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Will Storr has done some seriously bizarre and otherworldly things over the course of his career as a journalist. But even spending an entire day with Ozzy Osbourne wasn't as frightening as when he agreed to follow Philadelphia "demonologist" Lou Gentile on his appointed rounds. Will Storr never believed in ghosts—but his healthy skepticism couldn't explain the strange lights and sounds he witnessed, and the weird behavior of the occupants of several allegedly haunted houses.
What resulted is a confirmed cynic's (and proud of it!) dedicated search for answers in a shadowy world of séances, mediums, devil worshippers—even the Vatican's chief exorcist. So get ready to confront the genuinely creepy along with the hilariously ridiculous in Will Storr vs. the Supernatural!
Haunted America—Top 10 Most Haunted Places in America
Bachelor's Grove Cemetery, Chicago
The now-derelict Bachelor's Grove Cemetery is notorious amongst paranormalists everywhere as being one of the most haunted corpse-parks in the world. Under the weeds and rubble of the ruined tombs lie the remains of Windy City residents dating back to the 1844. Nobody has been buried here since 1965, when it was closed after falling into disrepair. The combined work of vandals, nature and local occultists have turned this small, one acre location into the very definition 'spooky', with it's cracked graves, gnarled bushes and bits of old candle, smashed crucifix and eviscerated virgin (probably) that local dabblers in the demonic have left behind. It's little wonder, then, that so much activity has been reported here. Most notably, a full female apparition who carries a baby in her arms (sometimes called 'the 'Madonna of Bachelor's Grove'), a replay of a farmer being dragged by his horse and plow into the now-stagnant pond (which was, apparently, a favoured cadaver-dump for mobsters in the 50's) and, weirdly, the ghost of a house which many people claimed to have seen whilst walking up the path that leads to the moody place. Startling displays of ghost lights are also said to be common here, including red lights that dart away so fast they leave a trail and blue orbs that bounce from tombstone to tombstone.
Alcatraz Island, San Francisco Bay
Pity those poor Miwok Indians who were lead, shackled and twitching with spasms of dread, onto Alcatraz Island as the first residents of the prison in 1859. Not only had they been sentenced to serve time on what was to become one of the United States' most dismal penitentiaries, but their particular tribe had feared the place for generations, convinced, as they were, that it was inhabited by evil spirits. And if the ghost chroniclers of San Francisco are to be believed, those wise old Native American elders might have been onto something. Alcatraz was turned from an army fort and prison into the largest reinforced concrete structure in the world in 1934. And, whether or not it was haunted in the days of the Miwok, many people claim that it is today, with the echoes of the inmates who were held here until it's closure in 1963.
And they were a tormented people indeed. Alcatraz was the destination for America's most dangerous criminals, and they were sent to the lonely rock for the State to have it's revenge. There was never even the pretence of rehabilitation. Prisoners were forbidden to talk, except for three minutes twice a day and two hours during the weekend as a special treat. Many, including Al Capone (who enjoyed playing his banjo, somewhat unaccountably, in the shower area), went mad, others were murdered or died from disease. Less ambitious types satisfied themselves with chopping off their own fingers with an axe. The guards were much more likely to beat you until you were a Picasso of body-parts, bubbles of blood blowing out of each one of your five nostrils, than they were to deliver you a decent breakfast. The most feared part of the complex was the four solitary confinement "holes" in Block D—numbered 11-14. Inmates were kicked in, stripped and chucked into these concrete boxes with nothing but bread to eat and a hole to shit in and the only thing they had to look forward to was a standard meal once every three days and, eventually, to being let out—back into the hellish warren of Alcatraz itself. Many, unsurprisingly, went totally mental after a stretch in the hole. Rufe McCain didn't though. He was forced to do an incredible three years and two months hole-time, after being caught trying to escape. And what did he do when he was eventually released? Keep his head down and his mouth shut (even during his three minutes chat-grace)? Make a grovelling apology to the chief warden? No, he found the man he was supposed to have escaped with - and he killed him.
Surprisingly, reports of supernatural oddery are not centred around Block D (with the exception, that is, of some ghost hu...
320 pages
First published January 19, 2006

I'm now convinced that there is evidence of something following death. Because ghosts exist. There really are such things as apparitions and EVP and poltergeists and heavy breathing in old rooms in the night. And humans, being humans, feel compelled to explain that. But they can't. It's only the faithful who think they can. In this regard, Christians are just the same as witches and druids and anti-Satan vigilantes and skeptical monsterologists and hard rational scientists. They all think they've got answers, but really, they're all wildly theorizing. The simple truth is—nobody knows. Nobody, not Dr. Salter, Dr. Garvey, Father Bill, or The Founder, knows what happens when our brains finally flicker off. We're in the dark about death and the purpose of existence. And an awful lot of people, it seems, are scared of the dark. This is the thing I've learned over the last twelve months about blind belief in the supernatural: faith is for the frightened. These are the things that scare humans more than anything else—death, loneliness and guilt. That's the ominous three, the holy trinity of dread. If you sign up for a supernatural belief like Christianity, these timeless worries disappear in a puff of incensed smoke. Death? No worries. Paradise awaits you. Lonely? Don't be daft—God loves you and is with you always. Guilt? Just say the word, and you will be forgiven.
And it's not just the Christians. There's a certain kind of ghost-believer that's victim to this same syndrome. They use ghosts, just as Dr. Salter said, to make themselves feel more important or to convince themselves that their dead friends, family and lovers are'nt just Spam for maggots. They use their cod logic to bring order and meaning to their chaotic and seemingly meaningless lives. And some of them use it to dress themselves up as instant experts. You can say anything you like about ghosts and, providing you do it with enough authority, you'll get your own slot on satellite TV.
But not all the ghost-convinced are like this. Because if you strip away all the nonsense, you're left with something that most Christians will never have. You're left with evidence. Genuine, unexplained, skull-bucklingly fantastic evidence. For me, the extraordinary truth about ghosts doesn't lie in the individual experiences of one witness or another. It lies in the patterns. That, perhaps, four or five other people heard breathing in that room before me, doesn't make it four or five times more interesting, it makes it one of the most incredible mysteries in the world. Just like the previous occupants of Annie's room, the many victims of poltergeists, the worldwide thousands who've recorded EVP, the routinely spooked visitors to Michelham Priory, the young brothers who talked to the woman in their bathroom, it's the chorus of humans who are experiencing the same things, evidence of intelligent ghosts, that make this subject so profound and wondrous and universal....
As for the hard skeptics, I think that to believe so passionately in the existence of nothing that isn't immediately obvious is to suffer the most gigantic failure of intelligence and imagination. The universe—the reality in which we exist—is such an immeasurable, unbelievable and, ultimately, unknowable thing. And the only thing I know for sure is that it's a stranger place than any human has the capacity to imagine. (pp.306-8)