After taking in as much information as possible, I lie down, hoping to sleep the last few hours before insanity strikes. Unfortunately, I was not allowed such luck. For these hours, I became doomed to watch the conveniently placed clock slowly tick, tick away. I kept repeating the words: “I will not break“. But slowly but surely, even those thoughts left me. The last half an hour arrived with panic and dread. We have no idea what we are about to face. Considering my current position within the group, I expect any one of them to throw me down the river without a second thought. Would they do that to each other? I have yet to find out.

6 pm. A loud engine roars outside. It is our time. We walk in one by one and see all the equipment laid out before us, with one more sheet of instructions. Most of it is a repetition of what we had earlier. The only difference, “you will see two-way radios in which you will use to contact each other throughout your time at the house. We will be monitoring all chatter through these as well inside the truck, good luck!”. That good luck is one of the most sarcastic endings to a sentence I have ever seen. But I can not dwell on it too much. I have to focus on the task at hand, hunting the ghost and surviving.

Fifteen minutes later, we arrive at Mellisa Williams’ house. Before entering the house, we all pick up a flashlight, a head camera, a thermometer, and an Electromagnetic Field Reader (EMF). This EMF can pick up on ghost activity based on what it does. I will have to see it in action before I can comment. To this point, no one has said a word to each other. I think everyone is still in shock that we are doing this.

Right before I step inside, I take a breath. I open the door, and immediately I am met with pure darkness. It is now evident why we are hunting at this time. It was not because the ghost is most active now but rather for the scare factor. And I can already say I am shit scared. Making matters worse, this house has wooden floorboards, which creak with every step. I have to ignore it; I need to focus on the task at hand. Finding Melissa’s “ghost” room. In other words, the room she most frequents. As I enter the bedroom upstairs, I get a cold chill, and panic covers my entire body. “A low temperature indicates the presence of paranormal activity”. I glance down at my thermometer, “1-degree celsius”. Shakingly I lift my hand with the radio and say the words, “I have found the room“.

One by one, they all arrive, and I can sense that same panic I felt. As we move around to investigate, a pillow gets violently thrown across the room. The EMF readers suddenly go crazy, and everyone sprints for the door. Elbows thrown, shirts pulled every man for themselves apparently. Silence, complete absolute silence, and for our group that’s unusual. Our first encounter with Melissa, and no one wants to return. Am I crazy for referring to her as Melissa and not a ghost? Perhaps, but this is keeping me sane. Begrudgingly we step back into the house, this time armed with UV lights, a spirit box (way to communicate to the ghost), and a book with a pencil. After searching every nook and cranny no fingerprints are found, we set the book down, and I chose to speak to Melissa with the spirit box alone. They gave us some phrases to prompt the ghost to speak to us. Clutching the spirit box close to my mouth, I shakily ask: “How old are you?”, I am met with nothing, no response. “How did you die?” Still nothing. “Are you here?”. After what felt like minutes my hair rose, pulling painfully from their follicles as a quiet but menacing voice whispered: “Behind you.”