I'm going to respond to the general clamor I get in my Inbox about my adventures in geisting. It is absolutely essential that you have read my first post explaining what I do.

I'll wait.

As I've stated before, the point of these little expeditions is to find proof of the existence of ghosts. I'm not out to scare myself to death, I'm out to get serious proof of the paranormal at work.

The most powerful tool we have is the digital camera. As I've said, orbs are relatively common. You CAN and you SHOULD get orbs in your own backyard. My method is to STOP when I get something, then take a series of pictures until the photos change. As you can see in this photo, there's an orb. It's not a BUNCH of orbs, which can be dust or lens flares, just one single, happy little orb. It is colored and appears to be moving.

 
In this next photo, you will see I am standing in the exact place I was before, but there is no orb. This is a good thing. It rules out a lens flare from the lights in the background. You'll also note a little light that is peeking out from behind the wall on the left side in the first shot that isn't in the second.

Of course, orbs are common and not worth much. But sometimes other things pop up that are more compelling. I've told you that cemeteries are relatively useless. Well, we do get requests from cemetery owners and I never turn down a legitimate gig. Here's something entertaining:

There are many things that *could* cause a photo to do this, spiderwebs, hair, etc. I took this photo and I assure you, I checked. If you look closely, the big fat streak appears to be made up of a series of circles. The break in the middle of it is also unusual.

That particular cemetery is inactive, meaning that no one is buried there anymore. It primarily holds the graves of Confederate soldiers. The owners had called the police several times because they saw people walking around in the cemetery, but when they chased them, they disappeared. There's really nowhere to go in the cemetery. It is surrounded by a bayou and a very deep water-filled ditch. (Which, in my mind, is the definition of a bayou, but I digress...) After the police threatened to fine them for false alarms, they called us.

In the photo above, my co-founder is taking a photo which produced a run of the mill orb picture. What *isn't* so run-of-the-mill is that I got it at the same time. This is what we call, in technical terms, the "double whammy".

Here I am geisting in Cassadaga, Florida. It's always odd to see photos of yourself when there are things around you that you couldn't see while you were standing there.

Here I am sitting on a hill. All the protocols are being followed, no one is smoking, everyone holds their breath when they open their shutter. There are about eight people that were shooting this particular hill at the time I was sitting on it. Everyone got the same results. This is NOT fog. It did not show up on night shot cameras, either. Only on the digital cameras. Within five minutes, it's hard to find me on that hill.

 
Yes, I'm back there somewhere. But you should be more interested in seeing my team mate Tom's SHADOW. Another member is taking the photo of me on the hill. Tom is also taking a photo. You can see the shadow of his elbow on the cloud.

We call this "ectoplasm" for lack of a better word. No, it is not snot left behind by Slimer. Please remember that, at the time, none of us could SEE the ectoplasm. Everyone taking the photos could clearly see me sitting on the hill, as I could clearly see them.

This "hill" is actually a pile of construction dirt that has been abandoned. We are in a very large meadow in Orange Park, Florida. It is part of the former estate of a wealthy landowner in the 1800's. He had a large group of slaves overseen by his wife, Anna, who was an African princess. Truth is stranger than fiction in Florida history.

There are certain situations that make orbs remarkable. Above is another shot from the Confederate cemetery we were asked to investigate. As you can see, these orbs were captured while it was still light outside.

Most of the time, we investigate normal homes. One of my most heartbreaking cases involved a college student renting an apartment with her boyfriend, we'll call her Lori. She had been a patron of our "homebase" coffee house. She heard about what we do and cornered me one night.

She told me that she was concerned about her apartment. She had repeatedly heard the sound of someone very large and clumsy trying to get up the stairs from her downstairs door to her foyer upstairs. She would jump out of bed and turn on the light, but no one was ever there.

The normal ghost activity applied, as well. Electrical disturbances, objects being moved, etc. I did a little research on her house and found out what she had not been told.

A young, gay black man, about 6'4" and well-built, had lived in the apartment before her. He had been at the laundromat one night and gotten into a spat with some rednecks. They followed him home and banged on the door. When the young man refused to open the door, they fired two shotgun blasts at the closed door, wounding the young man fatally.

The rednecks ran off. The young man, trying to get to the phone, managed to get to the top of the stairs before he finally died.

Lori had no idea this had happened in her home. As is my habit, I did not tell any members of my team about the history of the home. I find that it causes a team to neglect parts of the site in order to shoot where they think they will get results. About an hour into the investigation, we were getting a lot of orbs around that upstairs landing.

Out of curiousity, I pulled back the long rug that was there. Lori said, "Oh, that's not mine, it came with the apartment." Under that rug was several lines of adhesive, in the perfect shape of a very large man in the fetal position.

Lori freaked out. I told her (and my team) what had happened at that point. I didn't have much choice.

Honestly, I don't get scared. I do what needs to be done. I am interested. But, seeing the tape outline of that man's shoes splayed out on that landing was too much for me. I wasn't afraid. I was ANGRY. I was sad. I went outside and had a moment to myself.

Finally, I talked to Lori and she calmed down. We finished the night's work.

When we returned the next weekend to deliver our results, I asked Lori what she would do. She said she wanted to stay. She said she wants the young man to be with people who know his story. He was "part of her family" now. It's been 6 years since I did that investigation. Lori still lives in that apartment and she hasn't had any "trouble" since.

THAT is why I do what I do. I may never prove the existence of ghosts, but there are plenty of people out there who need help coming to terms with the place they call home. Stories like Lori's make it all worth it.