Mrs. Kenna listened along with police officers and staff yesterday as members of the Greater Pittsburgh Paranormal Society offered audio and video evidence that something strange is going on inside the building that houses the police station.
Yesterday, society founder Tonya Boff of Green Tree and four other members of her group played audio recordings of noises they said were not caused by the society’s investigators. She said it was the first investigation in about a year in which group members felt they had documented evidence of a possible haunting.
The first sounded like a scream and was picked up in the basement. The second recording, made in the attic, was of a door slamming, then a voice heard to say “Hey, Sam,” then a louder slamming of a door.
They also played a video clip showing a video camera cord, which had been taped to the ceiling of the basement, appear to fly loose and sway back and forth.
Can we talk about this? Can we talk about how freaked out that makes me?
Here’s the thing about PittGirl — in real life, I can be pretty fearless when it comes to facing things. Like the guy that stole my purse? If I had actually gotten there five seconds earlier to catch him in the act, I’d have probably against better judgment confronted him and tried to kick him and maybe even threw out a “so’s your mother” insult for good measure. I know this for a fact.
What happens more often than not is that my anger overrides my fear. There are some Pit Bulls that live near me and if I happen to walk by and hear them barking ferociously at me, in my head I’m not thinking “I wonder if I can outrun those bastards if they got loose.” I’m thinking, “Here’s exactly how I’m going to beat the shit out of them if they attack me.”
Seriously. It’s not smart, but it’s how I am. It’s why I’m probably going to die in a manner that if I just had fled, I’d still be alive.
That said, while REAL LIFE doesn’t scare me that much, FAKE LIFE — TV life, scary movies, “the unknown”? Scares the bejesus out of me.
When I saw Jaws for the first time, I was afraid to dangle my arms or my legs over the edge of my bed at night because yes, it’s perfectly sane to think that a giant man-eating shark would be living under my bed waiting for his midnight snack of people fingers and sock-encased toes.
When I saw The Birds, I was sure that every flutter of a wing I heard was a swarm of angry taloned winged demons who would not rest until every shred of flesh had been picked from my hot bones.
When I saw Signs, that freaky fake alien gave me heebie jeebies for months. MONTHS! I hated being alone. Hated being in the dark. Hated looking into a dark television screen because I was sure I would see the passing shadow of a tall, skinny, menacing alien.
When I saw The Blair Witch Project, I couldn’t go into my basement for a month without bringing my dogs with me, because yeah, two tiny, stupid, poop-eating terriers will destroy an otherworldly witch like it’s nobody’s business.
I won’t watch Poltergeist or the Exorcist because I’m pretty sure if I do that I’ll just become a trembling mass of useless nothing, afraid to even peer out from under the covers.
So yeah, I’m an enigma.
When I read that there are voices and screaming and weird shit happening at a police station, it freaks me out because now the Scary TV/Movie World that I’m afraid of but can comfort myself that it isn’t real, is colliding with the Real World and I’m thinking I’m going to go hide under my covers with some garlic, a knife, my taser, and maybe the Bible for good measure.
If I was currently employed at the Homestead police station and I heard that scream and saw that video, I’d take a job cleaning up pigeon poop before I’d ever set toenail in that building again.