Have some spirited fun WANT TO GO?

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Have some spirited fun WANT TO GO?
3/8/2009
By LANCE ROESKE
THE FREE LANCE-STAR

STEPHENSON--There is something spooky going on to our west, and it's getting the attention of believers and skeptics alike.

It got mine, allowing me to live one of those childhood dreams many of us had growing up: spending the night in a real haunted house--or in this case, haunted former hotel.

As my friend Jim and I drove the long driveway leading to the property, the scene was just as I had imagined it.

It loomed ahead, echoing scenes from "The Shining," "Amityville Horror," "Burnt Offerings" and countless other "possessed structure" horror movies I had seen over the years.

But this one-time hotel had no crazed caretaker, was not on Long Island and was not capitalizing on a creepy Bette Davis.

This was Historic Jordan Springs, with roots dating to the early 1600s when the Catawba Indians discovered two mineral springs that flow from a grotto at the base of Devils Backbone, a foreboding cliff-like hill to the left of the building.

It sits just outside of Winchester, and about 100 miles from Fredericksburg.

Since the 1800s, the current structure--an Event & Cultural Centre--has been utilized as a Civil War hospital, luxurious hotel, a monastery and a home for drug addicted teenagers. While any one of these would be a strong card for a ghost-seeker to play, this place holds a ghastly full house.

The history and reported paranormal activity has even attracted a group known as the Washington DC Metro Area Ghost Watchers (DCMAG) to the site.

Members have pronounced it so full of paranormal activity that they have decided to do a yearlong paranormal investigation to gather enough evidence to produce a television documentary and fill a book.

They are inviting the public in once a month to assist. The only thing better than spending the night--awake--in a haunted building would have to be spending it with real-life ghostbusters! Anyone over 30 still remembers that famous line, "I've been slimed!" And no, I wasn't, unfortunately.

he evening began in the center's pub; a place guaranteed to produce spirits. Soon the slightly eclectic tavern was filled with 60 or so amateur ghost sleuths. Some came to have fun, others were there as true believers. A few claimed to be genuine sensitives, those with clairvoyant or psychic powers allowing them to be extra perceptive to those on the other side.

It was obvious from the discussions, laughter and goose-bumps that this was going to be one unique evening.

After an hour or so, the evening's guests were invited into the candlelit dining room. The spread was impressively lavish for such a large group and strange occasion: Chicken breasts in a cream sauce, wild rice, fresh green beans and a delicious chocolate butterscotch pudding topped with whipped cream.

The night could have concluded then and many would have been satisfied, but the real entertainment was still waiting in the darkest recesses of the center.

Following dinner, we gathered in the belly of the building, where DCMAG had set up Mission Control, complete with a big-screen television to display any activity within the 81 rooms being monitored with infra-red cameras.

Only someone as detached as a ghost would've been immune to the excitement and tension in the room.

We listened to the professional investigators discuss how to effectively hunt for ghosts, and they presented evidence gathered to date. Around 10 p.m., it was show time. We were separated into small groups and led by ghost hunting guides to remote parts of the old structure.

Our group started in the Red Room, where some of the most palpable paranormal activity has been reported, with books flying from the shelves and shadowy figures seen lounging in the chairs.

As silence collected around us in the dark library, we attempted to communicate with the spirits we hoped lurked somewhere in the room with us; "Knock three times if you are present" and "Show us some sign that you are here in the room" were among those questions posed to the would-be phantoms.

Hours passed as we moved from candlelit basement to the spine-chilling attic to the monk's chapel. As the small groups routinely met up at Mission Control to share evidence, our numbers grew smaller and smaller until only the most hearty adventurers remained.

fter all, rumor has it that the most activity is witnessed between the wee hours of three and four in the morning. With a little luck and a lot of Red Bull, I would just make it.

By 5 a.m., there were only three of us left hanging with the investigators. Unlike the characters in the 1999 movie "House on Haunted Hill," we were not awarded stacks of cash for lasting the night, but we left with something far more valuable; memories of an experience many watch only on television or in the theatre.

As I walked from one dark room to the next, I was--just for a little while--Vincent Price. And if I were, just for a moment, possessed by the great Price himself and you readers were, just for a moment, old enough to remember the golden age of radio, you might hear me utter the familiar line, inviting you to this very special event:

"Tired of the every day grind? Ever dreamed of a life of romantic adventure? We offer you ESCAPE!"

Lance Roeske of Spotsylvania County commutes to a job in Washington. Before joining the ranks of commuters, he taught English at Stafford High School.