Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Ghost Hunt at the Old Towne Windmill

This is the story of one of my very first ghost hunts, where I was alone and without the current team of expert ghost investigators that I have today.

It was also my first hands-on encounter with a class A phantasm, or poltegeist.  These creatures are truly terrifying, but if you are interested in learning how to combat these ancient evils then read on.

I had in my pack a copy of the Ghost Hunter's Guidebook and the other tools I would need for a full fledged invasion.  One quart of dark rum and a liter of clear vodka, who the shopkeep at Rimmy's Worm Shack had assured me was "The best watka you can piss out of a horse dick". 

Selection of the proper alcohol can go a long way in facilitating a proper ghost hunt - remember, these are your only defenses against the machinations of the undead.

I arrove at the mill a little after 1 am, which is when Burly Bartel, the town's resident tattoo artist and bookstore owner told me that the ghouls would usually show up around the Old Towne Mill restroom area.  I began preparing myself for the inevitable onslaught of the damned marches and scouring the area for signs of unholy prescence.

I didn't have to look long.  About 7 or 8 pulls into the dark rum I sat down to rest my weakened constitution on one of the urinary units and saw it.  A ghostly dark serpent snaking its way through the very walls of the stall, as if floating in midair. 

There was NO ONE AROUND but I saw the massive beast swirling, twirling, at mid stall length, flying in the middle of the air.  This was my first time seeing a full-floating apparition, and I quickly boldened my ghost-fighting prowess with an immense drag off the vodka.

"Show yourselves!" I screamed " I can see your witch-wand in the air, devils.  Show yourselves to me!"

"Alright but you gonna have to blow on it first" said a loud disembodied voice from out of nowhere, as if responding to my demands.

I whirled around.  Class 8 voices were now audible along with the sight of the grotesque dangling appendange before me.  This was truly a dangerous ghost hunt.  What would the great ghost hunters of lore do in this situation?  Would they be brave enough to do what had to be done?

Murmuring a prayer and basting my tongue with the holy drink, I began taking the ghostly wand into my oral cavity in the hopes of stimulating a fully fledged ghost invasion that I could record and show to the world. 

Hoping to prompt an audible response or more poltergeist activity, I began performing ancient ritual rites upon the sizable floating protrustion.  It was growing, growing out of control and I began to hear noises all around me.  I rapidly quaffed a few more gulps of the vodka, emptying the contents of the bottle.  This had best be enough for what is to come, I thought.

Soon I heard a rumbling like thunder and the appendage vanished into thin air.  The stall door flew open as if beaten down by the devil himself and in came winds, gusts, vapors, and the next thing I knew i was laying prostrate on the floor of the Old Towne Windmill, with a freestanding form apparition shadows all around me.

I knew what was coming but I was prepared to fight, I had prepared for this.  I would not take the devil's cold seed inside me, I would not become a vessel for the ectoplasmic possession. 

Phantom limbs engulfed me and before the darkness came I heard "Damn this guy all kinds of messed up he gonna handle double duty tonight."

When I came to I had been desecrated by the sins of the ghosts, and the sun had come up, highlighting the work that the craven ghosts had spilt upon my form while i lay helpless under their spell.  A slick sheen of ectoplasm immured me in a toilet tomb, and it was only with the grace of my faith that I am here to discuss it today.

The experience at the Old Towne Mill taught me valuable lessons in the field of ghost hunting, and that I would need more powerful tools and companions were I to continue the fight against evil.