Meeting Place of the Dead. Richard Palmisano

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ evening, I could not detect the air freshener scent inside my car after exiting.

      Visit #3 — January 12–13

      On my way out of town for another investigation, I stopped by the cottage at 3:00 p.m. to introduce the next component of my experiments — a pair of powder traps.

      Ensuring the surface of my target areas was as close to flat as possible, I secured flattened garbage bags to the floor of the mid-way staircase landing with tape before sprinkling a generous amount of flour, covering the entire area in a half-inch blanket of solid whiteness from corner-to-corner. Stepping over the staircase trap, I repeated this process on garbage bags taped flat to the linoleum floor just inside the entrance to the second-floor bathroom — another location of intense paranormal activity. I remained silent the whole time I worked.

      Taking several control photos of both traps, I exited the cottage and continued on my way.

      Hours later, a thick fog greeted me as I returned to the property at 1:00 a.m., setting the scene for a perfect Hollywood horror event. Though no figures emerged, arms outstretched, from the walls of the fog, I was sufficiently creeped out by the ambience to make this visit a quick one.

      Checking the powder traps for signs of footprints or powder disturbance, I noted with some disappointment there was no change in either. Accompanying my digital recorder this time was my E. Probe 2.0 alarm device — an upgrade model with a pre-set sensitivity and a much quieter alarm. Both were placed apart from each other and activated on the main floor before I exited the cottage.

      I returned twelve hours later to retrieve the equipment, by the warm light of the sun. The powder traps were clean, the E. Probe 2.0 was still armed and the digital recorder had stopped itself, as the memory card was full, containing almost nine hours of audio data.

      Review of the recording revealed a few noteworthy elements. Unbeknownst to me, a heavy rainfall occurred during the wee hours of the morning and it was during this tempest that the recorder picked up what sounded like hard, pounding footfalls stomping back and forth between the recorder on the main floor and the farthest reaches of the second-storey, on multiple occasions. When the intensity of the downpour weakened, the pounding ceased; if the rain began to intensify, the running thumps would resume in uneven patterns.

      Recalling the theory that electricity produced by falling water may “feed” spirits with energy enough to manifest detectable activity, could this heavy rainfall have acted as a catalyst for what was recorded?

      Subsequent questioning of the homeowner revealed that while the building does not have a sump pump installed, there is a water pump connected with the unused well, located just out back of the cottage. Though the first conclusion to jump to is the sound of the water pump being activated by the excessive downpour, it does not explain the random growing and fading intensities of the pounding toward and away from the recorder; that and the fact that not even the homeowner had heard such intense pounding while working inside the cottage on rainy days.

      Visit #4 — January 15

      On this evening, wind chimes were introduced to the mix, hung from a nail on the studio wall. The digital recorder was once again placed in the staircase alcove and the E. Probe 1.0 — this time adjusted to its lowest sensitivity setting — was placed on a chair in the northwest room. If someone really wished to activate the alarm, they would need to grip the aerial tightly to do so.

      Retrieving the equipment three hours and twenty-one minutes later, I was surprised to discover the normally reliable digital recorder registered “Low Battery” and could not be turned off, no matter what I tried, which was a first. Checking the powder traps before exiting, I noted they had not been disturbed.

      Arriving back home and entering the house with the equipment in my arms, I looked down in time to see a button on the recorder being pressed, as by a pen cap, causing the recorder to spring back to life! The battery now indicated “Half Power” and the whole unit returned to function normally.

      Review of the recording revealed neither the wind chimes nor the E. Probe 1.0 had been moved or alarmed, however it was interesting to note that the recording stopped itself the very second I am heard unlocking the back door of the cottage. As noted earlier, this recorder has the capacity to store almost nine hours of data. Was this pure coincidence, a random malfunction or perhaps someone taking one last “suck” of energy from the recorder just before I walked in? If the latter, was I to derive a message from this action?

      Visit #5 — January 16

      By 7:48 p.m. I was back in the car jotting notes on this evening’s experiment. Tonight I introduced a pad of paper and a charcoal pencil as well as a Pop-O-Matic die bubble to the cottage. The recorder (loaded with fresh batteries) was left on the kitchen counter pointed toward the studio and the E. Probe 1.0 (now adjusted one notch higher than its lowest sensitivity setting) was left in the smallest room across from the second-floor staircase.

      I silently demonstrated how to shake the die up by pressing the plastic bubble and allowing the die to come to a full rest before repeating this action several more times for the benefit of anyone observing me. I left the die at the number 4, checked the powder traps, and took several photos before exiting.

      I detected traces of the familiar cottage air freshener scent around me upon entering the car, but this dissipated quickly and did not remain.

      By the time I returned three hours later, I decided the silent treatment I was trying to maintain had lost any effectiveness it may have ever had on the unseen residents of the cottage. After all, how were the ghosts to know what I was expecting of them for my recordings if I didn’t ask them to do something? Gathering up the recorder and the E. Probe 1.0, I respectfully invited whoever was listening to convey a message back to me using the paper and pencil, the powder, or by shifting the die to a number that held some significance to them, before leaving for the night.

      Reviewing the recording of this evening revealed some intriguing phenomena: several knocking sounds were captured, smaller taps and a single, loud footfall. But what made this recording even more unique was the multiple number of times the die bubble — or something that sounded similar — was popped without changing the top-face of the die (the number 4) or shifting it from its resting place inside the plastic bubble. In other words, what I kept hearing was an imitation of the actual distinct popping sound.

      As for the message that I broke my silence to ask for, I believe I received it loud and clear a few short hours later.

      January 17, 1:25 a.m.

      For the record, I am not an avid dreamer. I’m sure I do dream, but like many people, I forget the majority of them the moment I awake.

      Crawling into bed at a ridiculously late hour, I quickly found myself falling into blissful sleep. What seemed like a matter of minutes later, between the stages of being fully awake and in deep sleep, inside what I could best describe as my “mind’s eye,” I perceived an adult male standing over me, next to my side of the bed. Wasting no time, the figure leaned forward and shouted, “PETER ROE!” like a drill sergeant.

      In a foggy-minded delirium, I bolted upright and swung my legs off the side of the bed, ready to respond obediently, replying, “Yes? What?”

      The lack of a response made me realize I was speaking to no one. Thankfully, my knee-jerk reply wasn’t loud and abrupt enough to wake my wife. While still cognitive of this extraordinary occurrence and the fact that it was significant enough to remember, I took note of the time but was still too tired to feel afraid. I returned to the warmth of our comforter and fell into a deep sleep.

      Visit СКАЧАТЬ