Speakeasy

Last night I investigated a former speakeasy with two of my favorite peeps. Ironically, I woke up feeling hungover. Could be dehydration because although we all drank like we had walked in off the Sahara (it certainly felt like we did) we kept dripping sweat out of every pore all the time. At one point I was dripping sweat all over my equipment and into my own eyes. Painful, btw, if you’ve never had that problem. And of course, all make up was washed off within minutes. One of my comrades had just gotten a haircut, but all the humidity and sweat washed it right out.

The comrade with the haircut had been contacted by the owner of an antiques shop. She had heard that part of her upstairs warehouse was a speakeasy where a man who was allegedly caught cheating who may or may not have been shot, then fell or was pushed down a flight of stairs. Since then, a man in a black suit has been seen around the stairs, walking around the upstairs, and even around the elevator shaft. Everyone who works there knows and respects Ben (and seen him). Once an artist said something about Ben’s mother, and the next day some of his art was broken into 3 pieces. There are also reports of candles being on the floor in shapes like stars. Ben has also been caught on their own security cameras as a black mass. Spare change placed on a table has been found stacked neatly in piles. Random items have been found on the counter when employees come in the next morning. The owner hasn’t changed the doors or the staircase. In fact, even the ladies in various states of undress in the speakeasy are still up on the wall. I really appreciate her being able to have the foresight and understanding of how important preservation of buildings and its accoutrements are.

The investigation was scheduled quickly so we weren’t able to verify Ben or his story. If I receive any more information about the location I will report it on this blog.

It was extremely humid, and my dumb butt wore flip flops so carrying all my equipment up and down old, wooden stairs was interesting. Painful and interesting. Sweaty and painful. Luckily I got help from the staff and my investigative buddies. My legs were still pretty worn out the next day. I literally dripped sweat on the equipment which was gross. The owner gave us cold bottles of water but it seemed we were all dehydrated regardless because all three investigators agreed we felt hungover the next day.

With the aid of the staff and a fellow investigator, we decided to put a camera shooting up the stairs where Ben met his demise (I also put my static electricity blue lights on a few of them), one facing the elevator shaft, one facing the warehouse and one filming the entirety of the speakeasy (which was way smaller than I had anticipated). I used my digital voice recorder in the beginning to do real-time EVP but once it seemed Ben would talk to us, I switched to the SB7 with speaker. Once I turned on the SB7 I moved my voice recorder to the stairwell. I am fully expecting contamination because we heard several trains, people walking outside, cars, and various other noises.

We had many voices come through the SB7, but Ben was the dominant one. It is my understanding that Ben was large and in charge in life, and it appeared he hadn’t changed in death. He would answer on behalf of people. We heard them say there was an estimated 9 spirits in the location, however, I wondered aloud how many were tied to the building and how many to the objects located in it.

The most disheartening voice was a little girl who would only keep wailing “mommy…mom…” over and over. Ben told us she was 5, which was a punch in the gut since that’s how old my daughter is. The owner said that she felt her mother presence, and we encouraged Ben and the little girl to meet up with the owner’s mother to get her to cross over. The little girl seemed just so overwhelming sad she may not have been ready yet. We can only hope that’s not the case.

We also used the flashlight as a form of communication and left the SB7 on, something I usually don’t do, but this time we seemed to be getting accurate responses through the SB7, with Ben’s voice being a constant pitch/tone, the same tone/pitch for the little girl, and sometimes a random young woman (who may be the Civil War era woman another sensitive said was there). The answers were accurate responses to our questions as opposed to random sayings that sometimes seem to come through so I felt the flashlight couldn’t hurt, only add to the experience. If it did seem to be useless or confusing I could just turn it off.

I set it on a box and turned it on. The owner seemed to be eliciting the best responses from the SB7 and the flashlight. It would blink at her, turn on and off for her.

She was also sitting on a board that the box was sitting on, unbeknownst to me. When she stood up, I began yelling “The box is MOVING! The box IS MOVING! THE BOX IS MOVING!!” I got a giggle but hey, didn’t run off screaming into the night.

Even without the evidence yet being reviewed, the night seemed to be one of the most successful I’ve had, with great responses using the equipment. There was also talk of hearing footsteps in the warehouse.

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About Jane Arrow

Aspiring author
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