Phasmophobia- Fear of ghosts
Maurice James died on July 15, 1897.
"What a welcoming banner!" Justin laughed, reading the plaque that sat just under a large stone statue. "You ready to get this over with?" he asked the man standing next to him.
The tall man was staring into the lifeless eyes of the stone man, lost in thought. "You know I am." he said. He slung his bag full of heavy metal equiptment around his shoulder. "Where's that old man at? We need the key." he commented, stepping out of his thinking state.
A third man, sitting on the ground and messing with some equiptment looked up. "I saw him by the old tunnel a few minuted ago." He pointed in the direction of the tunnel.
"Thanks,Greg." the tallest of the three said. He began to walk towards the tunnels. He saw the old man. Waving, he called. "Hey! Old Man Harley. You ready?"
The elderly man was holding a key in his right hand. "I think I should be the one to ask you that!" he said in a raspy voice. "I gotta make sure that its really you though, and not one of those demons in disguise!" he laughed. "Give me some ID!"
The dark brown-haired, well-built man reached into his pocket, pulling out his drivers license. "Ray B. Sully. Paranormal Investigator". The old man looked at the ID with his dull, tired eyes. "I guess it is you, Brian. Gather up your friends."
Brian patted the old man on the back. "Thank you again for letting us do this."
"Oh, no problem. I just hope that some of the souls here can be put to rest." The old man rasped. He ran a finger through his thinning grey hair.
"Justin! Greg! Come on, its almost time!"
The two men began to walk over to the tunnels, Justin loosing his balance over the weight of one bag. He was the smaller of the three. But he had one of the most likeable personalities. Greg was larger, a little overweight. He was a bit immature, but always stuck up for his two friends. It felt empty there. One of their partners, Ford, had passed away recently on one of their trips. He had fell through a weakened floor in an old house that they were investigating. Weather if it was accidental, or an evil act of the paranormal, he was missed.
The two met up beside Brian and Old Man Harley. "Tell us the history of this place one more time before we investigate it." Justin said, beginning to record with a large camera.
Old Man Harley nodded in agreement. "Very well." he said, clearing his throat. He began the long, tragic story. "Well, this building here was created by Maurice James. But that was about 200 years after the first tradgidies happened here. An old Indian tribe lived here long before any of the white men took their land. Not many things are known about the tribe, but they have recovered a few tools that they used for sacrifices."
Brian nodded. "So, there was a tribe here that was forgotten?"
"Yep .Under that building over there iswhere theirmain burial grounds were." he said, pointing to his left at an ivy-covered stone building, branching off from the main factory.
"Thats a wonderfull combination for hauntings." Greg commented.
The old man went on. "When the Indians had droughts, they would take the youngest female child in the tribe and behead it with a sharp knife." Brian made a grimmacing face as the old man went on. "They believed that the blood of the young girls was the puriest, and if it sprinkled the crops, they would become fertile."
"This is a really dry place, too!" Brian exclaimed. The group had travled south to a location where droughts were very common. The location was nicknamed "Dry County".
The old man nodded his head in agreement. "Thats true. There were many bones discovered, so scientists think that this tribe was very large. So I'm sure they had a ton of female children that feared for their lives. People think that the small girls were so afraid for their lives, that they got pregnant as soon as they could. That way, if they had a daughter, the child's baby would be slaughtered before her."
Brian made another gross face before the white-haired elder continued. "Their land was taken from them in about 1799.Thats when this city was built. About fifty or sixty years later, Maurice James built James's Coal & Recources. That's when trains began to cover the nation, and the demand for coal was through the roof. He was making huge bucks with his supplies. These tunnels lead to the mines." he pointed to the run-down caves in the structure beside him. "His buisness was good, and he had employed people for miles around. Its because of him that this town became so popular. His fame spread around the area, and he earned more and more money. He was so rich, he was practically above the government. He mistreated his workers and harrased their familys. A group of workers became so outraged that they murdered him. The workers were never caught, and the police ruled the death as an accident, just to keep the press at bay. It was obvious that he was murdered."
Brian clapped his hands together. "Great!" he said. He looked at the grey, cloudy sky. The air was wet and humid, in between warm and cold. The wind blew, sending a wet moldy scent through the air. A perfect atmosphere for an invesigation. "Greg, Justin, you ready for this?" he asked. Both men came out from behind their camera's and nodded.
"I'll make sure no one disturbes you until the mornng." the old man said. "I'll keep an eye on the outside. I have cameras set up around the outside of the building." the old man said, leading them up the stairs and to the old wooden door."
"Thanks, old man." Brian said, walking into the creaky old building. The man waved at them as they stepped inside. "I'll see you soon!" he said, smiling. He shut the old door behind them, and the three were covered in the shadow of the building's evil.
© Copyright 2016 Black15. All rights reserved.
Book / Horror
Poem / Poetry
Script / Young Adult
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