Trail of Terror by Richard Estep

Author:Richard Estep
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: CVR01082018;paranormal;paranormal phenomenon;true haunting;true hauntings;haunted house;haunted houses;richard estep
Publisher: Llewellyn Worldwide, LTD.
Published: 2018-09-13T12:56:29+00:00

Scratched

Our first night passed quietly. After baselining each room in order to identify areas of high EMF caused by the electrical appliances, we spent much of the evening just settling in and getting used to the natural rhythms of the house. We quickly learned to identify the sounds caused by the house contracting at night, as parts of it had expanded during the heat of the July day and returned to normal after cooling off.

We conducted the usual series of EVP experiments, rotating from room to room and calling out to whatever entities might be present. EMF levels remained flat. Nothing turned up on our video or audio evidence review the following morning. The house just seemed … normal.

Despite the lack of paranormal activity, the Black Monk House was nevertheless beginning to creep me out. I didn’t mention it to any of my companions, primarily because I didn’t want to seem weird, but something about the place was setting my nerves on edge.

Undoubtedly, a large part of my discomfort, if not all of it, was purely psychological in nature. Having read about the case since childhood, I was still adjusting to the fact that I was really here, sitting in the same living room and kitchen in which the Pritchards had been mercilessly tormented by the Black Monk all those years ago. It was one thing to read about it in the pages of a book or to see it dramatized on a movie screen, but actually living inside the same space felt a little surreal.

I am a child of the seventies, and the interior of 30 East Drive was like a time machine that took me straight back to those days. It reminded me of my grandmother’s house, all the way down to the decor and furnishings; the house filled me with a sense of familiarity that was downright unnerving, a low-grade level of constant discomfort that I had never felt in any of the other haunted locations that I had investigated over the years. The house was hitting me very close to home, and I wasn’t at all sure that the explanation was necessarily a paranormal one.

One man who wasn’t remotely put off by his surroundings was Charlie. He spent a hefty amount of time sleeping off his jet lag, napping by turns on the living room couch and all the upstairs bedrooms. Although we gave him a hard time about it, I actually found the idea of an investigator getting a lot of sleep to be a valuable one; sleep is by its very definition an altered state of consciousness, and it has been theorized that the dead can sometimes use the medium of dreaming to communicate with us. Given that this was the Black Monk House, I was half expecting Charlie to wake up screaming after a brain-bender of a nightmare, but that never came to pass.

Instead, the entity decided to get physical with him. Charlie was standing at the kitchen sink washing up, just minding his own business.

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