LSD Paranormal Research haunted schoolhouse

gregory stomberg By gregory stomberg , 6th Jul 2014 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Legend

LSD paranormal researches investigate a haunted house in Franklin Grove IL

LSD Researchers Experiment

LSD research and experiment in a haunted house in Franklin Grove IL
By Gregory S Stomberg
In 1977 I was in a rock band named 'syberite'
The was an old 1920s haunted schoolhouse that the locals had nicknamed 'myrtles the haunted house, and the pissing tree', which was a favorite gravel road for kids to drive around drinking and partying on.
The house was in the process of being torn down so we made plans to stay all night there when the next full moon came up to investigate the ghost stories we had heard.
We planned to take some LSD, a mind altering drug, to hep us get in contact with the spirits of the night lurking there.
Bruce and I had popped a hit of LSD blotter acid and a friend had dropped us off at the dilapidated school house when the sun went down an was to pick us up in the morning.
All we had with us was a couple flashlights.
We sat at the door frame for a while taking in the cool fall air and watching the moon and the stars as time kicked in and the effects of the hallucinogenic started working its way to our brain cells, what was left of them anyway.
At first we were laughing, being funny and cracking jokes about this old schoolhouse urban legend being haunted by the spirit of myrtle who flew down the gravel roads at night scaring drivers.
Then we became silent, watching the full moon craters evolve into shadows of darkness and mysteriously shifting patterns as the stars twinkled and danced before our very eyes.
Eyes in the night appeared as the fireflies dotted and blinked near the cornfields surrounding us.
The pissing tree loomed higher, and darker and more threatening as the night wore on and creaks and groans thru out the structure echoed in our ears a most ominous and forbidden tone.
We definitely feeling the spiritual side of the drug and it had opened up the world of darkness and legends of myths in our minds, we could feel the spirits of the night surrounding us.
We went inside the crumbling ruin, plaster piles and holey walls created from holes in the roof and dilapidated stairways felt cursed as they were being lit by thin beams from our small flashlights.
We sat on the floor, clearing a spot and trying to relax as flames of dead spirits flew round and round our heads.
We heard whispering, voices in the distance that rang to the core of our soul, I was shaking, I could see the cornfield swaying from the winds of ancient spirits.
We stumbled outside, our brains swirling and flashlights flashing and blinking a warning as they faded and died from the dead batteries.
We could see from the moonlight but it still was nicer having a little light from flashlights, but they were dead now and the moonlight was all we could see from.
The dancing stars centered around the cornfield that drew us in, calling us from behind the rows was a greyish shadow that swam around the moon lazily, hypnotizing us.
I became as one with universe.
The greyish shadow woman of the moon mist had called me into the darkness of the corn maize pinto witchcraft practiced by black hawk and his tribe and led by Keokuk their medicine man.
They talked to me in ancient tongues I couldn't understand and yet they beckoned me to follow the spirits into the abyss and darkness, freeing the soul from the body.
I wandered through the maze in the corn field in a drug induced haze of madness that drove me to the lost worlds of mind and body and spirit.
Myrtles spirit was dancing in my mind like music from the cosmos that gave me a wild brain rush that filled my head with visions of ghosts.
I talked to wind for what seemed like eternity.
Slowly I came to the light at the edge of the world.
It burned my soul as centuries of lost spirits raced from the light and into my blinded eyes, driving me backwards through time time and space, sybaritic visions of metalstorms flooded my reality, I knew the secret of death, and it was life.
I was laying on my back, the grass of an unmowed ditch forming my mattress as watched the rays of the sun peaking out from under the tree in the distance.
The pissing tree.
Someone was calling my name, yelling from a unknown distance, I stood up and yelled back, not knowing exactly where I was.
The voice was from Bruce, he was a mile away, still at myrtles, while I had wandered away into the corn field and to the next gravel road down.
We both had similar tales to tell of spirits in the night awakening our souls to a cosmic consciousness .
We sat and talked, tired and sore and burned out, until our ride came and picked us up.
Just say no to this stuff.
The End - 1977 written 7/14


Horror Film, Horror Genre, Horror Movies, Horror Slasher Film, Horror Stories, Horror Story

Meet the author

author avatar gregory stomberg
Author / musician, creator of the shitkickin kid and the comic book characters, and co creator of detective Neal Adams . Member of the rock band syberite.

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