In rural Pennsylvania, Elmwood Manor was rumored to be filled with cursed artifacts and restless spirits. For investigators Jake, Mara, and Phil, it was the ultimate paranormal test.
In the rolling hills of rural Pennsylvania, where the echoes of colonial history lingered in the air, stood Elmwood Manor. Built in the mid-19th century as a grand estate for a prominent Dutch-American family, the house had seen its share of secrets. The Van der Waals, as they were known, had amassed wealth through farming and trade, owning vast acres of land that stretched to the nearby woods. The last resident, Miss Eliza Van der Waals, had passed away in 1988, leaving behind a legacy of eccentricity. She was rumored to have dabbled in the occult, hosting séances and collecting artifacts from around the world. Among her prized possessions was a dresser once owned by the infamous occultist Aleister Crowley, brought over from London and said to be cursed. Locals whispered of portals in the house, Indian burial grounds nearby, and spirits that refused to rest. For paranormal investigators Jake Harlan, his wife Mara, and their friend Phil, this was the ultimate challenge—a house where the living and the dead seemed to coexist.
Jake, Mara, and Phil arrived at Elmwood Manor on a crisp autumn evening, the sun dipping below the horizon and casting long shadows across the overgrown grounds. The house loomed like a relic from another era, its Victorian facade weathered by time, vines creeping up the walls. “This place gives me chills,” Mara said, adjusting her camera. “I heard it’s one of the most haunted in the state.” Phil nodded, setting up his EMF meter. “Miss Eliza was into some weird stuff—psychics, séances. And that dresser from Crowley? Supposedly brings bad luck.” Jake grinned. “Let’s find out.”
They were greeted by the current owner, Julia, a local woman who had bought the house nearly two decades ago. “I didn’t believe in ghosts until I moved in,” she explained, leading them through the foyer. “Kids were little, and I heard footsteps, coughing—like a man’s voice. Then, one night, I saw an apparition: a young black man in old clothes, scared as hell. He vanished, but I felt like he was more afraid of me.” The group exchanged glances. Julia continued, “Eliza traveled to England, brought back spirits. There’s a ghost dog, too—her poodle, Fifi, that curls up on the bed. And portals? Who knows. But the land’s old; there might be Indian burial grounds nearby.”
As they toured, the temperature spiked inexplicably. “60 degrees,” Jake noted, then “66… 666!” The thermometer read 666, sending a shiver through the group. “That’s not a coincidence,” Mara whispered. In the master bedroom, where Eliza’s bed once stood, Julia shared stories of the levitating bed and aggressive spirits that pushed people. “One woman got thrown across the room,” she said. Doors slammed, books flew off shelves, and apparitions appeared.
The investigators set up in the library, once Eliza’s reading room. Jake placed a Rem Pod on a chair, and it immediately lit up. “Make it stop,” he commanded, and it did. “Start again,” and it obeyed. “This is insane,” Phil said. The Ovilus device spat out words: “Purgatory… Ed.” “Ed Warren?” Jake wondered, referencing the famous demonologists. The EMF spiked to red. “Who’s Ed?” Mara asked. “Maybe a spirit from the past.”
Moving to the doll room, filled with creepy figures, the Rem Pod went off again. “Robert the Doll?” Phil joked, but the device responded. On the Ovilus: “Robert… yes.” A child’s voice echoed: “Hi.” “Children are here,” Mara said. The SLS camera picked up figures—a small one on a chair, reaching for the Rem Pod. “Little guy, touch it,” Jake urged. It lit up. “Thank you.” Another figure appeared, adult-sized, then a giant one. “7-foot guy,” Phil noted. “Julia mentioned a tall spirit.”
In the basement, where a witch-like figure was seen—a woman with a crooked neck—activity ramped up. Kids’ drawings depicted her, and the Ovilus said “witch.” “Sheba?” Jake asked, but no response. Footsteps echoed, and a thud sounded. “Someone’s here,” Mara said. The Rem Pod spiked. “Oxygen… drunk.” “Maybe a spirit who died drunk,” Phil suggested. The barn outside, where a man stumbled in and died, also showed activity. Jake got touched on the leg. “Something poked me,” he said. “Hard.”
Back inside, the Ouija board lit up, and the Rem Pod went off. “Murder… affair,” the Ovilus said. “Eliza’s husband died suspiciously,” Julia recalled. In the attic, a caged area for science experiments held eerie vibes. “Toxic,” the device said. “Maybe chemicals.” The group heard voices: “Leave… angry.” A male voice: “I want you out.” “Religious school vibes,” Jake noted, though it was a private home.
The temperature hit 666 again on the levitating bed. “Are you 666?” Mara asked. Voices whispered, and the Necrophonic app captured: “10… four… Jeff Grace.” “Names,” Phil said. “Lady Cla… Nikki.” Figures appeared on SLS: children, adults. “Can you touch Mara?” Jake asked. A cold spot formed. “Feel it,” he said. The Rem Pod obeyed commands, stopping and starting on cue.
In the barn, the Ovilus said “priest… drunk.” “A priest died here?” Mara wondered. The Rem Pod went off remotely. “50 spirits,” it seemed to say. EVP captured whispers: “Who… touch.” The group felt watched.
Returning to the house, the activity peaked. “How many?” “10.” “Males?” “Four.” “Say my name,” Phil said. “Phil.” “Witch?” “Yes.” “Stop?” “Stop.” They obliged, but the Rem Pod flared. “Tell me who.” “Tell me who.” Figures loomed—giant and small. “Knock the pin,” Jake urged. It wobbled. Chairs activated devices. “Something about chairs,” Mara noted.
As night fell, the group wrapped up. “This house is alive,” Jake said. Elmwood Manor held its secrets: Eliza’s occult ties, buried histories, and restless spirits. The investigators left, haunted by the echoes, knowing some places defied explanation.
