by Apryl Baker
She looks up and stares intently into the flickering flames of the fireplace. Her hands keep moving in that back and forth motion and I find myself leaning forward. She stands abruptly and walks over the fireplace, head bowed. The man is seated only a foot from her. He is not paying her any attention at all, his focus entirely on the book.
It’s then I catch the glint of metal in her hands. She still has the knitting needles firmly grasped in each hand. He has her fists clenched around them, the yarn trailing. She turns to face the audience, her face a mask of determination. Then she takes a few steps and brings the needles down hard into the man’s back, before yanking them out of his flesh. He stands up with a roar, but she doesn’t give him time to fight back. She rushes him, needles stabbing and slashing until he stumbles and falls. . She goes down with him and the needles strike him again and again, sending blood everywhere.
At last she stands, adjusts her skirt, and sits back on the settee. She begins to knit again; the back forth movements still as hypnotic as before, but her hands are covered in the blood of the man lying motionless on the floor.
The curtains close.
Silence fills the hall. No one expected that. Even Dan looks a little shocked.
The music then shifts, changes to something a little softer, a little less frightening and the curtains open again. This time a man is standing at a podium a little to the left of the center stage. He reminds me of Eric McCormack from Will and Grace. He’s a lot younger than I expected him to be, maybe thirty or thirty five. I was thinking an older man in his fifties. His hair is the color of chestnuts and he’s smiling at our reactions.
When he speaks, his voice is warm and a little lulling.
“What you just witnessed was the first in a series of brutal murders that took place in Savannah, Georgia, starting in July of 1917 at the Steel Water Plantation and ended just five years ago with the death of an entire family. Mrs. Emily Goody, wife of Robert Goody, simply decided one night to stab her husband of ten years to death. She told authorities a ghost made her do it. Over the next century, four more families inhabited the plantation and more deaths occurred. Each time, the perpetrator simply said a ghost made me do it.”
He pauses to let that sink in before continuing. “Is it a coincidence that the stories never wavered? Was it simply that someone read about the original murder and wanted to use a unique defense to try to get away with a nefarious deed? Mental conditions? No one can really say. What they can agree on is that all four people were considered normal, pillars of the community even. This is what draws parapsychologists to the scene. Can a ghost make you hurt someone or is it just the evil that lives in us all coming out to play?”
He steps away from the podium and comes closer to the end of the stage. “My name is Dr. Lawrence Olivet and I want to thank everyone for coming out tonight to listen to me ramble on and on about the spooky things that go bump in the night. Now, let’s have a show of hands. Who came to hear the spook doctor because they were bored?”
Chuckles break out and a smattering of hands go up, including Mason’s. He smiles in response. “Now, how many of you were dragged here by a friend or significant other?”
Most of the hall fits into this category, including Dan, who refuses to raise his hand. I grab it and push it up for him. Mason laughs outright at Dan’s disgust right before he jerks his hand from mine. I giggle at the glower he sends my way, which makes Mason laugh all the harder.
“Well, that’s okay. I wouldn’t want to come to a ghost lecture either,” Dr. Olivet tells us conspiratorially. “So, let’s not have a lecture then. Let’s have some fun with it.”
I can see why he’s so popular. First, he looks absolutely nothing like what I figured a professor would look like, nor does he look like one of those grungy ghost hunters you see on TV all the time. He looks normal, and well, cute for an old guy. Like Detective Stabler-cute on SVU. This man has that same something going for him. He’s not boring either. He’s made almost everyone laugh or at least chuckle. Charismatic. That is the word I’m looking for. Charming and charismatic.
“So I guess the first place to start is why do I spend time looking for ghosts? The truth? I spend my time trying to debunk the so called haunting. Most people out there want to see ghosts in things they can’t explain. It’s easier to believe and more romantic than the pipes being rusty or the house creaking because it’s a hundred years old. I’ve disproved more hauntings than then seen anything truly supernatural.”
Dan grunts beside me. I don’t think he’d expected that. He was all up for the guy going on and on about how ghosts are real and everything that can’t be explained is a ghost waiting to jump out at you.
“Most of us here grew up with parents or grandparents that taught us there is a higher power out there in the universe, whether you call it God, Allah, Buddha, or whatever your religion dictates. Most people believe that there is a force out there, even if we don’t pay too much attention to it unless we need to. You’d be amazed at how many self-proclaimed atheists will start to pray right before they die. So, why am I going on and on about religion, you’re thinking. Isn’t this supposed to be about ghosts?”
There’s a general murmur of assent.
“My point is death, ladies and gentlemen. No one wants to believe that when we die, that’s it. Everything that we are, that we were, will just cease to exist when we die. We need to believe that there is something more out there. If there isn’t, what’s the point of all this? That is why deep down, we all believe in that higher power. We have to believe that when we die, we go on, that something is out there besides an empty void or that the energy that makes us unique will simply extinguish. It’s an instinct ingrained in every human alive. Now that said, if you believe in that higher power, in the fact that we go on after death, why are ghosts so hard to believe in? Why can’t the energy that once made up a human be trapped here on this plane of existence for reasons we can’t even begin to understand?”
He moves and the dark background begins to shimmer with colors, streams of blues and reds and greens start drifting around on the back wall of the stage. It has to be some kind of screen and projector, but the effect is totally cool.
“We can all agree that energy in one form or another powers everything. You need energy to move an inanimate object like a bike. Your feet push the pedals which cause the bike to start to move. Your body uses energy to help you do this. All living things are made up of energy. When we die, that energy goes somewhere. Is there a bright light waiting for us at the end of a tunnel with our loved ones beckoning us? I don’t know. I’ve read and listened to many of the same stories you have about people who have died and seen this mysterious light at the end of a long tunnel. I’ve sat with dying people and listened to them talk to loved ones who have been dead for years. Could it just be their minds trying to find some sort of comfort in a situation where they are terrified of death? Most likely that is the truth, but what if there’s more to it than our rational mind wants to accept? What if when a person dies, especially in a violent manner, their energy, the essence that makes them unique, is trapped by their own fears? What if they can’t pass to that next plain of existence out of fear?”
The energy of the lights show starts to morph together, to coalesce into cohesive humanoid shapes. They dart back and forth, the orchestra’s melody changing to a tune to inspire confusion and fear. The darkness of the theater compounds the effect and it’s almost impossible not to think of all those times when you are alone, in the dark, and you shiver for no reason.
“I was fifteen when I had my first experience with what we commonly call ghosts today. It was at a funeral for a kid at our school that had died in a car crash. He was well liked, popular, had everything a high school kid could ask for, so why would he have just driven his car off a cliff? The police deemed it a suicide because they could find no sign of anything wrong with the car or any signs of foul play to suggest he’d been run off the road or there was some sort of a
ccident. He’d simply driven in a straight line right off the edge.
“I remember that the church was full and the minister was preaching about how life is short and we need to seize every opportunity. It was hot and stuffy and I kept wishing he’d hurry up so we could get outside and be on our way. I did not want to be there, but my parents made me go out of respect to the boy and his family. The wallpaper was peeling in spots and I kept counting all the little pieces hanging down. That’s when I noticed the odd light. It was almost hovering around the casket. I could only see it when I turned my head to the right, when I looked out of the corner of my eye, but I saw it. At first, I tried to tell myself it was just a reflection of light from the sun, but the drapes had been pulled for the service. It couldn’t be that. When the boy’s mother stood up to speak and started to cry as she talked about her son, the temperature in the room dropped drastically. It turned almost freezing and the vase of flowers sitting on the table beside of her crashed to the floor. Everyone thought she’d done it, but she hadn’t. I’d seen that light moving frantically back and forth around her, around the vase.
“I firmly believe it was the ghost of the boy there, trying to tell his mother that he was still here, that he was right there beside her, but she couldn’t see him, couldn’t hear him. It had to be so frustrating and I think it was that frustration that allowed the ghost to harness enough raw energy to make that vase wobble just enough to crash to the floor. No one else saw the lights or felt the cold either. I was the only one. I can tell you it scared the hell out of me.”
There is a little rumble of chatter that goes through the audience, but mostly they are hushed, listening as the professor weaves his tale. He’s really good at storytelling. He has his audience enthralled.
“That’s when I started to pick up a few books on the supernatural, ghosts in particular. Back then, the library was still the main source of information. The internet hadn’t exploded yet, so I was stuck digging through old books.” He gives us all a pained look at that statement, causing many to laugh along with him. “Can you imagine not being able to Google your question? Research is much easier these days.
I think back to my own research. I Googled everything I’d wanted to search for. If I’d had to go to the library and do the same kind of research looking for answers, I’d have screamed and just thrown in the towel. No way do I ever want to try to do anything without my trusty Google search.
“So there I was, full of questions and ideas. I looked up a fairly local branch of ghost hunters. They agreed to let me “intern” with them and so I did what any fifteen year old would do. I got my best friend to tell my parents I was going fishing with him and his uncle while I was really over in rural Virginia at a supposed haunted house. I was so excited, my first time out with real ghost hunters. Biggest disappointment ever.”
Dan is frowning and leaning forward now, listening with interest. I shake my head. Mr. Disbeliever over here sure is interested all of a sudden.
“What I found was a bunch of people “looking” for ghosts where there were none. Every creak was a ghost trying to communicate. Every draft in a drafty house evidence of a ghost’s presence. Their equipment was something out of a really bad sci-fi novel. I just shook my head in disbelief. Suffice to say, I gave up on ghost hunting for a while after that. I figured maybe I was trying to see something where there had been nothing, too. I finished high school and then went to college. It was while I was in college I got interested in ghost hunting again. I was hanging out in an old dorm that had been closed years ago with some friends. We were just goofing off and making out with our girlfriends. My girlfriend, who shall be known as Jane from here on out, and I wandered into one of the empty rooms on the third floor. We had a flashlight with us and nothing more. Lights would have had campus security on us in a heartbeat. It was close to the end of the year, and summer was coming upon us. I went to school in Miami though, so it’s always hot there. With no electricity or central air, the dorm was blazing hot, which is what the guys and I were counting on.”
There were a lot of laughs at this point and several good natured shoves from girlfriends.
“So there Jane and I are doing things I will leave to your imagination, when I start to feel a little chill creep up my back. I don’t notice it at first, but when Jane remarks on how cold it is, I look around. It had gotten cold. I grabbed the flashlight and gave the room a quick look. As my flashlight passed the partially opened closet, Jane let out a little shriek. I figured it was a rat or something, but she swore she saw someone standing there. I rolled my eyes at her. You know how skittish girls can be,” he pauses and winks. “But ladies, we love you that way. Gives you an excuse to clutch us during horror movies.”
Mason and Dan, as well as most of the guys around us burst out laughing. I glare at them both. Skittish? Me? So very NOT me.
“So, me being the big man and all, I go over to check it out. Jane is right behind me, refusing to stay by herself on the floor. I have my trusty flashlight pointed at the closet and there’s nothing I can see. I push open the sliding door and look inside. Nothing but empty space. I turn around and give the room a once over again. Even I notice how cold it’s gotten by now. I can see my breath in front of me in the light of the flashlight. I’m a little freaked, but I’m playing it cool. Can’t have Jane thinking I’m a wuss. I turn around to tell her it was nothing and suggest we head back downstairs, but I stop and stare. I don’t see anything, but Jane’s hair is floating. Not like in the movies where the hair sort of gently wafts in the air from a fan, but like someone is picking pieces of it up and holding them up for inspection. She doesn’t feel a thing. I’m debating about telling her when the closet door slams shut, trapping her hair with it. This she feels because it pulled her backwards and her head pretty much slams into the mirrors on the closet doors. She starts screaming and I frantically try to get the door open, but it’s locked tight.”
The quiet in the room is palpable. This guy can tell a story. The girls look horrified, the guys intrigued.
“She’s freaking out and I hear the guys shouting from below. I’m struggling with the door when suddenly, I can feel something cold and damp touch my face. I’ll be honest and admit, I screamed like a girl. I was so freaked, I almost ran away, but I didn’t. The dorm room door flew open and our friends piled in. Jane hadn’t stopped screaming so we were easy to find. As soon as they burst in, the temperature in the room shoots up and the door I’ve been yanking on slides easily open. Because of how hard I’m pulling on it, I go flying backwards with the force I was using to try to pry it open. Jane runs and the girls go after her. I just shrug it off and tell my friends that it was dark and she got her hair caught on the door somehow and then the door got stuck. Did you guys really think I was going to tell them it was a ghost? Even I’m not that much of a glutton for punishment. I never would have heard the end of it. Now as soon as I get back to my dorm room, I power up the old archaic computer and do a search on the dorm we were in to see if anything strange had happened there. Guess what?”
“It was haunted,” someone shouts out.
“No reports of hauntings,” he shakes his head, “but there was a girl who died there, on the third floor in the very room we were in. She overdosed. It was about a month after that they closed it down. They’d just built a brand new co-ed dorm and moved the students over to it. Did Jane and I really experience a ghost or was it the imaginations of two very hormonal kids? I think it was a ghost, but there are those I’m sure who don’t. I’m not here to make you believe in ghosts, only introduce you to the possibility that there is something else out there, something you can’t explain away or make it fit perfectly into the puzzle that is our reality.
“I started to look more closely at websites having to deal with ghosts and eventually I was able to figure out one thing. About ninety-nine point nine percent of all those websites are garbage. I did, however, find one site that got my attention. It was a guy who was trying to debunk all the gh
ost stories. I sent him an email and he and I started talking. And before you ask, no, I will not reveal his name as he asked me not to. He and I became friends and eventually he showed me some of his work, his equipment. Now here was a real ghost hunter. He actually had equipment that worked. The guy taught me how to work them all and why each one was in important in proving or disproving the whole ghost theory.
“I went with him on several hunts. Almost every single one we went on was just a wild goose chase. I started to get discouraged and then we hit the mother lode. It was an old plantation house in Georgia.”
A murmur went through the crowd. The scene at the beginning of the lecture.
“We spent only one night in that house and I can tell you this: I will never set foot in that house again. All that equipment that I was starting to think was useless came alive. We picked up recordings of voices, thermal sensors picked up readings where I know for a fact there was no one. It was only the two of us and we decided almost as soon as we stepped in the house, we wouldn’t split up. That’s why we know the sensors worked. I didn’t sleep that night. I could stand here for days and tell you about what went on there, but I’m not going to. Suffice to say, it scared the hell out of me. I was a believer after that night.
“I started a website about my own experiences and a blog soon after that. I picked up a lot of readers and when Twitter exploded onto the scene, the site only got bigger. Do you guys know why my tours are so popular?” He waits a moment and then says, “I don’t lie to people. I don’t claim to know everything, I just tell you all about my experiences and hopefully entertain as much as educate you on the other realm of existence.”
