Paranormal Experiences? Seeking Your Stories

Paranormal Experiences? Seeking Your Stories

Hi friends. Do you have any accounts of paranormal activity or experiences that science just hasn’t been able to explain? Want your story published? Read on.

I have always been interested in the study of paranormal activity for as far back as I can remember. As a child I can remember sneaking down late at night whilst my uncles were watching The Fog when I was about seven and being scared to death. But it was that adrenaline that came with that fear that kept me watching those true old school horror flicks. None of that gruesome stuff for me. I wanted to cover my eyes and squeal in fear, waiting for that ghost to reveal himself.

While I cannot recall any childhood experiences, I have had several accounts in my adult life, all starting after I began organized paranormal investigation. My dear friend Jason invited me to “ride along” in an investigation one night with the team that he belonged to at the time. The plan was to simply snap some photographs and do a nice write up as a way to help advertise for the team. It was at Ferry Plantation House, one of the most haunted places in Virginia that has been featured on many YouTube channels, podcasts and investigated by both national and international teams and featured on a UK show.

That night opened up a whole new world for me where I was able to incorporate my love of photography and my intrigue for the paranormal. Over time Jason and I ventured out with our own creative ideas and formed our own team, Portsmouth Paranormal Society (find the YouTube channel here). While I’m not actively investigating with him and the team these days, I still occasionally ride along to capture the solemn beauty in the places they investigate. Him and I share multiple experiences from our early investigations and he continues to experience unexplained occurrences today.

The subject of paranormal investigation has and will always be open for debate. Naysayers will scream science science science, but some things simply cannot be explained. Isn’t it telling that in simply doing a search online it will get you countless stories from people all over the world. Different cultures, different social statures, religions, races and ages. The patterns and similarities are always there. People are experiencing and seeing the same things.

This is where you my dear friends come in. I’d love to hear your stories and in submitting them they’ll be considered for inclusion into the compilation of ghost stories I’m intending to publish. Interested? Read on.

I’d like pieces to be formatted in journal style with an opening of approximate date/time and place of occurrence. You may “sign” your piece with whatever you want to reveal about yourself. Your name, your location, one or both. You may also be anonymous if you’d like.

I’m opening this up now for submissions and ask that you keep your accounts relatively short as I’d like to include as many stories from around the world as possible. If you have multiple experiences, please feel free to send more than one to be considered, just please submit them in separate links so I can easily separate. All submissions should be sent to:

You will be notified via email if your piece is chosen to be included. I look forward to reading your experiences!

image captured with full spectrum camera as part of investigation at Tuckahoe Plantation

*featured image captured at St Albans Sanitorium as part of investigation

Cameras, Coffee and Cold Spots: The Hollow

Cameras, Coffee and Cold Spots: The Hollow

Ferry Plantation House

March 3, 2016 1:40am


This was my first introduction to paranormal investigation with a organized team of investigators. I was invited to come by my friend and at the time, team member Jason. Initially I was attending simply to observe and potentially write an article about the team and the intrigue that comes with paranormal investigating. The team’s home base at the time was The Ferry Plantation House. If you want to read more about its history which includes an interesting witch or two, you can read it here.

The land of the plantation at its prime extended for miles. Over time that changed leaving it as it is now, as part of a cul-de-sac, surrounded by private homes and a large grassy field. Upon walking the grounds I noticed a tennis court in the middle of the field surrounded by trees and asked one of the team members about it as it seemed strikingly out of place. His response was “Oh that’s where the Indian burial ground is. The neighbors became weary of late night trespassers attempting to find and steal relics so they decided to cement it over to protect it.”

“Oh, okay” is all I can muster.

And then I saw the tree.

Seeing it off in the distance this tree was quite ornate to my eyes. Me being the nature lover I am, I had already made plans that I’d be coming back during the day just to take pictures of it.  Its bare sloping branches in near perfect symmetry was impressive to me and kept me ogling it. The history of it, not so much.

Once upon a time part of what still stands of the plantation was once used as courthouse. The tree at that time was used for hangings for those convicted as well as the demise of slaves. The docent of Ferry Plantation House advised me that it is of public record that at least three slaves had been hung from its branches.

Approaching it I discovered the huge hollow at its base. I’ve always thought these were mysteriously awesome and this instance was no different. When one of the team members suggested I go inside of it, I didn’t hesitate. What happened next is hard to explain but I will try here.

Armed with a mini flashlight and a K-2 meter (used to detect spikes in electro magnetic energy which is said to occur when a spirit is present), I leaned in and positioned my body inside the tree. Much to my surprise the hollow expanded at least a hundred feet up giving me plenty of room to maneuver around. My own private oasis. In what little I know overall about trees, I do know that the size of a hollow is indicative of a tree’s age. With this being as large as it was, it was pretty obvious that I was standing inside what possibly could be over 220 years of history.

Alone in the darkness, I began to get this overwhelming feeling of sadness and the tree seemingly was pulling me, almost in a hypnotic kind of way. I know it sounds crazy. I know. But it’s what happened. I stood there with a sense of being anchored within the tree circling my flashlight above me peering at the empty space that was beginning to make my chest heavy. After a few minutes the voices of the guys outside grabbed my attention and its as if I came out of my trance. Upon maneuvering myself out of the tree I was hit with a second wave of emotion. The sudden need to cry. I stood there a moment longer just leaning back staring up at its beauty while the guys showed me a picture they’d snapped of me while I was inside. We slowly make our way back the house and I walk away with a sense of confusion but notice the further we distance ourselves from the tree, the heaviness of my chest slowly diminishes.

The hanging tree at Ferry Plantation House

standing in the hollow of the hanging tree


 For more paranormal history and experiences at one of the most haunted places in Virginia, you can read more of the Ferry Plantation House unexplained here.



Cameras, Coffee and Cold Spots

The following is an offering from my journal of paranormal experiences. I hope you enjoy and as always conversation and opinion is always welcome.


The Witching Hour…..June, 26, 2016


Most nights I find myself writing in the solitude of the darkness. A time when for me is most magicial. It is as if my mind unwinds, releases every qualm of the day and lets me invade the world in which my imagination takes hold. The words just seem to flow with ease during the hours of midnight leading up to three am. This particular night however did not find me under the covers tapping away on my keyboard. I instead was sleeping, that is until my eight year old son woke me up.


Unlike my daughter, my son since the age of four has suffered from growing pains. It was around two thirty in the morning when he comes into my room, limping and crying that his legs hurt. It didn’t alarm me as I have been accustomed to it and so I pulled the sheets back, patting the bed for him to climb in beside me. I began my usual routine of rubbing his knees and legs until his tears begin to subside. Within a couple minutes however he begins complaining of his stomach hurting. I ask him if he thinks he needs to go poop and he nods his head saying maybe. I encourage him then to get out the bed and try to go to the bathroom. As I’m saying this I look out to our hallway where the light from the bathroom spills into, and I see, quite clearly a white mass of a figure “float” past, coming from the bathroom heading towards my living room. I say float because I couldn’t see a connection with it and the floor and while it was the size of a person, it was not in the shape of a person. While it was a very quick vision, i saw it within a moderate pace. Imagine as if someone were trying to walk slowly, as to not make a sound but walking confidently, as if they belonged but not wanting to be seen. eah. That’s about the best way to describe its speed.


With every experience I still remain skeptical and this instance was no different. I instinctively brush it off as my eyes playing tricks on me, and not wanting to scare my son, I remained silent and continued pulling the covers back, watching him climb out of my bed. I did find it odd that as he walked towards the doorway he kept tilting his head as if peeking around the corner, peering out into the hallway.


Within a few minutes he returned. I pulled the covers back for him to climb back into the bed and once nestled in beside me he whispered. “Hey Mommy.”

“Yes baby,” I say.

“Remember when I told you it felt like I had to go to the bathroom?”


“Well when I looked out in the hallway i saw this white thing walking by.”

Yeah…my heart stopped.

I had at no time even remotely told him I’d seen something. Still, as to not scare him, I brushed his hair and said “it’s late baby, it’s probably just your eyes playing tricks on you.”


His words, in what he saw, matching my own, convinced me of what I’d seen and no one could convince me otherwise. The fact that we’d independently seen the same thing, yeah. It spoke volumes to me.


So naturally I set out to figure out what it could have been. The obvious of course, a spirit. But what kind? My intrigue in the paranormal world had been just that and aside from my group experiences with CVP, and with my father when my son was born, I’d not had any personal experiences so I had no clue what a white cloudy mass meant. Yeah insert Casper here.


Upon researching it seems what we saw that night might have very well been a benevolent apparition. An entity of a protective nature. One that I believe was a family member, specifically that of my paternal grandmother who raised me. Perhaps upon hearing my son crying, coming to watch over him, protect him as was her nature.


Whatever it was, and as uneventul and “non movie material” this night was, it was real. It was real for both me and my son whom I’m certain will never forget it. I know I won’t.