It was exactly 11.23 p.m. The air in Perth Amboy, New Jersey was thick with the damp, salty

breath of the Raritan Bay. It was a late October night and an experienced paranormal investigator named

Arthur was walking the perimeter of a massive imposing four-story brick mansion at 149 Kearney Avenue.

Arthur had spent 36 years chasing things that go bump in the night. He was not a man who was

easily rattled. He knew the building was closed. He knew the heavy Georgian doors were locked

tight for the night. He was just looking for a cool photo a baseline

emf reading and maybe a chill up his spine to write home about but as arthur rounded the front corner

of the mansion the heavy silence of the night was broken by a sound that made his stomach drop the front door

the massive historic timber door that had been shut by the museum staff hours ago,

was now standing slightly ajar, just a crack.

A sliver of absolute velvety blackness spilled out from the interior of the mansion and onto the stone steps.

Now, if that was me, and I saw a reputedly haunted, locked colonial mansion door swing slowly open

at right around midnight, I'd probably do the sensible thing.

I would turn right around, walk back to my car swiftly, drive to the nearest diner, order

a massive plate of disco fries, and probably a couple of cocktails.

But Arthur had 36 years of ghost hunting experience, telling him to do the exact opposite.

You're a fool, Arthur, you're fool.

He gripped his flashlight, he took a breath, and he stepped through the threshold.

The interior of the house was freezing.

The air didn't just feel cold.

It felt old.

Tasting of dust, dry rot, and a strange, faint hint of burnt wood.

...