Stalking Shadows

Debi Chestnut has been able to see and speak to ghosts her whole life. A paranormal researcher for more than twenty-five years, she gives lectures and conducts workshops to help people better understand paranormal activity. She resides in Michigan.

Llewellyn Publications

Woodbury, Minnesota

Stalking Shadows: The Most Chilling Experiences of a Paranormal Investigator
© 2014 by Debi Chestnut.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Llewellyn Publications, except in the form of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

As the purchaser of this e-book, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. The text may not be otherwise reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or recorded on any other storage device in any form or by any means.

Any unauthorized usage of the text without express written permission of the publisher is a violation of the author’s copyright and is illegal and punishable by law.

E-book ISBN: 9780738741864

Cover art: Shutterstock/66377758/© Unholy Vault Designs

Cover design by Lisa Novak

Editing by Gabrielle Rose Simons

Llewellyn Publications is an imprint of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.

Llewellyn Publications does not participate in, endorse, or have any authority or responsibility concerning private business arrangements between our authors and the public.

Any Internet references contained in this work are current at publication time, but the publisher cannot guarantee that a specific reference will continue or be maintained. Please refer to the publisher’s website for links to current author websites.

Llewellyn Publications

Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.

2143 Wooddale Drive

Woodbury, MN 55125

www.llewellyn.com

Manufactured in the United States of America

To Amy Glaser, my Acquisitions Editor,

and all the wonderful people at Llewellyn
who work so hard to make my job easier.

Prologue

If the world of the paranormal were a basement, what an incredible place it would be to explore.

You’d creep down the stairs and switch on the light, which is probably just a naked 75-watt bulb dangling from a thin, dusty, electrical wire in the ceiling, and survey your surroundings.

Over by a high, narrow window in which soft rays of sunlight slither through fraying curtains, you might see a group of light beings such as angels, spirit guides, and guardians, sorting through the boxes of memorabilia that make up people’s lives in search of those who need help or guidance.

Next to an old dresser and steamer trunk may sit a bookshelf lined with books; each book holds the story of someone’s life, loves, disappointments and regrets, and triumphs. The last chapter reveals the details of their death, and may explain why some of them choose to interact with the world of the living—a world they once belonged to.

In the corner next to the old, worn wooden stairs that lead from the basement, you may be fortunate enough to see the spirits of departed loved ones partaking in the activities they so enjoyed when they were alive.

As you gaze at them, just beyond the memories and mementos of their lives that are stacked neatly around them, you can’t help but notice that they look healthy and vibrant. They may pause to greet you or give you a friendly nod. Though your heart aches to join them, you know you can’t —it’s not yet your time—there are more chapters left to be written in your book of life.

As in any basement, there are the dark corners where no amount of light can reach. You know those corners are there and they make you fidget uncomfortably as your eyes fight not to peer into the darkness to see what treasures may be hiding just out of sight. You can choose to ignore them, or attempt to trick your mind into forgetting that the spirits are there, but what lies beyond the darkness does exist, and you can only fool yourself for so long.

One dark, musty corner could contain the grimy, thick crust of human suffering, agony, corruption, and man’s inhumanity to man. Another gloomy corner may hold the decaying remains of natural tragedies, and the souls who were victims of such disasters.

However, for some inexplicable reason, you are drawn to the darkest, most mysterious corner of the paranormal basement. There, shrouded behind a dense veil of cobwebs and shadows, are the most contemptible and foul entities that exist—negative ghosts or spirits, demons, elementals, and other vile phantoms that aren’t spoken of in the bright light of day, in the darkness of the night, or in polite company.

You fight to tear your eyes away from the gruesome creatures residing in that corner, because there is a plethora of other interesting treasures in the basement waiting patiently for you to examine them and uncover their secrets.

The paranormal basement isn’t for everyone—and not a pleasant place for many. Some people even refuse to open the door to the paranormal, let alone venture down the basement stairs and explore the interesting, mysterious, and oftentimes frightening world that exists all around them, just out of sight.

But not you. If you’ve made it this far, you’re one of the brave ones. As you take your time and explore, perhaps you radiate a divine light to help illuminate what lies within the darkest nooks and crannies of the paranormal basement, and protect you from what is to come.

You’ve made the choice to brush aside the veil of cobwebs and venture beyond the safety of what you know and into the deepest caverns of the paranormal.

As you make your way over to the bookshelf in the basement to peruse the titles, you can’t help but wonder what lies ahead on your journey into the paranormal. I can assure you that when you descend the stairs to the paranormal basement and begin to uncover the lives of the dead, the dead know … and they hunt you down.

You walk over to the high, narrow window and curl up in an old, overstuffed chair that is covered with an afghan someone’s long forgotten relative made. You choose that place because it’s closest to the light—closest to what you perceive to be safety.

But don’t worry, for you are not alone. I’m there with you in the paranormal basement, and the books on the shelf are mine. No, I didn’t collect people’s lives or souls; they came to me. They wanted their stories to be told; they want you to know what really happened, and they’ve chosen to tell their stories through me because I’m a psychic medium and have been able to see and communicate with ghosts for as long as I can remember.

I’ve been a ghost hunter for the last thirty years. I work with a team, Black River Paranormal, started by a friend of mine, Randy, and his brother.

There aren’t a lot of members in our team, but the members we do have are all wonderful and dedicated investigators who share the same goal—to learn more about ghosts and spirits and other entities that exist.

Black River Paranormal also works closely with other ghost hunting teams in the area, especially A & J Ghost Hunters out of Sanilac, Michigan. We, like many other paranormal teams around the world, believe in paranormal unity. This means that we embrace working with other ghost hunting teams and sharing what we’ve learned on our journey. We also like learning about the experiences and theories of other paranormal investigators, which helps broaden our horizons and further understand the world of the paranormal.

So let’s begin our tour of the paranormal basement.

[contents]

Chapter 1

The Man in the Mirror

Every once in a while a ghost comes along that presents unique challenges. It starts out seemingly simple, and turns into something very complicated and intriguing. These challenges could range from a particularly stubborn ghost not wanting to communicate, not wanting to leave, to even speaking a foreign language and refusing to communicate in a language I can understand, or worse yet, not communicating at all.

The problem generally doesn’t present itself right away, but develops over the course of my or the team’s investigation. Sometimes a ghost will hide because it is afraid we’re going to make it leave or harm it in some way. In other cases a ghost or spirit might try to reverse the entire situation and instead of us hunting the ghost, the ghost decides to hunt us. In still other cases, a ghost or some other type of entity may have gotten itself in a predicament and desperately needs help. In other words, a paranormal investigation can start out seemingly simple, but all of a sudden turn into something very complicated and interesting.

Such was the case when I was contacted by Randy, the head of our team, Black River Paranormal. He’d been contacted by a young man named Sam, who’d had a rather active spirit residing in his bedroom since he’d moved in six months earlier.

Pictures and posters were being ripped violently off the walls, and various items were being thrown off shelves and hurled across the bedroom. The case sounded rather basic—all signs pointed to a poltergeist.

Sam and his roommate, who wasn’t experiencing any paranormal activity, lived in a second floor apartment of what used to be an antique store. Randy arranged for us to go out there on a Sunday morning.

The day of the ghost hunt dawned dark and rainy. Thunder rolled through the clouds and lightning streaked across the sky like a spiderweb as I backed out of my driveway—perfect conditions for a ghost hunt. Sam lived about an hour away, and I had to stop at a Catholic church to refill the container I used for holy water, which was another experience in itself, and should have been a clue about how the rest of the day was going to go.

When I got to the church the rain was coming down in buckets and I realized that Sunday service was going to start in a few minutes. I dashed into the church only to find about a hundred people milling around the expansive lobby and a kindly looking woman handing out some type of literature.

Keep in mind that I was dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a T-shirt with Black River Paranormal emblazoned in large letters across the front of the shirt.

Next to the woman stood a humongous waterfall and fountain.

“Can I help you, dear?” asked the woman, dressed in her Sunday finest.

“Yes, is that holy water?” I pointed to the fountain and waterfall.

“Yes it is.”

“May I have some?” I asked.

She waved her hand toward the fountain. “Help yourself, honey.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” I said sheepishly as I filled up my container with the cool liquid.

As I was walking out the woman stopped me and read the front of my shirt. “Is everything okay, dear? Did you need us to help you?”

“Yes, ma’am. Everything is fine so far, but I’ll let you know if I need any help. Thank you,” I answered.