Although there have been some new tools used in the last century to investigate the spirit world, they are all speculative in their ability to actually detect ghosts. One of the newer tools, for example, is the phasm light, combining high-intensity lighting with sensors to detect light intensity changes or movement, useful in dark environments for spotting anomalies. Although these devices can detect anomalies, whether these anomalies are ghosts or not remains the question.

                                                                                      ***
Driving my pickup, I wound my way past the weed patches, junk piles, and a few scattered trees. The schoolhouse itself was at the end of a gravel road bordered by farmland. It was a story and a half structure with steps in the center leading up to the double doors and the main floor. Tall, narrow windows faced out from the main floor, and shorter windows below indicated a partial basement. There was still a flagpole, minus a flag, and a cement sidewalk leading up to the front door. The first thing I noticed was that most of the windows were intact, probably due to the remoteness of the building. The schoolhouse itself was made of block and concrete, typical of rural schools built in the 1930s and 40’s.

I was obviously the first one to arrive, as no other cars were around. At least, I was the first non-ghost on the scene. I parked the pickup and got out, intending to walk around the outside of the building to get an idea of the size and layout. But before I could make my inspection, two cars pulled up and eight of my fellow investigators got out. I meandered over to the circle of people that had formed as the leader was outlining the night ahead.
“Some people have heard the sound of children, and there is the form of an older woman that has been seen. The woman is said to be a lunch lady who died when one of the students hurled his meatloaf at her. We assume the metal tray killed her – not the meatloaf.”

“Excuse me,” I interrupted. I knew I should just be quiet and keep a low profile since the leader had emphasized on many occasions that I was still ‘on probation.’ Unfortunately, quiet has never been my trademark. “Shouldn’t we go into this with as little information as possible so as not to prejudice our findings? Remember what I said at the meeting about apophenia?”

I heard a moan. I thought maybe it might have come from the schoolhouse, but deep down, I knew it was a collective moan from the rest of the investigators. Undaunted, I continued, “Telling us what to expect is more likely to make us think a creaking board is a spirit child laughing.”

Before I could dig myself deeper, another car drove up. It was Jen. She got out and said, “I brought my dog to see if she can detect ghosts.”

I almost couldn’t speak. Someone had not only listened to my suggestion but had acted on it! But when I looked in the car, there was no dog. “This wouldn’t be a ‘ghost’ dog, would it?” I asked hesitantly.
Jen gave me ‘the look’ and opened the back door of her car. A Chihuahua bounded out and ran to Jen’s side, glowering and growling at me.

Looking incredulous, I said, “It’s a Chihuahua.”

“Dang!” Jen said, “At the kennel, they told me it was a Doberman!”

Picking up the sarcasm from the tone in her voice, I decided it would be foolish to continue this conversation.
The small dog ran over to the group, and several people squatted down to pet the little guy that was now wagging its tail and greeting everyone.

Approaching the group and picking up her dog, Jen said, “This is Daisy. She is eight years old and loves people – and ghosts.”

As I approached and reached over to pet Daisy, there was a low growl.

“MOST people,” Jen corrected.

I pulled my hand back, not wishing to test the theory that a Chihuahua could not bite off a whole finger.

“Okay,” the leader said, “Jen and Daisy, you and Michael, you are a team. Jim said he will be a little late, so he can join you when he gets here. You can start in the subbasement rooms.”

Even in the growing dusk, I thought I saw a rather evil smile on the leader’s face as she gave out assignments. Jen clipped a leash on her Doberman as she put her down. Daisy looked up at me and growled. With a deep sigh, I tried to sound light-hearted, “Okay, folk, let’s get our equipment and get to hunting wabbit...” The look Jen gave me killed my Elmer Fudd impression. Her dog growled at me.
***
The stairs going down to the partial basement were on either side of those going up to the main floor. We avoided the plaster that had fallen from the ceiling as we picked our way down the steps. There was some graffiti on the walls, but not a lot, I assume again, because of the remote location. At the bottom of the stairs was a doorway into a large room.

Entering the room, our shoes crunched on the plaster and debris on the floor as we scanned the area with our flashlights. A couple of broken tables and a few chairs were scattered about, and on the far side was a wall was a wide opening halfway up. I assumed that beyond that wall was the kitchen, and the opening was where the meatloaf was served to the unsuspecting students.

​

I thought about my school lunch days and shuddered. There was one meal I will never forget. It was macaroni, which was okay, but the sauce was what burned it into my memory. It was a mystery sauce, with some type of meat and tomatoes. But I could have sworn that all the lunch people smoked cigarettes and tapped the ashes into the sauce. The amazing thing was, years later, when I saw a fellow student, I described it to him and he knew immediately what I was talking about.

​

Jen nudged me and told me we needed to set up the camera and recorder. As we were getting the equipment out of the bags, Jen took the leash off of Daisy. She bent down and flipped on a small round light attached to the dog’s collar and let her go to snoop around the cafeteria and hopefully detect any stray ghosts.

We had the camera set up and tested, and a couple of voice recorders going when Jim came scuffling down the stairs. “Hi, guys. They told me on the main floor that I was supposed to be hunting with you tonight. “Say,” he said, playing his flashlight over the area, “this looks like a lunchroom. They told me one of the ghosts at this old school was a lunch lady. You suppose we’ll see her tonight!”

​

Daisy had gone off and was behind one of the overturned tables. Before we had a chance to tell Jim about Daisy, there was a rustling behind the table. The small light on the dog's collar cast a shadow that streaked across the back wall.

​

“OH MY GOD!” Jim exclaimed. “IT’S THE LUNCH LADY!” More rustling. “This is FREAKING me out!” The table toppled with a bang, and before the dust settled, Jim was nowhere to be seen.

“I'd better go find him,” Jen said, “and tell him about Daisy.”

​

 “Wait a minute, and let’s think about this. Jim might have seen a ghost. It might not have been your dog.” Jen gave me a disbelieving look. “I really think a dog could be a better detector of spirits than a lot of the electronic gadgets we use. If we tell them that Daisy frightened the crap out of Jim, they may not let us bring her again.”

“I have to tell them,” Jen said, “or they will think Jim is crazy.”

​

“Okay, tell me what the downside of that would be. All right, I suppose you are right. But it makes me wonder, why would someone afraid of ghosts... become a ghost hunter?”

​

People who hunt for ghosts often have an approach/avoidance response. It involves our fundamental fascination with the unknown, but also our fears. All of the horror movies, television shows, and, yes, books, play in our minds to stoke up those fears. The practices of hunting for ghosts at night, in the dark, and often in spooky places don’t help to calm those fears. The question becomes, do we really want to face a spirit?