by Rick Kueber
The silver scorpion logo on the rear of the black Toyota that pulled into the parking lot caught my eye and clued me in that Jenn was here, and when the car doors opened, I realized that both of my team mates had arrived. Though the sun was still somewhere, high in the sky, it was masked behind numerous layers of charcoal gray clouds, giving the overcast day an oppressive feel. The three of us scurried to the cover of the front awning as the raindrops began to splatter on the pavement once again.
“Geez! Is it ever going to stop raining?” I asked, grumbling about the dreary weather we had been recycling for months.
“Yeah, about two days from now... then you won’t be able to buy a drop of rain until September.” Jenn said semisarcastically. Her tone was mocking, but the statement was true enough. You couldn't count on the weather in southern Indiana for anything, except a few months of near drought every summer, and being a horticulturalist, Jenn knew this well.
Katie chuckled at the comment. “Well, let’s get out of the weather and get this party started.” I smiled back at her as I opened the door for the two ladies and followed behind them as they entered the dimly lit corridor.
We took the path down the corridor, passing the card room where three elderly gentlemen were poking fun at each other's poker skills, and into the open bar room. I quickly spotted Del, who waved to us and then disappeared around the corner and into the dance hall. He emerged again within a few moments with Barb at his side. The smiles on their faces could be seen from across the room. The five of us walked towards each other and met near the middle of the smoky room. An old Patsy Cline song played on the jukebox as we shook hands and greeted one another like long lost friends.
“It's a little noisy in here.” Del said leaning into the circle of friends. “We can go into the dance hall, or what do you think?” he said turning to his wife, Barb.
“Probably the quietest place would be upstairs, and there wouldn't be anyone else around... but there aren't too many places to sit up there.” She thought about what she had said, trying to come up with a better alternative.
“Upstairs is fine with me.” I replied, looking back and forth to Jenn and Katie, who readily agreed. “Okay, let me tell Fred and then we will head up.” Del said to us all and then turned to disappear once again. Fred was the current president of the Owl's Nest #30, and though he agreed to our investigation, he was also one of the club's biggest skeptics (which was saying a lot).
We followed Barb, though we knew the way to the upstairs door. As we turned the corner and inched closer to the door, Del appeared from the opposite corner. When we all reached the door, with a turn of the key, Del opened it for us and turned on the light switch. The lighting at the top of the stairs brightened up the second floor landing, but only cast a dim glow onto the steps themselves. It was enough to see by, and more than we were used to, as paranormal investigators.
Once at the top, we entered the room to our left. Once inside, the ladies took a seat on an old church pew-style bench that ran along the left hand wall of the room. I searched for a nearby outlet where I could plug in my laptop and Del swiftly aided and directed me to the closest one. I knelt down to slide the plug into the outlet and noticed something I hadn't before. There was a large painting of a creepy and angered owl leaning against the wall. I pulled it from the dust covered cob webs to show Jenn and Katie, who agreed it was a very unique and ominous portrayal of an owl, and then Barb proceeded to snap a photo of me holding the piece of art.
“You have to email a copy of that picture to me, please.” I hinted to Barb. “Of course, and I was thinking of putting it in our Hoots news-letter, if you don't mind. Speaking of emailing photos, what did you think about the ones I sent you?” She asked timidly.
“Be my guest.” I said as I returned the painting to it home among the layers of dust and webs. I was ready, and I'm sure everyone else was also, to get on with the evidence reveal, and our interpretations of what it all could mean.
I pulled the photos up on my laptop and began to show and explain how the orb was merely a reflection of Katie's watch face, but when I pointed out the outlines of the face in the other photo, Barb and Del were fascinated.
*** The four spectral siblings huddled together in the darkened corner of the room, listening to us, as if we were the ghosts, and they were frightened of us. To them, our voices were muffled and hard to hear and understand, like trying to hear the words spoken on a television from another room...no matter how loud, still hard to discern every word. And our plane of existence was shrouded to their eyes. They peered at us through the distorted veil of parallel realities, curious and frightened...but mostly curious.
The children strained their ears to hear through the fog that lay between them and the living human beings that shared their home. The sentences were mostly garbled and difficult to distinguish, only one or two words, here and there made any sense to them. Watching and waiting to understand anything they were experiencing, they saw one of the people open up an unusual book like object, silver and black. Staring more intently, it appeared to be some sort of flat typewriter with no paper. Much to their amazement, the upper half of the unusual typewriter lit up and made a faint musical sound. The ghostly children covered their mouths and giggled silently.
They watched as the man pecked away at the odd typewriter keys, and the colors on the upper portion changed, and then changed again. Then something happened that they did not expect. A woman's voice came across loud and clear to them, saying, “This was in the basement, remember when we heard the bang?” Followed by other female voices, in bits and pieces with the voices of men intermingled in the conversation. To the spirit children, the voices of the women were comforting, and more discernable than those of the men that spoke.
“Listen closely.” They heard another female voice say. Suddenly the typewriter that had made the whimsical music, began to emanate a sound, high pitched and static-filled. Hollow and blackened ghastly eyes opened wide, as they could not believe what they were hearing, something they had never heard before. A memory from the past confronted them, though they had no sense of how long ago the memory was. They actually had no real sense of time at all.
“....I want to talk to the children that are here...” said the memory, and it spoke to them from the magical typewriter light. And then after moments of white noise and static, they heard the voice of their new found friend Ashley, replaying the words they had heard her shout before. “You can't find us!” The moment her voice appeared, so did young Ashley. The young spirits looked up to her for her older appearance and her unmistakable power. To the shadow children, these magical voices were like listening to a mystical mirror of themselves, amazing, confusing, and disturbing in a way.
***
“Oh wow!” Barb exclaimed. “That's incredible!” “Awesome! Can you play it again?” Del said through the huge grin on his face. “Can we play that for Fred?” “Sure, you can play these for whoever you want.” I said as I began the recording again. The snippet and the incredibly clear e.v.p. were played over and over again, but there came a point where I was too anxious, and had to move on.
“Okay, now this one is just one word, but I'm sure you will remember our conversation upstairs when we were talking about e.m.f.s and how I like to use the e.m.f. detectors to try to find the source of the energy, then when I can't find a source, that's when it gets interesting.” I began to explain the story behind our second electronic voice phenomenon, or e.v.p. as we typically call them.
“Yes, I remember it well.” Barb said. “We were over in that room over there,” she pointed 'through' the wall towards the other large upstairs room, “You and I were at one end, and those three were at the other end.” She said to me, and gestured to Jenn, Katie and Del.
*** Ashley wrapped her spectral arms around the youngsters and whispered to them. “Take me to your secret hiding place.” The boys agreed, smiling to the beautiful and powerful, young ghost girl with her flowing blonde hair and glowing red
eyes. Ash hunkered over and the children all drifted, ethereally, through the walls and into the secret place we had yet to discover. The five souls gathered together in the cramped quarters and played the quiet mouse game, fearful and listening for the voices from beyond the physical walls, which gave them a sense of security, a hiding place from years gone by, that had always made them feel safe.
The spirit of Mikey found its way into the room just in time to see the mysterious typewriter-thing begin to make sounds all on its own, like some sort of otherworldly Victrola. He watched as five shadows gathered around it, listening to the scratchy static that is played, until suddenly he heard a voice coming from it.
“That's when things start to get interesting-exciting.” The strange object spoke to him and he was amazed to hear his own voice and recalled saying the sarcastic remark. To Mikey, it was puzzling. He had never heard a recording of himself, but he knew right away it was his voice that he heard. The shadows gathered around and the mumbling sounds they made were only broken up by the repeating sounds of the magical talking typewriter, as it replayed the words, “interesting- exciting.” over and over. He began to not only become comfortable with hearing his own voice, but soon he felt almost proud that these shadows were intrigued by it also, and a sinister grin grew wide across his scarred face. His grin soon turned, and his mouth dropped open as he began to think of what this must mean. 'Somebody, these shadows, they know I'm here. They prolly even know Martin and Nick's here too.' and that thought troubled the ghost of the long-ago gangster. 'Maybe they can send me someplace worse than here, maybe...maybe they're gonna help them miserable kids and put us someplace....' his mind drifted off to his childhood days of Catholic church and school, where he learned of Hell and purgatory, the waiting place for damned and lost souls... he thought to himself, 'Could I be in purgatory now...they gonna send us to hell?' He didn't want to go anywhere at that point. He wanted his revenge on the souls of the children. He and his partners had been taunting them for decades upon decades, and he was enraged at the thought that someone was here to help them and what else could happen caused his wicked soul to shiver.
*** “I remember exactly when that happened!” Barb exclaimed, and my team and I thought she was going to jump from her seat on the old church pew.
“Me too... I wonder what it means.” Del interjected. “Damn good question. The voice doesn't sound threatening, but there is no telling what it really means… other than perhaps someone was listening to us so closely, they tried to finish my sentence for me.” I said, not having an answer, which always frustrated me.
“I'm not sayin' it sounded threatening or anything, but it did have a sort of sinister-sarcastic tone... just my opinion.” Katie said bashfully. Even after more than a year with the team, she still felt like she had to gain our approval, which was far from the truth. Jenn and I held her in the highest respect as an investigator, especially after our experiences at the Helmach house. There are many people who would have turned their backs on the paranormal field after that haunting, but not these girls!
“I have to agree with you Katie, and speaking of sinister, let’s move on to the next one.” I spoke up, drawing the attention of Barb and Del. “This clip was when we let Katie stay upstairs on the landing by herself for a few minutes, and the fascinating thing about this one, is that Katie actually heard this voice...Katie?” I looked to Katie to explain the situation.
“Yeah, looking back, I know it was a bad idea to be alone upstairs, but I wanted to try to see if there was any activity that might reappear. I felt very alone up there, and when I said 'hello' to try to get a response, I felt a cold chill on my back and neck. I almost felt like someone, or something was leaning on me, and then I heard this whispered voice in my ear.” Katie said recalling her experience and with a smile said “...and roll 'em.”
I had already cued up the audio clip and on Katie's word I turned the laptop toward Del and Barb and played the audio. When Katie's hello had passed and the menacing voice chuckled deviously, the room went silent. Not a word was said, and even though it was a very obvious and chilling clip, it wasn't questioned, and no one asked me to replay it. I decided to move on and break the awkward silence.
“Okay, we have one more...again, a single word, and once again, I'm afraid I have no idea what this one means.” My words were solemn, but honest. I preferred to at least have some connection to make when it came to e.v.p.s. Other evidence, such as photos or video of shadow figures or apparitions usually only provided proof of the existence of a haunting, and rarely gave much insight about the situation, or reason behind it. E.v.p.s, on the other hand, often times gave us a glimpse at the other side, what they are trying to
communicate, something that helps glue the paranormal puzzle pieces together... and then there were some that didn't answer anything other than the fact that something is communicating on some level beyond our own understanding.
My fingers caressed the keyboard as I thought about the last e.v.p. I was about to play. My mind pondered the simplicity of the word, how it echoed my word, and the eerie tone. Zombies don't talk, but if they did, this is the voice they would have. Being an avid fan, I have seen literally every horror film ever made, but this voice equaled or surpassed the creepy factor of any horror villain’s voice. I have to also say that even though sometimes the voices are probably accurate, there are other times when they can be dangerously deceiving. I moved the mouse, chose the file, and opened it. Even the graphic of the audio track looked ominous, to me. I explained to Barb and Del about the scenario around this capture, with input from Jenn, filling in and details I had left out. I placed the mouse over the play button and clicked it. The static was not as noticeable on this particular audio clip, and our voices were quite clear, as was the voice echoing “RED!”
“Oh wow!” Del burst out, and their eyes popped open, as Barb rubbed her bare arms. “That was so creepy, it gave me goose bumps! The last few were not what we expected, and they kinda make me a little uncomfortable” Smiling back at one another, Barb and Del seemed more than pleased at our captured audio clips.
“Do you mind if we have the president and some of the club's officers come up here and listen to these?” Del asked. “They most definitely can.” Jenn answered for the team. She was well aware that the approval of the officers and trustees of the club was the reason we had been invited to investigate the Owl's Nest. Without their blessing, we would have never had these amazing experiences.
Though Ashley wanted to keep the children away from the malicious spirits of the mobsters, she and the children huddled together in the corner of the room to hear their mirrored voices once more. Across the room the three men, members of the organized crime family, also gathered to hear the voices, wanting to figure out what we were planning to do, and if they were in any danger of being found out and sent away to a possibly worse eternity.
Del jumped up as soon as we had given him the okay, and soon returned, followed by four men and one woman. They had all gathered around the laptop as best they could with arms crossed and looks of skepticism on their faces. The mood of the crowd began to swing in the opposite direction when I was asked for the third time to play the e.v.p. that answered Jenn with 'You can't find us.'
“And none of this was set up, right?” one of the officers asked in disbelief. “We were there the whole time with them, and you can hear us all reacting to the metal banging sound. So, no, this is as legitimate as it gets.” Del answered back, supporting our team efforts in proving the haunting of the Owl's Nest.
It was then that a woman, tall, blonde, and probably in her late forties spoke up. “So besides these voices, have you found anything else?”
“We have done a ton of research that we built by starting with a lot of great information that was provided to us by Barb and Del.” Jenn began to explain as she passed the photocopy of the postmortem photo that had been discovered in the old Willard Library. She and Katie went on to explain who was in the photograph and
some of the other interesting discoveries they had made.
“As best as we can tell, there is still one living direct descendant of the Bettigers. She would be over 90 years old now, and we are doing our best to track her down. We think she may be able to shed some light on the family history that was never really recorded.” When Katie exposed the fact of there being a living descendant, several of the listeners perked up, and the woman who had asked the original question mouthed to Katie, 'See me later.'
“I appreciate everyone here allowing us to investigate and research the activity here, and I would like to ask that you all consider having us return for further investigating. We firmly believe that there are mysteries here that need to be uncovered and solved. With that, I would once again like to thank you very much for having us, and I would like to become a member of the Order of the Owls, if I may.” I addressed everyone, but the president spoke up in response.
“You have all conducted yourselves in a very respectable manner, and I don't think there would be a problem at all with having you come back out. In fact, we may have a proposition for you, if you are interested in helping to educate the public, our members, and helping us with a fundraiser...and of course, we'd be glad to have you as a member of the Owl's.”
