Wee Ghosties

At Least It Scared Away the Bear

noreply@blogger.com (weeghosties) — Thu, 01 Oct 2015 22:05:00 +0000

"That time of the year again" has come a little early. Autumn can bring floating lights, shadows just out of reach, or flat out visions but I usually roll back over and go to sleep after a grumpy "go away." Lately, we've been trying to outwit a bear that manhandles the chest freezer in our garage (since emptied) and his attempts to lift our garage door -- I'll let that sink in a minute, but a loud THUMP followed by a distinct rapping on the downstairs window at 12:30a the other night had me rattled. I never get rattled.

We let the dogs out after their frenzied barking -- nothing's outside (no bear). I double-checked the locks on the doors -- and found one open. It's never unlocked. After checking that the kids were asleep in their beds, I sat up and stared out the window until 2a.

I'm used to the lights. I'm used to the bear. I'm not used to something that expects an answer when it comes rap-tap-tapping on my window. And it wasn't even the first time.

The real story behind Annabelle

noreply@blogger.com (weeghosties) — Wed, 24 Sep 2014 19:21:00 +0000

Annabelle at the Warren's Occult Museum

Passing an antique store in 1970, Donna’s mother couldn’t resist buying the large rag doll with round button eyes as a birthday gift for her college-aged daughter. Donna loved the doll, displaying it prominently in her bedroom of the apartment she shared with fellow nursing student, Angie. Days later, the women noticed something peculiar about the doll. After making her bed each morning, Donna would place the doll – legs straight out and arms to the sides – on her bed, when she returned in the evening, the legs and arms would be positioned differently. Limbs would cross or the doll’s arms would be folded in its lap.

A week or so passed, and each day the doll would change its position from how it was left in the morning. Donna tested the doll by purposefully placing the limbs in crossed positions to see if they’d be in a similar state when she returned. Not only did she find the arms and legs uncrossed, the doll would be found hunched over or knocked to one side.

Eventually, the girls found the doll making a break for it in the front room; returning home one night, Donna and Angie discovered the doll sitting in a chair near the front door – kneeling. Other times, they would find it sitting on the sofa, and probably hogging the remote control.

The doll started to leave notes around the apartment. Written in pencil on parchment paper, of which they had neither in the house, they found messages pleading for help, “HELP US” and “HELP LOU” were scrawled in childlike handwriting across the yellowed paper.

Thinking the doll and its antics were the trick being played on them by someone able to access their apartment, Donna and Angie began to mark positions on the doors and windows to track anyone coming into the room. Never finding evidence of a person entering the apartment, they began to get scared.

One night, the women found blood on the back of the doll’s soft cloth hand – and three drops of blood on its chest. They decided to contact a medium to see if she could find an explanation for the odd occurrences surrounding the doll. The psychic told them a young girl had died on the property when it was simply fields to run in and no buildings had swallowed her playground in concrete. The girl’s name was Annabelle Higgins and was seven-years-old. Annabelle had decided she’d liked the rag doll and felt the students were able to relate to her, the psychic continued, so she had possessed the doll to be near them. The women called the doll Annabelle from that moment on and treated the expressionless toy as if it were a child. They felt it was no longer a plaything – it was a child in need of love.

Lou, a friend of Angie and Donna’s, had never felt comfortable around the doll. While he couldn’t place why he’d rather be in a separate room from Annabelle, it turned out he should have listened to his instincts. Napping on the couch in their front room, Lou dreamed of the doll. Feeling himself wake up he looked around the room and then saw Annabelle at his feet. The doll began to climb up his legs, moving over his chest until it reached his neck. In his dream, he saw the soft arms touch either side of his throat and the horror of himself being strangled by the rag doll. Waking in terror, he knew the doll had to go.

Later, while preparing for a trip the next day, Lou was alone in the apartment with Angie. Hearing noises coming from Donna’s bedroom, Lou suspected they’d finally catch whatever had been playing with the doll and discover who was behind the tricks on his friends. Quietly opening the door to the room, Lou saw nothing was out of place, except that instead of being in her normal place on top of the bed, Annabelle was lying crumpled in a corner. As he walked further into the room and closer to the doll, he felt a dark presence behind him. Spinning around to face the attacker, Lou fell to the ground as Angie ran in to find her friend bleeding. Peeling away the material of his shirt, they found seven claw-like marks on his chest, the scratches burning like fire into his flesh. Remarkably, the wounds healed completely within a day or two but they knew they needed help to deal with whatever had possessed the doll.

Donna contacted the Episcopal Church who suggested they contact Ed and Lorraine Warren, the founders of the New England Society for Psychic Research. Ed, a demonologist, and Lorraine, a trance medium, were intrigued by the case and ready to help. After discussing Annabelle’s history with Donna and Angie, the Warrens determined that the doll was demonically possessed and not a simple haunting. They felt whatever had taken control of the doll had done so by emotional manipulation of the girls by telling them, via the medium, that it was the spirit of a child locked inside, thus giving the demon a way to enter the apartment. Feeling that Donna and Angie were in danger, the Warrens requested to take the doll away from the house for their own safety.

On way home, the Warrens had a tussle with their back seat driver. The car stalled or swerved on curves, making the journey dangerous. Finally, Ed Warren removed a vial of holy water from his bag, sprinkling it liberally over the possessed doll in the back seat. The rest of the drive home was uneventful. At their home, Annabelle sat in a chair next to Ed’s desk though would often move to different rooms in the house, and even levitating when it first arrived.

A special case was built for the doll and it moved to the Warren’s Occult Museum where she has remained quiet ever since. Or has she? The doll may be to blame for the death of a visitor to the museum. Hearing the story of Lou’s experiences with Annabelle, a young man taunted the doll by asking it to scratch him and banging on its case. Escorted from the museum with a warning to respect what he doesn’t understand, the visitor and his girlfriend left on his motorcycle for home. Not long after leaving the Occult Museum, the young man was the victim of an accident as his motorcycle ran off the road and hit a tree, killing him instantly.

Haunted Stuff mini-poster giveaway!

noreply@blogger.com (stacey) — Fri, 22 Aug 2014 23:23:00 +0000

I love seeing my books in the wild! If you come across Haunted Stuff at your favorite bookstore, please send me a snap via Twitter, on my Facebook wall, or by email to win one of five signed mini-posters of the cover!

Who's that rap rap rapping upon my door?

noreply@blogger.com (weeghosties) — Sun, 16 Feb 2014 03:44:00 +0000

The house is finally quiet again.

A year ago, something was stirred up and December had its share of anomalies. Knocking upon the walls, small white lights in the hallway, and a Santa figurine on my coffee table shook its bell for several long minutes though there was no breeze - no shaking of the table - and no one around but me to witness it. Then there was the man at the top of the hill. We live along a busy route that winds around the spine of the Blue Ridge Mountains. We're quite close to a government secret bunker, I hear helicopters daily, and not far from there is the site of a horrific airplane crash which in 1971 resulted in the death of 92 people.

Ghosts have been reported along this road for years. A woman, dressed in a business suit and pulling luggage behind her has been witnessed on the road, and the ubiquitous lady in gray wanders the road - though I've haven't seen either of them. My ghost was unexpected. Jarring. After years of seeing weird stuff I was...startled. And then a little bit frightened.

Waiting at the top of the lane for my daughters' school bus, I had my head down and was reading a book. Raising my head, I saw a young man in his early 20s standing about five yards in back of my car. Wearing tan pants, a striped shirt, and sporting a wild shock of curly black hair, he stood with his hands on his hips and stared. At me. Our eyes met in the rear view mirror. I immediately turned around but no one was there. I know what I saw. I don't think he was from the plane crash - there was no young man of his description in the logs.

A few days later, I pulled out onto the main road from our lane. There's a curve going north and it's a bit hard to see when cars come around, so we're always careful to not pull out too soon. That day, I pulled out after checking for cars and saw a black Scion-type car whiz past me. I jerked my car hard to the left and nearly hit a row of mailboxes. No car. And no sound. The forest had gone silent around me.

A week later, the Santa figurine started to ring his bell. A month after that, Llewellyn Publishing contacted me about writing a book on haunted objects. I figured I had this covered.

What's haunting Paxton Manor?

noreply@blogger.com (stacey) — Sat, 21 Sep 2013 21:49:00 +0000

Case file: 9.13.13

Paxton Manor, Leesburg, Virginia

The ARC of Loudoun had done a fabulous job promoting Friday the 13th at Paxton so the Wee Ghosties team was met with 19 explorers for our night amongst the ghosts of the manor. After a brief history of the large house and its first family by the staff, I did a quick ghost hunting 101 session on what to look for and some simple tools to use while investigating, focusing on dowsing rods, voice recorders, and paying attention to their own senses as their most valuable resource.

Breaking into three groups: Team Fun (mine), Team Rebel (Larry's), and Team Domination (LaMishia), each team entered the house five minutes apart so as not to interrupt EVP sessions and to spread out: one team upstairs, and two below. It's a large house but filled with false walls and mazes for the upcoming Shocktober event so sound bounces along the hallways and we were careful not to spoil another team's session.

For Team Fun, we utilized the voice recorder, compass as an EMF detector, laser pointer, dowsing rods, flashlight tag, photos and some video during the night. To get them familiar with the tools and to trust their own judgment, we started in the bar room, which had yielded some EVP results in the past for other paranormal investigative teams. Our first try at EVP came with a drain of the team members' batteries in her recorder and a mumble, but it's as yet not deciphered.

Team Rebel/Fun verrrrra late at night

We crowded into the shower on the second floor at 9:13p. For the Shocktober festivities, there is a dummy hanging from the ceiling. One team member moved past her to stand behind her, creating a slight swing and twist. The dummy continued to swing for far longer than physics is comfortable with. We noticed it moving many minutes later after our EVP session though the session didn't give up the ghost.

After midnight, Team Fun and Team Rebel moved to investigate a cottage on the property that was reported to also have activity. The staff member working until late in the night painting the 3D-effects told us of her experiences with what she believes is a young girl and two older men. In the Fun House, Team Fun did not get a solid EVP but while alone in the maze, did experience the flashlight responding to questions with the brightness of the bulb varying with each question or going completely out -- only to come back on after a few more questions. Team Fun and Team LaMishia had more interactive experiences in the Fun House.

Second attempt for shower EVPs

1:06a: Back in the Manor, we resumed our investigation. Visiting the Doll Room, so named for the collection of life-sized marionettes and smaller dolls, we began another EVP and dowsing rods session. Upon playback, we believe we have a voice saying "no" after asking if there were more than one ghost in the house.

1:45a: We returned to the shower because it creeped us out and we're gluttons for punishment in a cramped shower. Initiating the EVP session, I also had the flashlight on to hopefully resume responses via the light. The flashlight came on as soon as we entered the shower. After saying, "Tell us something we need to know," it went out. Asking, "Is this Rachel Paxton?" the flashlight came on brightly. We believe we heard a response to my question "Is there something you'd like me to tell Matt?"

2:06a: The night came to an end as our guests returned home. Thank you to everyone that participated in the Friday the 13^th fundraiser for Paxton Manor, and we’ll see you Friday the 13^th in June 2014!

I think its one good eye is tracking me across the room. It's cover release day for Haunted Stuff!

noreply@blogger.com (stacey) — Tue, 17 Sep 2013 14:41:00 +0000

The new cover for Haunted Stuff: Demonic Dolls, Screaming Skulls, and Other Creepy Collectibles has been released into the wild! A huge thank you to the team at Llewellyn for a spectacularly spooky (and moldy) cover image! Haunted Stuff will be released August 4th, 2014.

I think it's staring at me. Is it staring at me?

What happens when you throw a paranormal party and nobody shows?

noreply@blogger.com (weeghosties) — Sun, 30 Jun 2013 22:23:00 +0000

Ghost hunting is all about the waiting. No matter how many books you read, shows you watch,

or excursions you go out on yourself, you'll find that 99% of the investigations turn up with little more to show than a sore bottom and earnest EVP questions into a wobbly recorder. However, that's part of the deal: you wait - they reveal when they're ready. Sometimes you're lucky, like when my partner in Wee Ghosties and I recorded a phantom child during a brief EVP session in an alley in Winchester, Virginia. We saw nothing that would have indicated paranormal activity while we were there, just a story about a possible ghost. Of course, the man whose house we were unwittingly standing in front of (it was a bakery at one time and we thought was abandoned) startled the beejeebus out of us when he said howdy. Forget the dead: the living have a much more wicked sense of humor.

But on most of our investigations, it's all show and no gho(st). Recently, we had a case where the businessowner reported footsteps, voices, and feelings of being watched. I usually just get that when I'm trying to sleep and my seven-year-old wants a glass of water. During our investigation, we experienced little of these things, and found mundane causes for what we believe were other concerns. Was it a bust? Heck no. Each opportunity to experience something paranormal gives our curiosity a chance to stretch its legs and rediscover why we're in this crazy business. That floating head may be just around the corner.

What evidence have you found of the paranormal?

Abram's Delight mini-investigation

noreply@blogger.com (stacey) — Sat, 03 Nov 2012 00:05:00 +0000

Shew, that really was a dark and spooky night. October 27th brought guests to Abram's Delight in Winchester, Virginia to roam around the 18th century mansion, get a little ghost hunting in with my investigative partner, LaMishia, and I and pause a minute before the coming of superstorm Sandy. We knew the night may hold some surprises due to Sandy whipping up the atmosphere and sparking a few ghosts.

LaMishia and I waited in a small cabin adjacent to the large stone house; the historical society was loathe to disturb their resident ghosts so we worked by firelight and wove our own tales of spirits and how we coaxed them from hiding. Three groups stretched into seven as our guests shared their stories and we listened. EVPs were taken, Spectre Detectors used by the kids, most of the guests wanting to hear something -- anything -- to prove or disprove what they had come into the night believing. Abram's Delight kept its silence that night but we may return again to see what's under the surface of this lovely old home.

My eldest heard footsteps in her room as they walked around to the foot of her bed when Sandy got her skirts in a flutter a few days later and we were without power on the mountain for four days. Did I bring someone home with me? I think it may have instead be one of the random ghosts I have or possibly one of the 250 people killed in the 70s from a plane crash a half mile from my house. But that's a story for another time.

Talking to your children about a ghost in the house

noreply@blogger.com (weeghosties) — Wed, 17 Oct 2012 17:38:00 +0000

For every monster under the bed or supposed ghost floating down the hallway, there’s a parent who soothes, double checks the closet, and protects their child from tricks of the light. What if there’s a bit more festive activities happening in the house that you can’t explain? How can you turn what can be a scary situation into an adventure and give your family the chance to explore the paranormal?

Most hauntings have mundane roots. Animals in the attic, leaking pipes, even conversations from neighbors’ yards have floated in through exhaust pipes into bathrooms making a homeowner think her shower was possessed. It’s easy to let your imagination run with the possibility that your house has some extra visitors but the chances of a true haunting are very slim.

Check for all explainable sources:

Smell: Kitchen smells, old pizza boxes under the bed, exhaust from cars
Sounds: Critters in the walls, household noises that seem amplified at night
Visions: Reflections in mirrors and windows, bugs
Physical sensations: Breezes, stray fabric

If you have a child who is convinced they’ve seen a ghost, listen first and act next. By helping them to focus on what they’ve seen and writing it down, it gives them (and you) a sense of control.

Create a family ghost log by filling out:

What area of the house the ghost was seen
What time of day
Who was in the house
What the weather was like (stormy, clear, snowing)
If pets were present – dogs, cats, a juiced-up hamster with a squeaky wheel
What happened
How long did it last
What did the ghost look like: period clothing, floating head

Keeping the log will help you see if a pattern is forming. Take that information and wait for the next appearance or schedule a vacation if you’re not ready to face the beyoooond. Oooooo. Sorry, I’ll stop that now.

Depending on the age, involving your child in your own ghost hunt can help them turn something frightening into a chance to use deductive reasoning and figure out what’s happening. My advice is to talk to your child about what they’ve seen or heard and not to overreact. If you feel you need backup to discover more about the possibility of ghosts in your house, contact a credible local paranormal investigation group. Most will have the tools to do research on the spot and the knowledge to answer your questions.

Wanted: Haunted Objects stories

noreply@blogger.com (weeghosties) — Tue, 09 Oct 2012 13:00:00 +0000

Just like the Girls' Ghost Hunting Guide, I love projects that sneak up quietly and slide right into awesome. Right before I left for the Haunted Mansion Writers Retreat, my agent dropped me a note that Llewellyn Publishing would like a peek at my proposal for Giving Up the Ghost: Spooky Tales of Haunted Objects -- something I had put on the back burner as another proposal Wee Beasties: A Field Guide for Curious Children was about to head out of the gate. What could we say? Dawn sent the proposal to my fabulous new editor, Amy, and now we're making the magic happen, baby!

Now this is where y'all come in: I would love to interview you for the new book with your first-hand haunted object stories! Toys, paintings, jewelry, furniture, mirrors -- come at me, bro. Email me at stacey.i.graham[at]gmail.com and let's chat!

Day two at the Haunted Mansion

noreply@blogger.com (weeghosties) — Tue, 09 Oct 2012 01:30:00 +0000

Friday passed under the busy fingers of writing and diving into Scott's newest book. I hid myself away in an alcove on the third floor and cocked an ear for wayward sounds. No chains. No moaning. No...nothing. Apparently this place didn't get hopping until evening -- right when I finally took a nap to catch up with my jet lag. Steve burst into my room and pulled me from bed, something had happened to his brother, Dan. Writer, Weston Ochse, witnessed the events and wrote about the High Priestess of MoFo, Rain Graves, and her help in ridding my friend of his unfortunate attachment to what Rain called a "lesser entity."

All I knew was that Dan told me he'd been pulled under the bed by an unseen force -- and he didn't look very good. I joined Dan downstairs and watched as he and Rain went through the last of their healing work together. I fell asleep a few hours later on a nearby couch only to wake up at 5a and head upstairs, ready to write and get the day movin'.

At 5:30a, the ghosts woke up. For an hour, I heard furniture moving: chairs being drug, tables moved, heavy objects tossed around. I thought it was the staff preparing for a 9a breakfast but meeting Steve in the hallway at 6:45a, we tiptoed downstairs to see that nothing had been moved, no one stirring at that hour -- and that he hadn't heard a thing in his room next to mine. I take that back, he did hear something: he heard women whispering in his room, that's what woke him up.

Steve and I crept back to the third floor to take EVPs. No voices came through, no phantom wanted coffee. Scott woke up soon afterward and we started the day more accustomed to the flickering of the lights and listened for the slide of the rings of a shower curtain reported by another writer while alone in the bathroom. I knew that bathroom was up to no good.

The Ghost Girls arrived and set up cameras and voice recorders, and we listened to their findings from 2010. I learned a new trick from the girls: using two mag lite flashlights twisted to a nearly OFF position may garner you an answer or two from a ghost. As ghosts tap into its energy, the flashlight will turn itself on or off with varying power when asked questions. Yeah, I didn't believe it either. Until I did. Craziness, I tell you. Try this at home and tell me what you get.

Hours and calls of "DRINK ALL TEH COFFEE" later, I wrapped up my investigation. The house indeed was curious. I had experienced cold spots, flashing lights, and furniture that refused to obey the laws of gravity but could I explain it away? I'm a skeptic first and a ghost hunter second, so I'm still processing the information. Still interviewing writers who experienced first-hand phenomena and will contact others before I make my conclusions. I can't wait to see the video the Ghost Girls captured and if, for a moment, there was something in the room on the other side of mine. The one that taunted Rain and Sephera years before with whispers. I heard nothing, but perhaps they voices weren't meant for me.

A handful of writers in a haunted mansion: what could possibly go wrong?

noreply@blogger.com (weeghosties) — Mon, 08 Oct 2012 21:03:00 +0000

Rock 'em - Sock 'em Robots with S.G. Browne

Last week, I snuck into a Haunted Mansion Writers Retreat in lovely Mill Valley, California. The view was fabulous, the company sublime, and I had to walk home to Virginia to work off all the food the retreat supplied. What I didn't go much into detail about were my experiences with the house itself. As Dan, Steve and I drove up into the mountains overlooking the small town, I couldn't help thinking of Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House:

“No live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood so for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.” -- Shirley Jackson

Since this just happens to be my favorite book, I was all set to face whatever floating heads came my way and hoped they would be as scary and jaw-droppingly awesome as I've seen in the past. I've been researching and writing about ghosts and the paranormal for over twenty years, this would be a piece of cake. I know, I know -- famous last words.

The first night in the house was accompanied by very good wine and conversation. Writers from around the United States and Canada had come to poke the paranormal and see if it giggled... and do some writing. Pffft. Writing. I was there to chase down a phantom. I went to bed around 11p PST (2a my time) and waited. My friend, Scott Browne (author of Breathers), had switched from our shared bedroom to the third floor, leaving me alone in a lovely - yet spooky - bedroom where he had his own ghostly experience two years before. Scott had been awoken by a ghost they had called Gretchen, whose named they'd learned from electronic voice phenomena (EVP) recordings in the room. Early one morning, something had grabbed his shoulder and shook him for several minutes, while leaving him unable to turn his head and see exactly who had strong hands and an attitude. Awesome. And I was alone with this bad girl now.

I ended up moving down the hallway to a cozy room where no one would wander through on route to the communal bathroom. I kept having visions of random ghostly flushing and decided I wanted to sleep more than scope out the showers all night. That night, among the nightly wanderings of writers, I waited - and dozed - and waited some more. I took an EVP that needs a bit more break down before I share it, and posted on facebook in the middle of the night. It was perfect.

Paxton Manor Investigation

noreply@blogger.com (weeghosties) — Sat, 14 Jul 2012 21:46:00 +0000

Homey - isn't it?

I was invited to investigate Paxton Manor in Leesburg, Virginia on the spookiest night of the summer, July 13th. So, I called up my ghost hunting partner, LaMishia, and recruited 13 intrepid newbies to accompany us as a fundraiser for the ARC of Loudoun County. Paxton Manor has been rumored to be one of the top five haunted places on the east coast and is currently being renovated as a haunted house attraction - Shocktober - for this October. False walls, gory bits flinging themselves at our heads, and the promise of snakes in the basement kept us on our toes the entire night.

Half of our group were kids aged 11-18 and they were fabulous. They took investigating seriously but still recognized it for the adventure it is and enjoyed learning the ropes of ghost hunting. I have no doubt some of them will continue to explore the creepy side of life with a little ghost hunting of their own someday.

Paranormal activity in the house was high with most of the group experiencing various degrees of physical touching: hair being stroked, tickles in the ears (me), being poked in the back (me), goosebumps, and one pinch. One participant saw what she described as a large male entity sitting in a chair at the end of a hallway, who blocked the light shining in from the window behind him; he moved away and up the staircase after she outed him.The house was very humid that night from the hot day but the hallway where we stood cooled noticeably for a manner of five minutes before it returned to its sweltering former temperature. We all wanted him to come back if nothing else than for a bit of relief. ;)

EVPs from the night are still filtering in. My favorite is from earlier that night with two other investigators, Molly and Gretchen. What do you think, is it a stray breath or a raspberry from the beyond? ;)

Did a ghost just blow me a raspberry? by Stacey Graham 1

EVPs, Spectre Detectors & really bad ghost crafts.

noreply@blogger.com (stacey) — Wed, 30 May 2012 02:41:00 +0000

Okay, I was kidding about the ghost crafts...maybe. Stop by and say hello on June 8th!

Happy Book Birthday, Girls' Ghost Hunting Guide!

noreply@blogger.com (weeghosties) — Tue, 01 May 2012 14:25:00 +0000

My life has always been a bit spooky. Yeah, big surprise. It didn't knock me over the head though until I was in my late teens. My dog, Jake, had just been put to sleep after lymphoma had ravaged his body -- but never his spirit. A week after his passing, I'd see shadows out of the corner of my eye, just close enough to get my attention but fading when I turned my head. Then I'd feel his presence as he flopped down next to me, I could almost feel the weight of his head on my lap as I sat in bed and missed my friend and companion of seven years. Jake moved on a few weeks later but it sparked my curiosity. I'd always loved ghost stories -- what if there were more to it than floating heads in gothic corridors?

A bit later I stayed at a friends house for the night. Before turning out the lights, I read a magazine only to see a woman peeking over the cover at me from the foot of the bed. Lowering the paper, I saw a middle-aged lady wearing an early 20th century styled dark-colored dress. Her hair was black and pulled back into a bun and boy, was she pissed. Her eyes bore into mine with a fury I save for political campaigns and her hands clenched at her sides. I don't get excited easily -- I resumed reading the magazine and forgot about it until the next morning. While getting into my car and saying goodbye to my friend, I felt a hand run down my back to remind me. Apparently this house has been hopping with activity for years and I'd described a woman her grandfather had often seen.

That kicked my investigative gene into action. I started chatting people up. Men in teepees who told me I was transcending and mingling with the ancestors: I think it was the giant crop of pot in back of the teepee that made my eyes wonky. Old ladies at psychic fairs who held my hand and told me I'd marry a boy named Bryan (I did, six years later). And later my own investigations into creaky old houses and digging into the history of houses and families whose names were etched on walls but not in memories. This led to twenty years of investigating the paranormal with a skeptic's eye, I'm willing to believe - but it'd better be good.

The Girls' Ghost Hunting Guide releases today from Sourcebooks and I couldn't be happier if you fed me calorie-free donuts all day. It's a fun, activity-filled book for ages 9+ and great for girls and boys with step-by-step directions on how to conduct research and an investigation while being safe, responsible and still maintaining the ability to say "why not?" when faced with phenomena that may not be easily explained. Thank you to my agent, Dawn Frederick, for instantly believing in the project and her support, and my friends and family who thought every weird story and experiment kicked butt.

Now go out there and have some fun by ordering GGHG! I'm working on glow-in-the-dark Spectre Detectors for the website and a new book proposal or two. I love this gig.

Care for a peek?
Sourcebooks | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Girls' Ghost Hunting Guide website

Electronic Voice Phenomena (EVP)

noreply@blogger.com (weeghosties) — Fri, 13 Apr 2012 18:20:00 +0000

To give yourself a serious case of the willies, try your hand at capturing Electronic Voice Phenomena (or EVPs). You know how dogs can hear whistles outside of human hearing? EVPs work along similar paths. Those whispers you "thought" you heard coming from your closet may be something after all. One theory is that living humans are not in tune with the frequency ghosts are so we can't pick up on when they're trying to get our attention. EVPs are one way paranormal investigators are now trying to communicate with ghosts.

Using a voice recorder, you may be able to pick up on that ghost doing interpretive dance in the corner. Ask questions clearly, pausing between them so you can hear your answer.

Method:

Using a hand-held device such as a mini-voice recorder, begin your investigation by speaking clearly into the microphone by stating your name, date, location and who is with you
Begin to ask questions as you walk around the area. What is your name? Your age? What was happening at the time of your death (so you can find out when they died)? Get creative, you never know what they'll come back with
Some noises are man-made: car outside, coughing, tripping over a table in the dark, etc. Be sure to record that in your notes and on the voice recording so you won't think it's a ghost later
When you've finished asking your questions, stop the recording. Play it back when you have a quiet moment, be sure to take notes and share the recording with the other investigators on your team for their interpretation

Noises to listen for:

Obvious voices that are not from your team
Breathing
Scratching
Static
Animals
Unidentifiable noises

Click here to listen to an EVP my WEE Ghosties team recorded at the West Virginia Penitentiary in 2008. We spent the night in a spooky abandoned prison and while we didn't see or hear a thing as we wandered the cold rooms, they apparently noticed us.

Spirit Cabinets, haunted dolls and the Psychic Ghost Theatre

noreply@blogger.com (weeghosties) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 17:16:00 +0000

A few years ago, my husband and I joined friends for a night filled with mystery, spine-tingling adventure and something to do with bugs. At least that's what they promised. They also dangled a Spirit Closet in front of me - how could I resist? We arrived late to the theater, the second-story of a magic shop outside of Washington, D.C., and scooted up the stairs to find the front room filled with about a dozen other theatergoers. We shuffled our way into the narrow back room as I ran over fire safety pamphlets in my head since there was only one way in and one way out. Two long sets of theater chairs were set up stadium-style, facing a desk and the spirit closet - a freestanding set of four curtains on PVC pipe hanging around a chair, a length of rope and some musical instruments.

I've had a mild fascination with Spirit Closets for years and if you've been reading the blog for long, it probably wouldn't surprise you to hear that I tried to rig one up as a teenager to figure out how mediums channeled their livelihoods from ectoplasm oozing out their noses and how they... let me explain.

Spirit Closets developed under the hand of the Davenport Brothers in the mid-19th century after their father discovered they could mimic the sounds made by the Fox Sisters earlier that decade. Seeing this as a sign to develop the boys’ talents further, the boys were trained as illusionists, using the spirit guide or control of a ghost of a man called John King.

King would assist the brothers in their nationwide act of using a Spirit Closet or Cabinet Séance. According to witnesses, the men would be bound hands and feet while seated on a bench in a large cabinet, measuring six feet by two feet balanced on two sawhorses off the floor. During the séance, the brothers closed the doors of the cabinet and within minutes were free to the amazement of the crowd. They then re-entered the cabinet and after the doors were shut and the lights dimmed for effect, the doors opened by assistants to reveal both men tied up. To make things even more interesting, the assistants would then place musical instruments such as a guitar and a tambourine in the Spirit Closet and the doors shut again. Almost immediately afterwards, music would be heard coming from the box played by King.

The Davenport Brothers would invite skeptics to join them in the box but only if they agreed to be tied up as they were for their own protection from the spirits. One man reported feeling ghostly fingers run over his body while he sat in the dark box and music played around him.

Later mediums adapted the act to include "manifestations" of ghosts by having them appear as ectoplasmic residue, some of which looked earlier like cheesecloth ---ooooh, and ghostly limbs appearing from their variations of the Spirit Closet.

So.

I waited in great anticipation for the magicians to hop to it and get to the good stuff, wading through an hour of mediocre magic tricks and one excellently bad haunted doll that moved down a hallway via strobe light and really really loud music. The lady down the row from me wouldn't stop giggling though I suspect now it was more from nervousness rather than mirth since she kept grabbing my brother-in-law. After brief periods of darkness where we'd be tickled with feathers and slapped in the face with a wet sponge - yes, I paid a ticket for this - we got to the cabinet.

One of our friends was chosen to accompany the magician so as he tied her to the chair before the curtains closed, I watched for any leaking ectoplasm or heads up for extra, well, heads. As the he disappeared from sight after closing the curtains on her demand before she went into her trance, music started. A clamor of trumpets and cymbals, and I think even a whistle, erupted from inside the makeshift Spirit Closet. Clothing flew from the top of the curtains and there was great shaking inside as if Chris had himself been taken over by an unseen force and coerced into its paranormal boogie. He pulled back the curtains to reveal the magician still tied to her chair, yet now wearing his jacket and still deep in the trance state. Back went the curtain, more shaking and trumpets, and again open to reveal her in another state of trace-like serenity, only now missing items of clothing. I had to wonder what kind of show I'd signed us up for at that point.

The act ended with her at last being released from her paranormal spell and the audience being ushered out with an invitation to buy a t-shirt and a mini-Snickers.

I freakin' loved that place and yes, I bought the t-shirt.

Victorian Halloween costumes with a dash of WTF?

noreply@blogger.com (weeghosties) — Wed, 26 Oct 2011 20:03:00 +0000

I'm fascinated by early photography but not the "Look! A landscape!" photos or stiffly posed people, I like a little WTF to make it sassy. Since Halloween is about as messed up as you can get and not be arrested, I've combined the two with my favorite pics from the late 19th century - early 20th century.

The Girls' Ghost Hunting Guide

noreply@blogger.com (stacey) — Mon, 05 Sep 2011 21:46:00 +0000

Want to really see what's going on out there? It may not be a mouse (shudder) after all! My book, The Girls' Ghost Hunting Guide (Sourcebooks Jabberwocky), will be released May 2012. Filled with great information for all ages of girls and boys, GGHG explains how to conduct an investigation step-by-step, helps you determine if it's really something interesting or more mundane, interviews with ghost hunters and more.

Visit The Girls' Ghost Hunting Guide's website today!

A haunting at the Old Chapel? Or just frisky raccoons?

noreply@blogger.com (stacey) — Sun, 17 Jul 2011 13:52:00 +0000

It started with a creak and a soft slam as I nudged the iron gate closed - almost - closed. The girls and I pulled over to read a historical marker about the Old Chapel in Millwood, Virginia about twenty miles from our house on the way home from a playdate. And since I can't resist a lovely old cemetery, we quickly hopped out of the car and, finding the gates open, passed through them.

The Old Chapel itself dates to 1791, rebuilt in stone after a fire destroyed the former structure, its windows shuttered and painted a dull brown, its door closed to the public and iron doorknob hanging askew. It was unused and set off from the busy road, looked hidden if not forgotten. The cemetery behind it wasn't large but held in its bosom the remains of one of Virginia's early governors and other local dignitaries, it seemed more of an extended family plot, a testament to the close-knit community of rural Virginia. The congregation moved from the building to a larger stone church after they outgrew the Old Chapel in the 1840s so it stands empty except for twice-a-year sermons.

So - back to the story.

I half-pushed the iron gate back to its former position and turned to join Syenna when I heard the scrape of a shutter being closed. The shutters that were already closed on all sides of the building.

"Did you hear that? I thought I heard a shutter?" I said.

"Nah, it's just the gate."

We joined the other two girls in reading dates on tilted stones and enjoying the quiet sunny afternoon on a rare non-humid summer day. The cemetery is well taken care of without being fussy, the grass tickling out feet and a plant or two out of control left years ago by a well-meaning visitor taking over a grave or two. A very large tree dominated the churchyard, on closer inspection we saw that it had grown around a stone tower, we still can't figure out what the heck the tower was for (water pump? Indian lookout?).

After about an hour, Wynter and I turned to join the others at the Chapel.

"Mom, I heard music." Vyo, being five-years-old, was very confident. I told her she may have heard it from a passing car but she swore it came from inside the building.

"I told her to knock on the door and see if anyone was there," Syenna said. At fourteen, I knew she wasn't quite as quick to assign phantom music to an old building. "Then we heard a huge crash! I'm surprised you didn't hear it while in the cemetery!" Well, that got my attention. Birds? Raccoons? The structure looked sound but critters can get in almost anywhere if they have a mind to.

One shutter was loose and we were able to open it to see a cracked window revealing a room devoid of anything but empty pews. So what was knocked over? Who moved the still shutters? And what the heck was making all that racket inside?

Stay tuned, I'm hoping to get a peek inside.

I did hear a ghost. I did! I did! I did? Caffeine and things that may go bump in the night

noreply@blogger.com (stacey) — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 13:21:00 +0000

Oh sure. I see you looking at me via the Internet spycams *waves*. I'm knocking back my third cup of coffee and you're thinking, "This woman needs to comb her hair and does she know she still has toothpaste drool on her chin?" Let's put that aside for now. *wipes chin*

La Trobe University in Australia has released a study claiming that participants knocking back copious amounts of coffee (five cups or more a day - child's play) and under stress may hear things that you won't find on Pandora -- like your seventh grade teacher asking for your book report on the worm reproductive cycle. The study asked test subjects to listen to white noise and indicate when 'White Christmas' by Bing Crosby was played. Those with higher levels of caffeine and subjected to more intense stressors (not listed but I'm assuming a five-year-old was involved) were found to boogie to Bing even though the song was never played.

So how does this relate to ghosts? If the investigator is highly focused on finding something - and hopped up on coffee during the night - are they really likely to hear a voice float out from the ether? Or is it the combination of caffeine and the brain making them more susceptible to suggestion?

Or does the caffeine make them more receptive? Hmmmmmm, they didn't cover THAT angle, did they? (not the purpose of the study)

Like any good study, more research is needed. I'll keep you in the loop as always.

Spirit photos

noreply@blogger.com (stacey) — Thu, 14 Apr 2011 13:17:00 +0000

Photo by William Mumler

One of the chapters I'm working on for THE GIRLS' GHOST HUNTING GUIDE is the history of spiritualism and the fascinating realm of spirit photography of the mid-19th - early 20th century.

Infamous for his spirit portrait featuring the deceased Abraham Lincoln cozying up to his very-much-alive-but-slighty-wacky wife, William Mumler turned an amateur photograph of himself and a reportedly deceased young cousin into a media sensation in 1862.Turning a double exposure into a thriving business by capitalizing on the grief and deep pockets of others during and after the Civil War, Mumler continued to churn out hazy photographs of the living and their +1.

Mumler was eventually brought up on fraud charges in 1869 after it was discovered that some of his "ghosts" still had a pulse, though the charges were dismissed due to lack of evidence. The popularity of spirit photography continued past his death in 1884, however he never managed to pop up into any other photographs.

Photo by William Hope

Photo by John Hollowell
[I thought Queen Victoria and George Washington were a nice touch]

Image credit: Collection of National Media Museum

Image credit: Collection of National Media Museum
[note the hand creeping up the seance table]

What are some of your favorites?

Ghost hunting birthday parties

noreply@blogger.com (stacey) — Sun, 19 Dec 2010 20:36:00 +0000

Spooky ghost stories are fine at sleepovers but what if your child wants a bit more zing to their fling? Armed with flashlights, digital recorders and cameras, a ghost hunting birthday party for your child puts a spin on traditional celebrations. Get the party started with episodes from their favorite ghost hunting television show or Scooby Doo then go over the basics:

No one goes into an area alone
Everyone stays within shouting distance of each other
An adult will be present at all times
Remember to leave a place as you found it - no garbage, damage or leftover birthday cake

Discover haunted places to explore via favorite books or The Shadowlands online (as well as other directories) before the party and call ahead to make sure it's an appropriate place for children to climb around as well as permission from the property owner if needed.

Arm them with their own ghost hunting kits:

Notebooks
Pencils
Disposable camera
Stopwatch or watch
Flashlight
Compass for EMF recordings
Digital voice recorder for teams to share
A copy of the Girls' Ghost Hunting Guide. Packed with tips, party games, decoration ideas, recipes, plus an excellent guide to learning to investigate the paranormal by deductive reasoning and FUN! Visit the Girls' Ghost Hunting Guide website today!

Start off the investigation by dividing the party into teams (if a large party) and assign partners. Make sure there is an adult with each group. As the kids explore the area, have them ask questions as the voice recorder runs, pausing between questions to hopefully capture an answer back. If the sugar rush from the cake has worn off, have them sit for ten minutes at a time and observe the area. Have them write down in their notebooks any changes in temperature, smells, sounds, etc, so they can share later with their friends and interpret what they experienced.

At the end of the party, have them create a group ghost story using the location you just visited with themselves as the investigators. Their notes may be used to fill in blank spots in the story, and share the voice recording- writing down anything that may come across as ghostly. Make a CD of the recordings to send home with each guest in their ghost hunting kit and a copy of the ghost story to share with their family.

Download your own Phantom Party Packet from the Girls' Ghost Hunting Guide as a PDF! Games, quizzes, decorations and food ideas for your next ghost adventure!

Have fun!

Image credit: stellarbaby.com

Thar be ghosts and goblins on my mountain

noreply@blogger.com (stacey) — Fri, 17 Dec 2010 18:28:00 +0000

I live in the Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia, overlooking the Shenandoah Valley, and as the skinny, twisted trees shake in the wind that punishes the mountainside, I swear I hear them. Not far from my house (literally 1/4 mile), a jet crashed in the early 1970s, killing more than 250 people aboard on a foggy night. The nosecone came to rest against a large boulder that now holds memorials and a small headstone. Houses now dot the forest where once there was only charred bits of metal and humans, my own house built five years ago on the scarred face of tragedy.

As my husband built the house, he'd tell me of being in the forest near twilight and hearing the branches snap. Footfalls far heavier than deer or woodland creatures would echo to his ear. After my family moved in, he and I would see flashes of light outside our windows, snagging the eye and fading just as quickly. I've written before about random hauntings but this was different. These, do not wander. These were at home in the forest and we were but a momentary blink in their reality.

So what the heck was that I hit in the road last week? I could have sworn it was a dirt-covered snow chunk... except it hadn't snowed yet. Square and at least eight inches tall/wide, it straddled the yellow dividing lines on the mountain road; my eyes were strained from the weak winter sunlight at dusk -- perhaps an animal -- couldn't be sure. A square, rock-solid beast that didn't squish when I winged it with a tire. I thought little of it aside from a "dang it" when I heard the knock against the car door as I passed.

My daughter and I returned thirty minutes later, discussing the subtle nuances of the song Dancing Queen (there are none) when I came upon the rock again. This time, I slowed so I wouldn't hit it... but a few feet from our passing, the rock turned and stared at me with eyes not apparent before. I yelped, to put it mildly. Then feeling horrible that I had inadvertently hurt something and we turned around to see what it was and if we could help. It had vanished. The animal/rock/goblin was gone and nary a roadkill was to be found.

Paranormal? Probably not. Freakishly weird and hoping this thing doesn't have a grudge. You bet. I know enough about Elementals* to wonder if I'd chanced upon another one of the mountain's other residents, however. Something tells me this ain't over.

What roams around your neck of the woods?

*Elementals are spirits of the Earth such as pookas, fairies, banshees, goblins, etc.

Just a little zombie story...

noreply@blogger.com (stacey) — Mon, 25 Oct 2010 02:17:00 +0000

Happy holiday, my friends! I'll be at zomBcon over the 31st so wanted to give y'all a little sumthin' sumthin' while I'm schmoozing with the Undead. If you're in the Seattle area, I'll be signing copies of HUNGRY FOR YOUR LOVE at Barnes & Noble on Saturday at noon and on the author panel discussion at 4p for Zombies Are People Too. I'd love to see you there, come by and say hello!

Below is a nibble of zombie goodness for this Halloween week, I'll be back later in the week with a ghost tale or two.
-----------------------------

The Hanged Man
by Stacey Graham

“Cecilia, really, it can’t be this bad.” Attempting to pace the room, Ian’s face creased into a scowl as he pulled one leg in front of the other. Why did he come back to this place? Dramatic sweeps of dark fabric hung over the windows, the illusion of mystery lost when the school bus let out the noisy gaggle of children in front of the ranch-style house. Cecilia rolled her eyes and shuffled the cards. Spreading them into a complex pattern on the TV tray, her fingers flipped the waxy cards into a semblance of his future.

“Ian, I’ve already told you.” Her voice raspy from the lack of Diet Pepsi and allergies to her small white dog, Cecilia coughed into the back of her hand, leaving a trail of spittle. “That taco stand was always iffy and you couldn’t resist, could you? That’s not indigestion, my friend, that’s the smell of the Undead. I thought it was me for a moment but…” Her voice trailed off as she saw his gaze travel to her dog.

“Look at the cards. They don’t lie.” Her hands waved above the tray, reliving the game show hostess of her younger years with fingers splayed though now tipped with yellow from too many cigarettes and bile green polish.

“The Fool, yeah, okay. New beginnings and all that crap. The Hanged Man? What’s he about?” Poking his finger at the card showing a man hanging upside down and legs crossed, Ian drooled a little bit as the dog came closer.

“An alternate reality. Get it? You’re one of Hell’s Handmaidens now, Sparky. You can’t go around pondering the meaning of life since you don’t have one anymore. Stop coming here and bothering my dog.” Exasperation tinged her voice. Cecilia had seen worse in her years in Hollywood. Everyone eventually came by her place for a tarot reading; it was like a right of passage for the fresh meat that hopped off the bus from Paducah-ville. Her fingers pulling frayed fringe on the lounger, Cecilia hoped she was right about this one. After his reawakening, he came straight to her for answers, she could only interpret the cards and hope the Zom-B-Gone kicked in after an hour. Any longer than that and they became cranky.

“I can’t believe I’m gone. I had so much to live for.” Melodramatic and whiny, that taco was the best thing that ever happened to him. He could focus on moving from bit roles on cable television to major motion pictures that featured sparkly bloodsuckers with similar acting skills.

“I know, I know.” Rising from the deeply cushioned chair, Cecilia led him to the door and away from where her dog nibbled kibble in the kitchen. Ian was becoming a handful, she thought, she needed to up the automatic spray of repellent to every thirty minutes. Patting his arm, she recoiled slightly as the maggots wiggled under the skin. “Cheer up, Sugar. Your afternoon snack just got off the bus.”