hands several times, through various developers, each one of them intent on bulldozing the stone structure to make way for a series of new homes. Unfortunately, it seems that “coincidental” accidents have plagued the builders: loss of money, missed deadlines due to failing equipment, accidents including broken legs, etc. Oddly enough, although the area around the stone house has been cleared, the structure still remains intact. Shortly after the investigation Ron was interviewed by Woman’s World magazine. You can read his interview about the house in a reprint on www.neghostproject.com.
episode eleven
DREAM HOUSE
CASE FILE: 6258976
DREAM HOUSE
Location: Pomfret, Connecticut.
History: The original house, built in the 1700s, was later renovated and enlarged to the current structure. In the 1950s it was converted into a nursing home and later back into a private dwelling.
Reported Paranormal Activity: Apparitions, poltergeist activity such as broken glass, unexplained odors, and uneasy feelings of being watched.
Clients: Paula (owner), David (owner/Paula’s boyfriend), Bridgette (Paula’s daughter).
Investigators: Ron (lead investigator), Maureen (trance medium), Leo (photographer), Ron Jr. (investigator), Karen (EVP specialist), Jenn (investigator in training).
The Woman’s World article about the stone house investigation had barely hit the stands when a woman from Rhode Island contacted me on the Ghost Line.
Her name was Paula and she and her boyfriend had just bought a second home in Connecticut. It was their dream house. They’d fallen in love with it. All had seemed fine until they started the renovations. That’s when things began to happen.
Orbs began showing up on film.
ORBS
Although they are encountered quite frequently in paranormal investigations, there is no scientific proof of what they are. Orbs can be created naturally through water vapor or dust particles. However, many believe that these balls of light are the souls of those that have passed, while others believe orbs are a result of spirits drawing energy from the environment. Orbs themselves can be transparent or solid; their circumferences may display images within, such as rings and faces.
Paula had the sensation that she was being watched, and perhaps the most dreadful of all was a series of unexplained accidents that plagued visitors to the house. She dreaded going there alone. She also said that her boyfriend, David, wasn’t himself at times, that he seemed different
when he was at the house. While she spoke, I couldn’t help but notice the fear in the quivering of her voice. She pleaded for immediate assistance to discover the source of the incidents. But unfortunately, getting our group together with such short notice is difficult at best. Everyone has their own lives and agendas. Understanding her need for urgency, I offered her a temporary solution to protect her and the house, hoping it would be more than temporary.
“Paula, is there a Catholic church nearby?”
“Yes, Ron. Why do you ask?”
“There are a couple of things you can do. Take a small container to the church, and fill it with holy water from the font. Take the holy water, and bless all of the doors and windows along with the four corners of the inside of the house.”
“What should I say when I’m blessing the house?” she asked.
Although I’ve blessed homes and attended more than one exorcism with a Franciscan monk, I had to keep in mind that not everyone shared my knowledge. I suddenly had an idea. “No problem, Paula. I’ll send you a copy of the St. Michael prayer. It’s extremely powerful. In fact, Maureen and I use the prayer regularly for protection. You can also command the spirits to leave you alone. This works in a lot of cases.” I paused. “But you cannot be afraid. If you show fear, that means you’re not sure, which negates the whole purpose.”
“I’ll try anything at this point,” she said. “When do you think you guys can make it?”
“Unfortunately we’re not going to be able to make it for a couple of weeks.”
“Okay. Although I wish it was sooner, I understand.”
Before we knew it, two weeks had flown by and we found ourselves standing in the living room of the sprawling, circa-1730 colonial.
I scanned the room, looking for a place to set up base camp, but it was difficult to concentrate with the buzz of everyone talking in the room; Karen and Leo were in their own little world chatting away, oblivious to the group’s needs. Paula was already speaking about her experiences to anyone who would listen, and I had no clue where my son was.
Maureen approached me. “Ron, I’m feeling the energy already.”
I snapped at her, “Can’t you wait? Do you always have to rush me?”
Her eyes sparked with anger. “You’re such an ass at times.”
“What did I do now?” I grumbled.
Without saying another word she did an about-face and stormed away.
Here we go again, I thought. It was like being married—we were fine one minute, and the next minute we wanted to wring each other’s necks.
With Paula still yakking away, I spied Ron Jr. coming out of the den. “Ron, grab a camcorder and record this, will you? I’ll take care of base camp.”
Without missing a beat, and realizing she was now being filmed, Paula started the story from the top. “It all started when we began the renovations. At first we began to see shadows and had the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. When visitors have taken pictures, orbs have shown up. In one of the pictures, an orb the size of a beach ball can be seen under the kitchen table,” she said, looking directly into the lens of the camcorder. “Things began to disappear and objects moved of their own accord.” As if for acknowledgement, she looked past us into the kitchen where her boyfriend sat, then back at the camera. “In fact, when we first bought this place, we only came out here on weekends. One night while we sat on the couch in front of the fire, we agreed that it was time to purchase an antique fireplace screen, in keeping with the traditional décor. Now, keep in mind that we always lock this place up when we’re gone. When David and I returned the following weekend, an antique screen, like the one we were talking about, had appeared out of nowhere.” She hesitated, then yelled to David in the kitchen, “Honey, why don’t you tell them about what happened to you?”
“You’re doing fine; why don’t you keep going?”
“No, you can explain it better than I can.”
Still holding a cup of coffee, he entered the living room, although he seemed reluctant to speak, he began. “We’re doing a lot of work ourselves, but we have some contractors to help us with the bigger projects. They’ve called me several times to ask me about the woman who watched them from the window, and if it was all right to still do the work with her there. At first I panicked, thinking someone had broken in. But when I asked the contractors to go in and take a look, they found no one there. There have been a series of so-called coincidental accidents that have happened to not only family members and friends, but the contractors as well, to the point that the contractors have quit, refusing to return. In fact, one night we had a housewarming party. Moments after leaving the house, a friend’s car was T-boned by another vehicle. He spent the next several months in the hospital recovering from his injuries.”
Finally finished with setting up base camp, I walked into the living room to join the team. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road.”
The chatter receded; the only sound to be heard was the gathering of equipment in preparation for the sweep.
Karen, our EVP specialist, holding the Panasonic D690 digital recorder in the palm of her hand, pressed the record button, and in a hushed voice, she said, “Testing, 1, 2, 3, testing.” Seemingly confused, she attempted her test a second time. “What the hell? Ron, you’re not going to believe this, but the batteries have been drained. And they’re brand new.”
“Did you bless them?” Maureen asked.
Karen gave a sharp nod, then said, “No.” Digging into her kit, she pulled out another set of triple A batteries and quickly replaced the drained ones.
Maureen reached into her pocket and pulled out a clear plastic bottle embossed with a gold cross. “Why don’t you let me bless them?”
Leo, camera clutched tightly in his hands, stood patiently behind Karen. “Maureen, would you mind blessing mine too?”
“No problem.” Maureen moistened her finger with the holy water and quickly blessed the equipment. “We’re all set.”
Karen checked the level of her batteries, satisfied they were fully charged, and said, “Ron, I’m ready when you are.”
“Paula, can you show us the rest of the house?” I said.
“Sure, follow me,” Paula said, as she led us down a hallway toward the back of the house and up a set of stairs to the second floor.
* * *
Ron motioned for me to walk in front of him. Although the presence of a woman had reached out to me when we first arrived, the closer we got to the second floor, the stronger her influence became. Once we reached the top of the stairs, I said, “Ron, I can feel a woman here.” I motioned to Leo. “Take a picture. Quickly.”
While Leo clicked his 35mm camera, loaded with infrared film, I lifted my pendulum, closed my eyes, and began to reach out to the spirit.
“Are there any spirits with us now?” Ron asked.
The pendulum responded: yes.
“Are you a woman?” Ron continued.
Once again the pendulum responded with a yes.
With each question asked, I sensed the energy swirling about us, growing in strength, feeding off us to manifest. Our emotions intertwined, I felt her anger wash over me as if it were my own. In my mind’s eye, I saw a quick glimpse of a woman struggling to maintain her grasp as her dead baby was being torn from her arms. With a lump forming in my throat, I said, “Ron, this woman lost her baby in childbirth.” I gasped, “She’s so angry.” I glanced up at Paula. “First her baby, now her land.”
“Oh, that explains why at night we hear a woman crying in anguish.” Paula pointed to the next room over. “That’s our bedroom, right there.”
Ron, giving Paula a sign of acknowledgement, added, “Yeah, that makes sense. Why don’t we go check the bedroom out?”
Continuing down the hallway, we entered the first bedroom on the right.
The spirit I had just felt had begun to distance herself. Although I still felt her presence lingering, it was nothing more than a faint thrumming of low-level current on my sk
in. Like the echoing of a train whistle in the distance, it faded into the background.
I had taken no more than two steps into the room when an icy hand gripping my leg stopped me in my tracks. “Ah, let go!” I screamed. “What the hell?”
Startled, Ron yelled, “What, what?”
I stepped away from the bed, backing up to the wall. “Something from under there grabbed my leg.”
“Get out. Really?” He said as he dropped to the floor, lifted the bed sheet, and peered under the bed. “Maureen, there’s nothing here.”
“I’m telling you what happened. Here,” I said, raising the pant leg of my faded jeans, “look at my calf. I’m not sure if we’ll see any marks, but it feels like it’s bruising already.”
Together we walked to the bathroom, and turned on the light to get a better look.
“Wow, I guess you did feel something,” Ron said, looking at the red handprint on my leg.
As we returned to the group, I tried to put what I’d just felt into words. An impression of the incident popped into my head, and instinctively I knew. “I think it was an elderly woman who had fallen off her walker and was reaching out for help.”
I couldn’t help but notice Ron’s look of disbelief, but then Paula spoke up. “Well, actually, in the fifties, this building was a nursing home.”
I smiled at Ron, “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Ron said.
I wasn’t surprised at Ron’s next suggestion. “Why don’t we try to communicate?”
“What are we going to do?” Paula asked.
“We are going to make contact with the spirit and see if we can calm things down a bit.”
“I’m up for that,” Paula said. “So what do we do now?”
“Let’s all sit on the floor and hold hands. This way the energy flows freely from person to person.” Ron knelt down on the rug. Unable to sit Indian style, he adjusted his legs so that they were straight out in front of him, and then nodded for everyone to follow his lead.
