LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION: Want to research the paranormal in a historic building full of antiques? We know just the place.

Photography © Sarah Streamer

Upstairs in the library, we gathered to carry out a Phasma Box session at the behest of another colleague, who prioritizes the software over most other investigation techniques. I have heard a lot of gibberish come out of the Phasma over the years, but also some startlingly impressive hits. So, it was to be on the 4th of July, when, after a few minutes’ worth of meaningless jibber jabber, we all heard the very clear and distinctive sound of a single gunshot emanate from the box. Now, THAT got our attention. I have never heard anything quite like it come from the Phasma Box before, and to hear it come from within the same room where Charles had died of a self-inflicted, .22-caliber gunshot wound seemed to stretch the bounds of coincidence too far. The sound came again later that same evening, once again in the library. We did not hear it anywhere else in the house, nor (to the best of my knowledge) has it come up at any other location; if readers have experienced this themselves, do please write in and let us know. Debunking is all part of the paranormal investigator’s stock in trade. Having rigged up motion-triggered cameras throughout the building, we were initially excited when one of them was set off by a bedroom door on the second floor apparently opening itself. It was a very impressive piece of footage, and it would have been easy to simply label it as being paranormal, without digging any further. That’s not the way we work, though, and our efforts at debunking it were subsequently rewarded when we finally discovered that the negative air pressure of a door opening further down the hallway was responsible for it. A thumbs-down for the paranormal but a win for intellectual honesty. Fortunately, the Villa had no shortage of genuinely bizarre occurrences for us to puzzle over. Sleeping in the master bedroom overnight, Erin and Mike were disturbed by the sound of heavy footsteps walking around on the second floor (the rest of us slept like the dead). None of the motion cameras were set off, so whoever — or whatever — was responsible, either stayed out of range or did not have physical mass; perhaps a residual echo of a bygone tenant, still making the rounds years later. It’s a rather comforting thought, at the end of the day, the possibility that somebody could love a house like this so much that a part of them would linger behind after their death.

One of our investigators is taking a shower in the second-floor bathroom. When she emerges, she glimpses a shadowy, human-shaped figure lurking on the landing of the back staircase.

Before she can grab her camera, it is gone. I always take solo shadow figure sightings with a grain of salt, simply because of a) the human brain/eye combo loving to play tricks on us, and b) the fact that there is only a single observer, and no corroborating second eyewitness. Therefore, although she is not the first person to see shadowy activity in this part of the building, this experience gets filed under “interesting anecdote, but not hard evidence.”

© Sarah Streamer

We returned to the Villa for Thanksgiving, where we all got together for a “Friendsgiving.” Stephanie had gone all out decorating for the Christmas holidays, with holly, mistletoe, and festive garlands decking the halls. It was like being inside a Norman Rockwell painting, in the very best sense of the term. Our on-call sensitive, MJ Dickson, suggested we set a couple of places at the dinner table for the dead residents of the Villa, and invite them to join us for food. I thought this was a terrific idea, and we did exactly that. The table bugled under the weight of turkey and stuffing with all the trimmings, along with more sugary treats than the average human’s insulin count could handle. The atmosphere was warm and friendly. After dinner, we settled down to enjoy the obligatory Thanksgiving film (exposing my American cohort to “The Parapod Movie”) and the inevitable carbohydrate coma that follows a slap-up meal. In order to get the blood flowing a bit, we went up to the attic and the second floor to do some burst EVP work. On the way down the master staircase, just as the last of us was stepping onto the ground floor, we very clearly heard the sound of bells jingling. At first, I took it for one of Stephanie’s many Christmassy decorations, but she confirmed that none of them made the noise of sleigh bells. Nor was it a ringtone, text, fancy doorbell, or any other sort of electronic device within the Villa. Fortunately, our audio recorders had been running, and picked the sound up. Its source remains unidentified to this day. The team assembled downstairs in the basement, one of the reportedly active parts of the McInteer, for a game of Cards Against Humanity. In the hours that followed, the foul, open sewer that constitutes the collective psyches of our group, managed to shock even me. Apparently, I wasn’t alone, because a series of heavy thumps upstairs on the ground floor seemed to signify disapproval. None of our cameras were triggered, but we could all hear them one floor below. These are just a few highlights of our visits to McInteer. There were many more, which will be detailed in my forthcoming book about the building’s history and haunting. Should you ever have occasion to visit Atchison (and I would encourage you to do so), I would advise you that a visit to the Sallie House is a must if you are not faint of heart — but spending the night at the McInteer Villa is an experience not to be missed.

The Before, during and after a ghost hunt. The frights, the foods, the thoughts, the thinkings The Diary of a Daring Derbyshire Dandy Wednesday Get up... (Yay). Grill tomatoes and lightly toasted sourdough for morning sustenance. Rain. Whilst consuming breakfast, idly browse Facebook and my wandering mind was drawn to the enticing words “never before investigated location....” Realising that the post was generated from my favourite source of catalogued hauntedness. *theghostbook.co.uk* I succumbed to clicking the alluring link and was transported to a venue reasonably local, (well, Staffordshire, gawd love us, though that part of Staffordshire does earnestly desire to be Derbyshire), and a tantalising delve into a possibly haunted, semi abandoned old ‘picture house’ beckoned.... Having had some good ghostly results at old Cinema properties before I was sorely tempted, there was just a slight twinge of doubt holding me back from ‘booking on’ straight off the bat. Thursday Get up again... Prepare muesli and yoghurt for breakfast with a smattering of blackberries harvested from the banks of the Derwent. Heavy rain. Take another look at the event whilst savouring the morsel, it could have value. The medium/ organiser of the team that is initiating the event claims much energy and disembodied rattling of doorknobs encountered on his ‘walk through’ the cinema building is in a town where I have frequently sought spirit as visitor and Event assistant (an old, now defunct team I used to go play with did many events there). So, I message a friend who lives local to ascertain his belief as to the worthiness of investigating or not. “Yes mate, very haunted” he assures me. “I used to watch flicks there as a kid, built on haunted land, right over road from haunted Grail Court hotel. Might go me’sen. You can crash at mine afterward!” “Oh cheers!” He had been kind enough to ‘put me up’ before, when we had worked Gresley Old Hall as nights entertainment, a good fellow I would trust with my kidneys. Click interested on the Event page, peruse hotels ‘near to ‘ as I recall how hard and cold his sofa had been. FridayGet up (I don’t quite know how I keep managing to do this). Fortify myself with scrambled egg on Derbyshire oatcake. Showers. Set up a *messenger* group to query if any of my dear but distant Wandering Spirits Paranormal Bubble would like to attend... (this still being the waning period of the age of Coronavirus). Sadly, one is unable due to commitment elsewhere that night, and the other two are fossil hunting up in wildest Yorkshire, and initially out of contact. I admit to them remotely in a group post that: “I still have reservations over whether to book it or not ... gut feeling thing.” Still vacillating...Saturday Porridge... banana slices strewn amidst. Rain. Wake up to a notification from Lorien at Ghost Book corporate offices, applicable to the event advertised on their calendar: “Come on Hubert. I’m going!” Hubert books on the event immediately. I’m a sucker for glamorous haunted website builder’s, don’t know how I’m going to explain my immediate reversal of hesitation to W.S.P. friends? SundayFull English, toast and beans thrown in. Sun!! Oh hang on, nope, turned to rain. At last Wandering Spirit #Parabubble are back in communication range, they reach the borders of Yorkshire, close enough to attain a Derbyshire Wi-Fi signal. “Yes we would love to come, be nice to meet up with Lorien again. Only trouble being we are down on Jurassic Coast fossil hunting [ they only like me because I’m an old fossil ] but we will be travelling back that day...”. Yaay! Book them a ticket each as well selfishly ignoring the fact that they will be driving up from deepest South and will be almost definitely dead on their feet, especially dear friend Sarah who does the brunt of (well all the) driving anyway. Guiltily come to the conclusion in discussion that they are going to need book a room to get some prior rest, refreshment before the event, latently assuming my old para mate living locally is still prepared to lend me his couch on the night. The only trouble booking on ghost events when you don’t have your own transport is the consideration of ‘where you going to stay over ‘ bit that all adds to the complications. Monday was rained out. Stayed in bed. TuesdayKippers, with lightly toasted granary. Hail. In communication with Sarah and Andy, Wandering Spirits Paranormal Para bubble chums, we decide to book a night at the nearest haunted hotel to the venue which we do successfully and make plans to go off on an impromptu Wander (our paranormal raison d’être) the morning before as luckily they are cutting short their fossil hunt to pick up a “gigantipus oysterpod” (or whatever) that they have had professionally dissected from out of a rock they found (some sort of fossil thing that fossil hunters have done)? So comes the day of Investigation....

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