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TURTLE ISLAND NEWS HALL WEEN Local library 'ghostbusted' with SNIPE team FEET AT THE TOP OF THE I STAIRS Lindsay Martin is an em- ployee at the Six Nations Public Library. "When you're on the main floor, and you're alone, you can hear people walking all the time. It's just something you get used to." But one time she got a glimpse of what made that noise. "I've seen feet at the top of the stairs," she said. "I was working alone by myself and I could hear something moving - which is normal it's creaking all the time- I turned around, I looked up, and I could see a set of feet at the top of the stairs. And then it just walked away," she recalled, adding that they were barefoot. "And then I walked out of the building!" A BOY our OF TIME "We were all downstairs doing inventory," recalled Lindsay. "Sabrina - my boss - had a chair facing her and she had the computer on it. All we had to do was scan books. That was our job." She said things got wierd when Sabrina moved the laptop from the chair. "When I walked by there was a little boy sitting in the chair," said Lindsay. "I didn't even think anything of it," she said, adding that the ap- parition wasn't ghostly or see through. "He had a gray shirt on and he had a bowl cut going on. I didn't see his face just the back side of him. Early 1900s. It was a plain gray sweater," she said. "I thought it was a little boy sitting there watching her do it. It just dawned on me - and this is all within seconds - I thought: we're still dosed. I looked again and he was gone." I.UNIIII 11IWEII OF B80D One of Lindsay's first unex plainable experiences was about six years ago. "I was making a phone call one time, and there was a pile of books in the other room. The pile of books scattered. I could hear them fall. I went back and I looked and it was like someone threw them across the room. They didn't just topple they were scat-- tered across the floor," she said. Video of the incident was captured on library se- Six Nations own Ghostbuster brutal structure under the By Chase Jarrett light of Saturday's full moon. Writer When I called Todd I don't know when the cold Thomas, one of the founder 's set in. I just remember shiv- of Six Nations Investigates ering. I moved from my seat, Paranormal Encounters waded through the dark to (SNIPE), I didn't really know the chair on which I set my what I was getting into. As I jacket. I put it on and sat sat there cold, paranoid back down. No help. I still something I couldn't explain shivered and flexed my jaw was wrapping me in its dead, muscle, trying to stop my icy embrace, I realized I had teeth from clicking. stepped into a completely There were four of us sitting different world. in that boardroom. All' I wanted was a cool Ohsweken ·library, second - story. floor, just to the right after you come up the old stairs. Different contraptions, measuring electronic and magnetic fields , were scat- tered on the large wooden table before us, courtesy of SNIPE. We flicked the lights off and we waited. Darkness, eleven something at night. Bits of light leaked in when cars passed, the steady hum of their engines joining the building's creepy ambience. A faint red glow from the hallway exit sign radiated dimly into the room as well. Still, it was near impossible to see the team members a couple feet to my left, and across the table. How did I get so cold? Why am I freez- ing, even with the layers on, the icy feeling snuck through. That's when one of the team members commented on how hot she felt. Not just warm, but sticky and un- comfortably hot. Is the heat to high? I touched her hand, the hands of the two sitting beside her. I seemed to be the odd one out. My fingers were bent icicles. I sat just two feet away from them, and I was freez- ing. Some of the sensors began to go off. "It's by you," one of them whispered. So much changes at night. Take the cozy, neighborhood library for example. Nestled in the village core, stuffed into a 200 year old house. It warped into a dark and The cold dispersed. A few minutes later more of the SNIPE team emerged from the basement and made there way to the sec- ond floor. I stood up, warm again , a n d de- cided I head into the basement myself. I was scared to do it that was a good enough reason to go. I followed behind Todd, his son, Todd Jr. , and another of the team members. The door down into the basement was op~ened. The steep stairs were illuminated by an- other of the exit signs. It's hard to overstate how creepy the basement was. First off- it's a base- ment. The air is thick and musty. There are little chairs, fit for preschoolers, stacked in a columns near shelving units that held nothing. A lifeless room. In the corner a hallway snakes around, pipes push down from the ceiling; I hunched. Pieces of the con- crete floor were torn up, re- vealing di rt. Empty buckets lay on their side. I thought of some OCD friends would have a field day in the base- ment, armed with a swiffer. Traversing the hallway the first room you see holds the furnace, a gap in the concrete opposite the door reveals a foreboding crawl space. I thought of the feeling from the boardroom, the shiver- ing, and stayed out. As we explored the base- ment, Todd held up his cam- era, equipped with a night vi- sion and ult raviolet light. The battery went from a full charge to dead. "Good- bye, " t h e e I e c- tronic voice of the cam- e r a rang , before shutting itself off. That was odd. "They use the energy," Todd ex- plained. I thought of the walkie talkies, and my within min- utes of enter- ing the library despite full charges. Todd fi- nally stopped in the very back of the basement. Todd Jr., a four- teen year old who's fearless in a way I might never know, was snapping pictures away on his camera. Todd flicked his recorder on and began asking questions. The entire time it felt like we were being laughed at. Like something was really behind us, amused we were gawking in the completely wrong di- rection. "Let us know that you're here," Todd would call out. "We just want to communi- cate." Then he asked, "If you 're here, touch one of us." I found that question a little aggressive, but I wasn't the expert. JUST DON'T TOUCH ME, I thought. WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD EVER ASK TO BE TOUCHED BY A GHOST? I didn't voice these con- cerns. I wasn't trying to ap- pear brave. I just didn't feel the need to admit it was a miracle I wasn't peeing my pants. After more questions, his camera, the one with the ultra violet light, flicked on again- back to a full charge but with a catch. The pic- tures were erased. Way odd. Now these are events you shrug at. You look for a logi- cal explanation for absolutely everything - even if you an- swer something with "I don't know the logical explanation. There is one, but I just don't know why." That's still a log- ical explanation, right? Todd Jr. had left the room by this time, and was back in storage room of the base- ment near the stairs. I fol- lowed him back along the cob-webbed hallway. We were joined by two other of the SNIPE team members. We stood in there in si- lence, four silhouettes against the glow of the exit sign. Todd was at the end of the hallway, still asking ques- tions, hoping his K2 meter would buzz from green to red, set off by the presence of a ghost. Our silent vigil continued. And then the cold came back. Not as all encompass- ing as it was in the above boardroom. It was like a cold, wet slobber drizzling over my spine. My hair stood on end and I looked to my left. I looked harder. I couldn't make out the silhouette. There was Todd Jr. There was Carl. There was ...