Ghost Hunt- A Personal Journey Pt. Two

We had crossed through the gates of the cemetery- passing into the domain of the lost, but not gone members of society. They might have been in a different plane of existence. Perhaps the folks whose remains were within the cemetery we now roamed were safely in heaven, blissfully unaware or unconcerned with our presence near their mortal remains. Though, perhaps other members of the departed- were not so content with letting go of life. Perhaps they still clung to life- and the bodies which they had once inhabited. Those bodies, which lay in the earth, and inside the beautiful marble crypts of the mausoleum were beyond the point of recessitation, of course, but maybe the spirits of those interred people still felt a strong zest for life, long life was over.

Would they be angry at our blaze attempt to hunt them down? Was our interest in the paranormal experience, somehow offensive to them? Would they think that we were trivialising them, and the journey they made to get to the other side? Were thy spying on us- eyeing our every move through the dark shadows of the night? Were they so detached from their time here on earth, maybe having died in the 1950s, that they may have been just as curious about us and our modern customs, as we were about them? Although a far more frightening and sinister hypothesis begs the question- if we angered them, what kind of reprocussion would there be for us? As we got out of the car, was it too late to avoid the wrath of the spirits that may have roamed the grounds? Would they show us mercy? Or would they drag us screaming, into the darkest corners of the night, leaving our bodies in a catatonic state of blankness? What if, when the spirits were finished with us, we were nothing more than breathing corpses? To be honest, the thought never crossed our mind as the cars parked at the top of the hill by the dark side of the mauseleum. Perhaps we should have considered the possibilities.

Beyond the token sense of somberness and respect for the dead that one is confronted with when they enter a cemetery, I felt no change in emotion. No anxiety haunted me. I felt no sense of immediate danger as the light from the neighborhood disapeered, and the only lights availible to us came from our headlights, the distant Portland skyline, and the brightly lit part of the mauselum. Maybe I should have started worrying- maybe that would have been a good idea- before it was too late. But my mind was on the task at hand. The trivial cultual event of the ghost hunt. A hobby that children have been doing since the birth of the lantern. We were a bunch of people in their late teens, and early twenties- we were adults- but the lure of the dead has never ceased to strong arm maturity into submission. We were as giddy, as a bunch of kids in a theme park. Only we behaved with much more reservation than that.

We got out of the car. We followed the group to a grave that was situated below an American flag. It was the final resting place of one of the girl's grandfather's. We all bowed our heads in prayer. I think the prayer was in vietnamese, (It was an asain language) but I prayed along with them anyway, giving my own silent prayer in english.

After the prayers were done, and we were fairly confident that spirits would not be offended by our casual/recreational presence in thier sacred domain, we started gathering up all of our equipment- flashlights, video cameras- Anthony Nugyen held an external microphone (which was connected to the camera I was holding. He said if I let the mic cord slip out, he would kill me.) and, I believe a bow staff. Just incase we were attacked by any wayward spirits.

They did a quick meeting of what they wanted to explore first- and, to my delight- (but not Anthony's) They chose one of the chamers of the mauselum. As we approached the mouth of alcove- I observed that on either side of the corridor had the marble squares with the names of many of the departed in a brass letter outline on the crypts, along with the dates of their births and deaths. Within the alcove- massive white pillars held up the celing- and at the end of the corridor- there was a beautiful white stair case leading to the roof of the mauselum. We slowly made our way through the path between the crypt walls, and we reached the stair case. The steps we took and our chatter were the only noises that broke the still of the night. The residents there didn't seem to have anything to contribute to the conversation, and for that, I think Anthony was thankful.

When we reached the top of the stair case- a huge white columbarium greeted us. The tiny squares which held the ashes of the departed featured their names on tiny little brass plaques.

We turned left at the top of the staircase, and a somewhat haunting trickling sound greeted our ears. What was this curious audio phenomenon? Was it a haunting vision of the past, manifesting it's self in some kind of- Oh. Never mind, it was a man made waterfall. Right in the middle of the mauseleuom. This was a very strange oddity of sorts, I mean, do the dead get thirsty? Such thoughts never crossed my mind in anything other than a sarcastic manner as we made our way back down the stairs into the darkness beyond.

Our first course of action was to climb a very steep hill- we didn't know what grizzly ghouls would be up ahead to devour us, or if we would never return, but never the less we marched into the darkness. As we made our way up the steep hill we were shocked at what we found.

A neighborhood- Fenced in from the cemetery.

We made our way down the hill, the secure lights of the neighborhood disapeering behind us as darkness washed over us once more.