I have had several days to reflect on our massive day of investigations on April 7th. We spent a good bit of the day hoofing it with the endless stream of the living. After we reviewed our data, it seems the dead were also present. At one point, we witnessed a homeless man and I couldn’t help but wonder about all those homeless spirits and why they frequent where they haunt. Another street denizen leaned over and asked me for change. I pray for these poor souls, but I must admit that I am more afraid of the living than the dead. The two houses we toured were rife with history and we just knew that spirits had to be attached. Later, when I reviewed our voice recorder I received a real shock. At one point my wife and I were sitting in a private garden waiting for the tour. We were all alone, recorder running, and a voice very clearly said, “Don’t do the tour with them”. Another highlight was at the museum we investigated. I have always been fascinated by the possibility of spirits attaching to objects. At one point I ask “Who sat in this chair”? A female voice on the recorder says “Mrs. Douglas”. I love it when they give us a name! That chair must have held some important memories for her. Perhaps watching her children play? Or talking to a loved one when she felt so alone? I remember my mom’s chair and how I always associated it with her. That chair seemed a part of her. Hopefully Mrs. Douglas’ chair will always be there for her. God bless museums! As we were heading back to the truck to exchange gear, I was shocked to discover that the parking garage we always use has a sign on it: Former Quaker Cemetery! You never know if you are walking on a paranormal spot! Charleston and old towns are cool like that! The grand finale was the Old City Jail. My expectations were both high and low. I figured it would be cheesy in a tourist type way. I expected the contamination to be intolerable, but I knew the place had the history and the reputation. The tour guide was excellent. The group we went with was quiet and respectful. Did I feel anything? It all was over in a flash. It was exciting. At one point, my voice recorder fell to the ground. The easiest explanation was that I dropped it. Right? With close to 100 investigations, I have never dropped the recorder. It wasn’t until my Sunday bath that I noticed on my left arm several scratches. I never felt a thing at the time, but I am convinced the recorder was knocked from my hand. Stuff like that usually doesn’t happen to me. I do not think or tell it lightly. As I review data, I will be looking for evidence to corroborate what I think happened. In summary, it was a great day for the living and the dead. I pray for all the poor souls of Charleston, and hope they all find their way to the light.
"We believe the dead have a voice and we honor them by listening."