Deep in the rolling hills of rural Pennsylvania, where the Appalachian Mountains cast long shadows over forgotten valleys, stood an abandoned farmhouse that time had seemingly forgotten. Built over 250 years ago during the colonial era, the house was a relic of America’s early settlers—a sturdy wooden structure with weathered clapboards and a sagging roof. Inside, it was a time capsule, frozen in the 1980s, with every belonging left behind as if the family had vanished overnight. No records explained their disappearance, and locals whispered stories of curses, drownings, and restless spirits. For paranormal investigators Jake Harlan and his partner Mara Reyes, this was the perfect spot to uncover the mysteries of the past and perhaps help trapped souls find peace.
Jake and Mara arrived at dusk, the gravel road crunching under their tires as they parked near the overgrown fields. The farmhouse loomed ahead, its windows boarded up, vines choking the porch. “This place gives me the creeps,” Mara said, unloading their gear—EMF meters, spirit boxes, EVP recorders, and a Rem Pod. “Built in the 1700s, abandoned in the 1980s. Family just up and left everything.” Jake nodded, flipping on his flashlight. “No bodies, no explanations. Let’s see who’s still home.”
They pushed through the creaky front door, the air thick with dust and decay. The living room was a snapshot of the 1980s: an old TV, vinyl records on a player, Welsh dragons (oddly out of place, perhaps from a traveler), and a child’s jacket hanging on the wall. “Hello,” Jake called, activating the spirit box. It crackled to life: “Cool… cool.” The K2 meter spiked immediately. “Something’s here,” Mara whispered.
As they explored, voices echoed—disembodied whispers that couldn’t be explained. “I shouldn’t be dead,” the spirit box spat out. “Why shouldn’t you be dead?” Jake asked. “Did you pass away suddenly?” The device responded: “Hurting.” Mara felt a chill. “Are you in pain?” They moved to the kitchen, where a thud sounded from behind a boarded-up door. “There’s somebody in there,” Jake said. They opened it cautiously—nothing but an empty pantry. But the spirit box said “Lisa… Eliza.”
Upstairs, the tiny stairs creaked underfoot. “Natalie,” the device added. The bedrooms were filled with children’s items: dolls, comics, jackets. “All girls’ stuff,” Mara noted. “Burden,” the spirit box said. “You feel like a burden?” Jake asked. “Get out and leave,” it replied. “Why don’t you want us here?” They found a newspaper from 1980, a Blue Peter badge (another odd British relic), and more toys. “Scared… can’t breathe,” the box continued. “Did you drown?” Mara suggested. “I’m around the water.”
In the children’s room, the Rem Pod lit up on a chair. “Stuck here,” it beeped. “You’d like to leave?” Jake asked. The device activated again. “You can’t hide from your past.” They heard a giggle, then a knock. “Is there a child here?” Mara asked. The spirit box: “Win.” “Welsh name,” Jake noted. “But we’re in Pennsylvania.”
They set up EVP sessions. “Can you tell us your name?” Jake asked into the recorder. A faint voice: “Hannah.” Another: “Nicholas.” Knocks echoed. “Did somebody drown on this land?” Jake probed. The spirit box: “Pool… scared.” “Maybe a pond nearby,” Mara said. They heard whispers: “Leave… misery.” A moan, like a cry. “Whatever’s here,” Jake said.
Downstairs, they tried again. “Would you like to move on?” “Oblivion,” the box said. “Is that how it feels?” Upstairs, more activity: “600 years ago.” “Impossible,” Mara muttered. The Rem Pod went off near toys. “Your favorite toy?” Jake asked. It beeped. “I’m upset.” “Why?” “Drowning facts.”
They brought out more devices: a dead bell, music box, and additional Rem Pods. The bell rang on command. “Thank you,” Jake said. “Who’s communicating?” “Dog,” the box said. “Pay attention.” Two taps. “Is there more than one spirit?” “Yes.” “Empowerment… misery.” “Would you like to leave?” The bell rang. “Hiding here.” “From what?” “Something bad.”
A cry echoed. “Celebrate,” the box said. “Name… Katie.” “Is this Katie?” The bell rang. “Press if it’s Katie.” It did. “Intelligent,” Mara said. “Definitely a child.” They heard footsteps downstairs. “Man’s voice,” Jake noted. “The farmer?” The box: “Jesus… demonic.” “Is there something malevolent?” “Whatever’s here.”
The lights on their devices flickered. Mara’s battery died suddenly. “Using energy,” Jake said. They tried to help the spirit move on. “If you’d like to leave, use our energy.” The bell rang. “You want to move on?” “Quiet.” “Are you alone?” No response. As they prepared to leave, the spirit box said “Dog” again, and taps confirmed.
Outside, they reflected. “This house is haunted by children, maybe drowned, and something darker,” Jake said. “We helped one move on, I hope.” The farmhouse stood silent, its secrets lingering in the Pennsylvania hills.
