Page 20 of Haunting Salem

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“This is goingto take most of the night,” Jack said. “We should do a bit of history along with where we’ll be investigating.”

I gave the thumbs up. “It’s cold tonight.” Rubbing my hands together, I stared out over the graveyard. The place was eerily quiet. Almost like a dead zone. The wind didn’t blow. The leaves didn’t crackle under our feet. Even the mist evaporated the minute it drew near the boundary of the cemetery.

“Low is supposed to be thirty-six,” Lucy said, pointing the camera she’d been carrying at me.

“Groovy,” I muttered. Thankfully, unlike other shows, we didn’t have actors playing out the history of the location while one of us dubbed over the sequence, not that it wasn’t cool. I liked it, but sometimes the imagination was a better tool. Plus with a live show, it would be ten times harder to accommodate for it.

“Here is how we’ll do it,” Jack said, coming up beside me. “We’re going to pan in on the headstone of Caroline Emmerton while Simone stands off to the side to give us the information. And, should anything else appear, we’ll capture that too. Then we’ll move on.”

Should anything else appear? I snorted. This place was flat. Empty. “Sure, sounds good.” I gave Jack the thumbs up.

“Everyone set?” Jack asked, glancing at each of us. When he was satisfied, he pointed at me. “Action.”

“They say, you can never be too careful in a cemetery, you never know who you might run into.” I grinned as I stood there. “Meet Caroline Emmerton. On a cold night over forty years ago, she welcomed a weary traveler to her side and never let go.” I recalled the story of the performing arts troop that stayed in Salem during a freak storm and how a member of the team had been found frozen next to Caroline’s plot. “Local paranormal groups along with several members of the community say on cold winter nights, a young woman can be seen walking through the cemetery, lost and frantic. She has been known to ask for help, but then disappears when someone offers directions back to Salem Hotel.”

Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. With a flick of my hand, I pointed to where it came from. As still as the graveyard had been, the minute I began to speak, the place came alive. The darkened figured watched us from behind a giant oak tree, peeking out every so often.

“It appears tonight we’re not alone.” I stepped away from the headstone and started for where the figured stood. “I doubt we’re ever alone.” As I approached the shadow, I held up my hands. “We’re not here to harm you. Do you want to talk?” Kael stepped into my line of sight but stayed a shimmer of light not visible by the naked eye.

They’re curious.Kael’s words floated through my mind.A little afraid. They want to know why you're out there.

I grinned.Tell them we’re here to document their existence.“Can you tell me your name?” All of us carried audio recorders to pick up voices not heard otherwise. Owen also had a thermal camera while Nolan was tracking us from the RV outside the cemetery.

The closer we got, the farther into the darkness they went. Bummer. I'd hoped to have a small conversation with them, even if no one could see them. When they disappeared, I played the audio back on the recorder, hopeful we'd caught something. But, there was nothing. All static.

“Okay, let’s reset and go again,” Jack said. “We have tons of footage from this incident, maybe we caught something.”

I nodded. “Sure.”

“This time, I want you to tell everyone who Caroline was and how she is connected to Salem and The Seven Gabble House.”

Three more times we reset until Jack was sure we had enough information, then we moved on to Gallows Hill and Proctor's Ledge. These stories were a little harder to tell due to events surrounding not only the deaths but also the tragedy that befell Mrs. Paul.

As we climbed to the spot where the Gallows once stood, I could see all of Salem below us. At one time, the place was isolated. I could only imagine how it must have felt to be ferried up the hill to the tree, a mob of angry villagers screaming at those women and men who were all innocent of the charges, yet were seen as heretics, and devil worshipers, to take their final breaths. When I said blood-soaked this land, I wasn't kidding. This place was cursed. The historical marker for Gallows Hill shown proudly in the background as I stood away from the area. The activity there was overwhelming. What I heard more than anything was the screams of those about to die and their pleas for mercy.

"Gallows Hill," I said. "A place most today would find peaceful and charming, was once blood-soaked and damned. Just there," I pointed to the sign behind me, "men and women lost their lives due to hysteria and the lie of witchcraft." I started down the hill toward the old Paul home. "Or was it all the truth?" I glanced at the camera. "This used to be the home of Elizabeth Paul, a mother and wife. Over twenty years ago, Mrs. Paul walked down this hill, through the trees beyond." We followed the same path Elizabeth took that fateful day and stopped at the tree she'd found to take her life. "Was it her day to die? Or had some unseen force compelled her..." We broke through the tree line to the new and radically improved Proctor's Ledge. The nice stone walkway and benches surrounded a small area where a sapling had been planted had been illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights. "Or was it a cruel coincidence she was no more than thirty feet from this once gruesome site?"

“Jesus, do you have to be so creepy,” Owen said. “The way you recount what happened is a bit intense.”

“Well, it is for a Halloween special,” I replied. “Can’t go into this with a happy-go-lucky demeanor.”

“But you do it so well, it’s kind of frightening.” Owen shivered. “You’re almost too good at this.”

I took his statement as a compliment. “Thank you. Jack, what do you think? Should we go again?”

“No, I think you captured the whole situation here, well enough.” His gaze darted around the area. “Are you picking up the stuffy vibe?”

“Like you’re surrounded?” I quirked a brow.

He inclined his chin. “Being watched too.”

"Well, we are standing on a burial site." I shrugged. "I think the area is waking up, though." Nothing like a million pairs of eyes peer at you from the darkness. Was I exaggerating? Sure. However, the dreadful prickling sensation on the back of my neck drove me insane. I wanted to crawl out of my skin and take up residence in someone else's, just to have a moment of peace.

Not going to happen, Simone. You have the gift.Stephen King called it the 'shining,' the ability to communicate with others, the dead, and see what no one could with the naked eye. As much as I loved my abilities, I had moments where my gift of seeing the dead and communicate with them, freaked me out and, this place—Salem, was freaking me the fuck out.

“The quicker we get to each location the sooner we can go back to the hotel,” Lucy said, coming up beside me. As much as she clung to me and could interrupt intimate moments, she also had a heart of gold and thought of me first before even herself. That was worrisome though too.Ugh, I wish I could figure her out.

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