Forget Me Never by Sable Hunter (spicy books to read .TXT) 📕

Savannah had been thrilled with the chance to work with experts.  In fact, she had loved it.  Playing hostess, she had made all the arrangements and traveled with the crew and investigators to the ruins of the Grove, a plantation home that sat near a promontory on the river called Conrad Point.

The Grove had been built around 1825 and became a very profitable sugar plantation.  Everything changed during the War Between the States, of course.  Hard times and death had overrun the beautiful plantation and it became a Union hospital for soldiers with yellow fever.  Many of the soldiers died there and were buried on the grounds.

Accounts of ghostly activity had started early in its history and continued until it was struck by lightning and burned to the ground in 1960.  And even then an apparition had been seen in the flames.  Savannah had done more research before the trip and found out about a horrendous accident that occurred in the river adjacent to The Grove, but it wasn’t until the investigation had been underway that she had realized how relevant it really was.

Honestly, Savannah had been skeptical of the whole process.  It wasn’t that she didn’t believe in the supernatural – she did – she even had experienced things herself.  But bringing in television cameras and expecting the unseen world to perform for them seemed highly unlikely to her.  She was leery of putting her name on something that might taint the validity of her work.  However shows like this were big business, and the financial gurus at the Cultural Center said that her participation and the show itself would be a big boon to Louisiana tourism and interest in the area.  So, she didn’t argue.

Stopping at a red light, Savannah turned Elvis down.  Memories of the night at the Grove still caused goosebumps to cover her body.  Jeremy Richardson and Garrison Keys had been very professional and easy to work with.  They had treated her with respect and answered any questions that she had.  Thankfully, Savannah observed that the program was on the up and up.  There were no staged noises, preplanned ‘gotcha’ moments or any Photoshop computer gymnastics.  When it was over, Savannah had been allowed to see the actual raw footage in the control van and when it was aired there were no changes made.

But what Savannah had seen and experienced that night had changed her life.  It had all started out quietly.  They had walked around the property, weaving their way in between the ghostly columns that stood out so starkly in the moonlit night.  It reminded Savannah of the setting of a Greek play and she half expected Pan to come skipping out of the woods playing his pipes.  Cameramen followed their every step and Savannah swore to herself that no matter what happened, she wouldn’t go running off screaming like some silly schoolgirl.

Jeremy carried a video camera with night vision and Garrison had a new item they had told her about, something called a Frank’s Box.  It supposedly allowed investigators to hear the answers to their questions from the spirits in real time.  Savannah would have to experience this to believe it.

They began talking to whatever spirit might listen.  “Is there anyone hear who would like to speak to us?  Did you live at The Grove?  Were you a slave here?”

Savannah had been given a digital camera and she was taking pictures - in no random pattern, but in anyway that she felt led by her instincts.  Just like at the cemetery, at first there were no orbs, but soon the very atmosphere seemed alive with them.  “I have orb activity,” she offered, “lots of it.”

“Good, we’ll look at it closer on the laptop,” Garrison paused to glance over her shoulder.  “Keep going, Savannah.  We want more than orbs.”  More than orbs?  She had figured her rendezvous at the cemetery to be a success if she got orbs.

“Were you here during the Civil War?”  The question was simple but the answer they received was extraordinary.  The box in Garrison’s hands crackled and an unearthly moaning and groaning was heard quite clearly.

“Shit!” Jeremy croaked.  “I don’t like the sounds of that.”

Savannah had made up her mind not to run, but it was tough.  Her feet literally danced on the ground, it was all she could do to keep still.  “What in the world was that?”

“Somebody’s not happy.”

They waited a few more minutes, but there was no more moaning.  But the excitement wasn’t over.  “Damn, look at this,” Jeremy stopped in his tracks and stared down at the LED screen.  Everyone gathered around and couldn’t believe what they saw.  Jeremy had the camera pointed at the ruins and they could look up and see the columns and then look back down at the image.  Through the lens of the camera it was as if the air was vibrating.  One moment they could see the stark, lonely columns and the next they could see the plantation house as it had looked before it burned.  “Lord Bless my soul!  I’ve never seen anything like that.”  Savannah shivered with excitement.  She recognized the house.  Photos and post cards of its likeness were common on the internet.

She snapped some stills of the area and turned in a circle snapping more.  “Look at the clouds,” she gasped.  It was hard for the guys to tear themselves away from the ghostly spectre of the mansion but they turned to inspect what she was capturing.

“Is that ectoplasm?” Garrison asked.

“I don’t think so, Jeremy.”

Savannah was intrigued.  Unable to resist, she began to walk toward the shimmering fog.

“Savannah, wait!”

She heeded their warning, and then realized they weren’t trying to halt her inspection, they wanted to be a part of it.  Slowly, they stepped into the haze and Savannah was surprised that she could feel a substance settling on her face, hands and arms.  And it had a smell.  She retrieved a flashlight from her purse and shone the beam on her hand.  There was