An Accidental Ghost Hunt at the Stanley Hotel

Over the summer, we had the chance to visit some good friends in Colorado. Our trip was planned around a concert at Red Rocks, and my birthday happened to fall on the first day of our mini-getaway. As a surprise, my dear friend (who knows me well) booked us a night at the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado. The best part? My husband thought he was agreeing to me going for a girls' night...he had no idea he'd actually have to stay there too. Or he probably would have said no. 

We arrived in the afternoon and enjoyed the chance to wander around. To my husband's dismay, my friend told the staff that I wrote ghost stories, and requested that we get one of the more notoriously haunted rooms. 

Our night included the evening ghost tour and the history was fascinating. Our tour guide was great, we heard about plenty of sightings and he showed us a number of ghostly photos. I rolled my eyes a little at the photos. Looking at photos of phantoms is a little tough if it's someone else's photo, photoshop is just too easy.  

He also led paranormal investigations, and talked about some of the happenings from their ghost hunts. I have to admit, a ghost hunt at the Stanley Hotel would be pretty awesome. I refrained from mentioning anything about having any experience with paranormal investigations. 

We went down into a room in the basement. It was a crowded tour, so the seats filled up quickly and I was left, standing by the door. He tuned down the lights, and told us the story of a runaway, who was discovered squatting in the basement back in the 70's. She was 21 years old, and caught by security guards twice.  The second time, efforts were made to further secure the building so she couldn't get back in. She was later found, frozen to death behind the local grocery store. Her name was Lucy. (Is it just me, or are a lot of ghosts named Lucy?) We were in the room where she was found, and supposedly, she liked to come back for visits.

He turned off the light, and our tour turned into a little taste of a ghost hunt. At this point, I was even more glad I hadn't told him I was part of a paranormal investigative team. He asked Lucy if she was there, and to give us a sign if she could. The door next to me, swung slowly to a close. He explained that a television team had been in for an investigation, and had gotten a lot of activity in the basement with a spirit named Lucy. The footage was never used for the show, but research confirmed the details of the squatter and the death behind the grocery store. And now, when he gave tours, she would often show up to shut the door. 

As he was talking, he opened the door and asked her to close it again. She (or something) did. This happened a few times, but I realized he wasn't pulling the door open all of the way. Our guide moved across the room, and when the door shut again, I asked if I could be the one to open the door. Thinking like one of the more skeptical members of my investigative team, I wanted to make sure the door wasn't just shutting by itself because it was an old building. I pushed the door all the way to the wall, and as I did, it caught on the uneven carpet, that our tour guide might have been avoiding by not opening it all of the way. I thought to myself, if the door shuts now, I'll believe it was Lucy because there wasn't any way it could have shut on its own, now that it was behind the uneven chunk of carpet. 

He talked again to Lucy, and asked her to shut the door. This time, the door gave a few squeaks. It seemed stuck on the uneven carpet. I felt bad. I'd made it too hard for her to shut the door. In my head, I told her I was sorry and encouraged her to push it really hard. A rush of cold air swept past my side. (The side closest to the door.) Our tour guide started talking about other things, and it was clear that we'd soon be moving on. But before we did, the door shut one last time. And as it did, a thought popped into my head. Lucy wanted me to tell the tour guide that the reason she kept coming back, was because she'd run away from abuse, and that room in the basement was the one place in her life where she'd felt safe. She also liked that he talked about her on the tours. Random, I know. But I figured, it wouldn't hurt anyone or anything for me to mention it (aside from me feeling a little silly bringing it up). But maybe the abuse part was something he could verify? In any event, I left feeling like I got to meet one of the spirits who haunt the infamous Stanley Hotel.  

The Palmer House: A Ghost Named Raymond

Of course my post today has to be about the Palmer House! One week from today, Ghost Stories Ink will be there with a group for an almost sold-out event. (Want to keep track of our upcoming events? Find out more here: Ghost Stories Ink Events.)

The Palmer House has been in operation as a hotel for more than 100 years. It has been featured on Ghost Adventures on the Travel Channel, and will even be one of their Halloween episodes tomorrow! (Saturday, Oct. 31 at 6c)  Earlier this month, it was also voted the country's "Best Haunted Hotel" by U.S.A. Today. 

It's an easy place to investigate - there are so many stories about the spirits, and a lot of information about who haunts where within the hotel. A lot of psychics have been through, and every visit or investigation seems to add another piece to the puzzle. 



One thing we knew, was that Raymond, Lucy and "Annie" all seem to have their own rooms. Information like this helps. If you've never been on an investigation before, it's a lot of sitting around in the dark, talking to the air, waiting for something to happen. It helps A LOT to have a name. 

My group was in Raymond's room. I am pretty inept when it comes to the equipment. I can barely handle being in charge of a walkie-talkie, and I'm satisfied when a flashlight turns on in an intelligent response to a question, as "proof" that something is there. But we had the other tools too, an EMF meter, temperature gauge, an EVP recorder and a spirit box (that gives me a headache so I never use it if I can help it). 

From what we knew about Raymond, back in his day, he was a pimp. His prostitute (and girlfriend) was Lucy. They lived at the hotel, and Lucy was killed, possibly by Raymond (I don't remember the story).  What I do remember, is that when we sat in the room, saying all of this into the air with the hopes that Raymond would turn on a flashlight or an EMF meter, or speak into our EVP recorder, nothing happened. No lights flashed on our equipment, and no flashlights turned on by themselves.  

But the more questions we asked, the more my own emotions began to change. Sometimes, the best ghost hunting tools are our own senses. The prickles along the back of a neck, or the chills from a drastic temperature dip. A lot of us are more psychically sensitive than we give ourselves credit. It's not unusual for someone in the room to start feeling a certain way, for no reason. (My favorite is when this happens to the person who is the most skeptical).

But in this case, it was me, and I was feeling anger. Anger I knew, wasn't my own. The more questions that we asked about Raymond's shady past, the more the anger grew. Ready to curb that anger, I said out loud, "I feel like maybe Raymond doesn't want us to talk about that. Maybe, Raymond wants to be remembered for something other than the bad choices he made in his difficult life."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, the LED flashlight on the bed turned on, as strong as I'd ever seen it. After that, Raymond cooperated and we proceeded to ask him more questions. The flashlight turned off and on in response, until it was pretty clear his energy was fading.

So if you ever stay at the Palmer House in Sauk Center Minnesota, and if you find yourself staying in Raymond's room. Maybe...make sure you don't talk about him being a pimp and killing his girlfriend. 

Dead Man Watching

Last weekend, Ghost Stories Ink had the chance to be on a paranormal panel at Crypticon, Minneapolis. Each of us were asked to tell a ghost story, and this is the story I shared:

Through college, I spent my summers waitressing. One summer, I worked at an old, supper-club-style restaurant named T. Wrights, they were especially known for their prime rib. (My personal favorite was the prime rib, grilled cheese sandwich.) But the restaurant has since been demolished and replaced by a health club. 

Because I was working every Friday and Saturday night (or, any nightshift I could find), my job doubled as my social life.  Nights, I worked in the "saloon" (yes, they really called it that) and days, I worked the lunch shift in the dining room. It was there that I learned how to quickly and efficiently, open a bottle of wine, a skill that has served me well. Only the most experienced waitresses were allowed in the dining room at night. Despite my wine-opening skills, that wasn't me. While the dining room might have been more lucrative, the bar shifts were much more fun.

The staff bonded, and like anywhere, had its own internal hierarchy. The bartenders and evening shift dining room waitresses were at the top. Lower on the list were the bar waitresses and cooks, with the bus boys and dishwashers bringing up the rear. However, no matter where we fell on that list, we worked hard and had fun. It was a huge kitchen, with lots of cooks. Most of them had a crazy sense of humor. It got hot, so they usually wore vintage polyester pants of some sort, it was the only fabric (at the time) that wicked away the sweat and was fire retardant. My friend Phil, wore these crazy black and white checkered pants, night after night. And when anyone teased him about them, it only made him want to wear them more.

One beautiful summer night, after close, we were sitting at the bar. Phil and one of the other cooks, decided they were going to continue their night on Lake Minnetonka in a canoe with a six-pack of beer. The rest of us opted to go home. 

The next morning, I was driving to work for my dayshift, and my route around the lake was detoured because of emergency vehicles. I later learned, they were dredging the lake. When I got to work, everyone was talking about how Phil stood up in the canoe and it tipped. His buddy made it back to shore, but Phil couldn't swim. It took them three days to find his body.

Restaurant life stopped and we all attended the funeral. A few days later, things were returning to normal. It was one of our busiest nights of the summer season. I was thinking about a million things I need for my tables, and I was really annoyed, because I had to stop and make an entire round of hot fudge sundaes for one of them. To add to the frustration, the ice cream was rock hard. Exasperated, I stopped and looked up. For some reason, I looked to the end of the kitchen, where the bar waitresses came and went from the saloon. And there, standing with his arms crossed and a big grin on his face, wearing his crazy black and white pants, was my friend Phil. 

I went back to digging out ice cream, wondering why Phil was standing on the waitress side, and not behind the grill. I froze when I remembered he was dead. I looked up again, but he was gone. If I had to guess, I think he was just stopping by to say goodbye. 

Welcome!

About a year ago, in a strange instance of life imitating one's art, I  joined Ghost Stories Ink. GSI was founded by Jessica Freeburg and is a group of authors and illustrators that moonlight as ghost hunters, searching for creative inspiration.

Over this last year, I've met other paranormal groups and realized, there are a lot of good ghost stories, waiting to be told.

Some ghost hunters are out there looking for evidence and proof that spirits exist. I already believe in ghosts (when you see one, it's sort of easier to believe in them). But I'm also an intuitive soul and I just know they are there, the way I know certain things - like when to slow down so I don't get a speeding ticket.

When I go on a ghost hunt, I'm not looking for proof as much as I am looking for their stories. Why are they haunting what they are haunting? Why did they stay behind? Do they know what's going on? What does the world look like from their spectral perspective? I don't know if I have any answers. But I do know, that the more I participate in paranormal investigations, the more compelled I am to share some of the stories.

I wasn't exactly sure how to do it, until now. Welcome to my new blog, Ghost Story Girl! Here, I will share some of my personal ghost stories, and I will invite others to do the same.

I can't think of a better week to start, than the one leading up to Halloween! I will countdown the rest of this week with a few stories, including the one I told on the Crypticon paranormal panel this past weekend. I will save the story from my night in the Stanley Hotel for Halloween.

There will, of course, be more to come after that...

I hope you enjoy them!