There is farmland all around, according to GPS, Revenant Acres Farm, in Charlotte, Indiana is only minutes away. The house still stands despite serious neglect, the first glimpse of the house is startling. It looks like it comes straight from a horror movie.
There was another car on the property as we drove up the driveway. We assumed it was the owner. I looked inside the house, I could smell food cooking, and there were all sorts of investigation equipment on the kitchen counter. I looked outside and told Jenny we were not alone.
We found another investigation team setting up for an overnighter. We offered them the choice of doing our investigations together, but they said no. We called the property owner, Steve, he apologized and told the other group we had made our reservation first. The other team had to pack up and go home, they were not happy, but they did.
We finally settled in and set up all the equipment. The house is small and dirty. In the living room is an upholstered couch with a couple of chairs. The dining room had an old piano. Upstairs in the two bedrooms, you can see where work has been started and not finished.
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There is not a working bathroom on the property. During our investigation, everyone decided to take a bathroom break to the gas station down the street. I decided to stay behind by myself.
After watching the headlights disappear down the road, I started walking around the house. It was quiet, then suddenly, I heard voices. I am thinking, “This cannot be happening!” I hear voices. I look around realizing, I am by myself. I cannot run out into the pouring rain. Where would I go?
I took a deep breath and started to walk from room to room, following the voices. I walked into the room with the piano. The voices were louder in here. Looking on top of the piano, I realize one of our voice recorders is playing instead of recording. I heard our voices. How it turned on to play, I do not know.
The others came back and were disappointed they had not heard the recorder. The rest of our investigation was uneventful.
Revenant Acres Farm is gone now, torn down a few years ago. I am not sad about that. The house left an imprint on me, an odd feeling that stayed with me for a while. I ended up with an eye infection which still lingers today.
No one seems to know what would have made the house haunted.
I suppose we all leave an imprint of some kind when we leave this life.
What do you think? Would you have been willing to stay the night at Revenant Acres?
See you after dark.
Diane Sikora
Executive editor