Stalking Shadows Read online

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1: The Man in the Mirror

  Chapter 2: Nathanial

  Chapter 3 The Ancestral Home

  Chapter 4: The Screaming Lady

  Chapter 5: Franklin’s Story

  Chapter 6: The Weeping Woman

  Chapter 7: What’s Going On Around Here?

  Chapter 8: The House of Horrors

  Chapter 9: The Haunted Land

  Chapter 10: The Cemetery of Restless Souls

  Chapter 11: The Haunted Church

  Chapter 12: Home Sweet Haunted Home

  Chapter 13: When Darkness Comes to Play

  Conclusion

  About the Author

  Debi Chestnut has been able to see and speak to ghosts her whole life. A paranormal researcher for more than twenty-five years, she gives lectures and conducts workshops to help people better understand paranormal activity. She resides in Michigan.

  Llewellyn Publications

  Woodbury, Minnesota

  Copyright Information

  Stalking Shadows: The Most Chilling Experiences of a Paranormal Investigator © 2014 by Debi Chestnut.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Llewellyn Publications, except in the form of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  As the purchaser of this e-book, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. The text may not be otherwise reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or recorded on any other storage device in any form or by any means.

  Any unauthorized usage of the text without express written permission of the publisher is a violation of the author’s copyright and is illegal and punishable by law.

  First e-book edition © 2014

  E-book ISBN: 9780738741864

  Cover art: Shutterstock/66377758/© Unholy Vault Designs

  Cover design by Lisa Novak

  Editing by Gabrielle Rose Simons

  Llewellyn Publications is an imprint of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.

  Llewellyn Publications does not participate in, endorse, or have any authority or responsibility concerning private business arrangements between our authors and the public.

  Any Internet references contained in this work are current at publication time, but the publisher cannot guarantee that a specific reference will continue or be maintained. Please refer to the publisher’s website for links to current author websites.

  Llewellyn Publications

  Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.

  2143 Wooddale Drive

  Woodbury, MN 55125

  www.llewellyn.com

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  To Amy Glaser, my Acquisitions Editor,

  and all the wonderful people at Llewellyn

  who work so hard to make my job easier.

  Prologue

  If the world of the paranormal were a basement, what an incredible place it would be to explore.

  You’d creep down the stairs and switch on the light, which is probably just a naked 75-watt bulb dangling from a thin, dusty, electrical wire in the ceiling, and survey your surroundings.

  Over by a high, narrow window in which soft rays of sunlight slither through fraying curtains, you might see a group of light beings such as angels, spirit guides, and guardians, sorting through the boxes of memorabilia that make up people’s lives in search of those who need help or guidance.

  Next to an old dresser and steamer trunk may sit a bookshelf lined with books; each book holds the story of someone’s life, loves, disappointments and regrets, and triumphs. The last chapter reveals the details of their death, and may explain why some of them choose to interact with the world of the living—a world they once belonged to.

  In the corner next to the old, worn wooden stairs that lead from the basement, you may be fortunate enough to see the spirits of departed loved ones partaking in the activities they so enjoyed when they were alive.

  As you gaze at them, just beyond the memories and mementos of their lives that are stacked neatly around them, you can’t help but notice that they look healthy and vibrant. They may pause to greet you or give you a friendly nod. Though your heart aches to join them, you know you can’t —it’s not yet your time—there are more chapters left to be written in your book of life.

  As in any basement, there are the dark corners where no amount of light can reach. You know those corners are there and they make you fidget uncomfortably as your eyes fight not to peer into the darkness to see what treasures may be hiding just out of sight. You can choose to ignore them, or attempt to trick your mind into forgetting that the spirits are there, but what lies beyond the darkness does exist, and you can only fool yourself for so long.

  One dark, musty corner could contain the grimy, thick crust of human suffering, agony, corruption, and man’s inhumanity to man. Another gloomy corner may hold the decaying remains of natural tragedies, and the souls who were victims of such disasters.

  However, for some inexplicable reason, you are drawn to the darkest, most mysterious corner of the paranormal basement. There, shrouded behind a dense veil of cobwebs and shadows, are the most contemptible and foul entities that exist—negative ghosts or spirits, demons, elementals, and other vile phantoms that aren’t spoken of in the bright light of day, in the darkness of the night, or in polite company.

  You fight to tear your eyes away from the gruesome creatures residing in that corner, because there is a plethora of other interesting treasures in the basement waiting patiently for you to examine them and uncover their secrets.

  The paranormal basement isn’t for everyone—and not a pleasant place for many. Some people even refuse to open the door to the paranormal, let alone venture down the basement stairs and explore the interesting, mysterious, and oftentimes frightening world that exists all around them, just out of sight.

  But not you. If you’ve made it this far, you’re one of the brave ones. As you take your time and explore, perhaps you radiate a divine light to help illuminate what lies within the darkest nooks and crannies of the paranormal basement, and protect you from what is to come.

  You’ve made the choice to brush aside the veil of cobwebs and venture beyond the safety of what you know and into the deepest caverns of the paranormal.

  As you make your way over to the bookshelf in the basement to peruse the titles, you can’t help but wonder what lies ahead on your journey into the paranormal. I can assure you that when you descend the stairs to the paranormal basement and begin to uncover the lives of the dead, the dead know … and they hunt you down.

  You walk over to the high, narrow window and curl up in an old, overstuffed chair that is covered with an afghan someone’s long forgotten relative made. You choose that place because it’s closest to the light—closest to what you perceive to be safety.

  But don’t worry, for you are not alone. I’m there with you in the paranormal basement, and the books on the shelf are mine. No, I didn’t collect people’s lives or souls; they came to me. They wanted their stories to be told; they want you to know what really happened, and they’ve chosen to tell their stories through me because I’m a psychic medium and have been able to see and communicate with ghosts for as long as I can remember.

  I’ve been a ghost hunter for the last thirty years. I work with a team, Black River Paranormal, started by a friend of mine, Randy, and his brother.

  There aren’t a lot of members in our team, but the members we
do have are all wonderful and dedicated investigators who share the same goal—to learn more about ghosts and spirits and other entities that exist.

  Black River Paranormal also works closely with other ghost hunting teams in the area, especially A & J Ghost Hunters out of Sanilac, Michigan. We, like many other paranormal teams around the world, believe in paranormal unity. This means that we embrace working with other ghost hunting teams and sharing what we’ve learned on our journey. We also like learning about the experiences and theories of other paranormal investigators, which helps broaden our horizons and further understand the world of the paranormal.

  So let’s begin our tour of the paranormal basement.

  [contents]

  Chapter 1

  The Man in the Mirror

  Every once in a while a ghost comes along that presents unique challenges. It starts out seemingly simple, and turns into something very complicated and intriguing. These challenges could range from a particularly stubborn ghost not wanting to communicate, not wanting to leave, to even speaking a foreign language and refusing to communicate in a language I can understand, or worse yet, not communicating at all.

  The problem generally doesn’t present itself right away, but develops over the course of my or the team’s investigation. Sometimes a ghost will hide because it is afraid we’re going to make it leave or harm it in some way. In other cases a ghost or spirit might try to reverse the entire situation and instead of us hunting the ghost, the ghost decides to hunt us. In still other cases, a ghost or some other type of entity may have gotten itself in a predicament and desperately needs help. In other words, a paranormal investigation can start out seemingly simple, but all of a sudden turn into something very complicated and interesting.

  Such was the case when I was contacted by Randy, the head of our team, Black River Paranormal. He’d been contacted by a young man named Sam, who’d had a rather active spirit residing in his bedroom since he’d moved in six months earlier.

  Pictures and posters were being ripped violently off the walls, and various items were being thrown off shelves and hurled across the bedroom. The case sounded rather basic—all signs pointed to a poltergeist.

  Sam and his roommate, who wasn’t experiencing any paranormal activity, lived in a second floor apartment of what used to be an antique store. Randy arranged for us to go out there on a Sunday morning.

  The day of the ghost hunt dawned dark and rainy. Thunder rolled through the clouds and lightning streaked across the sky like a spiderweb as I backed out of my driveway—perfect conditions for a ghost hunt. Sam lived about an hour away, and I had to stop at a Catholic church to refill the container I used for holy water, which was another experience in itself, and should have been a clue about how the rest of the day was going to go.

  When I got to the church the rain was coming down in buckets and I realized that Sunday service was going to start in a few minutes. I dashed into the church only to find about a hundred people milling around the expansive lobby and a kindly looking woman handing out some type of literature.

  Keep in mind that I was dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt with Black River Paranormal emblazoned in large letters across the front of the shirt.

  Next to the woman stood a humongous waterfall and fountain.

  “Can I help you, dear?” asked the woman, dressed in her Sunday finest.

  “Yes, is that holy water?” I pointed to the fountain and waterfall.

  “Yes it is.”

  “May I have some?” I asked.

  She waved her hand toward the fountain. “Help yourself, honey.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” I said sheepishly as I filled up my container with the cool liquid.

  As I was walking out the woman stopped me and read the front of my shirt. “Is everything okay, dear? Did you need us to help you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Everything is fine so far, but I’ll let you know if I need any help. Thank you,” I answered.

  By that time a small crowd was standing around me, all looking at my T-shirt. I nodded politely and made a hasty retreat out to my Jeep.

  Forty-five minutes later I pulled into the driveway of a nondescript two-story building, covered in robin’s egg blue vinyl siding. I met Randy and we walked up a claustrophobic stairway to the second floor.

  At the top of the stairs we were met by Sam and his roommate, who showed us around the small apartment. I prefer to have everyone who lives in a residence present when I’m there for interviews and to answer any questions. By having all occupants of a home present, I get everyone’s perspective about the paranormal activity occurring in the location.

  In addition, nothing is lost in translation when I explain the hows, whys, and reasons a ghost or spirit, if one is present, is behaving the way it is, and what we can do to assist the living and the dead to resolve the situation. In other words, everyone is on the same page.

  A kitchen lay to our left, the living room to our right, and the bedrooms lay straight ahead and bordered the living room. Sam’s bedroom was the first bedroom.

  I took my time and walked around the apartment in an attempt to adjust to the energy and see what spirits, if any, were present. The energy felt statically charged and heavy.

  The apartment was a typical bachelor pad: clothes were strewn around and laundry was piled up in the laundry room. Various beer cans, half-filled glasses, and empty pizza boxes littered the coffee table in the living room—the remnants of another good party I hadn’t been invited to.

  Randy followed me around with the video recorder, and Sam sat on the couch watching me, his big blue eyes filled with the hope that I could extract him from his ghostly situation.

  Satisfied there weren’t any spirits in the other rooms of the apartment, I turned my attention to Sam’s bedroom.

  It took my eyes a minute to adjust to the darker room. Heavy curtains blocked out what little light was available, due to the thunderstorms raging outside.

  The large room was lit by a lone lamp that cast eerie shadows around the bedroom. Sam turned on another light, further illuminating the room. The walls were barren, but I could see nail holes and tape marks where the pictures and posters, now on the floor or leaning against the walls once hung.

  A couch sat against the back wall next to the closet, a queen sized bed rested on the wall to my right, and a large, standing oval mirror stood in the right corner.

  I walked toward the mirror and examined it closely; it looked to be an antique.

  “That was the only thing in the apartment when we moved in,” Sam offered. “We were told by the landlord to not move the mirror or get rid of it.”

  “Did your landlord say why?” I asked.

  “No. I asked, but he wouldn’t answer,” Sam sighed, sitting on the edge of his bed. “All he would say is that there was a spirit named Zack in the apartment, but he was harmless. I wasn’t thrilled, but the rent was cheap and it’s close to my job and my church.”

  “Interesting,” I murmured. “So the thought of living with a ghost didn’t scare you?”

  “Not really. At the time I thought it would be kind of a novelty,” Sam said, blushing slightly. “I never imagined it would turn into such a nightmare.”

  “I’m sure,” I smiled. “How does the landlord know the ghost is named Zack?”

  “I don’t know,” Sam shrugged.

  “So, Zack is the one who pulled the pictures and posters off the wall?” I asked, turning around to look at Sam.

  “Yes. See the empty shelves?” Sam said, pointing to three shelves above his bed. “I had my baseball trophies and other stuff on them, but they would keep falling off and hitting me while I was sleeping. At first I thought the shelves weren’t level, but they are. I checked. Plus the stuff would fly off of them and land all over the bed. There was force behind them.”

  “I see,” I answered, lookin
g around the room and noticing the trophies standing in the corner.

  Randy sat the video recorder down on top of the dresser by the bedroom door and climbed up on the bed to examine the shelves. He grabbed them and tugged on them, but they didn’t budge.

  He then retrieved a baseball from the floor and sat it on the shelves one at a time, but the baseball didn’t move an inch.

  “The shelves seem level.” Randy said, satisfied with the results of his test.

  Taking my time, I examined every corner of the room, pausing now and then to feel the energy, but the room seemed clear, until I arrived at the mirror. Then the energy changed and became charged with electricity. Something was definitely trying to get my attention; now I just had to figure out who or what it was.

  Normally I would just communicate telepathically with a ghost or spirit, but because Randy was video-taping I decided to use a pendulum. I took the rosary from around my neck, kissed the cross, and then let the rosary dangle from my index finger.

  “Okay, Zack,” I said aloud. “This is how it’s going to work: I want you to swing the rosary back and forth for yes, and in circles for no. Do you understand?”

  The rosary immediately started to swing back and forth rapidly.

  “Okay, good,” I said. “Zack, my name is Debi and I’m here to help you. Understand?”

  Again the rosary swung back and forth quickly. I stopped it with my hand.

  “Excellent. Do you mean anyone here any harm?” I asked.

  The rosary rotated in a circular motion. Sam and Randy stood spellbound by the spirit communication taking place.

  “Great. Thanks, Zack,” I said, again stopping the pendulum from moving. “Are you trapped here?”

  The rosary swung back and forth for yes.

  “Do you need me to help you go into the light?”

  Zack responded by making the rosary swing back and forth quickly.

  “Okay, great. Zack, I’m going to move around in the corner of the room by this mirror. When I’m close to you, I want you to make the rosary move toward you. Understand?”