Archive for the ‘Member Blog’ Category

This year the intrepid traveler embarked on his early July jaunt south in the wee hours of the morning…the expressway traffic was light yet still spotted with cars and trucks as are all of the highways that skirt the Chicago periphery…despite the absence of congestion and aggravated commuters this early on, the alleviation of urban angst was every bit as tangible the farther from the metro core I drove… and the closer to the Illinois/Indiana border I motored, the greater the volume of “Krazy Kaplin’s Fireworks” roadside adverts I noticed especially so closely following the 4th of July where you always get “more bang for the buck” and “pyrotechnics for the price”…in addition to constant the roadside reminders of this fireworks emporium, there are the assorted salacious signs and lubricious billboards to also remind us that The Shangrila, Deja-Vu, Club O, Pole Katz, Showgirls and Atlantis gentlemen’s clubs were just an off ramp away and these prurient signposts continued well past Gary Indiana recurring only on the outskirts of Indy, Louisville and at times in close approximation to the larger truck plazas… the neighborhood homes along part of this economically challenged stretch of road was also the scene of a surrealistic two story house inferno that illuminated the surrounding night scape on the final leg of my journey home…

The seedier side of interstate travel advertisements was quickly annulled by the sprawling farmlands south of Merrillville, Indiana and replaced by a sense of tranquility and quietude that to some is the unequivocal panacea to the hypertensive stress of the daily grind only a drive in the country can provide…the wind generator farms that are now popping up along
the rural horizons do not detract from the heartland skylines as I feared, they actually broke the emerging, featureless monotony with a futuristic abstract surrealism as their enormous blades slowly turned in unison against the orange tinted, predawn glow of the eastern sky like the props of a giants sky ship or the propellers of a fleet of ocean liners that floating eerily above the patches of morning fog that blanketed the ground below….

The emergent mountain region that is always a such a spectacle to us Midwestern Flat-landers is probably taken for granted by those that see it every day much the way the city sky scrapers that define the Chicago skyline eventually fade from our notice but astounds Out-Of-Towners … even the iron rich, red dirt of the Appellations proved to be a renewed source of amazement to me when a freshly bulldozed plot of crimson colored, roadside property burned past my speed blurred periphery again invoking the equation of a Martian landscape …The composition of the soil in conjunction with the crystalline base of this mountain mantle has been theorized to be a catalyst for supernatural activity by many …

This trip included return visits to a couple of sites that yielded some interesting photos last time around in addition to several new locations that have raised the ire of the locals more sensitive or adept at detecting potential supernatural activity or spiritual presence…there were a couple of old houses that radiated a familiar resonance that regional or geographical diversity seldom diminishes or amplifies but at times can exude a distinct energy signature that is innate to certain areas …and this particular variable seems to be specifically engendered to distance as opposed to the history inherent to a certain site …perhaps this is related to the iron rich, crystal quarts abundant mountain base in this case …

One aspect of this excursion that deviated from my usual quixotic quests was the moral conflict I had to wrestle with in regard to chronicling the investigation of the crash site that claimed the life of a popular High School athlete as the result of apparent speeding and or reckless driving by the vehicle’s driver (whom survived the crash) and perhaps to a degree his own negligence as his failure to wear a seat contributed to his tragically premature death as the young man was ejected from the car … from the looks of the crash site, damage to the trees and Googled news photo of the car it was a horribly violent wreck… and apparently these abruptly curving and dipping mountain back roads have claimed many lives judging from the preponderance of makeshift memorials I noticed within the radius of this particular grid of notoriously dangerous cris-crossing roads …a grid that claimed 2 seniors from the same HS weeks apart and so close to graduation …

When I arrived at the site that has generated reports of strange, inexplicable activity in the wake of the accident, the first thing I noticed was the graffiti spray painted all over the street by classmates, family and friends…a permanent looking memorial was erected on the exact spot where the car came to rest complete with a cross and an accompanying inscribed stone…beyond the marker and bent or broken tree limbs was a medium sized tree trunk with a bark bare spot marked with a red X…a few feet below and away from the base, red spray paint was still visible despite the efforts of the amber colored earth sprinkled liberally over that specific spot to deliberately conceal the markings on the ground were this young man evidently perished after being thrown from the cartwheeling car…

The personal conflict I was experiencing over including photos and commentary was immediately replaced with a moment of clarity and the decision to include these photos in hopes of instilling a cautionary reminder of the consequences of reckless driving, drag racing, DUI or neglecting the simple snap of a seat belt that spared the driver albeit his flagrant carelessness and perhaps a momentary lapse in judgment that will haunt him and others for life…there is no mention of the specific circumstances that precipitated this tragedy only that a seat-belt may have saved the life of teen with so much promise. And as I decided to include the still shots of the crash site, I also decided not to analyze those photos for anomalous features….

There was always an attraction felt for a certain old house along one of the main stretches of road the last few times I made my way through this part of the mountains as it was perched so precariously atop a hill, irresistibly curious in all of it’s run down ruminations…across the street it’s yellow colored vacant counterpart must have finally succumbed to seeming uninhabitability as one of the back window was broken out and the previous occupant’s possessions were stacked haphazardly on the front porch and strewn about the front lawn as the probable result of rummaging looters… my passing observation of the two odd homesteads from the past year’s visit to this area included the presence of assorted vehicles parked in front and this to me was the initial deterrent from pulling off of the main thoroughfare for a closer look last time around and now none were to be found…

The gray, fading pallor of the old single story house may have instilled a sort of nostalgic charm if the stained imprint of generational oppression had not so inexorably permeated the very grain this of the structure itself and the hilltop for which it at one time was so majestically perched…a number of old rusty paint cans lined the railing of a front porch
that creaked with each step closer I took to the unhinging wooded screen door …the tinny twang of an old spring affixed to the inside of the door seemed to herald my final crossing of the threshold to the interior… the musty, dank air was to be expected as the ambiance of the dim light filtering through the dirt and dust opaqued windows confirmed the long absence of occupation…the creaking recrimination of the aging floorboards threatened to introduce me to the crawlspace below with each increasingly cautious footfall as if it was voicing in opposition for my non verbal expression of disdain for the state of disrepair the house looked to have been in prior to abandonment…

A lone Christmas wreath sat on an old folded up throw rug draped across a number of window screens leaning against the wall next to a window …the growing discomfort I was feeling intensified as the nascent nausea I experienced upon entry overwhelmed me with the added component of equilibrium instability and I knew I needed to get out of there as this was either a portal to hell or a bio hazardous, former meth lab (or both) but persevered the instinctual need to flee in favor of a few more photos …as I made my way to the partially opened window facing north and glanced outside through the frame of another screen door placed crookedly over it, I noticed a gleaming white Ford F250 “dualie” rolling down the gravel driveway from an impeccably neat ranch style homestead atop an even higher vantage point overlooking the two ramshackle shacks (and me) …fearing an unpleasant confrontation with a shotgun wielding
southern gentleman charged with the deed of overseeing the now vacant 2 homes that were already the objects of indiscriminate looting, I bolted for the front door and sprinted to my faithful Chevrolet steed, lighting up the tires in a hasty, cliche’d departure as the shining chrome grill of the white truck glinted in my rear view mirror rounding the turn from the steep driveway less than a half a block behind …the fortuitous lull in traffic at the intersection provided an ample window for me to jump on the main road and slam the accelerator to the floor forcing the powerful V-8 to lunge forward in a surge of unbridled exaltation…several darting mirror checks could not locate the pursuing pickup and I even mad a few fast head checks to be sure but there was no sign of Pale Horse to be found …in retrospection I couldn’t resist citing the symbolic equation of  my metaphoric Guardian Angel descending from above in a giant white pick-up to chase me out of that house on the hill…

The other house that I tracked down acting on a tip was even more dilapidated and in a state of perpetual collapse…rumor has it that shadowy figures milling around outside on front stoop, faint laughter and odd lights were spotted shining from the interior in the middle of the night and the vigilant neighbors would never be able to catch anyone inside or nearby…and based on it’s current state of structural instability that I observed, the thick overgrowth, boarded rear windows, and general inaccessibility, I find it highly unlikely the lights were in realty; mischievous neighborhood kids exploring the old spooky house …a litany of complaints and concern over a certain group of incorrigible local hooligans placed them at the top of the neighboring resident’s list as the culprits for the disturbances reported there considering that one of these hardened young delinquents had in the past committed the unconscionable act of riding his bicycle through his back yard (gasp )…A carefully plotted climb over everything (including a kitchen sink) from a bathtub, wooden cabinets, old tires, pallets and other miscellaneous debris permitted me a glimpse through the darkened front window and aside from a haphazard stack of old mattresses, boxed junk and assorted end tables, what I did notice was that the dust on the inside was extremely thick and undisturbed thus lessening the likelihood of the anomalous lights being the surreptitious shenanigans perpetrated by flashlight wielding whelps as theorized by the 2 sets of adjacent neighbors I interviewed …the rear of the house is completely overgrown and borders a vacant lot that incidentally ends at the rear of a small cemetery and church…pushing my way through a small opening in the thorned thicket to try a photo of a small window that looked to be nailed shut, covered from within and undisturbed proved to only further confirm my doubts that the anomalous night lights spotted by several witnesses were resultant of young explorers on yet another nocturnal adventure…as I backed out of the thatch heavy patch and admired the new scratches running up the length of both forearms while I surgically extracted the burrs now embedded in my shoelaces, I suddenly heard dogs barking off in the distance and many dogs at that …I imagined some old codger running behind a leashed team of bloodhounds searching for some lost hikers or worse; a suspicious, unadvised neighbor “releasing the hounds to chase away them trespassers”…the barking became louder and more frenzied as I rounded the front of the house and once again darted for the car …I expected my protégée to be semi panicked and already in the car waving at me to get in but seemed startled by my harried demeanor as I reached the front yard were she was nonchalantly admiring a twisted old oak tree …I realized then that I no longer heard the dogs and she claimed to have heard nothing ( we left anyway ) …

Another location that I considered a prospect for exploration was again related by word of mouth and involved an old building that was a combination antiques mall and storage facility…
reports of a full blown apparition milling about the store after hours has been reported by several witnesses (leaving a nearby drinking establishment) but the store owners themselves have complained of certain objects constantly falling from shelves or tables regardless of the concerted efforts made to keep them stationary or even locate them to different tables, shelves or display cases … I have not examined all of those photos yet either but again found myself enamored by the efforts made to preserved this area’s small town charm while the economically unaffected continuing growth of this region threatens this main street economy with obsolescence in the face of progress….

There was an new (old) Baptist Church/Cemetery added to the itinerary this time around and was well worth the added travel as I did in fact capture some very “interesting” night photos there …there has been mention on the net of supernatural activity associated with this location but I have elected to not name the site keeping with policy when I venture out of my own realm to visit less known or unknown locations nationally …the progressive additions and remodeling projects over the years did not seem to detract from quaintness of the church and grounds … the old original church stands in it’s revered pristine state and even looked to be the recent recipient of a fresh coat of white paint …the cemetery is very old and many of the monuments closest to the buildings either collapsed or are partially disintegrated …one of the more recent new additions looked almost like a residence or perhaps retreat housing and is literally mere feet from the closest tombstone in the rear of the structure …the cool, jeweled full moon peeking over the pine line where the property ends provided an added combined element of preternatural glow to the already strange jaded emerald colored streetlight that stood at the cemeteries edge…as I made my way over the small incline to the bordering shrubbery that separates the church from what looked to be the large backyard of a private residence, I was stopped in my tracks by a horrible moaning ”ooooooooooooooooooohhhhh”…then a second time “oooooooooooooooohhhhhhh”
it didn’t take long for me to realize that I was being “punked” by a valiant effort made by some kids in the yard next door that must have noticed the occasional intermittent shots I was taking with a flash and decided to try and spook us…I have to compliment the youngster making the moaning sounds as he exhibited almost operatic vibrato skills in the effort …

I was fortunate enough to make it to one return site with an encroaching thunderstorm rolling in from the west and could almost taste the ionic static charge in the air…the base photos alone from that afternoon are quite amazing really and I plan to afford all of the data collected from this trip extensive examination as some of my recent evidential analysis has been either hastened or distracted, but I have recently pledged to shift my focus back to the research and study of the sites from this trip or the ones I will be exploring in the future and the data acquired …I will no longer permit myself deviation from my objectives regardless of the morbid fascination I occasionally entertain with the devolution of  certain elements of the paranormal community ….b

Here are the unedited (compressed to 1 MB) photos from Road Trip 2010 (389 total)….b
http://s890.photobucket.com/albums/ac105/HalfhandParanormalChicago/Road%20Trip%202010/

Be sure to visit the PUG forum for photo analysis updates of this topic -click here

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Seasonal highlights from world famous haunted location Resurrection Cemetery, the home of Chicago’s premiere spook: Resurrection Mary spanning 4 years of coverage…Part three includes inside shots of the famous Willow Brook Ballroom that harbors it’s own non corporeal residents. Courtesy of renowned paranormal pundit and supernatural journalist extraordinaire; Barek Halfhand

Resurrection Mary Cemetery-Willow Brook Ballroom Part One

Resurrection Mary Cemetery-Willow Brook Ballroom Part Two

Resurrection Mary Cemetery-Willow Brook Ballroom Part Three

By Rick E. Hale
Paranormal Investigator

These are the true case files of the McHenry County Paranormal Research Group. Due to confidentiality agreements, names of clients have been changed and cases will only be specified by the counties they occurred in.

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(You can catch up reading the earlier installments in this series by visiting our Member Blog and scrolling down through the blog.)

The Pass Through:

I’ve never been too fond when some investigators look at a house and say, “Yep, it just looks like it should be haunted.”

Believe it or not, a brand new home in a brand new subdivision could be just as haunted as any old ramshackle building. However, when it came to this house, the saying did seem to apply. As Tony and I walked into the front room, we became aware of a thick, sticky feeling in the air. You really don’t have to be psychic to have this kind of sensation; it’s a part of mankind’s ancient fight or flight mechanism in the brain that tells you something just isn’t quite right.

When we walked into the front room, I shot a series of pictures with my camera and was treated to a number of orbs floating about. I know that orbs are not necessarily anything supernatural. Usually orbs are nothing more than dust particles or condensation that reflects the light from your camera’s flash. Trust me, I don’t make that kind of rookie mistake. But these seemed different — they seemed to have their own light source, and we could clearly see that these amorphous balls of light had movement to them. These were anything but dust or condensation; this was true spirit energy.

According to physics, the simplest form for energy to take is a sphere. The spirits at this ancient home were coming out to play.

Tony took his digital voice recorder from his pocket and turned it on. “Tony and Rick in the front room. EVP session.” Tony cleared his throat and asked, “Are there any spirits in this room who would like to make their presence known?”

“We are not here to harm you. We are just here to hopefully document your presence.” I added.

“We don’t want to make you leave,” Tony said as he moved around the room.

Upon review of the evidence later, Tony recorded what sounded like a voice talking in unintelligible whispers — not really too much to work with, but it did confirm that someone other than us was in the room.

After spending several minutes in the front room waiting for anything to happen, Tony decided that it was time to tackle the upstairs bedrooms. The client had numerous experiences in one particular room, and although Tony knew of the experiences and what to expect, I did not. Tony likes to have his crew go in cold so we don’t make the mistake of preconceived notions and expectedness.

When we walked into one bedroom, you could automatically tell that at one time many years ago this was a child’s room. Cherry wall paper hung ripped on the walls, and a stroller for a dolly stood quietly in one corner. As we entered the room, I took a picture and was treated to another ball of true spirit energy. I showed Tony the shot, and you could see a ball of light with a trail of light behind it near the baseboard of the floor.

I asked Tony if I could do an EVP session. As it turned out, this EVP session would change my life forever.
Ever since I was a child, I knew I was different. I could always feel and sense the emotions of others, and I was always real sensitive to the spirit world. But for whatever reason, for years my ability was “shut off” more or less. But tonight, that ability would get clicked back on. And, to be honest, I did not like it.

“My name is Rick, and this is my friend Tony,” I said as I launched into my EVP session.

“Hello,” Tony added.

“I think I may have seen you in my picture, but if you come near this machine in Tony’s hand and speak into it, you can tell us about your . . .”

Tony interrupted me and started to say numbers out loud. “2.6, 3.0, 4.7. There is something here with us,” Tony excitedly said as he read the number spikes from his EMF detector. Before I could go back to doing my EVP session, the room became immensely cold, and without warning I felt a cold tingly whooshing sensation pass through my body.

“What the fuck!” I blurted out.

“What’s wrong?” Tony asked with a look of concern on his face.

“I really can’t explain it,” I said, taking a few moments to formulate my thoughts. “My whole body and my face has this weird tingly sensation almost as if something passed through me.”

Tony looked down at his EMF detector and said, “Whoever was in here is now gone. Let me see your face.”

Tony turned on his flashlight and looked at my face to see it covered with goosebumps.

“Whoever was in here passed through you.” When Tony said that, I became intensely aware that this house was filled with souls that never passed on. And whatever was in that room and passed through me told me who it was.

“It was a little girl, and she likes playing in this room.”

“How do you know?” Tony asked.

“Because when she passed through me, she told me.”

(Tune in for a new “Adventures in Ghost Hunting” to be posted soon.)

Coming soon . . . “A Geek’s Guide to the Strange and Unusual” by Rick E. Hale

By Rick E. Hale
Paranormal Investigator

These are the true case files of the McHenry County Paranormal Research Group. Due to confidentiality agreements, names of clients have been changed and cases will only be specified by the counties they occurred in.

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(You can catch up reading the earlier installments in this series by visiting our Member Blog.)

The Adventure Begins:

It’s a long standing theory in paranormal research and investigation that if a spirit or spirits lay dormant in a house, renovations can awaken them and stir up activity. If such a thing is true, then this home was being more than just renovated, it was being disemboweled.

It really is sad to see such great historic homes come to almost the point of ruin. The owner told us before we entered the home that when she bought it and walked inside, she knew that this house was for her. It was almost as if it called to her.

As we stood in what I can only imagine was once the foyer and unpacked the gear, Tony handed me an EMF detector and told me that tonight was training for me and that I was not to leave his side. I agreed and grabbed the little black box from his hand.

Training, I thought. I’ve been doing this most of my life. What do I need training for? But Tony is the boss, and although he’s a really cool guy, his word in matters of the group are final.

“First we’re going to start out back by the tree with the treehouse. The owner says that they have witnessed strange lights and shadowy figures in the treehouse.”

I just nodded and followed our fearless leader out the front door.

I will admit I was nervous. Working with a new group is always daunting until you get to know the others and get used to their investigation style and theories. Everyone has their own way of doing things, and until that night, I came from primarily a scientific background and was somewhat skeptical concerning mediums and psychics. Tony and MCPRG rely heavily upon them, but I never had put much stock in them because their impressions are far too subjective. You can’t show the client a feeling.

When we arrived at the large tree, I looked straight up at the ancient tree that must have been far older than the home it graced. I was startled when Lisa, one of our former mediums, walked up behind us and announced, “This tree has a lot of history and seen much.”

Thankfully, it was dark because I rolled my eyes and thought, great another flake.

“What do you mean by the tree has seen much?” Tony asked, snapping off pictures of the tree. Lisa looked up and said, as she walked away, “I’m not sure yet.” Of course.

After Lisa left, Tony turned to me and said, “Look at this.” I took his digital camera and was shocked to see what looked like a strange wispy purple blur. I shined my flashlight into the tree and looked around for anything that could cause a reflection or a refraction of light. I would have gone up there, but I have a slight fear of heights.

I took my camera out of my back pocket and began snapping pictures. I could only take two photos before my camera turned off and wouldn’t turn back on.

“Goddammit!” I blurted out.

“Dead,” Tony said, as a wide grin passed over his face.

“Yeah, and these are brand new batteries.” Battery drain, as many of you know, is a common occurrence when you are in the presence of something supernatural. If an entity is present, it needs energy to manifest, and oftentimes battery-powered gizmos are the first to go.

My usual skepticism was begging to melt away as I considered this theory. We stayed out by the tree for a few moments as I continually attempted to turn my camera back on.

“Let’s check out that house,” Tony said as he turned and walked away with me and tow.

Not even 10 feet away from the tree and my camera suddenly came to life — batteries and all. Cool, maybe there’s something to this house after all.

(Tune in for a new “Adventures in Ghost Hunting” to be posted soon.)

By Rick E. Hale
Paranormal Investigator

These are the true case files of the McHenry County Paranormal Research Group. Due to confidentiality agreements, names of clients have been changed and cases will only be specified by the counties they occurred in.

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I wasn’t always a member of one of the most prominent paranormal outfits here in Northern Illinois. For a while, I ran my own show; it was called the Greater Illinois Ghost Society (GIGS). It had a nice ring, but unfortunately it didn’t work out. Internal problems struck, as they oftentimes do, and GIGS found itself going the way of the Buffalo.

However, when the opportunity presented itself to join MCPRG, I jumped all over that opportunity.

My first case with the group ended being right up my alley. You see, I love history, and I excelled in it in high school. And when I found out a home we were set to investigate was built sometime in the early 1860s, and may have been a stop on the famous Underground Railroad, I knew that this was going to be a great, and possibly prosperous, investigation. Even if we didn’t find anything, that was okay. Just to be in a home that helped our fellow human beings escape from slavery made me positively ecstatic.

Arriving at the Home:

When I arrived at the home on a cool mid-November night, I noticed that the house was everything I thought it would be. Two stories, white, with a little porch on the front — you know, the kind you see in old photographs of your great, great grandparents when our nation was still young. When I got out of the car, I saw two people standing over by another car, so I went over and introduced myself.

“Hi, I’m Rick Hale. Are you Tony Olszewski?”

“Oh Rick, I’m so glad you could come,” Tony greeted me with a warm handshake. I could tell right away that this was a truly great guy, and a dude who really knew his stuff. “This is my daughter Sarah.”

I shook Sarah’s hand.

“So, this is the house?” I asked, shaking my head over the condition the home was in. It was almost tragic to see such a fine home about to fall apart. “Can you tell me what kind of activity goes on here?”

“Well,” Tony said with a smile, “I like my team to go in ‘cold’ so that nobody has preconceived notions about what to expect. But first we have to take care of a little business.” Tony reached into his briefcase and pulled out a form and handed it to me.

“Anyone involved with this group has to sign a confidentiality agreement. Most of our clients like to keep things on the down low, and we like to keep ourselves out of the papers.”

I grabbed the form, which upon reading it seemed reasonable. I’ve always had a number of problems with how sensationalized the paranormal community has become, and didn’t mind signing something like this.

As I handed back the form to Tony with my Herbie Hancock on it, the rest of the team arrived. The team has changed quite a bit over the past six months, and I’m happy with that. The team we have now is peopled with some of the best paranormal investigators it has ever been my pleasure to work with. After meeting the others, Tony and the rest of us grabbed all our gear.

“Now I just want to let you know,” Tony began, before pausing to collect his thoughts, “this home is being renovated by the Lake County Historical Society and is actually owned by one of its members. Since the renovations began, they have experienced numerous kinds of activity. There is nothing negative here, and it should prove to be one of our better investigations. Okay, let’s go.”

With that, the six of us approached the porch. As it turned out, this night would change my life forever.

(Tune in for a new “Adventures in Ghost Hunting: The House That Freedom Built” to be posted soon.)

By Rick E. Hale
Paranormal Investigator

These are the true case files of the McHenry County Paranormal Research Group. Due to confidentiality agreements, names of clients have been changed and cases will only be specified by the counties they occurred in.

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(You can catch up reading the earlier installments in this series by visiting our Member Blog.)

Speaking With the Dead:

The time had come. The general investigation was over, and Tony Olszewski, our founder and fearless leader, felt that it was time to attempt contact with the dead. It was time for Victoria’s sitting.

Victoria felt that the basement would be the best location for the trance-channeling session. She felt that the main spirit, whoever he may be, wanted to make contact with the family. A lawn chair was set up, and Victoria started by closing her eyes.

The team, as well as the family, gathered around Victoria as her head began to swoon. The basement became noticeably cooler, and Victoria, or the spirit speaking through her, demanded, “Who are you people?”

Tony, who usually leads the session asked, “Who are you and why do you bother this family?”

After Tony asked his question, a cocky grin came across Victoria’s face, and the spirit answered through her, “I don’t have to tell you who I am.”

“Well the family wants to know, and they have a right now. What are your intentions?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything,” the entity spat out. “I’m here, and I’ll do whatever I want.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Tony replied as the tension in the air began to thicken. “You know we can make you leave if you don’t leave of your own free will.”

“You can’t do that,” the entity spoke back, the tone of the voice sounding somewhat nervous.

“What keeps you in the house?” asked Tony.

For a long moment the entity, speaking through Victoria, didn’t reply. Everyone thought that maybe the entity had departed Victoria.

“I was a bad boy,” he answered.

“Why were you a bad boy? What did you do that was so bad?”

“I was just bad. I”ll do whatever I want. You can’t make me leave.”

This exchange between Tony and the entity amazed me. I have never sat in on something like this before, and I was skeptical, and understandably so.

“Will you leave, or do we have to make you?”

There was no answer to Tony’s question.

We watched as Victoria came out of her trance and began looking around like nothing ever happened. Several members asked her if she was OK. Victoria answered yes, but that she was feeling a little light headed. Tony stepped over to her and asked, “Is he going to leave?”

“No,” Victoria answered, with a weird sleepy look in her eye. “He feels that this is his home, and he will do whatever he wants.”

“Well,” Tony said, putting his DVR camera away and pulling a bundle of something from his bag. “I guess we’ll just have to sage the house if he won’t go.”

Then something strange happened. Victoria looked at me and said, “Yeah, whatever.” She still wasn’t herself.

“Vic, are you ok?” I asked. Victoria shook her head yes and the saging began.

This investigation would prove to be my favorite so far. We were able to help a family who was in need. A family terrified by a force they could neither control nor understand. Secondly, we got a lot of really great hardcore evidence from this case. I wish I could share it with you, but due to confidentiality agreements, that is not possible.

And thirdly, in my regular line of work, I work with children who have behavioral and conduct disorders. Over my 10 years there, my Bull-Shit-meter has become finely tuned, and I’ve gotten pretty good at detecting bullshit. And I can tell you this, what happened with Victoria that night was no bullshit.

That night I became a believer in a person’s ability to speak with the dead or have the dead speak through them.

(Tune in for a new “Adventures in Ghost Hunting” to be posted soon.)

By Rick E. Hale
Paranormal Investigator

These are the true case files of the McHenry County Paranormal Research Group. Due to confidentiality agreements, names of clients have been changed and cases will only be specified by the counties they occurred in.

—————————————————————————————————————————————–
(You can catch up reading the earlier installments in this series by visiting our Member Blog.)

Who the Hell Was That?:

During the incredible K-II and EVP session in the front room, Diana and I were able to make contact with two spirits who both claimed to have come in through the window that acted as a portal between our two worlds.

One entity claimed to be a man who lived during the time of the great depression and lost it all when the market crashed. The other entity claimed to be a woman who lived during the time of Lincoln’s presidency. If you’re anything like me, and I know many of you are, you may be reading this with some skepticism, and that is ok. If I wasn’t there, I would think I was completely nuts too.

As we were walking back toward the kitchen, Diana and I joined up with the some other investigators who were talking to the client’s elderly mother. She seemed to really appreciate the fact that we were there and doing everything would could to help her and her family out with the rather strange problem that presented itself in her home.

As we were talking, my attention was drawn toward the bedroom that was halfway between the kitchen and the living room. I watched as a tall, blond-haired woman wearing a white shirt walked into the bedroom. When she looked at me, I knew immediately that this was not a member of the crew.

“Who the Hell was that?” I blurted out and quickly walked toward the bedroom. One of the spirits in the home decided to show itself.

I need you to keep something in mind: The family that we were helping were of Armenian heritage. If you are familiar with the Kardashians, then you know they have dark hair and olive-colored skin, so whoever this was, was definitely a person unaccounted for.

When I walked into the room with Victoria, one of our mediums and one of the greatest investigators it has ever been my pleasure to work with, we noticed right away that the only two people in the tiny room was one of the teenage daughters and her friend, who was African American. No blond-haired woman and absolutely no place for a blond-haired woman to hide.

“Did you see anyone come into this room?” Victoria asked.

“No nobody,” the client’s daughter blurted out. I could tell that the daughter and her friend were becoming visibly nervous — not because they were trying to trick us but rather out of fear.

“There is someone in this room,” Victoria said as the lights on the K-II Meter in my hand began to light up like a Christmas tree.

“Can you tell us your name?” I asked as I placed the K-II on the bed alongside my digital voice recorder. The K-II was still going crazy.

“She’s afraid and doesn’t understand who were are and what we want,” Victoria added.

It’s kind of sad when you think about it. When an investigator aggressively investigates a haunting, we can inadvertently frighten an entity that may be present. Believe it or not, the old saying is true: Sometimes the things that scare us oftentimes are more afraid of us than we are of them.

Before I could get my next question out, I watched as a shadow the size of a large man zipped through the dining room opposite the room we were in. I have a tendency to run after something I see, and Tony has had to talk to me about this a couple of times. But when you understand what you are dealing with fear melts away.

Victoria and I walked into the dining room and attempted to investigate the shadow person I had just seen. At this point, we had been in the house for about three hours without very little happening. But now the entities were beginning to show themselves.

The shit was about to hit the fan.

(For The Conclusion of “The House of 100 Spirits,” Click here.)

By Rick E. Hale
Paranormal Investigator

These are the true case files of the McHenry County Paranormal Research Group. Due to confidentiality agreements, names of clients have been changed and cases will only be specified by the counties they occurred in.

—————————————————————————————————————————————–
(You can catch up reading the earlier installments in this series by visiting our Member Blog.)

Tackling the Portal:

For the last couple of years, the 87-year-old matriarch of the family has claimed to watch as spectral entities made their way into our world, and subsequently into her home via a very specific place — the front room window.

Could this be the portal that we at MCPRG believed was somehow opened in the home? If what the matriarch told us was true, then yes, and it was time for Diana and I to investigate the family room.

As we made our way into the front room, we passed a couple of our fellow investigators. Victoria, one of our mediums, commented as we passed them. “You guys will love this. That window is definitely the doorway into this home.”

As soon as we walked into room, the lights on our K-II and EMF detectors began to flash wildly. There was absolutely no reason for this, unless either the television or the lights were giving off major EMFs, or there was some kind spirit energy in the room with us.

We quickly checked the appliances and got no response from them. The only other answer could possibly be spirit activity.

As we panned around the room with our equipment, Diana let out a small gasp and whispered, “The rocking chair just moved.” Damn, was all I could think. Why didn’t I see that? It’s not that I didn’t believe her; it’s just that for me, I need to see it. So this spot seemed like as good a place as any to set up the K-II Meter and a digital recorder and begin our EVP session.

As Diana asked questions of the possible entity that might be sitting in the chair, I panned around the room with an EMF detector to see if anything else was present. As I approached a corner of the room and stood there my nifty little gizmos, lights began flashing, and I watched as it spiked all the way up to 7.0. Something was standing in the corner, and for whatever reason it felt trapped.

It’s believed that spirits can move as fast as the speed of thought, so it mystified me why this entity allowed me to back it up into a corner. It could easily and without effort blast right passed me.

“Hi.” I really didn’t know what else to say. It’s rare to have an event like this happen.

“Let’s play a game,” I said, hoping that whatever was in the corner understood. “I’m going to ask some questions, and if you understand, can you make the light on the thing in my hand flash?”

I stood and waited, and the light began to flash wildly. I smiled and continued.

“Were you a former resident of this house?” The light on the EMF went dark. Great, maybe this thing did blast past me after all. But, no, I could still feel it there.

“Did you come into the house through the window?” This time the light lit up like a Christmas tree, the needle pegged and let out a soft squeal.

“Are there others here with you?” The light flashed again.

“How many?” Diana inquired. “Can you light up the light for how many are here or can come here.”

The light began to flash, and we counted as many times as it flashed. Almost 100. This room was definitely the portal.

(For Part VI of “The House of 100 Spirits,” Click here.)

By Rick E. Hale
Paranormal Investigator

These are the true case files of the McHenry County Paranormal Research Group. Due to confidentiality agreements, names of clients have been changed and cases will only be specified by the counties they occurred in.

—————————————————————————————————————————————–
(You can catch up reading the earlier installments in this series by visiting our Member Blog.)

Revelations:

As I said before being sensitive is not something I’m comfortable with. It took me a long time to “come out of the closet” with it. However, although I love all the gadgets with their pretty little lights, beeps, and whistles, being sensitive does has it perks. It does give me somewhat of edge, and this edge was about to come in handy.

As I stepped out the back door and lit my cigarette, I could see a group of people standing near the garage under a single dim light. As I approached, my pounding headache was going away; perhaps the spirit in the basement was not really trying to hurt me, but rather trying to tell me its story, and the headache was an unfortunate side effect of the contact.

When I walked up to the group, I discovered several of our investigators standing around the client, George, making small talk. (Something I can’t help but do, and I’m sure it’s probably rude, but if I have a question, I’m going to launch straight into it — social conventions be damned.)

“So George,” I asked “The spirit in the basement who likes playing grab ass, he’s related to you somehow, right?”

Just then, our fearless leader, Tony Olszewski, walked up. George was stunned by my question, which was evident by the look on his face. George dropped his cigarette in the can sitting by the door and said with a breathy sigh, “He’s my dad.”

I could tell that George was feeling some pain concerning the memory of his father, and you didn’t need to be some kind of psychic to see it. George continued, “He passed away in the basement a few years ago near that room, and yes he likes grabbing the behinds of women who venture down there.”
My next question would be the roughest one, but in order to get to the bottom of what was going on in George’s house, and what was plaguing his 87-year-old mother, the tough questions would have to be asked.

“George, I’m really sorry for asking this, but I need to know about the abuse.” At this question, I could see that George was beginning to cry. I liked George, he was a reporter for a local newspaper and a real professional writer, not a tourist like me.

The group that was assembled around George became silent as the crying man began to tell his tale. George told us that as a child he remembered watching his father slap his mom around whenever his dad became angry.

A few times when George tried to save his mother, his father would turn his rage upon his son and brutally beat him until, once or twice, he fell unconscious. I also asked George if his father had ever cheated on his mother. Again George broke into tears and stated that his father had a few girlfriends he kept on the side.

I hate doing this, but I couldn’t help but feel his pain, so I told him that I too grew up in an abusive house; but unlike George, my abuse was at the hands of my mother. George was touched that I would share that with him, and I explained to him that he and I were a true example of the old cliche, “What doesn’t kill you, only makes you stronger.”

As I stood there finishing off my smoke, George lit up another one and asked how I knew about all this. He hadn’t ever told Tony about all this. I simply looked at him and replied, “Your dad told me, and he’s sorry.”

(For Part V of “The House of 100 Spirits,” Click here.)

By Rick E. Hale
Paranormal Investigator

These are the true case files of the McHenry County Paranormal Research Group. Due to confidentiality agreements, names of clients have been changed and cases will only be specified by the counties they occurred in.

—————————————————————————————————————————————–
(You can catch up reading the earlier installments in this series by visiting our Member Blog.)

Playing grab-ass in the basement:

This was the first time I had ever used a K-II Meter, and it was quickly becoming my favorite tool in MCPRG’s arsenal. Whoever this spirit was in the client’s bedroom seemed to enjoy it as well, because it was lighting it up like a Christmas tree on Christmas morning.

“Do you like living in this home? Please light up the meter for yes and leave it off for no?” After Diana’s question, the entity lit it up.

“Did you come to this home through a doorway?” I asked, at first nothing, then the K-II lit up again. Obviously, this spirit did not belong to this home but rather came through a portal from the other side. Before I could ask my next question, Tony’s voice sounded over the radio.

“Rick, Diana.”

“Yeah Tony,” Diana answered keying up the radio.

“We need you two in the basement.” Tony paused. “I have a special assignment for the two of you.”

We both looked at each other wondering what a special assignment entailed. I’ve learned that Tony has a sick sense of humor, which I like, and when the boss calls, you run.

When we got to the basement, two other investigators were just leaving. Victoria, one of our mediums who enjoys the tech side of spirit investigation, stopped us and said with an evil grin, “You two are going to really like this. Especially Diana.”

Oh great, the two us were thinking, as we looked at each other.

“Guys, in here,” we heard Tony’s voice say from one of the larger rooms in the basement.

When we came around the corner, we found our fearless leader standing by an open door that led into a small dark room.

“You’ll like this. When Victoria and Jessica were in this room, Victoria felt a strong male presence in this room, and it grabbed her ass,” Tony laughed. “I need the two of you in here with the K-II to do an EVP session.”

We both nodded and closed the door behind us.

“So I here you like grabbing the behinds of women, eh buddy.” At my question, the K-II Meter lit up and stayed that way for awhile.

“Are you some kind of pervert?” Diana asked. Obviously, she shared the joy of provoking just as much as I do. “Well, I’m waiting.”

Whoever this spirit was, he didn’t go for my partner’s rear end, but went after me instead. As we stood there, I felt a rough hand brush across my head, and my head began to pound with a horrible headache.

“Damn!” I blurted out as I massaged my temples. “Was that you who just caused that? Not funny dude.”

As we stood in the closed dark room, the only light we could see was the little lights flashing wildly on the K-II, almost as if the entity was laughing over the pain that he had just caused.

God was my head pounding so bad; this was quite possibly the worst headache I had ever experienced in my life. However, when the spirit touched me, it had imparted some information that could possibly explain why this entity was haunting this home. It was time for a smoke break and to ask George the client a few questions.

(For Part IV of “The House of 100 Spirits,” Click here.)