She didn’t need the heat cam or laser grids or infrared motion sensor. And while they bungled around the dark room, poking and prodding with their gear and gadgets, eager to catch some ghouls, all Barbara had to do was look at listen. They leaned on a big wooden table, and while our eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, the three of us listened as everyone else cased the joint like exterminators-they were there for the thrill of the chase, to play with their equipment and to catch the ghosts in the act. The group dispersed into the darkened room immediately, but Barbara and Steve hung back. Barbara swung left and guided us into what was the auditorium, but with the lights out, it was a vast and airy obscurity, as if we’d entered a black hole. Blindly, we rubbed the walls beside us with our hands, feeling our way up the stairs with our fingers until we reached the second floor. Mira Ptacin reads from her memoir The In-Betweens: The Spiritualists, Mediums, and Legends of Camp Etna, published in October by Liveright.Ĭautiously, Barbara led us up the darkened stairwell.
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