“

Someone’s going to call the cops.”

“We’re cool,” Jason said. “Trust me. There’s one security guard for this whole complex. He doesn’t go into the buildings. As long as we’re inside the sanatorium before he gets back, we’ll be fine. We’re going to need to keep it quiet and dark. Cool?”

“What’s why we brought the goggles, right?” Alice replied.

“Yeah,” Jason agreed. “Trust me, Dave, I did my homework here.”

“I’m still not okay with this… we can’t publish any of these results…”

“Maybe not, but at least we can validate the equipment… Look, Dave, call it a dress rehearsal. We’ll get everything dialed in and when we do get permission to perform an investigation we’ll be all set.”

“Fine. Fine. Let’s just get in there.”

“Yes,” Jason looked at his watch, “We’ve got about twenty minutes. Follow me, stay in the shadows, and keep low.”

“I thought you said he was the only guard,” Alice asked.

“He is, but I’d rather not take any chances. Let’s go.” The three scurried from the dense trees by the perimeter chain link fence and along the trees bordering the parking lot. They emerged from the shadows following the weeds that used to be landscaping along the west wing of the dark, decrepit sanatorium building. Dave looked up the face of the building as they passed along, many of the windows broken out, the rest dark like dead eyes.

Reaching the front door, they found a heavy padlock in addition to the main entry door’s locks. “I thought you did your homework?” Dave asked accusingly.

“I’ve got this. Follow me,” and he started off along the east wing. Ahead a depression in the earth came into view, low rusty guard rails surrounding it on three sides. As they closed in on it, Dave saw that the fourth side was a stairway leading down into the dark earth. “Maintenance entrance,” Jason said as he bounded down the stone stairway. Alice looked at Dave, shrugged, then followed with Dave following her a beat later. When they reached the bottom, Jason had a penlight in his mouth illuminating the doorknob, his hands already working a set of lockpicks. An agonizingly long few minutes later, they heard a click and the door swung open. “Yes!” Jason put away his tools, pulled out a larger flashlight and shone it inside the room illuminating a cobweb-laden room with empty work tables running the length of two sides of the room. Jason’s flashlight fixed on a door set in the far wall. “That leads to the Sanatorium,” he said.

“You’re sure?” Dave asked.

“I pulled the blueprints on this place. I’m sure. Let’s get in and break out the equipment.”

They moved to one of the empty workbenches and unzipped their backpacks and quickly organized their equipment. They had practiced setting up numerous times, so before long, Dave turned on his bone induction mic along his jaw. “Check, check,” he said quietly.

“Hearing you fine,” Alice said. “Jason?”

“Roger that,” he said. “The recorder is picking all three of us,” he said as the waveforms danced on his channel on the digital display of the recorder. He turned the display off and stowed it in the side pocket of his backpack. He folded down the night vision goggles over his eyes and turned them off. The room became a dimly lit world of greens and black. He put away the flashlight and pulled out an infrared flashlight, turned it on and shone its invisible beam around the room which glowed like daylight in his night vision goggles.

“Video from all three body GoPros is recording,” Alice said closing a laptop and stowing it before flipping down her own goggles and retrieving an infrared flashlight.

“We’ve got data on the instruments,” Dave said checking the readout on his small tablet indicating ambient temperature, and electromagnetic radiation levels among other sensor data. He turned off the display and put it in the front pocket of his jacket and then flipped down his own goggles. “Ready to go. Jason? Do you have point?”

“I do,” Jason replied quietly, shouldering his backpack and moving through the complete darkness to the far door as the other two followed. The unlocked knob turned easily in Jason’s hand, the door opening with a creak on rusty hinges. They made their way up the service stairway to the main floor. From there Jason led them up to the third floor of the west wing – the “black floor” as it had become known.

The “black floor” was known to house the incurably insane and violent patients. It was also the floor where they experimented with frontal lobotomies, the failed patients living out their days on the black floor. They decided this would be the most likely area for contact.

As they made their way from the landing to the doorway to the black floor, Dave called for them to hold just outside so he could make a baseline reading. He almost asked if everyone was ready but knew they were – this was what they all had planned for.

Jason looked at Alice in the green and black vision. She nodded, and he opened the creaky door. Immediately they could feel the temperature markedly cooler there. Dave felt a foul, oppressive energy and a voice in his head screamed for them not to continue, but he fought back the fear by telling himself this was about the science and the instruments. And besides, they were all together. They’d be fine.

Inside the hallway, Dave verified the temperature had plummeted and the EMF detector kept spiking, though he knew that reading could be thrown off due to any number of anomalies – not necessarily anything paranormal.

Jason stopped. “Hear that?”

“Sounded like it came from there at the end,” Alice shined her infrared beam down towards an open doorway.

“Let’s go.”

Dave followed them, keeping one eye on their backs, another on the readings. EMF spiked and stayed spiked – unusual. He pulled out a camera and started snapping off pictures as they moved down the hallway.

Jason reached the open door with Alice just behind him, Dave a few more steps behind her. Ahead he saw Jason jerk backwards as if shoved with such force that Alice barely had time to dodge him. He staggered, but kept his feet, steadied himself, and stood stock still.

“Jason!” Alice started, “You okay? What was that?”

No response.

Dave stepped up next to Alice, now in direct view of the doorway they were heading to. He could sense a gale of overpoweringly rotten energy rushing out. He disregarded it, turning to Jason, “Hey man, you okay?”

No response.

Alice moved to touch his arm and he whipped it around and back, the movement somehow unnaturally quick and jerky. “Jason?” Alice asked.

The laughter from Jason’s mouth started low and built to a full cackle, the voice not Jason’s. As he laughed Alice and Dave exchanged panicked looks. Finally, Jason raised the night vision goggles, and through their goggles they could see his eyes had gone completely flat black – pupil, iris, and sclera. “Jason isn’t here to take your call right now,” the voice, a register higher and raspier than Jason’s, said. “If you’d like to leave a…a…a…a” it stuttered, “Message. He’ll get back to you from hell!” and the voice cackled again.

“Holy shit, Jason, this isn’t funny,” Alice said.

“Funny?” the voice shot back. “Funny? Nothing f-f-f-f-funny on the black floor. Nothing funny! Nothing funny!” It cried in near hysterics.

“Who are you?” Dave asked.

“Wouldn’t you, wouldn’t you, wouldn’t you like to know? Hahahaha!”

“Yes, we would,” Alice pressed. “Who are you?”

“You and your… toys,” the voice said, slapping at the GoPro on Jason’s shoulder. “My floor! My floor now! Why, why, why, why did you come? Why?! Why?!

“We mean you no harm…” Dave tried to calm the voice.

“They say that. They always say that. No harm! No harm! All you do is harm, harm, harm, harm….” He trailed off. “Harm… I’ll bring you harm!” and he ran towards the doorway the energy came from, but veered at the last second, colliding head first with the wall. “Hahahaha!” he cackled, staggering backwards. He turned towards Dave and Alice who could see blood streaming down Jason’s face. “No harm! No harm! No harm,” he repeated with glee.

Dave dropped his backpack and started rummaging through it.

“Please don’t hurt him or us. We came here to investigate and help you move on.”

“Move on? Move on?! Happy here! I’m in charge now! King of the castle, castle, castle! You come in here without my decree! Challenge me? Defend myself! Defend, defend, defend!” He started slapping Jason’s face, blood spattering off.

“We will leave. Just please leave our friend.”

“When I’m ready!” it snapped. “No sooner! Having my fun! Fun, fun, fun!” and started skipping in a small circle.

Dave came up from his backpack with a cross and several vials. Alice looked at him confused. “Brought these in case of emergency.” Then he nodded to Jason still skipping and singing nonsense, “Emergency.” He pulled the cap on one vial and flicked the contents at Jason. He screamed and staggered. “In the name of Jesus Christ, you will leave my friend!” Dave commanded as he held the cross in front of him like a shield.

“Stop my fun?” Jason’s blood-streaked face looked confused.

Still brandishing the cross, Dave popped the cap off the second and flicked the water at Jason.

Jason screamed again and staggered backwards again. “Not at full power – I would squish you and you and him,” he pointed at himself. “Squish, squish, squish,” he repeated.

Dave moved closer, cross up, and commanded again, “In the name of Jesus Christ, you will leave my friend!”

Dave readied another vial, when the voice said flatly, “Fine.” And Jason slumped limply to the ground.

Sensing the ghost wasn’t giving up, Jason yelled, “Alice, drop!” She reacted instinctively, dropped flat as Jason threw the vial at her prone body. He could sense the spirit rush towards her and carom off as the liquid struck her. He sensed the energy zipping around the room and rush at him. He barely moved the cross to block the vector he sensed the energy darting in on. It made another round, but finding no purchase began to zip and dissipate. “Alice!” Dave yelled as he moved towards Jason, keeping low. She snapped to her feet, staying low as well. They draped the limp Jason’s arms over their shoulders and half dragged him down the hallway as quickly as they could. As they neared the doorway to the main corridor, they heard a voice echo from the end, “Come back soon. I’ll be stronger then. I promise, promise, promise…”

Natalie stared at the ornate dollhouse on the floor across from her bed. She remembered when her grandmother gave it to her forever ago. She didn’t ask for it, and the dolls were creepy looking. Even her My Little Ponies didn’t like to use that house – or at least she pretended they didn’t when she used to play with her My Little Ponies. A brief smile of memory fought its way to her face. Then She sighed. What eighth grader still had a doll house? “Not this one,” she said aloud.  She got up and headed to the garage where she raided the packing stuff for bubble wrap, a couple of folded cardboard boxes, and packing tape. Back in her room, she spent the better part of the morning wrapping the house with the dolls inside it, and constructing an elaborate carboard sarcophagus around the two-story house with the boxes, expending most of the roll of packing tape to keep it all firmly in place.

Her mom ducked her head in at one point when Natalie was securing a cardboard flap across the second-floor dormer windows. “What are you doing?”

Natalie sighed dramatically and said, “Eighth graders don’t have doll houses, mom.”

Her mom raised her eyebrows but left without saying a word.

Covering it had been a frustratingly long process, but getting it out of the room and down the stairs proved to be another thing entirely. Too heavy and awkwardly large, she pushed it across the carpet in her room until she reached the hardwood floor of the hallway where she slid it onto a runner and dragged that across the hardwood floor until the stairs. From there she descended the stairs backwards, ahead of the mummy-wrapped dollhouse as she guided it down the steps. She stole her brother’s skateboard for the journey from the bottom of the stairs to the garage, and in the garage, she guided it to a corner. She’d ask her dad for a better place for it when he got back from golf.

Back in her room she climbed back into bed to admire the empty corner of the room. The dollhouse had occupied that spot for so many years, the empty spot seemed glaring. But, she told herself, a good glaring. An eighth-grade glaring – and that was just fine.

* * *

Natalie woke with a start. She heard a noise, or thought she did, but when she listened she couldn’t hear anything. She reached over to turn on the light, but her arm was stuck. She tried her other arm, but it, too was held fast. She tried to move her legs, but she couldn’t budge them. The light she had intended to turn on switched on by itself. She looked over and saw the figure of the boy doll from the dollhouse on the night stand beneath the lamp switch. He stared back at her and she watched him walk from the nightstand, leap gracefully to the bed, and move to a thin cord that she now could see ran from the side of the bed and over her to the other side. He plucked the taught cord and it hummed like a guitar string. She felt pressure on her body and looked down to see the mother and daughter securing a cord around her leg.

She started to freak out and opened her mouth to scream, but as soon as she opened her mouth something was jammed into it – a sock? Eww. She frantically looked around and saw the father doll just to the right of her shoulder – he must have been the one to jam the sock in her mouth. He climbed up her shoulder like a mountaineer, and then walked over and stood on her clavicle with his arms folded across his chest. The other dolls – the mother, the sister and her brother, even the grandmother scrambled up onto her torso and stood behind him. The father doll shook its head and pointed to the empty corner where the dollhouse had been.

* * *

Natalie’s mom poked her head in her daughter’s room and saw her carefully removing the bubblewrap from around the dollhouse, surrounded by pieces of cardboard and tape. “I thought eighth graders don’t have dollhouses.”

“This one does,” Natalie said.

The first part of this story is here.

After the extraordinary display of paranormal excitement in the hills above Napa Valley Judy and Autumn reported a notable decrease in activity overall around the grounds. Maybe the energy played itself out, maybe it’s recharging, time will tell. It certainly wasn’t something any of us will ever forget. Unfortunately for me, I might have brought something unexpected back from Ravens Springs.

As you might expect, no one slept much once we retired to the solace of Judy and Autumn’s home. Just before dawn, with sleep still eluding me, I decided to go outside again – not far, mind you, but just to see how the energy of the place was facing the imminent dawn. Venus stirred as I made my way across the living room and stretched to join me.

We agreed the entity that had passed through the office had continued through and the airy feeling the place had before had been restored. Just outside the door, too, the atmosphere was tranquil, the first song birds beginning their prelude to the dawn. Which was one of the reasons the “caw!” from an enormous raven perched on the roof rail of my Subaru startled us. As we laughed at ourselves it cawed again, folding open its massive wings. I’ve encountered my share of ravens, but this bird’s wingspan stretched six feet. We laughed nervously in the pre-dawn when the rapid fluttering of black wings around my head caught me utterly off guard. I beat my hands around my head to shoo whatever it was away – my first thought was a bat. Venus said she didn’t see anything fluttering around my head. A moment later it was gone as quickly as it came, but a splitting headache pierced my forehead. I chalked it up at the time to no sleep and lack of caffeine, and Venus and I left the giant bird to rectify the latter in the kitchen downstairs.

When the sun rose high enough to warm the place again Larry headed up to the cemetery and knoll to retrieve his recording devices. Soon we bid our hosts adieu and agreed amongst ourselves to meet the following evening after we’d had a chance to review our experiences and equipment. Following Jeff, Larry, and Venus down the drive to the main row I slammed on my brakes as the giant raven dove at my windshield pulling up just before impact. I caught my breath and continued, but could see the huge black bird in my rearview mirror seemingly following me. At the base of the hill, Jeff paused and pulled in after a wine bus. I paused a moment and looked back to see the raven perched – appropriately – on the wrought iron gate proclaiming “Ravens Springs”. A stretched Hummer limo sped by and I put my foot down and hurriedly put some distance between me and that bird.

Once home I was eager to take a shower and a nap, but neither came easy. I had barely had time to shampoo my hair when the bathroom door slammed violently. I threw open the shower curtain, but the bathroom was empty. Turning off the water and grabbing my towel I checked the house, picking up my chef’s knife from the kitchen before continuing my survey. The front door remained locked, as was the back door and the windows. My cat, Edgar, slept peacefully on my bed. Cautiously (and with the knife still in hand) I returned to the bathroom to find the shower running again, curtain pulled closed. Knife at the ready I pulled back to reveal the shower empty. Behind me the door slammed closed on its own again. Nerves frayed, I left the bathroom door closed and locked it, set my knife on the sink and mercifully enjoyed my shower.

Taking a note from the bathroom, I closed the bedroom door before drawing the blinds against the afternoon light, so I could get a little rest. I fell into a dream nearly as soon as my eyes closed – highly unusual for me for a nap. I was back at Ravens Springs but up on the knoll in front of the house that burned in the fire. I turned around and immediately saw the pools had a simple awning over them, not the complex of buildings. And further to the west I saw the boys’ cabins – shacks, really.  Turning back, the front door had opened of its own volition. I walked inside. From somewhere deeper in the house I heard a child crying.  I tried to follow the sound as I walked the hallways which were twisted and tilted by dream logic – at one point I walked on the wall which had canted over nearly horizontal. Turning down another corridor the floor (and it was the floor again) was an inch deep in red liquid. Squatting down for a better look I was relieved to see it was red wine, but slogging through it barefoot made for slow going. Another corner and this hallway stabilized, the crying seemed to come from the room at the end of the hallway, the cries growing more frantic. I ran down the hallway which kept growing longer because of course it would. I finally reached the room, turned the knob and threw open the door. Looming in front of me stood an imposing bear of a man, a full head taller than me. He scowled through a bushy black full beard and mustache. He arched an eyebrow in recognition and then reached out one huge hand towards my face placing his fingers on my forehead. No, he pressed his fingers into my head, the pain from my headache doubling into agony. The huge man started laughing at my pain as I tried to pull back but I couldn’t move and he laughed harder, his peals of laughter deafening. Then the laughing and throbbing pain split by a sharp tearing and I opened my eyes in my bed. Edgar sat on my chest, paw raised with claws extended for another swipe. Breathing heavily, I felt my face and came away with a drop of blood from Edgar’s first swipe. I tried to calm myself and reached up with my other hand to pet him and said, “Good kitty,” as he started to purr.

The headache had gone, and the scratch barely drew blood, the sting fading almost immediately. Focus eluded me for the rest of the afternoon. Edgar wouldn’t leave my side, eschewing his food and treats, and repeatedly jumping on my lap until I gave in and let him stay. Jeff called a little later saying we needed to meet sooner than later. I asked if he wanted the whole gang there and he said he did.

We met up at Hopmonk off the square taking a quiet table in the back, the Saturday dinner crowd having not yet arrived. Venus saw me first and waved me over. Jeff was swiping through images some streaked with glowing orbs and slashes of light and the next in a sequence perfectly dimly lit images of the grounds. Before I had a chance to ask Larry what was going on the waiter arrived. He’d already taken their drink orders, but Larry told him I needed “Something very strong.” I gave him a puzzled look and he just nodded. I ordered a Vesper Martini and when the waiter left I asked what was so urgent.

He handed me a pair of headphones. I put them on, Larry tapped play, and the color drained from my face and I felt ice in my veins. There was the sound of wind at first, then a sound rising and rising and rising until it distorted – it was the man from my dream laughing. The recording cut off and I looked up to see Venus, Jeff, and Larry all staring at me concerned. “Where was this recorded?!” I asked, the words coming out a little more loudly than I had intended. Larry indicated that device had been on the knoll where the house once stood. I pressed my face into my hands and then said, “I heard that voice in my dream today.” I didn’t eat much, but drank a lot. Jeff and Venus took me home and offered to stay with me overnight. Normally I’d protest, but I couldn’t agree fast enough.

Back at my house, they helped my inebriated self into bed and closed the door. Before I drifted into the swimming darkness I could hear them talking in the kitchen their indistinct voices life warm breezes. I woke up with a start sometime later to Edgar on my chest facing the foot of the bed in a full spitting hiss, back arched, hair on end. I followed his gaze and saw a black smoky figure sitting on the edge of my bed. I tried to move found I was paralyzed. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Sensing I was awake, the figure moved a hazy arm towards my body. Edgar launched a quick swipe causing the figure to recoil. Edgar followed it up with a loud hissing yowl. His vocalizations were loud enough to get the attention of Jeff and Venus and I heard them calling for me from outside the bedroom. I tried to call back, but I still couldn’t move. Again, the man tried to reach in to touch me and again Edgar held him at bay with a sharp swipe and yowl. The door knob rattled but the door wouldn’t budge – I don’t have a lock on my bedroom door. The man reached in with both arms, Edgar swatting at one, but I watched helplessly as the other black smoky arm closed towards my face, the hazy fingers firming into tendrils drifting towards my forehead.

The door flew open with a crash as Jeff launched himself at it. Venus stepped into the room, gasped and then demanded, “GET OUT!” Her words weren’t just noise, but carried with them a wind-like psychic power that struck the smoky figure, dispelling the dark cloud, and breaking my paralysis. I could move again, but all I could do was sob.

We all three slept in my king-sized bed, Edgar on my chest, door propped open with a chair and every light in the house on full brightness. When the morning came, whatever had followed me down from Ravens Springs had gone and my house felt like my own again. I met with Judy and Autumn a few weeks later in St. Helena – I didn’t feel like venturing up there again so soon — and shared with them the evidence Larry had collected and the impressions that Jeff and Venus had written up. They told me about the decrease in activity, and that they’d invited a number of spiritual people up to bless the grounds – a Native American medicine man, a priest, a rabbi, a Taoist monk, an imam… they weren’t taking any chances. I was grateful to hear that a modicum of peace had come to Ravens Springs. All the same, I’m eagerly awaiting Harbin Hot springs to reopen.