My Story in the Paranormal - Part 5

By June Nixon

My next step was finding a paranormal group to join, because apparently after seeing one shadow person rush at me, my brain said, “Wonderful. Let’s make this a hobby.” I won’t drag you through every group I joined, visited, or quietly backed away from while maintaining polite eye contact, but after a while I realized the paranormal world has its share of wonderfully colorful people—and a few folks who had clearly been left in the spiritual microwave a little too long. Eventually, I decided I might be better off exploring haunted places on my own with a few trusted friends, sensible shoes, and enough batteries to power a small village. Then I went to one meeting and met a genuinely kind guy named Jay. We became friends, and one day he asked if I would help a man named Tod start a group. The three of us clicked right away, and before long, we were the Northwest Pacific Research Group, or NWPRG, because every paranormal group needs initials that sound like a government agency investigating haunted filing cabinets.

We had some wonderful times together, and one of our favorite places to investigate was the Stanwood Hotel and Saloon. That place was an absolute paranormal hotspot—the kind of building that seems to whisper, creak, groan, and generally behave like it knows more than it is willing to admit. We captured so many EVPs there I honestly lost count. For the beautifully normal people reading this, EVP stands for Electronic Voice Phenomenon, which is when a voice shows up on a recorder even though no one heard it with their own ears. DVP is Direct Voice Phenomenon, which means you do hear it out loud, usually right before your soul tries to exit through your kneecaps. RVP is Radio Voice Phenomenon, where a voice comes through over a radio, although I will get into that later because, let’s be honest, sometimes radio work can get a little too suggestive and suddenly everyone is convinced the static just said their childhood nickname.

Anyhooo, Stanwood gave us everything: children talking, women praying, men shouting, and enough mysterious voices to make you wonder if the building needed a guest book for the afterlife. Marilyn, the owner, was absolutely wonderful and let us investigate there several times. Around that same period, Tod and I started our own podcast on BlogTalkRadio, which still feels like the most early-2010s sentence ever written. We had some big names in the paranormal world on the show, including Christopher Saint Booth, Johnny Houser, Adrienne King—the final girl from Friday the 13th, who also loves the paranormal—and many more. It was exciting, surreal, and made me feel wildly underqualified for a show I had helped create.

There was one guest Tod really wanted on the show: Ross Allison, a local author and well-known paranormal investigator. At the time, I thought he might not be famous enough for our show. Yes, I know. Please picture me briefly wearing a tiny invisible crown and being very impressed with myself. Tod, who had far better instincts in that moment, told me, “This guy is great. He really knows what he’s talking about. Just hear him out.” So we booked Ross, and of course Tod was right. Ross was smart, funny, grounded, and completely fascinating. By the end of the interview, I thought, “Well, now I need to meet this person.”

Tod invited Ross to join us for an investigation at the Stanwood Hotel and Saloon that weekend. But before I get to that, I need to explain Tod a little, because Tod was not a small personality. Tod loved people. He loved laughter. He loved conversation. He loved organizing big picnics and fun events. He loved saying yes to everyone, which was beautiful and generous and also occasionally made me want to lie down in the parking lot and stare at the sky. He simply could not say no. We would schedule investigations, and somehow Tod would invite fifty or sixty people. Meanwhile, it became my job to keep everyone quiet and only let four to six people into the building at a time. If you have ever tried to keep fifty excited paranormal enthusiasts quiet, imagine herding caffeinated raccoons in the dark while whispering.

By the time Ross came to Stanwood, I was at my wits’ end. I begged Ross to talk with Tod about the difference between a serious investigation and a paranormal block party. Thankfully, Ross understood immediately. He invited Tod and me to investigate the Comedy Underground with just him, his friend Edward, and me, so Tod could experience what a small, focused group felt like. No crowds, no chatter, no accidental footsteps being mistaken for ghostly communication—just a quiet space where the evidence had a fighting chance. It was great, and I think Tod finally got the message. Naturally, his solution was to make me the official person who had to tell other people and groups no. Very kind of him. Nothing says friendship like handing someone the clipboard of disappointment.

That experience started a wonderful friendship with Ross. He and his business partner, Mark, had just opened Spooked in Seattle Ghost Tours in Pioneer Square, complete with an incredible space and a death museum, because apparently my comfort zone had become “historic building with bones nearby.” I practically lived there for a while, helping them get the place ready. Tod and I even held a few events there, and it felt like we were building something special—messy, spooky, funny, heartfelt, and full of people who understood why a good flashlight and a suspicious noise could make your whole night.

Then Tod told me he had cancer. Within a few months, he was gone. Losing him broke my heart. Tod had been such a big presence—loud in the best way, generous, funny, impossible, lovable, and full of life. After he died, staying with NWPRG hurt too much. The group held so many memories of him that I could not separate the work from the grief. I knew I needed a change, even though change is never polite enough to arrive with snacks and clear instructions.

Ross had founded one of the oldest working paranormal groups in the Pacific Northwest, The Advanced Ghost Hunters of Seattle Tacoma, or A.G.H.O.S.T. The group had (at that time) gone through a bit of para-drama—which is exactly like regular drama, except someone usually brings EMF meters—and it had shifted into a smaller, tighter version of itself. I quickly jumped in, whether Ross liked it or not, and decided, “Congratulations, this is my new group now.” Before long, I became the client coordinator and eventually the vice president. Apparently, if you hang around haunted places long enough, someone hands you responsibility.