Accepting the existence of the supernatural, the powers that can be defined psychic and the presence of ghosts, we have to be open, then, to other manifestations of the spiritual realm. Ones that are separate from those almost recording like plays, left from another life and its dramas. Separate from the efforts of passed loved ones who try, in the only ways possible to them, to reach us, connect with us. When you stand in the dark, its not just you and the creaks and groans that have marked the aging of your home. THE THINGS, seen, for split seconds, from the corner of your eye are not all just hints from a brain needing rest, not just something in your eye. As you look off into the night, you are engulfed by a deceptive calm, and maybe you chuckle as you’re startled by some bat dipping low near you in curiosity, and then careening off into the blackness again. The hoot of the owl and the squeak of the bat, are usually the only things carried to us on the still night or the velvety breeze.
You wander about with your video camera, with your EMF meter, and you have a peace largely based on the fact that your chances are few of meeting an apparition etc. The guys on TV, getting the big bucks, have few such encounters themselves. The hunt for ghosts is one largely of hope, persistence, and patience, a heart filled with a strange need, yet one that also clutches unconsciously to a fragment of skepticism for protection. How many hours have you wasted in fruitless retina burning searches of your video, for a detail that suggest somethings really there?
You begin to wonder if there is more chance that an insane human(very much alive) haunts the same woods you now trek out of, than there is a willing ghost. You close your car door and as the music soaks into your tired frame and thoughts of other life issues find their time and your attention. You lock both car and house out of habit and amble off to a shower and then bed, more worried about who the Democrats will choose as their candidate, than over any possible spiritual matter.
As you begin to snore and your wife shifts uncomfortably, something is occurring on your back porch. The multiple locks on the old door watch in terror as something flat, yet skeletal like, looming above them now has its skull like head and shoulders completely through the door, through the crack above it between door and casing. One long, thin, yellow arm is reaching, now, back and down towards them, towards the old style bolts , that rattle in fear just before its ethereal touch.