The Watcher

A lot of people don’t realize that there are millions of different kinds of ghosts. We hear a lot about poltergeists whose intention is to hurt the people they haunt, or lost souls who just wander from room to room and often don’t even realize they’re dead. There are mischief ghosts who just turn off a light when you’re reading or saran wrap your toilet seat in the middle of the night. Don’t get in a prank war with those guys; they’ve had eternity to perfect the art.

Most people never hear about watchers though. Guess what they do? Watchers are simply ghosts that stare at the living constantly. Through windows, or from the foot of your bed. They just watch. No one knows for sure why they do it. Maybe they’re preparing for some evil entity’s attack, or maybe they just don’t understand the living and have nothing else to do.

Ryan’s house was haunted by watchers not too long ago. He came to my house one night and told me all about it.

Every night. It’s just this black figure at the foot of my bed, just standing there,” he said. “And I usually wake up, and it’s just standing there.”

So, it hasn’t tried to hurt you?” I asked.

No, but it scares the hell out of me,” Ryan said.

Do we really have the right to banish a spirit that isn’t evil?” Mark asked.

Oh, yeah. Mark was there too. And being a total hippy about the watcher.

Of course we do,” I said. “This thing could be sucking Ryan’s life force out every night, while he sleeps. I’ve heard of things that do that.”

But what if it’s just an innocent lost soul?” Mark the total hippy asked.

Well, in the 1300’s,” I said. “They used to think Santa Claus was an evil spirit-”

There’s no way this story is true,” Ryan said.

Shut up, Ryan.” I said. “Anyway, so a mob got together to hunt down Santa and they killed him. And no more children died that Christmas.”

What? That story makes no sense!” Mark said.

Don’t tell me you still believe Santa Claus is still alive,” I said.

No, I mean the whole story. I- what?”

Exactly,” I said. “So, we’ll get rid of Ryan’s watcher.”

That night we all spent the night at Ryan’s house. We spent the day outside, so I needed a shower by nightfall. I was making a shampoo mohawk when I turned around and saw the black figure outside the shower curtain. It was right against it and staring in through the opaque plastic curtain.

I couldn’t blame it for admiring my chiseled Adonis-like body, but shower time is me time, and no one interrupts me time.

Hey, Casper the pervert ghost, piss off,” I said. I pulled down the shower head threw the curtain open and sprayed it, but it vanished and I just ended up soaking the floor.

I muttered a few curses to myself, and dried off before going downstairs to Ryan and Mark.

I saw it,” I said. “It was watching me in the shower.”

So, it’s gay and evil?” Mark asked.

First of all,” I said. “You don’t have to be gay to admire this body. My biceps alone-”

(This part of the story has been edited out by Ryan Moore. Editor’s Note: Scott talks about how attractive he is for 30 minutes before getting to his plan to get rid of the watcher. So I’ve decided to skip ahead to that point.)

-with one hand tied behind my back and a banana duct taped to my upper lip like a handlebar mustache,” I said. They were clearly impressed at my tale of heroism, so I took that moment to move onto my plan.

Now, about the watcher,” I went on. “It seems like all we need is a simple ghost banishing procedure.”

They stared at me blankly for a few seconds and then, “Umm, we don’t know how to do that.”

Right, right,” I said. “Quickly, to Google!”

We found a verified ceremony that seemed simple enough. All we had to do was burn some sage, make a circle with rock salt, trap the ghost there, then we throw the burning sage into the circle and the ghost is banished. Easy-peasy… except, we didn’t have any sage, or rock salt, but I was pretty sure it was more about intent than ingredients. We did have oregano and table salt and that sounded good enough.

We made a salt circle (well, oval… again, intent) and started walking around his house with burning oregano. Every so often we would check the circle, but after 20 minutes, we were out of oregano and had no ghost.

Maybe you should be in bed,” Mark said to Ryan.

Oh God. You’re finally coming out,” I said.

No, no. The ghost is a watcher. They’re not known for moving around and following people. They sit and watch. So we give it something to watch,” Mark explained.

And you think it’ll want to watch you and Ryan?”

Just Ryan. Just Ryan in bed,” Mark said.

So Ryan got into his bed and we switched to burning Italian seasoning throughout the house. After a few minutes, Ryan called us upstairs to his room, where a black figure was standing in the salt circle at the foot of Ryan’s bed.

Okay, Mark,” I said. “Now toss the burning sage into the circle.”

You mean the Italian seasoning?” he asked.

Yes, that.”

He tossed it in and a whirlwind of flames erupted from the circle. The watcher charged out of the flames at Ryan onto the bed.

It was supposed to banish it,” I said.

It must be the Italian seasoning,” Mark said. “It made the ghost evil.”

I grabbed a handful of salt and tossed it at the watcher on Ryan’s bed. It shrieked and dissipated like smoke.

Ryan jumped out of his bed. “Do you think it’s gone?” he asked.

With just the salt?” I said. “No, we’re going to have to use real sage to get rid of it.”

It was close to midnight, so none of the stores were open, but we couldn’t leave an evil spirit roaming Ryan’s house all night. So we called the gross hippy girl. I had her number in my phone from… umm… I was drunk; I’d rather not talk about it.

Anyway she had some sage and we repeated the banishing spell thingy, and the watcher was gone.

So we all learned not to banish a gay ghost with a Italian seasoning. I bet you didn’t expect to ever read that sentence.

As always, if you want to talk about my abs or any paranormal experiences you may have had, you can contact me at


Creepy Japanese Little Girl Ghosts

Ah, the CJLGG. It’s one of the most oddly terrifying phenomenons in the world. CJLGG is a an acronym I just made up for Creepy Japanese Little Girl Ghost. It’ll catch on. Tell your friends. And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, think The Grudge. It’s a movie where Buffy Summers lives in a house haunted by a CJLGG and the much less common CJLBGTMLACFSR or Creepy Japanese Little Boy Ghost That Meows Like A Cat For Some Reason. Buffy eventually ends the curse with the help of Giles, Xander, and Willow… or something like that. I fell asleep in the middle because that movie is boring as hell.

At first glance, we shouldn’t find these CJLGG’s scary at all. Are you scared of little girls? Probably not, unless you’re a socially awkward little boy. And nothing makes me laugh harder, as an American, than Japanese people. And after encountering them on a daily basis, ghosts don’t scare me either. So why then, when I encounter a combination of these three non-threatening things, is it so terrifying to me? And why are there so many of them?

Fun fact: Approximately 88% of the population of modern Japan is made up of Creepy Japanese Little Girl Ghosts.

Do females in Japan only have a lifespan of  eight years? There are, in fact, so many CJLGG’s that America is starting to take in a mass immigration of them. Even our little town of Chesterville has seen at least one.

Ohio can have notoriously bad winters, but last year made the record books. We got it worse in Chesterville than anywhere else, but we always do. I attribute it to Chesterville having a weak barrier between the natural and supernatural worlds. Ryan blames it on high pressure patterns or some crazy voodoo like that… Actually, though, voodoo’s a real thing, so let’s call it crazy Santa Claus magic. Ryan and his crazy Santa Claus magic.

Natalie decided to stay at home because of the storm, but I convinced Mark and Ryan to come along through means that did not involve blackmail in any capacity.

We had discovered a house in Chesterville that had been the site of fourteen murders and eight suicides, since it was built in the early 1900’s. One of the most gruesome stories was that of a Japanese family that moved into the home in 1914, with a daughter named Yuki. The official report was that the father of the family forced his wife and daughter to commit suicide before killing himself. No motive was ever established. It was clearly a hotspot for evil and so it was our duty to go investigate it.

The snow was already covering the roads in a thick blanket by the time we showed up at the house, so we rushed inside to get away from the cold. The house wasn’t much warmer than the outside, but at least it shielded us from the wind.

Knock, knock,” I called out into the house.

Shut up, man,” Mark said.

Well, I don’t want to intrude,” I said.

Yuki,” a whisper said from somewhere in the house.

Well, that was quick,” Ryan said, looking around.

This place really must have some power if it’s started talking to us already,” Ryan said. “What did it say?”

I think it said, ‘cutie.’ It must be focused on me,” I said.

It sounded more like, ‘pukey.’ So yeah, probably focused on you,” Mark said.

The house hadn’t been taken care of in a long time. We had thought that it was only recently abandoned, but the broken bits of furniture and trash on the floor suggested that no one had owned it for a long time. It looked like it had become a rest stop for drifters passing through town. That’s what most of Chesterville had become, anyway.

Ryan found a staircase that led to the second floor, so we went up the stairs into a hallway.

Yuki,” the whisper said again. This time, it sounded like it was coming from the room at the end of the hallway.

Mark was huddling against me in a terrified death grip, whimpering softly like a scared puppy.

Will you get off of me?” I said, and pushed him back. I turned around to face him. “It’s gonna be fine. Whatever keeps whispering is in that room. We’ll go in, banish it from this house, and go home for hot chocolate. In and out.”

Easy-peasy,” Mark said, but he still looked terrified.

We walked slowly to the room at the end of the hall. The whisper returned. “Yuki,” it said. It sounded like a little girl.

That sounds Japanese,” Ryan said. “Yuki?”

What does that mean?” I asked.

I don’t know. I don’t speak Japanese,” Ryan said.

What?” I said. “You don’t? Our friendship is over.”

The door at the end of the hall creaked open by itself. Nothing was behind it. All we could see in the room was a mirror and the edge of the bed. We had all stopped moving in the hallway, just to watch the door. Now I sped up to get to the room, and the others, for fear of being left behind, ran to catch up with me. I stepped into the room and looked around. There was a window to the left of the full-length mirror, which revealed that the snowstorm had become a full-blown blizzard. If we didn’t leave here soon, we could be snowed in.

The mirror was on a horizontal swivel and angled down towards the ground. I pushed it back, and the door behind us slammed closed. The mirror aimed up to the ceiling at a pale little girl with black hair, and a black mouth silently screaming at us with furious eyes.

I spun around and stared at the little girl, crawling upside down across the ceiling like a human spider. She crawled toward me and I reached for whatever was close to me, which happened to be a small throw pillow. I tossed it at the girl and she dropped from the ceiling to the floor, right in front of me. Then she scampered under the bed.

Ryan and Mark were desperately trying to pull the door open, while I stared at the foot of the bed where the girl had disappeared. I ran for the door to help pull it open with my incredible strength, when a hand shot out and gripped my ankle. It was dragging me under, and I couldn’t find anything to grab onto.

Hey! Hey! Help!” I yelled, and Mark and Ryan both quickly grabbed my arms. The girl was amazingly strong and began pulling the three of us. I was almost completely under the bed when Mark’s foot slipped and bumped the mirror which came crashing down behind them, and the pulling stopped. I jumped out from under the bed as fast as my legs would let me, and stood myself up against the opposite wall.

Is that it?” I asked. “Is it gone?

Was it the mirror?” Mark asked. “I mean, I broke the mirror and it just stopped.”

Ryan opened the door and we walked back down the stairs.

A loud, echoing scream came from under the floor.

Basement?” I said.

Who cares? Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Ryan said.

Nope, basement,” I said. Ryan went to the door and pulled, but it wouldn’t budge.

Well, it looks like we have to check out the basement,” I said.

No, it looks like we have to find another door,” Ryan said. “This one must be just frozen shut.”

Oh, I definitely saw a door in the basement,” I said, and ran towards the kitchen when I had seen a door that I could only assume led to the basement.

You did not!” Ryan shouted back as I ran away.

The door was actually just a pantry, but with a few minutes of searching, we found the basement door, and as I opened it, another scream echoed up from the darkness.

There’s no light down there,” Mark said. “We didn’t even bring a flashlight.”

Oh, come on,” I said. “Not you too.” And on cue, every light in the house went on, including the basement.

See?” I said. “Everything works out.”

You’re taking this way too lightly,” Mark said.

We descended the creaky wooden stairs into the basement. It was filled with trash up to our ankles, and it wasn’t long before we decided to go back upstairs. But the door slammed shut and the lights went out. There was another loud scream that sounded like it was coming from right next to us.

I told you we shouldn’t come down here,” Ryan said. “Why do I always follow you?”

Cause I’m awesome. We’ve established this,” I said.

The lights went on, and the little girl was an inch from my face. I yelled, very heroically and not in a girly way at all, and fell backwards. Looking around, I saw another mirror buried in the trash. If it worked before, it would work again, right?

I picked up the mirror, this one much heavier than the one upstairs, and slammed it down on the little girl, but I didn’t feel it hit her. It went straight down and shattered when it hit the floor. The lights went out again.

What happened?” Mark asked.

I… I think I might have trapped her in the mirror,” I said. “And when it broke, it… must have killed her.”

Or released her,” Ryan said. “So we should get out of here now, because I didn’t see any other mirrors.”

We got out of the house and into our car. It was completely snowed in at this point, so we waited for a while and then got out to walk back to my house, which was closest.

I don’t think I did kill that creepy Japanese little girl ghost that night. I still pass by the house sometimes, and I could swear, some nights, I see a child peering through the curtains as I pass by. But a lot of people have died in that house. Maybe someone else is watching me.

Why Kids Shouldn’t Be Allowed to Own Troll Dolls

Today I have to relate an investigation to you that I hoped I’d never have to talk about again. This is the story of the time my friends saved me from getting gang-raped by a group of trolls.

For many of you, your only knowledge of trolls comes from movies like 1986’s Troll or the triumph of modern cinema, Ernest Scared Stupid. Either way, trolls have been somewhat misrepresented in modern media. In fact, they’ve become so obscure that even the most open-minded of paranoid schizophrenics generally don’t believe in their existence. And I guess I used to be the same way until I saw one.

While the plot of Ernest Scared Stupid is mostly about how Jim Varney can make weird exaggerated faces into a camera, it fails to mention a troll’s insatiable sexual appetite.

DISCLAIMER: This story in Not Safe for Work. Shit’s about to get weird up in here. It also in no way permits you to send me your illustrations or weird erotic troll fanfic stories, you creepy freak.

Some town legends claim that Chesterville was built on a desecrated Indian burial ground. There’s a massive hill on the East side of town that’s supposedly a burial mound used hundreds of years ago. Well, one night, Mark, Ryan, Natalie and I decided to make a trip there to see if we could encounter any Native American ghosts. I’d heard about sightings before, but never seen them myself.

We were about fifty yards away from the mound in an open stretch of land when we saw something was already there.

Woah, get down,” I whispered, and we all dropped to the ground and watched.

It was small, maybe the size of an eight-year-old boy, but wide and muscular. The short creature was waddling its way toward the burial mound and hadn’t noticed us. It was pawing at its crotch as it walked and before our very eyes, it fell back to the ground and started masturbating furiously.

What. The. Fuck?” Natalie said, as the thing made whimpering noises like a dog trying to bite at its fleas.

Maybe we should just skip this one and go home,” Ryan said.

What is it, though?” I said, not knowing I’d regret my curiosity.

It looks like a bald troll doll,” Mark said.

A troll?” Ryan questioned.

So like us,” I said, trying not to watch as the troll had its private time. “So like us.”

Dude, seriously,” Ryan said. “Let’s just go. This is weird.”

Finally, the troll stood up and crawled into a hole in the side of the hill.

Let’s follow it,” I said… What an idiot I was…

I got up and made for the hill, not bothering to wait for the others. After a moment’s consideration they followed after me.

I found the hole that the troll had crawled through and looked back at my friends.

I think we should go inside,” I said.

I think you need to up the medication,” Natalie said.

Come on,” I said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Why would you say that?” Mark said. “Every time anyone says, ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’ All Hell ends up breaking loose!”

Dude, this isn’t a movie,” I said. “You can tell the difference between reality and film, right?” And I crawled into the hole, dropping down a few feet into a dimly lit cave. A tunnel had been carved out, descending deeper and deeper into the earth as it went on.

Guys,” I called up to them. “What are you waiting for?”

So they dropped down after me, and we walked down the dark tunnel.

At the end was a massive cavern so expansive that we couldn’t see the other side.

What do you think-,” I began, before four trolls blindsided me at once. At first, they punched at me with their tiny fists, but then I felt them trying to unbuckle my belt, and humping my legs furiously. It was probably the most terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced. I felt my belt come loose, just before my friends came to the rescue.

Because the trolls were so small, they were quite easy to pick up and toss away. I saw the tiny bald creatures go flying across the giant room, and I got to my feet in time to punt the last little perverted monster so far that I could have won the Super Bowl with my kick.

Instead of risking another violation of my ‘no sex with trolls’ rule, we ran back up the tunnel and crawled outside. On our trip home, I expressed my disgust with the creatures, and Ryan and Mark talked about how it didn’t seem that bad, and that they wished they had been in my situation, because they’re incredibly gay. And they certainly didn’t make fun of me for the next few days over my almost-troll-rape, because they would have enjoyed it…

I’ve had to live with the fact that I’m an incredibly sexy man my entire life, but it’s never burdened me so much as it did on that night.

If the troll in Ernest Scared Stupid had been realistic, the movie would have been called, Ernest Attends Years of Psychological Therapy after Repressing the Memory of Being Anally Violated by a Group of Tiny Monsters and After Intense Shock Therapy is now Scared Stupid Every Time He Sees a Lawn Gnome. But the plot would have been too similar to Ernest Goes to Jail.

(Spoiler Alert: Ernest is graphically sodomized for 96 minutes, and it’s still better than Ernest Goes to School.)

Bloody Mary and Beer

 This story is about a starry-eyed romantic named Mark Riley and his obsession with a girl named Natalie Stewart. And a love machine named (name removed) and my love affair with cheap beer. Also, a children’s game called, “Bloody Mary.”

Mark has been secretly in love with Natalie since they were toddlers, and it wasn’t until high school that Mark realized he had no ability to speak to women. She was one of our closest friends, and usually Mark could carry on a normal conversation. But whenever he got the inclination to impress her, he started sputtering out random disconnected words and struggling not to drool.

Mark: So, this guy rode up on a motorcycle like a total jerk and-

Natalie: Ooh, I love motorcycle guys.

Mark: I… Yeah… me too. I… the guy… motorcycle… on a ramp… I had to…

Me: Dude, what’s going on with your mouth?

Ryan: Yeah, you’re drooling a lot. Like way more than should be possible.

Mark: What? No, I just drank a lot of water.

Natalie: You’re sweating a lot too.

Mark: It’s really hot out here.

Ryan: It’s January. And this is Ohio.

Mark: Yeah, but-

Me: Did you expect us to agree that it was hot?

Mark: I feel dizzy…

(He then passed out in the snow and we went inside to play video games until he woke up.)

So anyway, Mark came to me one day and asked me how he could talk to girls effectively, because I’m a world-renowned heartbreaker and lady-charmer. Seriously, there isn’t a girl alive who can resist my charms… Maybe I should post a picture of myself shirtless… Actually, if you’re a girl, and 7 out of 10 or higher, send me an e-mail at, and I’ll send you… a p-mail… and by p-mail… I mean a picture of my junk. And I don’t want to be that guy… but no fatties…. Actually, fatties are okay, but the 7 out of 10 rule still applies… I think I’m getting off-topic.

So Mark came to me for advice. I had observed them since we were kids and I knew exactly what he needed to do. The problem was that he needed to show her he was a confident, fearless alpha male. He needed to become like me.

So I explained my plan to him.

Me: We should get drunk and play Bloody Mary.

Mark: What are you talking about? What does that have to do with talking to girls?

Me: Talk about what now?

Mark: I asked you how to talk to women because of your intense sexual prowess rivaled only by the legendary Casanova.

Me: Oh right… Well… the Bloody Mary thing could still work… Yeah, sure. Okay, we get really drunk, and that will numb your sense of fear. Then we play Bloody Mary with Natalie and she’ll see how fearless and cool you are.

Mark: Ha, Natalie? What makes you think I was talking about her?

Me: You’re drooling again.

Mark: What?

Me: And sweating.

Mark: Dammit.

Me: You should see a doctor or something. That can’t be normal.

So one night, Mark, Ryan and I went to Natalie’s house to play Bloody Mary. I had gotten a twelve pack of cheap beer from the old guy who used to be the janitor at Chesterville Elementary before it closed. Good guy. There was, however, one small flaw in my plan that I hadn’t foreseen. I can drink a twelve-pack by myself really quickly.

We were in Natalie’s bathroom preparing. For those of you who don’t know, the ritual goes like this: You stand in front of a mirror, lock the door, and turn off all the lights. The darker, the better. You chant the name, ‘Bloody Mary’ 3 times. The legend is that Bloody Mary appears in the mirror and murders you. So obviously all kids should try this. After I explained the ritual to them, we turned off the lights.

Fun Fact: When you have a blood alcohol level of .17, and you’re suddenly thrust into complete darkness, head injuries become exponentially more likely.

The lights went out and I somehow ended up in the bathtub.

What was that?” I heard Ryan ask.

I fell into the tub,” I said. Or… I think that’s what I said.

Are you okay?” Natalie asked me.

That’s when I saw the woman in the mirror. She was covered in bloodstains on her long white dress. Her hair was patchy and knotted.

Look out!” I tried to shout, but the words wouldn’t form.

They must have all been looking toward the bathtub, so I was the only one who knew the danger we were in. But then Natalie screamed (or it could have been Mark. He’s been known to scream like a girl when he’s in the dark,) and the adrenaline rush sobered me up long enough to get to my feet.

Everyone on the ground!” I shouted, and probably because of the natural leadership ability that they sensed in my voice, they complied. I leapt toward the door and felt myself collide with a body that shouldn’t have been there. We hit the door, but it didn’t open. Still locked.

Someone go for the light!” I shouted. Mary slid her sharp fingernails down my forehead slowly, and they were like razors. She shrieked into my ear, and I threw out a hand for the light switch. My fingers fumbled across the flat wall for what felt like minutes, before I found the switch and the lights went on.

I stumbled into the door, nothing between myself and it. The bloody lady had vanished.

My friends were still on the floor, looking frightened.

Don’t worry,” I said, heroically.

(Name removed),” Natalie said. Although she didn’t actually say the words ‘name removed.’ She said my name. “You’re so brave. If you hadn’t been here to save us…” I put a finger to her lips.

Shh,” I said, in a totally sexy way. “You’re safe now. That’s all that matters.”

So that’s the story of how Mark and Natalie finally… oh wait… Well, it’s the story of how I saved my friends from certain death with my ability to be awesome in any situation.

Once again, you can now email me at with anything you’d like to say.

My Very First Floating Zombie: A Children’s Story

Okay readers. I’ve decided that the first paranormal experience that you should hear about from me is the one that got me into this business in the first place. And by “business,” I don’t mean that I get paid for it. If you would like to start paying me for it, please leave a comment, write down a number on a check, and I’ll tell you how many zeroes to put in front of that number.

Anyway my first encounter with the paranormal was in the house I grew up in, in Chesterville. I was around fourteen years old and I watched a lot of horror movies, but I hadn’t really thought about ghosts or demons or vampires or the Loch Ness monster being real yet. (By the way, all those things are very real, but we’ll get to that.)

It started one night in my room. I was on the edge of sleep in my racecar bed when I heard a knock on my window. My room was on the second floor, so this was a little confusing. But brave, young whipper-snapper that I was, I got out of bed to check it out.

I pulled back the curtain and a face stared back at me from the outside. A pale white face with sunken eyes and dry, torn up lips. It looked like a floating corpse, hovering just outside my window.

The Chesterville cemetery is just on the outside of our small town and a few miles from my house. As far as I knew, the corpses there didn’t make a habit of floating by windows.

“Let me inside,” he said in a raspy, crackling voice.

“Um, no,” I said, with no fear.

“Let me inside,” he said again.

“Dude, no way,” I said. “Get the hell out of here before I send you back to the grave in pieces.”

I mostly just wanted to get back to bed. But beating up a floating zombie would have been pretty sweet too.

“Open the window, (name removed),” he whispered.

Now, to be honest, this did surprise me a little. This thing knew my name, so I asked him how he knew me.

“I know everything about you,” he said. “I know where you were born, where you will die, who you will meet. I know your secrets.”

By “secrets,” he probably meant that time I got into my dad’s liquor cabinet and ended up challenging the vacuum cleaner to a fistfight because it was giving me attitude. (Spoiler Alert: I won.)

As a fourteen-year-old, I didn’t want my parents finding out about that. Certainly, not from a floating dead guy.

I stood there at my window and felt my hands moving to unlock it. It felt involuntary. Just a natural reaction to what the floating man was saying.

“Open the window and I’ll tell you everything,” he said. “I’ll tell you your future. I can make you immortal.”

Immortality sounded pretty nice. I mean, all I had was this crappy mortality and I wasn’t against upgrading on that situation.

I unlocked the window. The man outside smiled at me; his lips cracked as he did it.

My window started to crack as I lifted it. A thin line serpentined its way from where my fingers touched it up to where my reflection looked back at me. And the man was gone. The window shattered into my face and my parents came running into my room.

I told Ryan and Mark about what happened and at first they didn’t believe me. We hadn’t really seen any evidence of the paranormal actually existing at that point. It wasn’t until another night that they started to believe. But that’s another story.

That night in my room, my life changed and I decided to explain the strange things that no one could yet explain. To seek the creatures that lived beyond our realm. To boldly go where no man has gone before!

(And seriously, if you want to write me a check, go for it…)

My Town

I live in a place called Chesterville, Ohio. You probably shouldn’t ever come here. No, seriously.

I was born here. Most people die here. Mostly because they’re really old. And old people die. If I have to explain the science of old people dying, then you won’t get far in this blog. So just google it or something.

Anyway, Chesterville is full of haunted places and evil supernatural beings. In my 22 years living here, I’ve seen a lot of terrifying things. I mean, I wasn’t scared by it, but my friends were totally pissing their pants and crying like little girls.

See, this is a really small town and we’re pretty poor, so there’s nothing to do in an extremely haunted town except go investigating the extreme hauntedness.

Me and my friends have been going on investigations since we were kids. I’ve decided not to give out my name for safety reasons. You can’t be too careful. There are a lot of crazy people out there. So anyway, Mark Riley and Ryan Moore, my friends, are with me on every investigation. And recently they convinced me to start a blog about the terror that is Chesterville, Ohio.

Here’s how the conversation went:

Mark: Dude, you should totally start a blog about all the awesome investigations that you lead us on.

Me: No way, man. Then how would I make time for my 1,000 push-ups per day? And stop admiring my muscles, Ryan.

Ryan: I can’t help it. They draw my eyes like a perfect sculpture of a Greek god. But, I agree with Mark. Your superior skills with words would make the greatest blog ever.

Me: Well, I are good with words…

Mark and Ryan: (Raucous laughter) You’re so hilarious and also funny, (name removed).

Me: Okay, I’ll start chronicling my amazing adventures that you two accompany me on.

So, over the coming months and years, I’ll keep you updated on our many death-defying and heroic adventures.