I’ve always been fascinated by the paranormal. Growing up, my mother used to tell us she would occasionally hear someone shovelling coal into the basement furnace. Only problem was, the furnace had long ago been converted to oil. But she insisted she heard the scraping of a shovel in the middle of the night. And she was convinced the ghost of a former resident was going through the motions of insuring his family, or our family, stayed warm and toasty through the night.
It didn’t take me long to develop an interest in the sound. And I swear, a few nights, standing shakily outside the basement door entrance, I too heard the scraping sound of a shovel and the unmistakable sound of something being dumped, kind of an eerie gravelly sound. Needless to say, at six-years-old, I was far too petrified to venture into the basement to the source.
I just became convinced, as my mother did, that the ghost of a former resident was taking an interest in keeping us warm. We never heard him speak, never saw an apparition of any kind, but eventually just accepted his presence as a benevolent fixture of the old two-story home.
That’s why, in part because of that early childhood experience, it didn’t take me long to decide to write a horror novel containing many elements of the paranormal. Although my plan called for a fiction novel, I also wanted to incorporate as many real elements as possible. So I tracked down two cooperative paranormal investigators who agreed to not only be interviewed extensively, but also allow me to come along on more than one paranormal investigation.
Man, was I in for a shock. During an investigation of a reportedly haunted house, some strange and frightening things happened. First some background. The elderly female owner of the old home claimed to have seen the ghost of a small girl flitting about the property. On one occasion, she woke to the music of a flute, being played by the little girl standing over her bed. On another occasion, while she was sleeping, the blankets were stripped off her bed by a “mischievous old man.” She lived alone, her husband deceased.
After setting up video cameras, digital tape recorders and other equipment, two paranormal investigators and I walked around the house with EMF metres, designed to detect electromagnetic fields, energy supposedly created by ghosts. When using these EMF metres one has to be careful not to be tricked by electrical appliances, cell phones, or electrical wiring that may create a false positive.
Accompanied by a paranormal investigator, I walked into a basement bedroom and the investigator passed the EMF metre over the bed where the woman claimed to have seen the apparition of the little girl. There were no electrical outlets or lamps near the bed. Suddenly the EMF metre spiked, indicating at least a strong EMF level. But on the second pass, the metre read next to nothing. The room precipitously became cold and the elderly woman accompanying us turned as white as a ghost and beat a hasty retreat upstairs to the warm comfort of the main floor.
Long after she went to bed, we sat in the basement family room in darkness watching the lights of the EMF metre occasionally dance with a warning of electromagnetic energy. I held a video camera with a hand-held tripod, pointed at the gas fireplace which the women had said would mysteriously turn on and off at times.
About an hour into the midnight vigil, a bumping sound coming from the nearby furnace room startled me. The paranormal investigator began talking, trying to call the spirits out of the woodwork. A few minutes later, silence. He checked the furnace room and saw nothing out of the ordinary, so we returned to sitting in darkness. Suddenly, and without explanation, the room became cold again and my video recorder went dead.
“Uhh, excuse me,” I said, pointing to the video camera. “This thing just went dead.”
After checking the batteries, the paranormal investigator discovered the power switch had been turned off. He clicked it on and the camera sprang to life. Needless to say, while holding the camera, my hands were nowhere near the power button, which is located on the camera. My hands were firmly gripped to the tripod.
Stange? Hell, yeah. Can it be explained in some rational way? Maybe. But, I haven’t the foggiest notion where to start.
I just know it was that chilling experience, along with some other frightening events that I either witnessed or learned about through interviews and research, that gave birth to The Rage Trilogy ( Phantom Rage, Poison Rage and Infected Rage). You see, there were so many things I discovered, I soon realized I couldn’t pack them all into one novel. No. This compelling and scary information called for a series.
So, if you have an interest in the paranormal, or enjoy being scared and entertained, I believe The Rage Trilogy will fit the bill. This series is far more than a bunch of loosely concocted tales from my imagination. Interwoven into the fabric of each book are real life encounters. And it’s up to you, dear reader, to find the facts in the fiction.
As always, thanks for stopping by. And feel free to share your ghostly experiences in the comments section below.
Happy Hallowe’en!