The Ghost Hunter [PH2018}







“Well guys, I’m still down here in the basement, waiting for something to happen…”

He sat in the dark, camera at the ready, and getting honestly bored. His nose itched. He tried not to sigh as he carefully reached up and rubbed the spot, shifting his position slightly. He’d been staring into the ghastly green of the night vision camera in the pitch black of the damn basement in what was supposedly the most haunted location in Gaithersburg.

Whatever.

He glanced at his watch. 2:00 AM. Three whole hours left to go.

He’d been sitting here freezing his ass off in the damp winter of the old Victorian era home for over an hour already. He’d seen and heard absolutely nothing.

The glories and glamor of a cable TV show were highly overrated, he mused to himself, reflecting on the sub-par hotel room their road manager had booked. Not even a sauna room.

He shifted again. Okay then. Show time. He stepped out in front of the stationary camera, bringing his hand held along. He kept it rolling for a second possible pov.

“Okay, I’ve been hearing and seeing nothing down here, so I’m going to try my spirit box, and if that doesn’t work, I will bring out the Ovulus,” he said to the millions of fans that would eventually see this, or not, depending on what happened next.

He turned on the spirit box and the beats of white noise burst out harshly into the cold, bleak air. He felt his nervous system jolt a bit, even though he knew it was coming. 


“Hello? If anyone’s down here, why don’t you come over and speak into this box? Use the energy to come talk to me…” He paused. Nothing. Crap. It was just one of those nights. “Can you do it? Can you come talk to me?”

“H-h-h-h-h-hellllp.” The word jumped out from the box. It was a man’s voice.

“Whoa! It said ‘help!’ It said ‘help!’ Oh man. That was awesome…Can you say something else? What do you need help with?”

“Ooooooerrrr Dy-ing.”

“Oh my God! It just said ‘Dying!” Dude. Oh man…that freaked me out.” His whole body felt electric. “I’m getting chills, bro. I’m getting hairs standing up all over my body. This just got real, bro…”

He set the spirit box down on a crappy old table near the door and let it run, churning through its multitude of frequencies, in case the spirit voice came back. He made sure the stationary camera could pick it up.

He picked up his radio and called back to Joe, who was manning the electronic base they’d set up in the van. “Joe, come in, over?” Odd static burst back at him from the walkie. “What the hell?,” he muttered in a stage whisper, fully aware of the cameras recording around him.

He set his hand held camera down on the table next to the spirit box and smacked the walkie a few times. “Joe. Come in, Joe. This is Dane from the basement. Can you hear me? Over.”

In disgust, he realized the batteries on the walkie had been drained. “Oh man, I just put fresh ones in here earlier. Geez.” He reached down and picked up his hand held agian, aiming it at himself.

“So, the walkie just burned out, dudes. I’m down here alone, and I’m getting totally freaked out by all this.” He showed the walkie and it’s obvious lack of function to the camera, shaking his head. “Well, that’s useless. I guess I’m on my own.” He then reached down and hooked the radio on his belt, automatically finding the loop.

He wasn’t scared, really, but he mugged it up and exaggerated for the camera a bit. They were putting on a show, after all, and the audience liked seeing him scared, alone and panicking. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t contact anyone…”

THUMP!


“Ahhh!” That scared him for real. A loud noise, just above his head nearly shook the floor. “Oh my God…Oh my God! That sounded like a door slam!” He grabbed the spirit box and shut it off, listening. Nothing. His breath came hard and fast and filled the room. “My heart is pounding so fast. I need to get up there.” He felt suddenly uneasy. Something didn’t feel right at all. He shoved the spirit box back into a pocket on his utility belt.

“Ok, I’m heading up to check on everybody. This is insane.”

He flipped the light on his camera, flooding the stairway so he could see his way up from the cobwebbed brick basement. He clambered up the stairs quickly. His light sputtered when he was halfway, then went out. He was plunged into absolute darkness.

“Damn!” he shouted, his heart hammering at his chest. The spirit box in his pocket burst to life, the pulsing static causing him to shout again. He nearly dropped the camera. He just stood still a moment, breathing.

“Donnn’t gohhhhh,” the spirit box groaned. 

“What was that! What was that? It said something…What was that!?”

The box shut off abruptly. He wanted to cry. An odd impulse, totally not like him. Something down here was affecting him. “Pull it together, Dane. Pull it together. Just breathe. Just breathe. Get up the stairs and breathe.” He talked to himself, some part of him hoping the stationary camera was still live, still getting the shot and taking in the evidence he was collecting.

Boards creaked overhead. Footsteps. Probably Cory or Frank, he thought.

“You can do this…” He felt his way forward, inch by inch, gaining confidence when no more interruptions happened, feeling stupid, as he always did, when the fear started leaving him. Three steps. Four steps…

THUMP!

“Ahh!,” he screamed, high pitched, the noise caused him to jump, throwing off his balance. His arms wheeled for a moment, churning the air in a sickening rush, before he felt himself falling backwards. Terrified, he grabbed at the rail and the wall and somehow, miraculously managed to keep from plunging back down the stairs into the pit of blackness below.

Shaken, he dug his fingers into the cracks in the cold damp mortar of the brick wall and stood there, unmoving for a moment. That could’ve killed him. Not cool… He listened, heart pounding, his breath misting the air.

Silence. He breathed hard for another moment, then, with determination, felt his way upwards again, step by step, more careful this time.

Damn. This was a tough one.

It had been a long time since he’d actually felt scared, knowing how there were so many investigations where nothing really happened and they had to hype everything up. This one was real. It gave him a little thrill as he finished climbing the stairs.

The door was locked.

cont...



“What the hell?” It wasn’t supposed to be locked. He pounded on it, getting pissed. “Guys! Guys! Can you hear me? Hey, help! Help! Let me out!” He pounded and screamed. Bang! Bang! Bang! On and on…

Then he stopped, put his ear to the door and listened, hoping to hear something, anything.

Wait. What was that? Who was talking? A woman’s voice, muffled, was calling out to someone. Was that a spirit?

“It’s happening…” Then the voice cut out and he couldn’t hear it clearly…”just, please?” The woman said. He thought that’s what she said. She sounded anxious. A disembodied voice? There weren’t any women on the team, and they were locked in tight for the night.

A man’s voice, too distorted to hear said something. Then silence.

Footsteps! The boards outside the door creaked and he distinctly heard footsteps. Many of them, like a man walking right by him. Was that one of the team? Or a spirit.

“Hey!,” he pounded the door again, and rattled the knob. “Hey, dude, let me out!”

He heard a bolt slip on the door, and then a chain. Finally a key turned in a lock and he wondered if the guys had locked him in as a prank. He hadn’t remembered there being that many locks, which was odd, but whatever… He was going to kill them.

“Very funny guys. Cory, I swear, you gotta open the damn door now…” They played pranks on each other to heighten fear, and because they had fun freaking the hell out of each other. Whomever did it would get some hella payback.

The door flung open.

No one was there, except, for a moment, he saw a form. A man. And the room was suddenly lit up and a TV blared in the background, but nothing looked right.

Then everything was suddenly solid, and a stranger stared at him, his eyes went wide and he screamed. Dane burst through the door and realized, looking down, that he couldn’t see his legs or his arms, just an outline.

“Oh God,” he thought to himself. “What’s happening?”

A strange light filled the edges of the room with unreality. There was a strange buzzing sound, or something like rushing water. It made his head hurt. He blinked. The man was screaming still and fading out, the room wavered and the buzzing, rushing sound continued…static…pulsing static…

Something made him turn around and look back down the stairs into the basement. Terror struck through him like lightning. Lights flickered out all around him, color then black then color then black, and he yelled at the top of his lungs. He didn’t understand what was happening…

There at the bottom of the stairs was a familiar figure sitting near a camera, looking…bored? He almost didn’t recognize who he was looking at…



“Well guys, I’m still down here in the basement, waiting for something to happen…” came the voice from the bottom of the stairs.




THE END

Haha!
That was a good read. I do miss your writing!

originally posted by: TNMockingbird
Haha!
That was a good read. I do miss your writing!

Thank you so much! It was fun to write.

a reply to: AboveBoard

I love your writing. Great story, thank you for sharing!

originally posted by: zosimov
a reply to: AboveBoard

I love your writing. Great story, thank you for sharing!

Hey zosimov!

Thanks so much for reading!!

a reply to: AboveBoard
Loved that, especially the twist of someone doing something they have zero belief in getting their comeuppance

a reply to: SprocketUK

Hey, Sprocket, thanks!!

I like to write twisty endings - it’s fun when they work!

Nice! I love ghost stories as much as the shenanigans ghost hunters end up in. Very fun and compelling ending. s&f!

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