The Kids Are All Fright

I stood in front of the kids, six teens sitting around the table. Once a month, I teach paranormal investigation to kids. It's nothing I ever envisioned as a career.
"I'd like to welcome you guys to the first meeting of the school year," I said. "Tonight, we're going to learn how to do the research on a haunted house."
For my job at the library, I run a group called Teen Paranormal. I teach teenagers how to investigate. I had three old ones and three new ones: Alex, Aubree, Olivia. Austin, Kayla, and Krystianna.
"When LHPS gets a call, it's the first thing I do," I said. "Go to the courthouse and pull the deeds. That way, I learn who lived there, who died there, who is most likely to be haunting the place. Start with the assessment record---It's this thing here." I held up the copy I'd made.
The kids all looked through their packets and found their copies. I saw Austin have a little trouble, and Krystianna help him. I said,"On this form, you'll have the age of the building---But don't depend on that; I've seen them be off by as much as twenty-five years---And the current owners. You'll also find the most recent deed book and page, and that's what you're looking for. Take that down to the Register and Recorder's office."
Olivia asked,"Are we going to go downstairs and look at the research file?"
"We are; that's tonight."
She grinned. "Good. I like that."
Aubree looked across the table at the new girls. "We're nerds," she said.
Krystianna grinned. "Oh good. Us too."
"Nothing wrong with that," I said.
"You notice how we all have something going on?" Aubree asked. "ADD, ADHD...."
"Autism...."
"Tourette's...."
"Anxiety...."
I held up one hand. "Clinical depression over here."
Olivia glanced at me. "How come the nerds and rejects seem to do better after high school than the others?"
"I can answer that, actually," I said. "Based on my own experience." I'd been standing to give the lesson; I sat down in my chair. "The cool kids, the jocks and cheerleaders, they have everything easy. Everything's given to them. It seems nice, but they're not developing the skills they need for life. They're gonna be sitting in a bar forty years from now, still talking about how they won the big game. Meanwhile, you guys are learning all the best coping skills to make you successful later on. It's what I did."
I saw Krystianna look sympathetic. First meeting, and already I could tell she was the sensitive one.
"I was always writing stories, talking about ghosts and monsters in school," I said. "I had teachers tell me I needed to do more math. One of my journalism teachers told me I'd never become a writer; she said I didn't have what it takes. Every couple of years I clip out one of my columns and send it to her. It's actually about time again."
The kids laughed. I said,"I was told to knock it off with the ghost stories, and now look what I do for a living. My columns are very popular. I actually wrote in one a while ago that I'll give my old teachers a tour for free. That way, I won't have to do any math."
I stood up and looked at all the kids. "This year, you guys are my kids. This is your new home. You guys are Dumbledore's Army. And I'm gonna make you into the best paranormal investigators in the county."

You'd think, as a paranormal investigator, that I'd encounter scary things. Which I do, all the time, but not ghosts and monsters. It's the general public that scares me, or at least about fifteen percent of it. I'd been hoping I'd seen the last of the weird guy in the white robe, but he slunk into the library while I was on the desk, looking around.
"Is it safe to come in here?" he asked.
"Of course, sir," I said. "The public library is safe for everyone."
He looked me over---My shirt with the ghost on it, and then my black eye. "It doesn't look like you were very safe," he said.
"Oh, I did this at home."
He slunk off into the stacks. Zach said,"That's one hell of a shiner you got there. How did you manage that?"
"Wish I had a good story to go with this, but I slipped in the shower," I said. "My head hit the wall, and then because I wasn't finished yet, hit the bathtub rim on the way down."
Zach winced. "Ouch."
I grinned. "Oh, yeah,  it hurt like hell."
I looked at my e-mail. "Hey, Zach," I said,"Can you watch the desk for a minute? A relative of the guy who donated our Native American artifacts says he's coming to see them, and I have to go and fetch them from the attic to put on display."
"Sure," said Zach. "Go ahead."
The Ross Library's attic was built as part of the old mansion in 1887. Getting to it is always somewhat of a process. I took the elevator up to the second floor, then walked down a long, dark hallway and into the old section. Turning left, I walked up the stairs, and I was there.
Most of the library's old spaces reminded me of something out of Hogwarts. I walked into the room with the artifacts in it, and then I noticed the old book on the shelf.
It was old, battered, published in 1856. I paged through, looking at the chapters---It was a local history book, but one written when Clinton County only had a few years of history.
When I went downstairs with the artifacts, I took the book, too.

"So long, little guy. See you after school."
Paul paused on the sidewalk just barely long enough to give me a hug, and then darted into the school. I watched him go, then I turned and walked back down the street, carrying the travel mug Tracey had given me for Christmas a few years back, drinking my coffee.
I walked home. I walked past the Elliott House, home of a former mayor; the Wait House, oldest one on the street; the Probst House, home of a former city councilman. I got to my own home, the Yost House, built in 1884 and haunted by Ida Yost.
Fed the dogs. Had breakfast. Went upstairs and wrote an article. went back downstairs and binge-watched The Umbrella Academy.
Looked at my watch. Ten-fifteen.
I walked out to the garage. I'd been cleaning it, for lack of anything better to do. Under normal circumstances I can go for years without bothering to clean the garage, and have. But a couple of hours without the kid, and I'm doing it for lack of anything better to do.
I'd been making some inroads into all the junk, throwing some out and discovering hidden, unknown lands behind some of the cardboard boxes. Some years ago, my wife had purchased a huge desk at a yard sale, shoved it in the garage, and forgotten about it. I studied it for a little while.
I shoved it into the corner, and then began to surround it with boxes.
In a few minutes, I had walls of cardboard built up, blocking most of the view of the desk. I had a small entrance, so I could get to the desk, but you'd have to be practically on top of it to notice it.
I've always built secret spaces for myself. Ever since I was a kid, I'd liked creating little hiding spots, bolt-holes I could spend time it. Sometimes with no idea what I was even going to do with them. As a kid on my father's farm, I'd had a shelter in the woods, a hiding space above the garage, and one in the attic. I hadn't outgrown the desire as an adult, either---I'd had a secret space down at the Piper Museum, and at least two at the library. With some minimal effort, I could construct one in my own garage.
Again, I had no idea what I was going to actually accomplish with a hidden space. But it was something to kill time while my son was in school.

Paul had recently joined the Cub Scouts. I'd been a scout when I was a kid, and I remembered a lot of it. I didn't remember the weekly meetings instilling a strong desire to go off and drink alcohol, but that may be just perspective.
"Dad!" Paul called. "I saw a monster!"
We were hiking through the forests of McElhattan, part of the weekly activity. Paul was walking with his classmate Xander. I asked,"Was it a bipedal land monster, or more the water monster type?"
"Water monster," Paul said.
"And I saw Bigfoot!" Xander added.
"Good," I said. "Get pictures."
At the end of the trail was Zindel Park. The kids were allowed to run wild and explore a bit, and Paul and Xander started darting around. It had been a year since I'd been there, breaking an old curse. I tried to check in every once in a while, and the Cub Scout hike had seemed as good a time as any.
I climbed up on the concrete dam structure while the kids were charging around. Kneeling down with a flashlight, I looked through the metal grate and down into the water. It was too dark for me to see the Giantess statue, which was a relief.
An old friend of mine, Barenda, spotted me as I climbed back over the wall. Barenda, now a parent, had once been a teenager in a group I'd run.
"Looking for something?" she asked.
"Just an old curse."
"Really? Cool. My daughter would like that."
"How old's your daughter now?"
"Fifteen."
"You know, I run a class on this stuff for teens. We're meeting tomorrow night, if she'd like to join."
"Great," said Barenda. "We'll be there."

"Glad you guys could all make it," I said. Barenda was there, next to me at the table, and she'd brought her daughter Koti. Olivia, Krystianna, Austin, and Kayla had also made it. I said,"How's everything going tonight, guys?"
"I have a school project," Kayla said. "I was wondering if I could keep a blog on this group, for my computer class."
I thought about it for two seconds. It would give her something to do, plus it was good that she was taking pride in the group. "I love that. Send me the link; I really want to see that. Now, remember, I have my haunted tours at the end of the month.You guys get in free, because you're my kids. And I have a favor to ask."
"Uh-oh," said Austin.
"No, no, it's cool. I recently found an old book that suggested that the Native Americans believed this whole valley up along the Susquehanna was cursed. Because I have to fulfill an annual curse quota or risk losing my job, I'm gonna ask you guys to help me investigate this on the tour. Anyone who comes along, I'll loan you my equipment, and you do the testing for me while I give the tour. Let's find out how paranormal this city really is."
Krystianna grinned. "I can't wait. I'm coming as long as Kayla can give me a ride."
"Of course I'll be coming," said Kayla.
I smiled. "Great. Now let's learn how to use this stuff, and then get some practice in the attic."

I led the kids into the attic, where nobody ever went. The kids followed me like baby ducklings after the mother. I chose the newspaper storage room, turned on the light, and turned to face the kids.
"Okay, when investigating, the first thing you do is get a baseline," I said. "Kayla, check EMFs. Krystianna, get a look at the temperatures. Look for fluctuations. Go slow and steady with the laser thermometer, like...." I trailed off. I was moving my laser thermometer along the wall, and suddenly I stopped and frowned.
"Do we have a ghost?" Kayla said. "Tell me we have our first ghost."
".....Maybe," I admitted. "We have a big jump in temps over here....I went from sixty-five to seventy-four, which is huge, and now I can't replicate it."
"Let me see if there's more of that," said Krystianna.
"Didn't we get temperature drops up here once before?" asked Olivia.
"We did, a year or two back. This is interesting; that's a pretty big drop. Let's do an EVP session and see what we get."
"If we have time, can we play it back afterward?" asked Kayla, who was rapidly emerging as the ringleader for this whole group.
"Sure, I don't see why not. We just need to take time to get one group picture before we're done. Let's get to work."

I reached across the table and turned off the digital recorder.
"So we didn't get much on the audio," I said. "That's okay, sometimes that happens. But now you understand how to do an investigation. You guys did a great job tonight."
"And we're going to do it during the tours," said Krystianna.
I nodded. "That's right. You guys are my eyes and ears during the tours. Hope you all can make it. Next month, we're doing Bigfoot. See you guys soon."

I spent the day leading up to the tour pacing the library and doing math in my head.
"I'm hoping the weather holds out," I said to Mel when I paused briefly by her door. "If I can make four hundred sixteen dollars, I break my record. That's a total of a hundred and four people. Four dollars apiece."
"Good luck," Mel said without looking up from her computer.

I was still pacing that night, outside in the dark as people began to arrive. A carload at a time, people arrived. Kayla, Krystianna, and Aubree all got there together.
I smiled.
"Guys! Thanks for coming. What we're gonna do is take the equipment and investigate during the tour---Kayla, you take charge, Notify me if we get anything, immediately. It's all part of the show, but it may tell us something, too. Here, Kayla, you carry the bag."
The kids all grabbed some of the equipment---Kayla took the EMF detector, and Krystianna took the laser thermometer. Already, they were all learning their favorite tools.
"This is gonna be great," said Aubree cheerfully.
"You nervous?" Krystianna asked me.
"I got a record to break tonight," I said. "I'm scared to death."
I turned on my belt-clip speaker, and stepped up onto one of the picnic benches.
And as I face the crowd, I feel something calm come over me. And the night went from an intimidating goal....To me just doing the thing I do.
"Thanks for coming tonight, and supporting the Ross Library," I said. "My name is Lou, and I'm a member of the Lock Haven Paranormal Seekers. Tonight, I'm going to take you around the city, and tell you about some of the local hauntings. The Native Americans who lived here hundreds of years ago called this area Otzinachson. It was believed that this meant 'Demon's Den,' and that the land was cursed. And we're going to hear about some of that tonight. And I invite you to pay attention, and think of how many of these haunted buildings were made from the stone and clay of this same cursed land."
We walked down the alley, and I stood in between two of the homes. "I chose this spot because we're in between two documentably haunted houses here. My my right is the John Brown House, haunted by undertaker John Everett Brown, who fell from his stairs and cracked his skull in 1938. On the other side is the Reuben Brawn House, owned by a local lumberman and haunted by his daughter Maude, who died of typhoid in 1893. LHPS has investigated that one, and actually had to run our cords out the window because the house is so big and twisty inside."
We walked down the alley. Krystianna caught up to me and said,"Lou, we got a temperature drop back there. Sixty-nine to fifty-four."
"That's pretty big. Was it closer to the Brown House or the Brawn House---" Not everyone is me. "---On the right or the left?"
"The right."
"The John Brown House. Excellent!"
The next stop was Triangle Park, where I told the story of the Giantess, and then on to stories about the Giwoggle and the Jersey Devil. I talked about the curse of the courthouse, and then we moved down Water Street to the Fallon Hotel, where I pulled out my photocopied Lock Haven map.
Krystianna looked at me with some incredulity. "Is that a script?"
"If you call this mess a script." I showed it to her, "When it's a newer tour than usual, I generally write the stops down with a little note, then I highlight the route. Makes it easier to remember."
"Cool."
Mad Anthony Wayne and the murder of James Sesto filled out the tour, and we wrapped up back at the library.
"Just a warning, Lou," said Kayla,"The guy over there is going to try to talk to you about orbs." She rolled her eyes. She'd learned really well.
"Thanks for the heads up," I said.
Kayla handed me my shoulder bag---She'd already collected the equipment. Good girl. I gave the kids a group hug.
"You guys did great tonight. You're my kids. And I didn't break my record....But that's okay. Cause I got to spend time with you guys."
Krystianna grinned. "I'm glad we got adopted."
"I'm proud of you," I said. "Go home, get some sleep. Thanks for coming out tonight."

I pulled out of the alley and parked my bike in the garage. By flashlight, I stepped into my secret hiding spot and counted the money.
Then I took out the group photo we'd taken at the last meeting, and looked it over for a moment. I smiled, and set it on the desk.
Things were looking up.

From Bad To Curse

I was sitting alone in a dark hallway in Bellefonte, remaining very still and quiet while I waited.
My name is Lou. Among my other jobs, I'm a paranormal investigator. I was wearing my black uniform, identifying me as a member of the Lock Haven Paranormal Seekers. My equipment was in a packet strapped around my leg and hanging on my belt. A digital recorder sat on the floor by my side. My teammates were scattered throughout the house, doing the same thing---Recording and waiting for ghosts. The client, SaraLee, was in the living room.
I've had worse Saturday nights.
"Nine fifty-three." It was my partner Kara, sitting in the bedroom behind me.
"Got it." I picked up my comlink. "Guys, it's nine fifty-three. The client reports a noise almost every night between now and ten-five. It's zero hour. Let's stay tuned."
Ashlin's voice came back from downstairs. "Okay, Lou. We're on it."
I set down the comlink and waited.
We stayed quiet for nine minutes. Until you actually do it, you don't realize how hard it is to sit still and silent. At three minutes after ten, we heard it.
A loud thump, coming from the direction of the living room.
"Did you hear that?" Kara asked from the room behind me.
"I did. There it was."
"Guys, was that you?" Ashlin, from downstairs, coming over the comlink.
"Not us. Unexplained. I'm in motion."
I leaped up and ran down the hallway, looking at the living room. Nothing. I checked out the front door---There was nothing, no car doors slamming, no people walking, nothing all the way up and down the street. I went back down the hall with my laser thermometer, checking each bedroom in turn.
I hit the button on the comlink. "Nothing. Gather in the kitchen, guys."
Kara and I walked down to the kitchen. From the basement stairs, Ashlin came up with the two newest members, Kris and Lacey.
I looked them over.
"We got it on tape," I said. "Nice work, you guys."

"Henry Shoemaker," I said. "Anyone who reads any of my columns will come across the name of Henry Shoemaker."
Ashlin, in the back seat, grinned. "Yeah, pick up any three of Lou's columns, you'll see Shoemaker mentioned about ten times."
It was an exaggeration, but not much of one. Kara was driving in the dark on Interstate 80, heading back to Lock Haven. Rain pattered against the windshield. Ashlin and Lacy were in the back seat. As Lacy was new, we were educating her.
"Tell her about the Giantess," suggested Kara.
"That's my personal favorite," I said. "It happened in present-day McElhattan, back in the sixteen hundreds. A Native American prince, Pipsisseway, fell in love with a girl from another tribe, but she left him for a warrior out west. He had a statue carved to look like her, but it was cursed---When he had it put up on the mountain, crops died, the river flooded, animals swarmed, and finally his dad, King Ironwood, ordered the Giantess taken down and buried underneath McElhattan Run."
Everyone was quiet, listening in the dark.
"So time goes by. Pipsisseway married, had a son. Ironwood died, and Pipsisseway became the king. And one day when his wife and son were traveling, he had the statue brought up and put back on the mountain. Well, the curse kicked in again....And this time it killed him. He died in a successful attempt to save his family."
"Do we know where he's buried?" asked Kara.
"We think we do. I found a cairn out near Zindel Park a few years ago. The people buried him near the Giantess, and there's a hint that the flood of 1865 dug up the Giantess enough that the curse was responsible for the death of Lincoln. The story ends with this spooky note about what will happen the next time it comes up. Well, that was about ten years ago, and it was us."
"Wait, what?" said Lacy.
Kara grinned. I nodded. "Back in 2008, I found a stone humanoid figure underneath the water, in Zindel Park. You have to know where to look. We did some investigating out there, got photos. I've been keeping an eye on it ever since."
"Cool," said Ashlin.
"You ever consider bringing it up?" asked Lacy.
"It'd be expensive," said Kara.
"I've thought about it," I admitted. "But it would be problematic. It's on city property, and in a tough place. My approach has been to leave it alone, and not disturb the curse."

"So, tell me about the Giwoggle," the guy said.
I smiled, standing behind the desk at the library. "Oh, you know the Giwoggle?"
"Well, not really," he said. "My wife saw you giving a tour one night, wearing that shirt." He pointed at my shirt, which did have the Giwoggle on it. "We were wondering about it...."
"Oh, sure. I've written about the Giwoggle a lot. It's Clinton County's official monster. It was from the north end of the county, said to be created by a witch. It was a wolf with the hands of a bird and the feet of a horse. People still spot this thing, along back roads."
He grinned. "Pretty cool. Hey, thanks."
"No problem. Thank you for asking....This is a more pleasant conversation than I usually have on a Monday."
My name is Lou. My job...I don't have a clue in hell how to describe my job. I'm a paranormal investigator, and I work at the local library. I give tours, and I write columns for several publications. I'm never sure what to call this, especially since "Ghost writer" is already taken.
I walked back to my desk and sat down. I did a little work on an article for the PA Wilds. Answered a few e-mails. Then I walked back to the rack, picked up the local newspaper, and sat back down. My column wasn't in it today. Front page---Some school district stuff, some city hall stuff. Weather---Consistent rain, and getting worse. Comics---Doonesbury was pretty good.
I found the article on the front page, and grimaced. Sue, walking by my desk, said,"What's up, Lou?"
"Oh. Ancient curse."
"On the front page?"
"Sort of. In a manner of speaking." I folded up the newspaper. "Now it's a Monday."

"There." Kara pointed out the window of her vehicle. "That's where the witness saw the Jersey Devil. That same house where you say it appeared in 1909."
I looked out the window at the Grove Street house. "Back then, there was Jersey Devil panic on every corner. People were calling off work because of Jersey Devil attacks. It reached out here, this far, with sightings in the winter of 1909. The newspapers report the guy in this house woke up and claimed to see a creature on his roof. He propped a ladder up the next morning, and let his neighbors look at the hoof prints in the snow. What did this witness see?"
"He woke up, late at night, and said he heard hoof sounds. Two hooves, not four. He looked out the window and saw a big shadow, something moving past----"
"Which window?"
"That one there, on that side of the house. He said something near the window growled at him. He didn't go out and check. He sat inside with his rifle the rest of the night." Kara shrugged. "His girlfriend's a friend of mine, and she told me. I thought you'd be interested."
"You thought right. I'll look into it."
Kara started driving again.
"Remember the Giantess curse? We were talking about it the other night?"
"Of course," said Kara. "I was there when you found the thing ten years ago. What's up?"
"I'm a little concerned." This is my social life, driving around talking about monsters and curses. "The local paper reports a huge problem with invasive species out there, bugs and plants that are doing a lot of damage. The city is dealing with it, but I may want to look into it. Guess where it's all happening?"
"You're kidding me. Zindel Park?"
"You got it. And I've seen cases where curses turned out to be real things----One case that was thought to be a curse turned out the be radiation, for instance. Depending on what causes the invasive species, it's not too hard to imagine people a long time ago assuming it's a curse. Now we have the invasive species, plus the latest flood warnings due to all the rain. I want to check it out. I need to get out there."

I stood in my office, on the second floor of my haunted home. The door was closed---The back side of the door, where nobody would see it, was where I kept my ghost-hunting stuff.
I pulled my shirt on: Black, with the LHPS logo. My jeans were black. I pulled on my steel-toed black sneakers, and stood up.
I passed over my tactical vest: For a small apartment, I wouldn't need it. I selected my leg strap instead, clipping it on my belt and snapping the strap around my leg. It held a camera, recorder, laser thermometer, and EMF detector.
I turned, checking myself over.
Ready.

"A camera, where, here?" Kara asked, pointing to a corner of the bedroom. "Would you say this is one of the hot spots?"
"This whole room is," said the client. "We've all seen ghosts in here. We're afraid to go in here anymore."
I walked through the apartment on Main Street, looking things over during our paranormal investigation. Kara and Lacey were busy setting up tripods and recorders.
"The building was built in 1869," I said. "It was part of the old Opera House, which doesn't exist anymore---This section was closed off, but the rest was torn down in 2005. This apartment was once occupied by a pharmacist and his family, and then later, a business owner who buried toxic chemicals in the Hill Section. He committed suicide, but not here---It was in a later home in Dunnstown."
I glanced out the window. I could see the courthouse across the block. I ran my EMF detector along the wall, and got a reading.
"Guys, I'm gonna step outside for a minute," I said. "I want to get a feel for the exterior."
Kara nodded. "Hurry back," she said.
"You want to take the back exit?" asked the client.
I looked up. "There's a back exit?"
The fire escape was tall, thin, and barely attached to the building. I walked down with some enjoyment, and took a walk around the back of the building. It was wedged between two bars. As I walked around the exterior, taking photos from the sidewalk, a flock of drunk girls came out of the Riverside Saloon. One of them called to me,"Hey, could I buy a cigarette off you?"
"You could if I smoked," I said. "I haven't really since my son was born."
"Hey, that's great," she said. "Good for you. It's my friend's birthday."
"Well. Happy birthday."
"How come you're taking pictures out here?" asked the birthday girl.
"Paranormal investigation." Was a time, I felt stupid saying that to people. But that's long past.
"Oooh, cool! Is there a ghost in there?"
"Well, I don't know. We're still looking into it."
"Can I have your autograph?" asked the friend.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah! This is really cool!"
Five minutes later, I walked around the back in the alley. I glanced at the house on Grove Street for a moment---The ghost hunt was right across the alley from the house where the Jersey Devil had been sighted. I looked it over for a minute, then took out my EMF detector and walked across the alley, into the back lot.
It lit up immediately and went red. I walked through the lot, hearing the familiar brrrrrr that meant I was picking up electromagnetic fields. It didn't shut off, which was unusual---It kept consistently getting a reading throughout the entire lot. Power cables strung over my head, and tied into the east side of the building right above me.
I walked back upstairs.
"That took a while," commented Lacey.
"Snd autgrfs," I mumbled.
She wrinkled her nose. "What?"
I sighed. "A couple of drunk girls asked me for my autograph."
Lacey laughed. Kara said,"So, when you weren't performing for the paparazzi, did you learn anything?"
"Well, we're right near the Jersey Devil house," I said. "The back lot, behind the building? It's solid EMFs. Wall to wall readings. I've never seen EMFs so heavy outdoors before."
"Really?" Kara's eyebrows rose.
I held my EMF detector up to the window, which faced that lot. It immediately lit up.
"Wow."
I nodded. "I'd bet on like eighty percent of their problems being caused by the heavy EMFs. You know how some people are sensitive? I think we have our answer, right there."

"So, Dad," I said,"Electromagnetic fields."
My brother-in-law Michel laughed. "You just jump right into it, don't you?"
I was in Slatington, sitting on the front lawn of the house I'd grown up in. It was my brother's birthday, and his wife was throwing him a party. I sat with my food and my iced tea. My son was playing in the yard with his cousins, whom he'd always adored.
"What?" Paul shouted. "You guys are here? Are you very serious? Are you kidding me right now?"
Amy, my sister-in-law, walked past and gave a nod to my shirt. "Is that Bigfoot riding the Loch Ness Monster?"
I grinned at her. "You like it? It's new."
"What about electromagnetic fields?" Dad asked.
"We check for them when there's a haunting," I said. "I had a place on Main Street recently that was packed with them. The parking lot, out back, was wall to wall with them. My detector went off, and didn't stop."
Dad frowned. "That doesn't make any sense."
"I agree, but here we are."
"What's there? Overhead, next to?"
"Apartment building. The power lines come in on that side, connect to the meters. Regular lines, far as I can see. No fields on any of the other sides."
"It could be due to what's in or under the building. Can you check what's buried underneath?"
"I can find that out. How much interest would the power company have in this? Fixing, cutting down?"
Dad shook his head. "None, unless there's a problem. It doesn't hurt anyone."
"Was this at night?" asked Michel.
"Around midnight."
"I'd check during the day, or at dusk," he said. "Street lights could have affected it. A cable would be buried, and it would be off during the day."
"Moving right along, is there a chance that high electromagnetic fields could affect migration patterns in birds?"
"It's possible," Dad said. "That kind of thing can happen. I remember when we put in the high-power lines at Lake Wallenpaupack, and people were concerned about the birds."
I nodded.
"That tells me a lot of what I need to know. Thanks, Dad."

"So I was with my friend, and we found a brick from the Queen's Mansion!" the man said. "How much could we get for that?"
I stood in the Pennsylvania Room, among the history books. "Let me guess," I said. "You found a brick with a stamp on it, that says Queen's Run."
"Yeah! I knew Queen Anne had a mansion over in Farrandsville, and I found this brick! Now I can get rich!"
"I doubt it; they're everywhere," I said. "While it's true that Queen Maria Christina of Spain had a mansion in Farrandsville, the brick with the stamp wasn't part of it. That was manufactured by the Queen's Run Fire Brick Company---They made thousands of them. Queen's Run had nothing to do with the actual queen; it was a mispronunciation of Quinn's Run, named after Samuel Quinn. What you have is a regular, common brick, though an interesting artifact."
He looked at me. "So you're kind of a history guy around here?"
"I dabble."
I pulled out Linn's History, flipping to the part about Wayne Township. I checked for minerals in the area---It was listed in the second column.
I walked out to the main desk, where Joe had shut down most of the lights. "Closing time," he said. "You ready to get out of here?"
"I was beyond ready two hours ago."
I set the alarm, and we all moved out of the library through the back staircase. As we went out into the parking lot, Zach said,"I'll see you guys tomorrow. I have to make a stop at the grocery store on the way home, pick up some baking stuff."
"I have to make a stop, too," I commented. "Some ghost-hunting follow-up."
I climbed on my bike and rode across town down Jordan's Alley. It was dusk; I could see the sky turning pink. I pulled up in the parking lot behind the Main Street apartment, and got out my EMF detector.
"Hey, big guy," I said. "Sun's getting real low."
I pressed the button. It came on and....Nothing. No signal. I walked in circles for a moment, and nothing lit up. It was getting darker. Then the streetlights came on, and my EMF detector beeped.
I walked back and forth. It gave me a patchy, intermittent signal. Not as much as it had lit up the other night, at midnight, but it was finding EMFs. During the day, nothing. But it increased overnight.
Now I need to check the curse.

In the pouring rain, I ran down the path. I was wearing my waterproof jacket, the green one with all the survival equipment concealed in the pockets. I'd been along this path in McElhattan a thousand times, but it looked different. McElhattan Run was up, raging in the wood to my right, and the path was about half covered in water.
I dodged the puddles, trying to get in and out before the path was flooded out. I was going in alone---I couldn't ask Kara to do this. She'd have come.
Up ahead, the path was washed out by rising water. I took three steps and leaped, going over it like Green Lantern and coming down on the other side. I got to the end of the path, and turned left, over the stone bridge. And then I was there. The home of the Giantess.
Zindel Park.
Built in 1929, Zindel Park was a scenic portion of the city water system, coincidentally placed right where the Giantess story had happened. About ten years ago, I'd discovered the humanoid sculpture in the water, and chosen to not publicize it. I stepped up onto the concrete platform above the water, and looked down. The run was churning too much; I couldn't see the Giantess underneath.
Of course it's a flood. This thing was even said to have caused the flood of 1865.
I stepped back down onto the wet, mushy ground and knelt down.
I got my EMF detector out of my pocket, held it up, and turned it on.
Nothing.
Then I lowered it to the ground, and it lit up.
There was magnetism here. At ground level, the place was loaded with EMFs.
And that explains a lot. I looked around at the park. I have some idea what's going on now. Rest easy, Pipsisseway. I got this covered.

"So how was the Main Street investigation?" asked Millie.
It was the monthly LHPS meeting. I sat in the living room with my friends: Millie, Kara, and Theresa. "Went well," said Kara. "We didn't find much on video, and there was a lot of interference on the audio."
"I found a high amount of EMFs in the building and outside," I said. "I think that's their problem right there."
Kara nodded. "I agree."
"Overnight, when the street lights come on, the EMFs go up to incredible levels," I said. "In addition to causing the apartment to feel haunted, I think it caused a Jersey Devil sighting. The EMFs affected migration patterns, screwing up at least one bird. Kara, take your phone and look up 'Great Blue Heron'."
Kara brought a video up on the phone, and played it. It showed a large bird, making a loud, frightening groaning and growling.
"I think that's what the witness saw and heard," I said.
"I think this is crazy, Lou," said Kara. "He's a hunter. He'd recognize this. he said he heard hooves."
"When blue herons snap their beaks, it does make a sort of clopping sound, like hooves. I checked."
"It could have been a deer," said Kara.
"They have been known to come downtown, I'll admit," I said,"But the hunter wouldn't recognize a deer?"
"Enough with the sarcasm."
"I also checked out the Giantess sculpture, out in McElhattan," I said. "I think it's something similar, magnetic fields. The curse, in the story, is described as crops dying, birds blocking out the sun, stuff like that. Which could be caused by invasive species. That could be caused by birds getting off their migration patterns---Birds can carry seeds with them, which can grow and choke out the crops."
Millie nodded. "That makes some sense."
"The ground out there is loaded with iron," I said. "I looked it up. Moving it around, carving it, placing a stone heavily mixed with iron....That could have shifted the magnetic fields. Over time, they'd build up, and cause what the Native Americans would view as a curse. The good news is, once they start digging out there, it can break the field and calm everything down for a while."
"Could be," said Theresa.
"So anyway," I said,"Case closed on that one." I sat back. "Is there any more orange soda?"

The Scare Witch Project

Every October, I write a series of columns about ghosts and old legends for the local newspapers. Usually this means I have to come up with about a dozen different ideas on stories about the paranormal. The old murders, the haunted houses.
There's a reason they call it a deadline.
Generally, I wind up digging through a lot of old files and newspapers. It gets harder every year as I try not to repeat myself. It was a Tuesday afternoon when, in desperate need of another story, I found myself digging through a file cabinet just off the Sloan Museum wing on the second floor of the library.
I found a thick file labelled "Ghosts," and pulled it out. I flipped through it. A couple of stories were ones I already knew, but then I found the stack of handwritten pages at the end of the file.
"Oh, wow."

"Pat Tyson was the closest thing I had to a mentor in paranormal research," I said. "She used to call me up and tell me when she liked one of my columns. She and I worked together on a few projects, speeches and all."
"She sounds nice," said my daughter. Biz had come to visit me at the library. She drops by sometimes to make sure I haven't forgotten to eat.
"She was wonderful. She died back in 2013," I said. I picked up a manila file and opened it. "Upstairs, today, I was going through an old file cabinet. You know how this place is bigger on the inside? I found an old file from Pat. Handwritten notes that she compiled about all sorts of paranormal legends."
"Oh, wow," said Biz. She looked over the file.
"The Giantess, the K-Mart ghosts....She made connections I'd never discovered," I said. "She found the Giantess years before I did, and never told anyone about it. And she connected it with the two petrified bodies in Great Island Cemetery. She saw the Indian ghost at K-Mart."
Biz was flipping pages. "I wouldn't mind a copy of this myself."
"I'll get you a copy. She wrote about some stuff I've never stumbled onto yet. The Witch of Sugar Run. There was a witch known as Sal Kervine who lived up just outside the city limits, and was known for casting spells on people. I'm going to be months checking out all of this."
"That's awesome," said Biz. "When are you going to start?"
I smiled at her. "You coming up for dinner tomorrow?"

Dinner was ham, browned Brussels sprouts, and garlic potatoes. With Paul watching, I cooked it so it was ready when Michelle brought Biz to the house. I am not a one-trick wonder.
"Got another offer to be on a TV show," I commented. "A producer e-mailed me, asking if I'd be interested in doing a show about investigating with teenagers."
"Oh, cool," said Biz. "That sounds fun."
"Well, until you factor in that the first thing I teach the kids is that everything on TV is wrong," I said. "I get a couple of these offers every year. But they do crap investigation on television; they're really unprofessional. I wouldn't want to sell out like that."
"It would be cool to see you on TV, though," said Biz.
"You mind if we make a stop before we drop you off tonight?" I asked. "I want to check out the Flemington Cemetery."

I walked through the cemetery, looking out across the gravestones. Flemington Cemetery had been around for over a century and a half. I noted the stones, and the empty spaces in between them, and then walked back to the car.
"You find what you were looking for?" Biz asked from the back seat.
"Yeah, I think so. I can tell where the bodies I need are....Great Island Cemetery was moved in 1918. Some of the bodies were brought up here, and I'm pretty sure they're in the old empty space to the south. Two of them were female, and listed as petrified---The bodies had turned to stone. These may correlate with reports of two female ghosts, one wearing black and one wearing white, in Great Island Cemetery."
"This have to do with the file you found yesterday?"
"Yeah. Pat ties the Great Island ghosts in with the Giantess. She seems to have been working on this Grand Unified Theory of paranormal investigation in Clinton County. All of her stuff seems to connect. I'm going to look into it, and see what I can figure out. I'm making a start on the Witch of Sugar Run."
"There was really a witch?"
"There seems to have been someone, and this seems to have been some sort of family story. The witch's name, in the legend, is Sal Kervine. Pat got this story from a friend of hers named Curvan. Those are similar enough that I had to wonder if it was some sort of family connection, and I checked the 1862 map. Along Sugar Run, way back when, a property was owned by someone listed on the map as P. Crevin, which is also pretty close. Nobody had standardized spelling back then; they just wrote down whatever they thought they heard. So if I can find out about P. Crevin, I can find my witch."
"Didn't you write a column about something like this in Farrandsville, a while back? A witch casting spells on people. Your headline was Spell Check."
"Yeah, and it's a similar story, though this makes more sense. The story involves her cursing people who were riding past her house, and Farrandsville isn't on the way to anywhere. You go to Farrandsville, you have to turn around and go back; it's the end of the road. Sugar Run makes more sense."
"It does, actually."
"Millie lives up near Sugar Run. LHPS has meetings right where a witch was casting spells in the 1800s. So maybe I can interest the team in checking into this. "
"Well, you have looked into witches before."
"County's full of 'em."
"And what do you plan to do when you find her?"
"See if she weighs the same as a duck."
"I be a witch for Halloween," added Paul.
"I know, little man. I promised to make you a wand. So I'm going to see if I can figure out who the witch really was, check some obits and property records. I looked through some of the obits today at work, and found Curvans, but no connection yet. Nothing that resembles the witch."
"So what's your next step?" asked Biz.
"There's never only one way," I said. "If you can't raise the bridge, lower the river."

I began my morning with a committee meeting at the Piper Museum, and then I had to deal with a fuel issue with the new Comanche. I fielded a couple of ghost questions from visitors. I was wearing my Kraken t-shirt. Mondays.
I made a stop at the courthouse halfway between Piper and the library. I dropped my pack off at the radio station rather than put it through security. I have no idea how to describe what I do for a living.
"Lou! Your son's not with you today?" asked the Register and Recorder when I walked into the office.
"I'm flying solo today," I agreed. "But I'll have to bring him in here soon. He likes it. You guys all give him candy."
I hadn't found anything under obits yet that I could use, so I tried Wills. There's never only one way. I had to try as many different spellings as I could, so I checked Curvan, Cervin, Crevin, Kervine. People weren't all hysterical over spelling back in those days. I finally found a Patrick Craven, died in 1891 with no Will. I copied off his estate documents, and then checked deeds.
Patrick had owned a lot of property, all over the county. That explained the Farrandsville discrepancy---He'd owned property there, too, so the family had likely told the same story in different locations. I checked to see if he'd owned the Sugar Run property in Bald Eagle Township---At the time, anyway; these days it's part of Allison Township. I found a barely readable deed from 1859 where Patrick Craven had bought the property in Bald Eagle.
I knew where. Now I had to find out who.
I biked over to the library. It was getting cooler out---I love autumn, but so far it had been about as chilly as the 1862 town fire. Now it was beginning to cool down, and the leaves were starting to fall.
Our IT guy was in when I got to the library.
"I think I have the server fixed," he told me. "It's been down all week. We're having a bad week for the computers; I can't figure out what's wrong."
"You want me to look into curses?" I asked. "Check to see if maybe we're built on an Indian burial ground?"
He grinned. "Well, that won't hurt. I don't have better ideas."
"I do what I can."
I went to my desk, where I pulled the index file for the obits. There's a certain luxury in being able to work in the library before it actually opens. Now that I had a name, I could find out more.
"How's it going, Lou?" asked my co-worker Sue as she walked past.
"Tracking down a witch," I said.
"Because of course you are."
I found Patrick Craven's card. He had an obit in November of 1891 and he was listed as "buried in the Catholic Cemetery." There were at least three of those, but when I checked the cemetery records, I found him in Saint Mary's, buried not far from where he'd lived.
Several family members were buried with him. Including a wife, who'd outlived him. Mary.
"Any luck?" Sue asked as she walked by.
"Where there's a Will," I said,"There's a way."

"Where do I turn?" Kara was driving. I was with her, Ashlin, and Charlie---Most of the members of LHPS.
"The cemetery is on Hill Street."
"Nobody but you and the pizza guy knows where the hell Hill Street is."
"Next right. Up ahead."
"Okay. Where's the cemetery?"
"On the left, just up ahead. Right there."
"I didn't even know there was a cemetery here," commented Charlie. "How did you know?"
"I'm Lou," I said. "I know these things."
Kara turned into Saint Mary's Cemetery and parked near the path. LHPS often held our meetings at Millie's house, right near Sugar Run, and just around the corner from Saint Mary's. So I'd suggested to the team that we take a little field trip before the meeting, and go find a witch's grave.
We climbed out of the car.
"She's in this section, Section Three. Between these two paths." I pointed toward the section, the two grass paths on each side. "Shouldn't be too hard a find; she's with the family, someplace near that mausoleum."
We spread out and began walking north, through the cemetery.
"What was the name?" Charlie asked.
"Mary Craven," I said. "She's with her husband."
Kara looked around. "Teah, Over there. Is that...."
"Yeah, Teah Hospital. We investigated it a couple of years ago. And up in that corner is Luther Shaffer, the guy haunting the old jail we investigated. He was the only guy hung for his crime in Clinton County."
"I don't see---" Ashlin began.
I knelt by a stone. "Here. Over here."
They all ran over to join me. I took a couple of photos of the stone. It was a big one, a monument, with a cross broken off and lying on the top. I was kneeling beside it, running my fingers across the lettering the way I was used to, feeling the letters.
"Mary Craven," I said. "This is her."
"We could read that whole thing if we had some paper and chalk," Kara said.
"Or a mirror," I said. "Or shaving cream."
"Seriously? Shaving cream?"
"You put shaving cream on the thing, and then squeegee it off, and it leaves white letters. Or the mirror, which is better for preservation---You can reflect light and leave the letters in shadow." I looked at Mary's dates, and then her husband's, and then I crawled sideways to look at the dates on the daughters' stones. "Check out the dates. You notice anything, Ashlin?"
Ashlin look at the stones. "They all died first?"
"They did. Her husband and both daughters died before Mary. And that will tell you a lot about where the witch story came from. We tended to be very suspicious of women living alone back then, and Mary was a widow. She lived alone on a huge farm, probably telling people to get off it. The rumor spread that she was a witch."
"I'd probably be cranky, too," admitted Kara.
I stood up. "Thanks for the help, you guys. Let's get back to the meeting."
"Yeah," Ashlin said. "We got snacks.
"Found the witch's grave," I said. "Happy Halloween, you guys."