Fear is a strange thing. Most people spend their lives avoiding it, locking their doors, leaving the lights on, and telling themselves the creak upstairs is just the house “settling.” Me? I hear a creak and immediately grab a flashlight, camera, voice recorder (or my phone because thanks to technology ghost hunting equipment comes in a small box now) and grab Gilbert by the lapel muttering “ come on, we’re checking this out.” (Spoiler alert: Gilbert is not a fan of this approach.)
He says I’m “overly curious, like my cats.” And he’s not wrong. But I’d argue there’s more to it than that. Besides, being compared to my floofballs of love is a compliment, if anything.
Why we get scared (and why I chase it anyway)
Fear is hardwired into us. It’s a survival mechanism as old as humanity itself, a flashing neon sign in our brains screaming, danger, run! When we hear an eerie sound or see something we can’t explain, our amygdala (that’s the part of the brain responsible for emotions like fear, not a Star Wars princess) kicks into overdrive, triggering the fight-or-flight response. It’s a handy feature when there’s a tiger in the bushes. Problem is, there seldom are in creaky old houses.
But here’s the thing: some of us aren’t content with just running. For people like me, fear is fascinating and titillating. It’s like a buzz. Psychologists say fear can be addictive. When we’re scared, our bodies release adrenaline and endorphins, creating a strange mix of terror and exhilaration. It’s the same reason people love horror movies and haunted houses.
For me, though, it’s not just the thrill, it’s also the mystery.
What got me hooked
When I was a kid, I had an obsession with figuring out how things worked. I’d take apart toys, old radios and even the toaster once (which didn’t go over well with my parents). I loved understanding the mechanics of the world, it was like uncovering a secret, peeking behind closed doors.
Then something happened that I could not explain. I was about ten when I saw… something. We were on vacation in a log cabin, deep in the woods. The first night in that strange bed, I woke up and a shadowy figure stood at the door of my room, shifting its weight from one foot to the other. At first I thought it was my brother trying to scare me, so I threw my slipper at the figure. I was shocked to see my slipper passing right through the person, hitting the door behind it. That’s when it stopped moving and made a growling sound.
I closed my eyes and screamed…
When I opened them it had disappeared, leaving behind nothing but an empty room and a racing heart.
My parents called it a bad dream. My older brother teased me about having an overactive imagination. But I knew what I saw and I refused to sleep alone for the rest of the vacation.
And that’s where my obsession with the unknown began. If I couldn’t take apart the paranormal to understand it, I was going to dedicate my life to prodding and prying. I’m stubborn that way.
Gilbert, my curmudgeon
And that brings us to Gilbert, my ever-practical partner in all things spooky. While I’m out here whispering, “What if it’s a spirit?” he’s grumbling, “Sally, it’s probably just bad plumbing.” Why does he put up with me? Honestly, you have to ask him but he’ll probably just answer: masochism.
I love him for challenging me (don’t tell him I said that). He keeps me grounded when my imagination starts running wild. But even he can’t entirely explain away the eerie moments we’ve encountered, like the time we both heard that low mournful wail in Tihange Castle, that was NOT pipes nor a creaky window and he knows it.
If you haven’t read that post, you can find it here: https://www.tenebra.be/post/breaking-entering-and-bravely-retreating
Untangling the gears
So, why do I keep doing this? Partly because fear is a thrill, my heart races, my palms sweat, and I feel completely alive. Our investigative podcast and blog are our efforts to try and get you along for the ride, figuring this out together with us. And also, because I’m still that ten-year-old kid, trying to make sense of something no one else believed, something I don’t understand.
The unknown doesn’t have gears to take apart or circuits to untangle, but that won’t stop me from trying. Every case we uncover, every piece of evidence we find, every “What was that?” moment is another chance to try to understand the mechanics of something bigger than myself.
And if I drag Gilbert along for the ride, well, that’s just a bonus.
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