I had met up with a ghost-hunting group from Michigan on an Internet paranormal forum. From there, everything happened so quickly. After a few short emails and some telephone calls, I joined the team as an investigator. My primary duty was to act as Empath, checking my spiritual impressions (visions, thoughts, and feelings) against those of the co-founder who was also psychic.
I was hyped! I've wanted to experience the thrill of the hunt ever since I knew that such a thing existed. My time had come. I felt like a psychic female Superman. The telephone call was prompt as promised. I was on speakerphone with the rest of the group who were already on site. Before a word was spoken, I sensed a man who was employed in banking or finance, who hung out upstairs and liked to peer out of the window; a young man who hung out downstairs; a house worker with an odd name, and a housewife.
Further impressions revealed a little sister and a male visitor who resided nearby. There was a cemetery across from the house, as it turned out. Nice. That's where I'd want to live with my sweet, little impressionable children.
There were some pauses and one of the members asked about the barn, saying there was something horrible in there. What I saw was a big stalk with black roots. I was baffled, but told it made sense. I saw a few animals in spirit, but I didn't see anything demonic, other than a strange blackness. I was told this also made sense.
Much to the chagrin of one member in particular, my frustration began when there were a couple of questions for which I had no answers. No impressions. No sensations. Nothing. I accepted a long time ago that for a vast myriad of reasons, there are some things I cannot answer. The call ended.
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