NEWSPAPER ARTICLES
In the spirit of Halloween, I set out on a quest to exhume spooky local legends. Much to my surprise, I stumbled upon a group of
modern-day Ghostbusters: Belton’s very own Light Paranormal Investigations (LPI). Thrilled with my timely discovery, I called
founder Will Light, who agreed to let me participate in their upcoming supernatural investigations.
Most feature stories are written from a third-person perspective; however, for my readers to fully grasp these bizarre encounters,
you’ll ride shotgun with me for the next three weeks. Buckle up. It’s going to be a rocky journey into another dimension.
Friday night finds me driving to Troy, Texas on an emergency investigation with the LPI team. A couple is being terrorized by malevolent spirits, and it’s our job to find out why. I glance over at my camera and journal nestled in the passenger seat, wondering exactly how I’m going to cover this story. I consider myself reasonably open-minded when it comes to stories such as these, but skepticism still furrows my brow. As a writer with an overactive imagination (and disciple of Stephen King), I’ll allow for the paranormal possibilities, even as my traditional Christian upbringing keeps me grounded. As I pull up to the secluded country homestead, my doubts about this assignment begin to grow.
The physical structure looks nothing like a haunted house. No moat. No bats circling through dark, twisted tree limbs. No spiderwebs lacing the front porch…in fact, the place is pristine. There is the requisite cat, however, but “Skittles” acts more like a dog, licking my ankle every so often—he doesn’t count.
My disappointment about the lack of creepy surroundings soon fades as I convene with the amiable PI team. I meet fellow Army vet Russ Siegel, the newest member of the team. His jovial demeanor allays my concerns, as he enlightens me on how sage works as a spirit-cleansing agent.
Husband-wife duo Will and Bree Light, true to their name, are making light-hearted conversation as they set up surveillance equipment.
Mary Jo Fellers Fraley and Cody Hilton of Bluebonnet Paranormal from Moody, Texas needle each other with inside jokes. I’m now
convinced—I may not get scared tonight, but at least I’ll have fun.
I sit down to interview the homeowners, and my inherent reporter’s cynicism quickly vanishes. They are clearly terrified. As the wife explains her ghostly encounters, her hands tremble and her voice shakes. I give her a reassuring smile, squeeze her hand and urge her to continue. She returns a forced smile; her eyes finally meeting mine. It’s obvious she knows how incredulous her story sounds, but I’m now convinced she believes every word as gospel.
I learn that two apparitions, an older woman and a man, have been lurking around the house. Her story grows darker as she describes how the shades made contact with her two little girls. Goosebumps erupt on my arms, as I learn these evil creatures have gone so far as telling
her youngest daughter to kill the entire family! I get it. It doesn’t matter how crazy her story seems—like anyone with a smidgen of
maternal instincts, she just wants her children safe. I wonder why this family? Why this house?
I discover the real estate agent (whom, at this point, I’m ready to drop kick for her lack of full disclosure), left out a few minor details when the couple purchased the home. Thirteen years before, a disgruntled couple occupied the house. The tormented husband shuffled off his mortal coil and took his own life. Speculation surrounded his death.
However, LPI’s Electronic Voice Phenomenon (EVP), a ghost therapy session delivered via a “Ghost Box,” a device that combines white
noise and AM radio transmissions, reveals the dying man choking out “she did it.” His angry wife, perhaps? A few years later, a woman slipped getting out of the bathtub, cracked her skull, and died in the master bathroom. How would you like to sleep in a house with these tortured souls wandering about? Although I’m intrigued by older houses with unique history, this poor lady’s story has convinced me otherwise. When I’m house hunting in the future, I’ll stick to those owned and inhabited exclusively by me.
As I conclude the interview, we join the LPI team outside and the investigation begins. The house lights are shut off, all doors closed, and we huddle around a four-way split surveillance screen. Pen in hand, Will sits in front of the screen. Whenever a motion detector goes off or a light orb floats across one of the screens, he jots down the recording camera number and time of the incident. This logging process will expedite the analysis the next day when the team reviews the footage for anomalies. LPI’s credibility grows, as they quickly debunk abnormalities in the footage. I learn that 90 percent of incidents observed can be explained logically, i.e. a bug crossing the screen or a car’s headlights reflecting off a bookcase. It’s the remaining ten percent that requires further scrutiny. There isn’t always a rational antidote. These mysteries further compel theorists like Will Light, who’s been a paranormal investigator for 35 years, to continue searching for an answer.
After team members conduct various experiments inside, it’s my turn to join the owners for a group therapy session, communing with the offending spirits. Will is the mediator. Our goal is to convince the ghosts to leave. This is where my stomach begins to churn. As Will and the owners question the spirits, the Ghost Box comes to life. Scratchy static, peppered with terse responses from a male voice, fill the room. Whoever this spirit is, he’s not happy— answering several questions with raw expletives. The air is dense. Drained, the wife almost collapses. I feel something heavy pushing down on my shoulders and I struggle to breathe. My instinct is to bolt. Chunk the deuce. I got my story. I’m done. But my pride pins me to the chair. Come on! I survived two Army deployments to the Middle East. I tell myself to soldier up and get over it. After all, the poor couple has been living this nightmare for the last six months. Surely I can handle one night? Finally, the light comes on. As we exit the front door, there’s a collective sigh of relief. I suck in a deep breath of crisp air and pull on my jacket. It’s now cool outside, but I’m sure the air temperature isn’t responsible for my chills tonight.
Now it’s Russ’s turn. A practicing Wiccan, he’s deeply connected to his spiritual side. The fragrant smell of burning sage permeates the air as he cleanses the house. Words akin to honey, he recites blessings in each room. As we re-enter the house, the ambiance has changed. The air seems lighter. The lights are even brighter, as is my mood. I look over at the owners, who, for the first time tonight, are actually relaxed. I can’t help but smile. I have no idea what just happened, and may never will. What I do know is this. This is just the prologue to LPI’s uncanny world. I’m ready to delve into the first chapter.
Ghosts of Belton Past Part One By Rachel Fikes The Belton Journal Oct 17, 2014
Recapping Part 1: My first outing with Light Paranormal Investigations (LPI) and Bluebonnet Paranormal was a resounding success. We left the home cleansed and stabilized from the onslaught of restless spirits hell-bent on terrorizing the current occupants of a country home.
As our investigation concludes and the Ghostbusting gear is safely stowed, I give the gracious homeowners a hug goodbye and join my team members outside. Yawning, I glance down at my phone. 12:03 a.m.—way past my bedtime. I bid the team adieu, wishing there was a nearby Starbucks open when something Bree says jolts me awake.
“Make sure Russ cleanses you with sage. You don’t want any of these spirits heading home with you.”
My mouth drops open. I quickly shut it, trying to hide the terror that’s undoubtedly written on my face. She’s kidding, right? While Russ blesses me with burning sage, my eyes grow wide as I learn that spirits often accompany the LPI team home.
Bree shrugs her shoulders. “It’s no biggie.”
No biggie? I beg to differ! I ask him to give me an extra blessing, just in case. He thinks I’m kidding. I’m really not. I plaster on a pageant queen smile as he finishes up and waves goodbye to the team, promising to see them tomorrow night, where we’ll investigate The Book Cellar, a haunted bookstore in Temple.
I reluctantly climb into my Ford Escape, whose name bears striking irony at this point, and switch on the cab lights. Exorcist-like, my head jerks around as my eyes cautiously scan the back seat. If it weren’t 1 a.m., I’d call a friend to get my mind off the idea that I might be playing taxi driver to an unwanted visitor. Instead, I shift the car into gear and turn up the radio. This is going to be the longest one-hour drive of my life.
Saturday, October 11th—The Book Cellar, Temple, TX
As soon as the door creaks open to the clandestine underground bookstore, I’m captivated by the musty smell of old books. Rows of books go on as far as my eyes can see. I must be grinning from ear to ear as the paranormal crew greets me. This truly is a book lover’s haven. Will Light introduces me to the two newest members of the LPI team, sisters Tracey Fuller-Augeri, and Stacey Fowler. Animated, they hand me an honorary LPI shirt to wear on our next adventure. Their enthusiasm is contagious and I’m ready to explore.
Owner Mickey White gives me the grand tour. The 32-year-old bookstore possesses an eventful past. During Prohibition, it was a speakeasy and then eventually turned into a full-fledged bar. As Mickey’s hand traces over a pole with a bullet hole, he explains that due to a plethora of brawls, stabbings, and shootings, the infamous establishment was avoided by most locals.
As we walk the perimeter of the dimly lit store, I can’t help but think this place must be a ghost’s haven too. Secret crevices, compartments, and rooms are at every turn. The far right-wing of the store even opens up to the old steam tunnels that used to run underneath the city. Most of them have been bricked off, but about 60 feet remain intact adjacent to the store.
Although the store definitely exudes eerie vibes, Mickey’s not fazed by any of it. If anything, he’s intrigued. His customers have sensed dark spirits down here, ironically in the “paranormal romance” section. But Mickey only mentions mischievous spirits. There’s a ghost who thinks he’s Casanova, tugging ladies’ hair as they walk by. Another likes his whiskey, leaving an over-turned shot glass on one of the bookshelves.
We make our way back to the center of the store, where both teams have assembled around the surveillance equipment. The lights shut off. It’s showtime. Anxious, I sit down behind Will as he monitors the footage. Having an investigation under my belt, I thought I’d be less jittery. Of course last time, we were outside monitoring the anomalies. Tonight, we’re right here in the mix.
My mouth goes dry and my shoulders tense as I watch a swarm of light orbs cross the surveillance screen. Bree explains that with a stampede of ghosts, it’s often hard to hone in on individual spirits. Right now, I’d settle for one because at the moment, I feel like I’ve stepped into a ghost theme park. Something cold brushes against my leg and I jump out of my seat like I’ve been jabbed by a cattle prod. Something else toys with my cell phone, turning the screen on and off. Will informs me that spirits love to play with gadgets, as technology serves as a conduit to our world.
Technology isn’t the only thing that invigorates these spirits. A Maglite flashlight is often used as a communication medium between ghosts and investigators. When Mary Jo turns on the radio, and Hank Williams Sr.’s twangy voice fills the air—the Maglite comes to life. As soon as the song ends, the flashlight turns off. But when Patsy Cline's lyrics resound off the walls, the Maglite reincarnates, casting intermittent rays of light across the shadowy bookstore.
The highlight of the night occurs when team members conduct an Electronic Voice Phenomenon (EVP) session near the children’s book section. A young African American girl’s voice pervades the static of the “Ghost Box.” Her name is Abby and she’s seven and a half. She’s lonely, so Bree brings her a small doll to keep her company. When she was alive, someone dragged her into the steam tunnels, and alas, that’s where she met her demise. Clearly touched by this heartbreaking news, Mickey’s tough façade melts. He sits down to talk with Abby and presents her with a toy ball. A connection emerges as they pass the ball back and forth to each other. As the lights come on, Mickey leaves the toys in the aisle, making good on a promise that Abby will never be lonesome again.
Russ’s cleansing sage isn’t required tonight. The spirits that we’ve encountered over the last nine hours don’t seem to harbor any malice. They yearn only for companionship, understanding, and perhaps what the team can deliver sometime in the near future—closure
Ghosts of Belton Past Part Two By Rachel Fikes The Belton Journal Oct 23, 2014
Recapping Part 2: My second rendezvous with Light Paranormal Investigations (LPI) and Bluebonnet Paranormal at The Book Cellar revealed the softer side of the spirit realm. While the first night’s focus was eradicating evil apparitions, the second was dedicate...d to understanding them.
Friday, Oct. 17—Hill Cemetery, Belton. By the time I reach the seclud¬ed cemetery, it’s pitch black. As my eyes adjust, I’m guided only by the moon’s sallow hue along the dirt footpath snaking through the overgrown graveyard. Other than crickets chirp¬ing in the distance, the night is completely still—almost too still.
A twig snaps nearby and my pulse quickens. I squint through the dark¬ness with a death grip on my camera, wishing I brought a flashlight -- when LPI founder Will Light appears from the inky darkness. Relief washes over me as I join both teams. They are gathered in a circle, each working individually, yet together, like a finely-tuned machine.
Bluebonnet Paranormal’s Mary Jo Fellers Fraley and Cody Hilton snap pictures rapid-fire, capturing light orbs floating over graves. Bree Light and Russ Siegel coax a reluctant spirit to speak via the scratchy static of the Ghost Box. Electronic Voice Phenomenon (EVP) specialist Davy Stevens of Ptaszek Stevens Paranormal Investigations studies his monitor while freelancer Mickey White is drawn to the far corner of the graveyard by an unknown source.
As Will adjusts his tripod-mounted video camera, he shakes his head, bewildered. I ask what’s wrong. He informs me that the eight-hour camera battery is completely drained after only 20 minutes of use.
I ask if the battery’s bad. He tilts his face up from the camera, meeting my gaze. A slight smile traces his lips. I already know the answer. Not only do spirits love to play with technology, but they also tend to drain anything with a power source. I quickly snap my camera off, just in case.
My eyes scan the subdued surroundings. Hill Cemetery became a family burial site 15 years before the Civil War; the isolated area now hosts approximately 130 marked graves. Many headstones are illegible and some sites are marked only by rocks or sunken ground. Vandals have smashed, displaced or stolen inscribed headstones, making it impossible to determine exactly who is buried where. The idea of standing on hallowed ground makes me shift uneasily.
Several Confederate soldiers are buried here, but one grave in particular has received more attention than the others. A wooden cross is affixed to a tree that overhangs his plot. For an entire year, maintenance workers would hang the cross in its rightful place above the grave each evening before closing. But each morning they returned, it lay dismembered on the ground.
During the three assignments, I’ve noted some team members, like Cody and Bree, are more intimately affected by spirits than others. These mortals are commonly referred to as “Empaths” or “Intuitives.” Tonight, Cody comes into contact with a Native American spirit and is overcome with crippling nausea. Only when the apparition disappears does he regain his composure. Because Bree is so receptive, spirits love to interact with her physically. One spirit in particular seems quite smitten by her presence, poking her in the ear and playing with her hair in flirtatious fashion.
As the night grows colder, the graveyard becomes a melancholy symphony. A slight breeze picks up, rustling leaves in nearby trees. Frogs intermittently croak in the bubbling creek nearby. A passing train’s mournful horn pierces the air as it steadily clicks and clacks along the steel rails. Mary Jo plays a rendition of “Amazing Grace,” tying all the natural chords together in harmony.
Hill Cemetery is unquestionably home to a mosaic of spirits, dating back to the middle 1800’s. I’ve seen, heard and felt some unexplainable occurrences, but tonight I go home comforted because in contrast to my first neck-prickling encounter, these ghosts seem to be at peace, even as they gambol about the grounds. As we close up shop for my final night with the paranormal teams, I reflect on my first outing as the cynical journalist. The LPI and Bluebonnet Paranormal teams have significantly changed my outlook on this bizarre realm, and I now hold them in high regard.