There is real evil, in the darkest shadows, and the most ordinary of places. This is based on a true story, of the innocent and the unimaginable.

When a couple invests their dreams for the future in an old house, restless spirits begin to intrude on their way of life. Unexplained emotions pull them apart, and won't relent, until the house is theirs again.

Between the world we see and the things we fear, there are doors. When these doors are opened, nightmares become reality.

~*~

In May of 2003, 27-year old Joshua Chasez and 25-year old Charlotte Miller moved into town, following a transfer by Joshua's company. Joshua is a team leader for a lucrative financial planning corporation. They have been staying in a hotel for the past few days as they search the area for the perfect place to begin their new life. After touring several homes that didn't fit their taste, their agent brings them to a quiet community on the East side of town.

"Why didn't we start here?" Charlotte asked with excitement, eyeing the exterior of the 1940's home.

"Well it's been on the market for so long, I almost forgot it was here," the real estate agent smiled.

It was a large two story home, with an attic window peaking out of the top. It was white, with a red door, and newly trimmed green lawn. It was perfect. The kind of home they use for TV shows and movies. It was the ideal place to have a family, which fit Joshua and Charlotte just fine.

"This house would be great for a family," she smiled, unlocking and opening the front door.

Inside everything was earth toned, the stairs and floors made of wood. It was old and cozy. To the left of the front door was a large livingroom.

"It's like the builders were planning a space for someone to work from home."

"Oh, what do you do?" the agent asked.

"Paintings mostly."

"This room would be great. There's plenty of space for you to set up your isles." Josh smiled down at her.

"Yeah, and I could set up my paints over there...."

"There's a basement downstairs, perfect for setting up a gallery," the agent added.

Charlotte turned to Josh with a giddy grin.

"When do we move in?"

"Let's finish the tour first, okay?"

A month later, Josh and Charlotte move in, and almost immediately begin the renovations on the old house. There were walls to paint, holes to fill, and floors to refinish. Old homes were charming, but they also had to be safe and appealing.

One afternoon, home from the office, Joshua is kneeling by the baseboards in the foyer, trying to pry them one off so it can be replaced after the carpetting has been laid. However, he's not having the most successful time with one board in particular. Charlotte stands behind him, watching with amusement as he trys to pry it off using a hammer.

"Honey, let me help," she says, kneeling next to him and placing the flat end of a tire iron above the board.

"Ready? One, two, three..."

They both pulled, and the board slipped off with ease.

"Well, I loosened it for you," Josh shrugged.

Charlotte nodded.

"Sure."

Before another word could be spoken, there was a rattling noise above them, coming from inside the wall. It started up high, near the ceiling, and slowly began to work it's way down as if something was falling. A nervous Charlotte placed her hand on Josh's arm, waiting anxiously to see what would appear. Finally, the noise made it's way to the floor and a small blue marbel popped out of a small hole that had been hidden behind the baseboard.

"Oh my gosh," Charlotte smiled, picking up the marbel.

"It's a house warming gift." Josh took it from her fingers to inspect it himself.

"From the house?"

"Yeah.Think of it as a sign that we're in the right place," he put an arm over her shoulder. "Maybe next time it'll send a Rolex, or, a car."

The couple shared a nervous laugh, but thought nothing more of the strange occurance.

A few days later, while Joshua was at work, Charlotte was hard at work in her new office, in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Her isles had been set up in various corners of the room, the blinds opened to let in the shinning summer sun. The house is quiet and content and Charlotte is squeezing out paint colors.

She mixes them with her damp brush, and turns to her blank isle, mussing over where to put it first. Before her brush can touch the paper, there is a rustling behind her, pausing her movements. Everything is silent for a moment, before the rustling erupts again. Charlotte slowly turns, and peers into the adjoined bathroom. The floor is covered with plastic as the paint drys. Nothing looks out of place from where she can see.

At the office, Josh is holed up with the door closed as his eyes roam over a new account that has just been added to his list. The ideas they've sent are good, their budget for it however, is ludacris. His concentration is disrupted when an insistant ringing sounds from his briefcase. He leans over, digging around for his cellphone.

"Hello?"

"Hi." It is Charlotte on the other end. Her voice is meek and hesitant.

"Hey, how's it going?"

"It's going good." Though she speaks the words, she sounds uncertain.

"Are you okay?" Josh asked, his brow furrowing.

"I'm alright," she says. "I just needed to hear your voice."

"What's going on? What happened?"

"I don't know. I was just painting and then all of a sudden I felt... I don't know. Sad. Just this overwhelming sense of sorrow. I have no idea why."

Josh's brow furrowed again as he chewed on the end of a pencil. It was out of character for Charlotte to be so full of grief. She was one of the most upbeat people he'd ever known. But he reassures her, telling her it's nothing that won't pass, and he'd be home with her in a few hours.

Once they hang up the phone, Charlotte lowered her head into her hands, rubbing her forehead as unexplained tears started to fall.

~*~

Over the next few weeks, her depression deepened into nothing Josh had ever seen from her before. She'd experience immence amounts of pain and grief, over nothing at all. It was mild at first, only really occuring when she was in the house alone. But as the months passed it got worse and worse.

One night Josh returned home from a late night at the office. The passed days with Charlotte had been difficult, her mysterious funk had kept her from doing many of her regular household duties. But during a visit to a relatives home the day before, she'd seemed much happier and carefree. She'd claimed to feel great, and had promised excitedly to get everything back on track the next day.

When he walked in the door however, he was met with a different sight than the one he'd expected. Charlotte sat at the kitchen table, holding her chin in her hand. There was no food on the table, and week old dishes still crowded the sink. Josh sighed, slipping off his jacket and hanging it on the hook by the door before stepping into the kitchen.

Charlotte looked up, a tired expression on her face.

"I know what you're thinking," she said. "No, I still haven't done them. I haven't done anything all day."

"Char, I don't care about the dishes. I care about how you're doing." He pulled out the chair next to her and sat down. "I'm worried about you. Maybe we should go see a doctor, or something."

He didn't want to offend her, but he didn't want to see her living like this either. Regardless, her eyes flashed with anger and she snatched her cold hand from his.

"I don't need help," she stated before standing and leaving the room.

Later that night, Joshua sat in his own office, squinting at the laptop on his desk and eating out a paper Chinese food container. It was late into the night, after midnight, and he'd figured Charlotte had long sense gone to bed.

All was quiet and he was lost in his own little world when there was a squeaking noise out in the hall, as if someone was opening or closing a door. He looked out, thinking maybe Charlotte had gotten up to use the bathroom or ventue downstairs to the kitchen. But he didn't see her, or hear anything else. He turned back to his computer, thinking it was just his mind playing tricks.

He didn't see the middle aged man come from down the hall, stopping at the office door to peer in on him, before continuing his journey toward the stairs. Josh looked back again, getting an eery feeling that made the hairs on his arms stand on end. But again, no one was there. Once more he turned to his computer, trying to focus on his business. But the eery feeling of eyes, as if someone was watching him intently, wouldn't disappear from his mind.

In the weeks that followed, Joshua had a growing sense that there was something very wrong in his new house.

One night, while laying in bed asleep with Charlotte, Josh is awoken by a strange feeling. The feeling of someone touching, or brushing against his foot. He turned his head, finding a sleeping Charlotte with her eyes peacefully closed. He watched her to see if she'd move. Maybe she'd accidently bumped him in her sleep. But the woman didn't move again, and he knew she wasn't the weird feeling he was getting.

Josh sat up, peering at the empty room around him. Something still felt off, but maybe if he could get it into his head that they were the only two there, he'd calm down enough to get some sleep. His eyes glanced around, looking over their cluttered desk, and then to their dresser by the open bedroom door. Didn't he close that door? Then he felt it again, something touching his foot at the end of the bed. He pulled his foot back, getting ready to sit up and see if a spider had somehow gotten under his sheets, when the bed started to move.

The springs in the matress started to contract, and the blanket flattened, giving the impression that something heavy was being placed on it. Round circles appeared, slowly making their way toward him, as if an invisible dog or cat was crawling towards him. His breathing quickened and his mind began to swirl. Was he really seeing this? An invisible thing walking on his bed? Without a thought he reached over, turning on the bedside lamp. Soft light entered the room and when Josh looked back, the imprints were gone. The blanket was smooth and untouched, as if nothing had happened at all. But it had, Josh knew it had.

For the first time, he was truly scared.

The next morning, the charming white house with the red door happily sat along side it's neighbors as the bright Missouri sun shown down on it through the tall surrounding trees. Inside, a sleeping Joshua is resting his head on the kitchen table. He'd been up the entire night, keeping watch over Charlotte, afraid to go to sleep. Charlotte however, isn't sympathetic to his condition, and forcefully set his cup of coffee down next to him, startling him out of his dreams.

"Sorry," she snarls, "didn't mean to scare you."

Josh looks up at her before waving his hand.

"You didn't. I just didn't get alot of sleep last night."

Charlotte sits down across from him with a roll of her eye.

"Let me ask you something," he says. "When you're, uh, alone in the afternoon, do you ever feel like you're being watched?"

Charlotte stared at him for a moment, before standing up angrily.

"You must think I'm going crazy," she snaps. "Is that what you think?"

"No, no, no," Josh rushs to try to convince her of the opposite. "I don't think you're crazy at all. That's not what I'm saying. It's just, do you ever get the feeling someone is watching you? Someone you can't see? Because last night-."

"During the day I am the only one in this miserable place," she says, her eyed turning glossy with tears.

Josh stared at her, her words landing harshly on his heart. Miserable? He stood from the table as well, looking down at his shoes with a shake of his head.

"Miserable place?" He mutters. "Well I bought this miserable place as an investment in us!"

His shout echoed through the house as he headed out the door, slamming it behind himself. Charlotte, sat at the table crying as Josh paced back and forth on the porch. He wasn't sure where his anger had risen from. It had just appeared, out of nowhere from some place he couldn't control. Though they both were feeling weery about their home, they figured that if they no longer talked or thought about it, than it didn't really exsist.

Later, once Josh had gone to work, Charlotte calms her nerves with a hot shower in the bathroom upstairs. The warm water soothed her tense muscles and slowed her swirling mind. She stepped out of the tub, wrapping her body in a blue terrycloth bathrobe and walked over to the mirror, softly drying her face with a towel before wiping the steam from the mirror. She peered at her reflection. The woman looking back seemed so different than who she'd been months ago. This woman was old, and tired.

With a shake of her head she cleared the depressed thoughts from her mind. She was sick of being sad and depressed, and of living in this awful place. She picked up her toothbrush and silently brushed her teeth, still studying her reflection until she spit out the toothpaste into the sink a few moments later. She looked up again, once again finding her reflection in the mirror. This time, she found the reflection of someone else as well.

Over her shoulder, standing in the shower and peeking out from around the curtain was a little boy. Charlotte gasped and whirled around, wide eyed. The little boy was nowhere in sight. The shower was empty. But she'd seen a boy, she knew she had. He was pale, with brown eyes and brown hair.

~*~

As Joshua returned home each night, he began to feel a sense of dread. The closer he'd get to the house, the more tense he'd become.

On a particular evening he walked through the front door to find envelopes scattered across the foyer floor. He remembered setting the mail in a neat pile earlier in the day before leaving.

Muttering to himself about why Charlotte hadn't cleaned this up, he leaned down, picking up all the letters before heading into the living room. Charlotte was asleep on the sofa under a blanket. He turned on the light, watching as she squinted and opened her eyes.

"Char, did you move the mail?"

She rubbed her tired eyes before sitting up to glare at him.

"What?"

"Nevermind," he said. "Look, we need to talk about us, and about what's going on in the house."

"Nothing is going on in the house."

"You weren't like this before we moved in. We weren't like this."

He thought that whatever was in the house, was manipulating their feelings and moods.

"We were always like this, you just didn't see it."

Joshua sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"All right. Charlotte, I think, for your own well being, you should get out of the house."

"I know that's what you think. I know I should go out with friends, and go shopping, and put on a smile for you," her voice got louder with every word.

"No, god damnit I don't-." Josh turned his back to her, stopping himself before he said too much. This was exactly what he'd meant when he said they weren't like this.

"No. I think you need to move out of the house."

Charlotte narrowed her eyes on his face, taking in a deep breathe.

"Is that what you want?"

"I think that's what's best for both of us."

Charlotte glared at him, expressing her hatred with her eyes, before rushing upstairs to the bedroom to pack her things. Joshua was trying to what was best for her, but he is also torn by his decision. He loved her, and when she left the next morning, a good part of him walked out with her.

The next morning was a Saturday, and he spent his first weekend alone in a year. Realizing that he can no longer deny the fact that his house is haunted, he set to work putting up a webcam in the hall. He didn't want to feel afraid of who or what ever is was, so he let the device record all day. Also unsure of who was knocking the mail on the floor, he tried a little experiment. He opened his wallet and set a $20 bill on top of the stack of letters. If whoever it was was a living breathing human being sneaking in to be a nucense, they'd take the money before knocking over the stack. Then he'd know that his problems could be solved with a simple change of the locks.

But that night, when he returned home, that mail was once again on the floor, along with the money. Josh rushed up the stairs, sitting infront of his laptop to review the recording he'd made that day. But after hours of sitting, he saw nothing.

That night, while laying in bed, he is awoken by the sound of voices. He sat up straight in bed, looking around the room to see who could be whispering. It sounded like two voices, and they sounded like they were arguing over him.

"He's mine," one whispered.

"He belongs to me," said the other.

"What do you want?!" Josh shouted, terrified.

The voices stopped and the room fell silent, as if nothing had happened and nothing was there.

For the next few evenings, Joshua spent the nights sleeping in his office. He was too afraid to sleep in the house, but didn't want to move. He wanted to understand what was there and what was going on, and had also invested a lot of time and money into the property. When he finally returned home, he found the stack of mail still neatly placed on the table where he'd left it, topped with a $20 bill. Maybe whatever was here, wasn't aggitated when he wasn't around.

One evening, Josh sat in a chair in the living room, having dozed off infront of the television. He was awoken by the sounds of cartoons, the roadrunner outsmarting the coyote. He didn't remember leaving the tv on this channel, or having the volume up quite as loud. Regardless, he didn't think much of it as he picked up the remote and pointed it to turn off the TV. As soon as the room went silent, and the screen turned black, the image of a little boy appeared before him. He was sitting on the floor infront of the television, and turned to look over his shoulder at Joshua. The boy didn't say a word, but his expression clearly told Josh that he'd been watching that program, and didn't appreciate it being turned off.

Josh, confused and frozen with fear, shakily lifted the remote to turn to screen back on. As soon as the cartoons began to play again, the boy disappeared.

Was he going crazy? Or had he seen a ghost?

Josh stood up, looking over the coffeetable at the area where the boy had, before turning and heading up the stairs and into his office to sit. His mind started to wander. Was this boy around all the time? What was he doing here? Was he the cause of the mood swings between he and Charlotte? Should he sell the house? As Josh sat there, pondering, he heard the sound of the television click off in the living room.

~*~

Days later, Joshua went to lunch with a good friend of his, Shanna Montclaire. Shanna is a bright girl with curly brown hair and green eyes. She and Josha had been friends since their tween years in Los Angeles, California.

"Hey!" She smiled, sitting in the chair across from him.

"Hey," he says tiredly.

Shanna eyed him with concern.

"You look terrible."

Joshua made a face, before reaching for the coffee cup the waitress had brought.

"Thanks for the compliment, Shan."

"What are best friends for? So, tell me, how's the new house?"

"I don't know," Josh shrugged. "I'm thinking of putting in a transfer at work and selling it."

Shanna paused as she picked out sugar packets for her coffee.

"Sell it? You just bought it."

"I know. But it's a lot of work, and more room than I need," he said. "Actually, I'm going to be losing a lot of money on it. It still needs a lot of work. Mostly paint, but I work so much. I don't have the time to do that."

"What can I do?" Shanna asked.

"Nothing," Josh replied with a shrug. There was nothing she could do, unless she knew anything about ghosts. Should he mention the ghosts, or would she call him crazy?

Shanna frowned, worried about her exhausted and troubled friend.

"Listen," she began, "I'm off on Monday. Why don't I come over and do some painting? Help you get a jump start on things."

"I can't ask you to do that," Josh replied. He wasn't the kind to ask anyone for assistance.

"I won't take no for an answer. I'm coming over, and I'm painting."

The next morning, Shanna arrives bright and early with two cans of paint from the local Home Depot.

"I'm sorry I can't stay and help," Josh is saying as he leads her into the living room. "I swear that when I get off of work I will come in and do my fair share of the job."

"Don't worry about it. I'm glad I could helpt. Now get out of my hair so I can get this done."

Joshua nodded, giving Shanna a hug before heading toward the front door. He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to walk off and leave her alone. But he had too. He hadn't told her about the haunting because he needed to know if he was crazy or not. He needed to know if she could see things too.

Hours later, Shanna is standing on a ladder, painting around the crownmolding, when she is overwhelmed with a deep sense of hurt and grief. As deep as one would feel when they hear that a close friend or relative has passed away. The feeling erupted out of thin air, taking over her body and all of her senses. She did not see the man behind her, as he passed from one wall into another. Shanna climbed down off of the ladder, sitting on the plastic covered sofa in the middle of the room.

As if on cue, the phone rang and she reached for the cordless. It was Joshua, calling to check on her, and he can tell that something is wrong.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm good. I think I just have a cold or something coming on," she says. She wasn't one to cry, she had no idea what was happening.

"Oh, well um, let me know if you need anything, okay?"

"Uh-huh," Shanna nodded. Then she hung up the phone and returned to her seat on the sofa. It would be another 20 minutes before she had the strength to finish.

Upstairs, in the office, she prepped the room for paint by spreading plastic over the floor boards. She had worked her way into a corner, pushing the plastic down, when she heard rustling behind her. She paused, waiting to hear it again, and when she heard nothing, she turned to look. Across the hall was the bathroom, and through the shower curtain she could see something in the tub. It was short, and brown.

Cautiously she crossed the hal and walked in to the bathroom, inching closer and closer until she could reach the shower curtain. Pulling it open, she found a towel hanging on a rack. She breathed, smiling with relief at her own jumping nerves. But then, the rustling of the plastic could be heard again. It was in the office, and sounded like someone was walking, slowly. The rustling moved closer, towards the office door, and she couldn't bring herself to look over and see what the cause of it was.

Overwhelmed with the feeling that she needed to leave, Shanna ran down the stairs and out the front door, locking it behind herself. What was going on?

~*~

The next weekend at lunch, a quiet and shaken Shanna raises her eyes to look across the table at Joshua.

"Something is wrong with your house," she blurts.

"Aw, really?" Josh leaned back in his chair. He doesn't seem at all shocked or surprised by the news.

"What happened?"

Shanna, still jittery from her experience, plays nervously with her coffee cup.

"When you called to see if I was alright, I wasn't." She paused to get a hold of herself. "I was fine, painting, and then I got this sense of sadness that I just couldn't get away from...."

For Josh it was deja vu. The exact same words Charlotte had spoken to him a year before.

"...Then I heard footsteps on the plastic, like someone else was there. I know no one was there, but at the same time, someone really was there. I know it sounds crazy... I think my brain is playing tricks on me."

"No," Josh leaned forward, "it isn't your mind playing tricks on you. Charlotte saw those things too. I saw those things too."

Shanna looked up at him, her mouth slightly a gape.

"You did? Why didn't you tell me?" She questioned.

As friends, she felt he should have told her before she ever set foot in the house.

"I should have. I'm sorry. Shan, I'm sorry. I had to know if it was just me. I had to know if Charlotte and I were just crazy. I'm sorry. I totally understand if you don't want to go back in the house."

"In a way, I do want to go back," she said, "but I don't want to go back alone." She wanted answers as much as he did. She wanted to know what was there, and why.

"Are you sure these people are legit?" Joshua questioned Shanna. They were gathered in the living room of the house, watching as the team around them began unpacking strange electronics.

"Well we're about to find out. All I told them on the phone was that we've experienced strange activity. Any other facts or visions they come up with, was completely on their own," Shanna whispered back.

"Not sure what's going on around here are you?" Stacey turned to the pair as her team set to work installing video equipment and motion detectors in various corners of the house.

"Not really," Josh shook his head. "I'm not sure I believe in all of this."

"Well, let me explain to you what we do. We specialize in gathering physical evidence of phenominas. Many pieces of evidence can easily be argued away by skeptics, so we like to come in and see if we can get actual undenyable proof, such as voice recordings or images on camera. This is Kyle Lumley, and he'll be documenting our entire investigation on camera." Stacey motioned to the tall blonde haired man next to her.

"Hi," Joshua shook the man's hand.

"And this over here is Regina Carrows. She's a sensitive."

"A sensitive?"

"I can sense people and things that have happened in the past, in certain locations. I guess the PC term would be spirits."

Joshua and Shanna exchanged a weery look.

"And the last member of my team is Phil Jacobson. His area of expertise is in flash photography and vocal recordings."

"Vocal recordings? Of what?"

"The spirits. It's a phenomina called EVP."

"I've heard of that," Shanna commented. "In a movie."

"Yeah, White Noise, with Michael Keeton." Phil nodded.

"You mean that stuff is real?"

"Absolutely. EVP can, and does, occur. But it should only be done by trained professionals like us."

Several minutes later, in the master bedroom, Regina prepares for recording the electronic voice phenominas on a small silver tape recorder. EVP by definition is when disembodied voices, or the voices of those no longer with us, imprint themselves on tape recordings. The voices can then be heard when the tape is played back.

Stacey pulls Shanna aside, and explains that whatever might be there, would most likely respond to her presence a second time. It would be a help to the team if she would agree to try to the EVP with Regina.

"Alright," she unnervingly agreed, "just don't leave me alone."

"Don't worry. Stay with Regina, she'll take good care of you."

In the meantime, Joshua is unexpectantly called to work. He didn't refuse the offer, because he needed the overtime to pay for his 'dreamhouse'. He also reasoned that most of the occurances hadn't happened while he was present, so maybe it was better for the investigtion if he left.

Back upstairs in the bedroom, Phil had finished setting up the cameras. He then heads outside to get extra tapes and take some still photos of the house's exterior, leaving Shanna and Regina alone. While he's gone, Regina begins to explain to Shanna how to draw EVP's from the spirits in the house.

"We're going to ask a series of questions, and when we play the tape back we might recieve specific answers. Understand?"

Shanna nodded. Her fear was evident in the jerky motion of her head.

"All right. Let's begin. Is there anyone in here who wants to talk?" Regina asked, turning toward the open room.

She paused for a moment, allowing time for any voices to answer.

"What is your name?"

"Are you sorry for scaring me?" Shanna asks.

"How long have you lived here?"

Outside the house, Phil is by the van, digging into a black bag searching for unused camcorder cassettes. A chill runs down his spine, pulling his attention and heightening his senses. After a moment he glances around, seeing no one. There's a dog barking in the distance, but nothing else seems out of place. After retrieving the tapes and sliding the van door closed, Phil turned back to the house, and is slightly startled to see a man standing on the lawn. He is tall, with dark hair, and is looking into the living room window of the house.

"Can I help you, sir?" Phil calls, thinking it is a nosy neighbor. "Can I help you, sir?"

The man turns to Phil, meerly glancing at him before turning his back and heading across the lawn to the neighbors driveway.

"Excuse me. Excuse me sir." Phil calls after him, following in the man's footsteps as he turns the corner and heads up the neighbors drive.

"Hey!" Phill called again, stepping on to the neighbors pavement. But when he looks down the driveway, there isn't a person in sight. Absolutely no one was there.

Upstairs inside the house, Regina and Shanna are continuing the EVP investigation, and both have taken a seat on the King sized bed.

"What do you want?" Regina asked.

Followed by Shanna's, "Why are you in this house?"

Everything around them remains still and silent.

"Are you angry? Are you a child?"

Behind them, the calm is broken by movement on the bed. Once again, as they had done before, the springs in the mattress contract and the blanket flattens. Startled, both Regina and Shanna jump to their feet and whirl around, looking back at the bed. Nothing seems out of place.

"Did you feel that?" Shanna asked. "It felt like a toddler, or something, climbing up on the bed."

Regina nods her head, her heart rate quickening.

"Are you a boy or a girl?" She asks. "How old are you?"

When the room remains still, Regina walks closer to the bed, and places her hands on the comforter as she closed her eyes. In her mind's eye, she can see the face of a little brown haired boy. The boy is smiling at her, happy to have someone focusing on him. Her eyes opened, and she stepped back, taking her place beside Shanna.

"If you're scared," she tells her, "you can go."

Shanna didn't have to be told twice. The woman grabbed her tape recorder and hurried from the room, down the stairs, to the lights in the living room.

Regina once again takes her seat on the bed, not fearing the little boy. But all to quickly, there is a rattling in the closet, and she turns to find that the knob is jiggling. The movement stops, and a brave Regina rises from the bed and slowly makes her way towards it. As her hand reaches out to touch the brass knob, it rattles again, as if locking. The movement stops Regina, and she is no longer brave. Perhaps if someone else had been in the room with her, she would have opened the door. But she was alone, and couldn't risk getting hurt.

Hurrying out of the room and down the stairs, she paused at the landing, the hairs on her body standing. There is the shadow of someone on the floor by the front door. Standing as still as can be, Regina watches as a tall slender man rounds the corner and stands at the base of the stairs, glancing up at her with little interest before continuing on his way into the kitchen.

Regina's mouth falls open, her hands gripping the railing. Suddenly she is overcome with the feeling that if she doesn't hang on, something is going to push her down the wooden steps.

"Who's there?" She asks. But in turn, she doesn't recieve a responce.

Regaining her courage, she makes her way down the last steps. Glancing toward the door, and then toward the kitchen, she repeats the question.

"Who is there?"

The house has gone quiet again, and all she can hear is the sound of her own breathing. Her eyes search the room, both hoping for and fearing any evidence that a spirit had been there. Out of nowhere, something touches her shoulder, and she whirls around with fright to find Shanna and Stacey.

"I had full contact," she blurts. "Full on contact."

"Where?"

"Here," she tells Stacey. "Right here."

Stacey moves infront of her, searching the room with her own eyes.

"What happened?" Phil asks, coming down the stairs with Kyle.

"I saw someone or something here."

"What did it look like?" Kyle questioned.

"Just a man. Jeans and a tee shirt."

"Did he have dark hair?" Phil frowned.

"Tall and thin?" Regina turned to him with curious eyes.

Her description fit that of the man he'd chased outside.

"I saw him too," Phil explains. "I thought he was a nosy neighbor, but when I went to go talk to him, he disappeared."

Kyle is intrigued. It was rare for two investigates to see the exact same thing at seperate places and times. Next, the investigotrs decide to try to get conclusive proof. Stacey and Kyle have become excited. They too wanted to see and experience the paranormal activity, and prove to none believes that sprirts exsist.

Kyle is in the living room, setting up a camera to point towards the large mirror above the fireplace. Ghosts can typically be seen in the reflection, standing behind living beings, watching them with interest or jealousy. Kyle is looking down at the top of the camera, double checking the settings. He lifts his head, looking into the mirror, and his eyes land on the window behind him. There is something there, and instinctively his finger pressed down on the button, taking the picture. Almost immediately, the image disappeared and the window was clear. Kyle got the distinct impression that whatever it was, it was unhappy with his being there.

The team works all through the night, and packs up their gear in the morning. They must sort through all of their evidence before they decide who or what is in the house.

"How did it go?" Joshua asks, coming to stand on the porch with everyone else. He'd been at work the entire and had only returned home a few minutes prior.

Shanna meery sucks in a shaky breath and wraps her arms around herself. She didn't look comfortable or well at all.

"We got a lot of evidence," Stacey explains. "It will probably take a few days."

"You know where to find me," Josh nods.

"We'll get back with you."

A few days later, the team gathered at Stacey's house to review and analyze the evidence they collected at Joshua's. They begin with the photo Kyle took of the window. Clearly visible was the image of a tall slender dark haired man, wearing a white teeshirt and jeans, looking in on Kyle from outside. His face was blurry and stretched. There was no denying it was a ghost, caught on film.

The team also makes a second disturbing discovery. Regina is sitting at the laptop computer set up on Stacey's diningroom table. She has been reviewing the various EVP recordings, and sudeenly her face goes blank.

"Stacey," she says, "they answered us."

Taking off the headphones and handing them to Stacey, Regina rewinds the tape and replays it for her.

"Replay it and increase the volume 200%." Stacey instructed, straining her ears to hear the voice. It sounded as if something was saying, "Leave me."

Regina replayed the tape several times, eventually increasing the volume to 800%. Finally the voice can be heard. It was faint, and didn't sound human.

"Are you sorry for scaring me?" Shanna's voice was asking.

"Noooo..." came the demonic responce. "Nooo....."

Hours later, at Joshua's house, the phone rings, pulling him from his work on his computer.

"Hello?"

"Joshua? It's Stacey."

"Hi. What's going on? Did you find anything?" He hasn't spoken to her since they left his home the week before.

"We did," Stacey replys. "Josh, I've never admitted this to a client before, but I believe you have a genuine, undenyable haunting happening in your house."

Joshua is troubled by the news, but takes it all in stride. He has suspected it all along. Stacey informs him that she has emailed the photos and EVP's to him, and he hangs up the phone after promising to take a look. When he logs in to his email account, the files are there, and he opens the first vocal recording.

"Is there anyone in here that wants to talk?" Regina is asking. "What is your name?"

A few moments of static and silence go by, but he still has not heard the voice Stacey spoke of.

"What do you want?" Regina asks.

Then the silence is broken by a deep whisper.

"Let me out... let me out."

"Are you sorry for scaring me?" Shanna asks.

"Nooo..." came the voice again. "Noooo."

Joshua is startled, and can't believe his ears. He replays the recording, listening to the voice again. It was hollow, and haunting. Confused, Joshua opened the jpeg file and printed the picture. It is the photography taken by Kyle and he can clearly see the man in the window. Joshua is overwhelmed, his worst nightmare and biggest speculation having come true. It was the final nail in the coffin, and he knew now that he needed to get away from the house.

In the mist of this, a voice is heard, and Joshua becomes frozen with fear. He hoped it was another one of the recordings beginning to play, but he hand't downloaded anything else yet. Infact, the screensaver on his laptop had come on.

"You shouldn't be here..." the voice was whispering.

All the hairs on the left side of his body stood, as if the owner of the voice was standing right there, whispering into his ear. Then the voice shifted, and he heard it on his right side.

"This is mine."

Joshua closed his eyes, moving away from his spot in the office and into the hallway. He looked around, the whispering having stopped. He could not see the tall dark haired man who'd followed him out of his office and now stood behind him. He could not see it when the man in the jeans and teeshirt reached for him, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and slamming him against the wall on his left.

Joshua was startled, and paralyzed with fear. He tried pushing against the wall, but whatever was behind him was stronger than he was. He was pinned there, against the wall for several moment before the pressure against him disappeared, and he was let go. He turned, his mouth open and breathing eccellorated. Before he could think, he felt something grab a hold of him again, this time lifting him into the air so his feet no longer touched the ground, and slammed him into the wall on his right. Josh pushed as hard as he could, but again the pressure was too great.

Then, as quickly as it had come, it disappeared, and Josh fell to the ground. He scurried to his feet, not pausing to look around and attempt to find the cause of the occurance. He hurried down the stairs, grabbed his keys off of the foyer table, and ran out the door. He caught a glimpse of the pile of mail laying on the ground when he turned to close and lock the door behind him.

Josh returned to the house days later, only to pack and move out. He rented a small apartment on the otherside of town while he waited to hear about a transfer to a new city.

The experience, has changed him forever. He is no longer a skeptic in the area of paranormal activity. He is certain that there are things, walking and living among us, on a plane that we can not see. He is disturbed by the unexplained picture, recordings, and sightings of a little boy eager for attention. But what haunts him most is not knowing why Shanna and Charlotte were overwhelmed by such strong feelings of sorrow. He has a theory that there was a woman spirit there as well, the wife of the strange man and mother of the silent son. Maybe the whole family was there, replaying the last tramatic events of their short lives.

Shortly after moving out, Josh put the house on the market, and within weeks it is sold to a family of four. Within six months, the house is placed on the market again and the family moves out of town. It is then sold to a single Mom, who soon leaves too.

To this day, what happened in that house remains a mystery.