I spent the night at the hall I work at acting as the building’s key-holder for a group of paranormal investigators. They have visited before and reported some strange goings-on, the strangest of which apparently involving a moving light in the ceiling trusses coming to life of its own free will, visibly moving and glowing. The member of staff from the halls who was acting as guide for that night double checked whether there were any power supplies running. Everything was unplugged. To add to this inconceivable occurrence, upon his spoken request to for the spirit to repeat the trick, the light sprang into action a second time. You can read a report of it here. Personally, I have my own theories on this light incident; but am forced to concede that since I did not witness it myself, such theories would have little argumentative validity. The nearest thing I have to evidence about this bizarre happening is that it had the power to jolt said colleague from sceptic, to believer in the space of five minutes. You could quite literally say “he saw the light”. Tonight the paranormal investigators were returning at 9.30pm for a follow-up ‘dusk till dawn dead-hunt’ - and this time, I wanted in.
Now let me get this straight from the offset: I am a sceptic – plain and simple. Many people do really believe in ghouls, even fear them. But then many people also worry that swans can break your arms and yet I’ve never heard a solitary reported case of that. You may ask then - why was I doing this? If I was a “real” sceptic, surely I wouldn’t be bothering with such trifles. I’d just shrug and tell myself I had better things to do than go to work on a Bank Holiday Sunday looking for things I am so certain don’t exist. Am I just partaking as a means of having a few laughs at the expense of ‘them paranormal eccentrics’, scorning their ‘wacky’ behaviour, deconstructing their beliefs using rationality and hilarious condescending derision (as sceptics might like to read)? Or am I more uncertain about the spirit world than I care to admit; seeing this as an opportunity to perhaps question the very foundations of my ideology (as believers might like to imagine)? I’m not sure. It is certainly not my intent to make myself sound intellectually superior to believers (for me to proclaim or assume such intelligence would be more delusional than I could accuse any spiritualist of being). And neither do I genuinely anticipate any great revelations. I think of it more as an opportunity to test the confidence of my own scepticism. It’s an opportunity I feel I should embrace; otherwise my stance is grounded largely on unexplored ignorance.
Before I tell you about my experiences, I should warn you there is no grand motive behind what follows. It should be read for exactly what it is – one person’s personal account of a paranormal investigation; nothing more, nothing less. Undoubtedly my writings will be subjective and coloured by cynicism, but my main priority for this entry is to record a reasonably honest representation of how I perceived the events.
11.15pm – We are sitting on the balcony overlooking the hall in silence and darkness. Actually, not quite darkness; the scattered dull red and blue glows of the emergency lights and camcorder screens give just enough illumination to observe actions and reassure us against any human intervention or trickery. So – more correctly – we are sitting on the balcony, overlooking in the hall in near-darkness and in silence. Actually, not quite silence. The investigators are trying to engage with their spirit world by asking questions. A while ago, we started feeling tiny bumps under our feet where we are seated. They happen sporadically. Sometimes there’ll just be one thud at a time, sometimes two or three consecutively. They are certainly not caused by human contrivance; there’s no surreptitious foot-tapping or knuckle knocking from any of the crew. And even if you were to question my judgement on this (in fairness I would probably question yours, were it your report), it doesn’t actually feel like these raps are hitting down on the surface of the floor, it feels more like they are emanating upwards, as if someone is below is lightly tapping the balcony from underneath with a large broom. The psychic leader of the group asks her next question.
“Are you happy for us to stay here? Knock one for no or two for yes.”
With this prompt, there are two very specific audible knocks, followed by another silence. We sit intently. The psychic uses her next question to seek clarification:
“If you would like us to leave, knock three times”.
Incredibly, three knocks follow. Everyone around me inhales sharply in unison. One response could be co-incidence, but two in a row? The team pack up their camcorders, clipboards and K2 machines and we head off to explore the next area.
Please let me assure you, everything I have written so far is absolutely true. I may have misquoted the questions as they were specifically asked, but I have generally given an accurate report. And given such evidence, it would be difficult for some not to subscribe to the belief that those knocks had certain serendipity.
I have, however, so far omitted my account leading up to this event. If you’ll remember, I said the team were arriving at 9.45pm. The omission is quite deliberate. The time leading up to 11.15 was positively dull and barely worth mentioning. Sure, there was the bit we located whereabouts the knocking was coming from – that might have been of interest. But everything else was peripheral. Were I to summarise the proceeding hour and half, it would have consisted of long silences, dozens of questions from the psychic and dozens of temperamental, seemingly unrelated knocking noises. Any relationship between the question and the knocking would seem less to do with serendipity and more to do with statistical odds. And this might have spoiled the illusion, right? Far be it from me to discredit myths and spoil stories with statistical odds. What right does my little blog have to spoil the ‘game-plan’ of the common man, should he ever get on Deal or No Deal?
... Sorry... I promised not be snobbish, remember. What I’m trying to say is that it wouldn’t have been right to paint a scene in which a group of people ineffectively try to communicate with arbitrary noises. People talking to an empty room would just seem mental. Quite literally. Trying to hold court with no-one could possibly even lead to being committed. But then I’m not in the best position to be pushing the mental health issue. For I am a man who is choosing to watch people talk to an empty room; which is like voluntarily spectating fishermen holding their rods over a lake bereft of fish. I might believe their fishing futile, but at least the men believe they have a purpose. For me to know the pond is empty and yet carry on watching... well that’s even more absurd, isn’t it?
11.55pm – I should have mentioned this earlier, but the investigators actually explore the buildings in two different teams. I have a colleague who is also acting as a guide for the other group. People from either group are forbidden from conversing about their team’s findings in case it pollutes each other’s perceptions of the rooms. Both teams have been issued with a walkie talkie, presumably for emergencies, but primarily to keep each other abreast of their locations. Whenever one party wishes to move into another area, they radio to the other. That way, there can be no misconceptions of the sound of nearby footsteps or activity. I needed to bring you up to speed, because it is relevant to something that’s happening now.
The other group are currently in some toilets below ground level. It is claimed to be the area most rife with spirit activity. In fact a couple of the staff I work with actually refuse to go down there, opting to use alternative upstairs loos instead. We will be exploring the area ourselves later, but right now we are in the room where the fabled lighting incident occurred. Little has happened so far, irrespective of the team’s continuing plea to see a repeat of the last light show. I am discovering very little, other than apparently spirits like to be addressed as if they were shy children being shown off to family friends.
“Can you shine the lights for us? Come on don’t be shy. You did it for us last time. Why won’t you play with us? We’re not going to hurt you...”
At one point they even resort to a blackmail approach:
“We’re not leaving till you shine a light. We know you can do it. We’ll wait all night if we have to!”
But like I say, nothing much has happened. Well almost nothing. There have been some clicking noises through the walkie-talkie. Short spats of static through the speaker. I’ve made them aware that it’s probably interference from the radios of the passing late night bank holiday taxis, yet they have collectively decided - fuck it, in the absence of anything else, we might as well run with something. That’s the funny thing about the human mind. Like the hallucinations of a man in solitary confinement, it is easy to start ‘making’ activity happen just to dispel the sheer boredom. At this rate, we could be doing the foxtrot with Freddie Mercury come two o’clock.
It has been verified with the other team that no buttons are being accidently pressed on the corresponding radio to be making this noise, and now it is left to the spirit world to justify the clicks.
“Are you trying to communicate with us through the radio? Is there someone you would like to talk with?” the psychic asks. The radio clicks again. This is taken as a yes (obviously).
“Are you trying to talk to someone in particular? Are you trying to talk to me?” she continues. The radio remains silent. Determined to continue on this seemingly tenuous path, she begins a name-call for each attendee.
“Use the radio if you’re trying to talk to Wayne.” she says. We wait in anticipation. There is no noise.
“Use the radio if you’re trying to talk to Pam.” she perseveres.
Still nothing.
And similarly, nothing happens for Carol or Ken either. There is only one person left to be addressed. That person is me. Oddly enough, I am now feeling a little tense about it. Not because of a fear of spirits wanting to talk to me, but more that I’m afraid of the group’s focus will end up on me. I do not want to be exposed to their sole attentions for the next hour whilst they stand round making assumptions about me.
“Use the radio if you’re trying to talk to...”
I am suddenly startled as I sense a very real vibrating feeling against my leg. In fact ‘startled’ is too mild. I admit it - I almost lose my bowels; terrified I am about to have an enlightenment which will shake my tower of scepticism from its very foundations...
It is a just text message arriving. After a sharp breath of relief, I pull the phone from my trouser pocket. The text is from a friend curious to how the ghost-hunt is going:
“Have you shit yourself yet?” she asks. I slip the phone back and have a little chuckle.
“Almost Ceris”, I think to myself.
Almost.
12.55am - “Throw something on the floor.”
Officially speaking it is Monday. We are now nearing the end of the fable ‘witching hour’, but the psychics investigators are still looking for a morsel of action with which to feast. Lights, movements, anything; even sounds will do.
“Can you make a banging noise like this” one of the group asks, before thumping her fist on the floor to demonstrate. Yet another silence. Then she asks a question which seems particularly odd to me, “Ok then, could you make a whistling noise for us instead?”
I can just about handle the concept of the spirit world manifesting into electromagnetic energy, causing bumps and movements and appliances springing into action. But can spirits really whistle? Surely whistling is a more difficult skill to acquire than simply just, well... talking, actually? I know lots of people who can talk, but when you ask them to whistle they sound about as coherent as a loading ZX Spectrum game. I thought the key thing about spirits is that they are non-material. How on earth can something with no lips or breath be expected to transmit a whistle?
01:42am – We’ve sitting around in the darkness doing nothing for hours now so both groups have reconvened to take a break. Exactly what we are taking a break from I’m not too sure, given that we’ve been sitting around in the darkness doing nothing for hours. There really hasn’t been much to report. The only thing my group noticed was that the flushing of the upstairs urinals has been out of sync. Apparently each of the urinal walls ordinarily operate their automatic flush in turn, starting from left to right. Then there’ll be a good space of time before the next cycle starts. Tonight they have not only been flushing in a random order, there are times when two troughs have been flushing together. And the cycle has been constant too, meaning that there is at least some flushing going on at any one time. As you’ll agree - not exactly spine-tingling stuff. I can’t imagine Stephen King banging on our door anytime soon.
Whilst we are all together, I am curious to see if my colleague’s experiences with the other group fared any better. As you’ll remember, people from each group are forbidden to talk about these until the investigation is complete. Luckily, this only rule applies to the psychic investigators themselves so I collar him for an inquisition.
My fellow keyholder is a believer. Their investigation of the downstairs toilets has thrown up lots of intriguing incidents. The team’s K2 machines were going crazy. The ghost down there is called Harry, but likes to be called Edge (not too shocking in itself as I presume this is ‘information’ the psychic relayed). But Edge is a very playful spirit. The most intriguing claim is that he has touched every single one of them. I mean actually physically prodded them. My colleague advises that if I want to see just how playful ‘Edge’ actually is, I should roll the ball towards him to see what happens.
I’m excited by what I hear. Sceptic or not, who wouldn’t be? Make no mistake: these happenings are not tenuous ‘could-have-beens’, like floors knocking and radios clicking. These are the real deal. You could rationally explain away the sensation of being physically touched by something as a simple trick of the mind, but it becomes a lot more complex when defined as a collective experience. Similarly, imagine seeing a ball being rolled back towards you of its own accord. Whether scientific rationality comes to the rescue or not, that’s a pretty damn impressive spectacle. It sure beats standing in our toilets for the best part of an hour studying the plumbing.
02:45am – More disappointment. Edge may have been out earlier, but is certainly not willing to come out and play with our group. I am in the aforementioned ‘haunted’ toilets and disappointingly nothing physical has happened (now there’s a sentence I never wish to see being quoted out of context). But the scene is not completely devoid of drama. Bizarrely, the psychic is clutching her belly and rocking backwards and forwards whilst her friend is shouting things like “Leave her alone! Stop affecting her!” It’s all very odd. And very frustrating too. Can the psychic and her friend really believe a possession is happening? I wouldn’t be so bold as to accuse anybody of acting. Although if I was her, and we’d seen absolutely diddly-squat, I might be worried my followers would feel their evening completely wasted. One wasted evening too many and soon your flock will soon lose interest and start dispersing. Like I say, I’m not calling anyone a liar, but surely it’s not impossible that I’d be tempted to put on a little performance art? Just a little climactic treat to keep the enthusiasm going until the next hunt?
03:05am - I bid the investigators goodnight. There was no big pay-off or revelation. Before I arrived I was a sceptic, and had simply used every scrap of evidence presented as a means to reassure my ideological disposition. On the other hand, my fellow key-holder was a believer before he started and spent the night building every scrap of evidence to as a means to reassure HIS position. We both held our opposing viewpoints despite being there on the same night. A sceptic will always say “prove to me there’s something there”. A believer will always say “prove to me it’s not there”. It’s a circular argument that changes nothing really. Sometimes a viewpoint can be changed (as demonstrated by our previous keyholder quite literally seeing the light), but rarely are embedded values so flexible.
It’s later (or earlier) than I imagined. As I walk to my car, the dawn is cracking over the night sky. I wonder whether I’ll attend another investigation sometime. Give Edge and his ball rolling another shot. I decide I probably won’t.
Think about the beauty of the rainbow, the flowers in the garden and of all the creatures we share the Earth with; all the things we can see and touch. Think about all the mysteries from the smallest atoms to the mightiest planets. Think about a smile and a teardrop and everything in-between. Why would I need more? Hasn’t the world already presented us with enough complex puzzles to last us a lifetime? There is so much to be getting on with already, so many wonders to uncover in the living physical world. How could I possibly be bored enough to afford more leisure time in the dark? Why would I insist on looking for the un-findable when I haven’t yet mastered what’s before my very eyes? Let the investigators stay in their toilets and dark cellars. I wouldn’t tell them to do any different; if that’s what they like, fair play to them. But from now on, I think I’ll stick with the life that awaits outside.
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