Burke House

Description

Ashbourne Paranormal Investigations 1

Based in eastern Tennessee, Asbourne Paranormal has spent the past several years conducting investigations with little to show for the work. That all changes when they step foot into Burke House. A derelict farmhouse with a tragic history, Burke House is full of secrets, and the guys of Asbourne Paranormal Investigations are ready to uncover them all.

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EXCERPT:

“Good evening, Mr. Morton. Thank you for meeting me.”

I shook the student’s hand and gestured toward the seat across from mine. We sat, and I waited while she pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. “You’re welcome. Please call me Ben.”

She smiled and clicked the pen before jotting down my name. “So, as I explained on the phone, I’m doing a piece for my university’s newspaper. Given we are a month from Halloween, we decided to go with a spooky theme for each week. Next week’s is all about ghosts and hauntings.”

I nodded. “Understandable. Well, I’m an open book.”

“Great. So I guess we should start with an easy question. How did you get into this business of ghost hunting?”

Chuckling, I took a sip of water before replying. “Paranormal investigating,” I corrected with a smile. She nodded. “When I was eleven, our family moved to a farmhouse my dad inherited from his uncle. His uncle never had kids, and he’d doted on my dad as a result. The farmhouse was enormous—at least it seemed that way to me. Six bedrooms, three full bathrooms, two half-baths, a living room, a separate study, kitchen, mudroom-turned-laundry room. There was also this huge, almost cavernous walk-in pantry. My mom loved it; I was terrified of it.”

“Why did it scare you?”

I sighed and sat back in my seat. “Something never felt… right. When I neared that door, it felt as if someone was watching me, even when I was alone in the kitchen. One day, my mom was busy cleaning and asked me to get more furniture polish from the pantry. We kept our cleaning products on one of the lower shelves, away from the food. It took every ounce of willpower I had to open that damn door. I grabbed the polish and turned, wanting to get out as fast as possible.”

“So… what happened?” she asked, practically leaning over the table, eyes wide.

“I heard my name from behind me,” I replied. “It had been just a whisper, but I’d never run out of any place that fast in my life.”

“Did you tell your mother?”

I shook my head. “No. She was very devout, and any mentions of ghosts, death, or anything of the sort was consider blasphemous in our household. Hell, she died a few years ago still believing I’m straight.”