I have a confession to make: I have an evil twin.
Yep, just like in soap operas. There’s always a good twin, and then there’s the evil one who interferes in the good twin’s life.
Long ago, my parents and I recognized the existence of my doppelganger, Amy — I did receive her mail, after all — and, over the years, her presence has become a running joke in my family.
Well, this weekend, I met her.
My husband and I attended a ghost hunt sponsored by Spiritual Insight Ghost Hunting Team of Ohio (S.I.G.H.T.). The hunt was at Quail Hollow Manor, a beautiful, 40-room estate set on the rolling hills of Hartville’s Quail Hollow State Park.
Now, I should explain: This was our first time attending one of these things. My husband is the family skeptic, and I tend to be more open to things of the supernatural realm, but we figured it was a bucket list item: Hunted for ghosts? Check.
About 30 participants met in the manor’s library. Some were newbies, others were wide-eyed fans of TV’s ghost-hunting shows and others were hard-core hunters — with full-spectrum cameras, infrared flashlights and other paranormal paraphernalia.
The three-hour program began with a lecture by a local author who says ghosts are people too, just forms of energy, and we shouldn’t be fearful of them but, instead, communicate in a helpful and compassionate way.
OK, I get that. I glance at my husband, who looks at me and rolls his eyes.
After a demonstration of high-tech ways to communicate with ghosts (using electromagnetic field readers, radios that sweep the AM/FM bands to capture voices a.k.a. ghost boxes, and tape recorders to save these conversations for future study), as well as old-school techniques (like dowsing rods), we took a 10-minute break.
The men wandered the halls, and the women, of course, headed for the restroom. Waiting in line, I had the oddest feeling, like someone running their fingers through the back of my hair. It felt cold and electric — not threatening, just … interested. And then it was my turn to go, so I did.
Back in the library, I told my husband, and he said it was a draft from an old window. (Gotta love this man, my Voice of Reason.)
After the break, one of S.I.G.H.T’s leaders — a woman who’s a psychic — explained that a spirit’s touch is cold and electric. My husband and I exchanged looks. I told the woman about my experience, and she said a spirit may have been trying to communicate with me.
Next, we were set free in the manor. Normally, manor tours are limited to certain areas, but during the hunt, we had permission to roam. From the attic to the basement, beyond the velvet ropes, behind closed doors, inside hidden rooms. That, in itself, made it a very cool experience.
During our exploration of the nursery, our psychic struck up a conversation with the spirit of the children’s mother. A woman who had once thrown lavish dinner parties, she seemed to enjoy our company so we sat in a circle and chatted with her about gardening, one of her pastimes.
As the evening ended, I asked the psychic if she could communicate with the spirit who had touched me. So we crowded into the tiny one-stall powder room, where our psychic welcomed the spirit. A faint “Hello” echoed from the ghost box. She asked the spirit’s name, and the reply … “Amy.”
Met my evil twin?
Writer Abby Cymerman is assistant editor of akronlife.