When lockdown hit, I didn’t make banana bread — my hub Andy and I decided to find the undead…
Lining up a sheet of white icing perfectly, I gently laid it in place.
‘Why is it so hot today?’ I muttered, grumbling over my icing shifting.
It wasn’t easy in the summer but I loved my job making cakes from my home kitchen.
I was making my latest masterpiece — a baby unicorn clad in a nappy for a special little girl’s big day.
But when lockdown arrived, parties dried up — and so did my work.
My husband Andy and I put our heads together as to how to fill our time.
Alongside our kids Tom, 27, Adam, 25, Charlotte, 18, and James, 17, we wanted a project.
Then a relative asked us to join their paranormal investigation team.
We didn’t need to think twice.
We’d both had experiences that had raised questions.
Back when I was a child, I’d seen a doll move on top of my nan’s wardrobe.
Then during an operation at 18, I’d had a vision where a man told me: ‘It’s not your time to go.’
I’d told Andy when we got together 12 years before.
As a child, he’d also had strange experiences, seen things vanish and move across the room.
Our experiences had left us both fascinated by the paranormal.
We dipped our toe into the supernatural world and then after a year, our husband-and-wife team, Conjure Quest Paranormal, was born.
We soon contacted a friend, who manages the Stourbridge Glass Museum, to investigate the tunnels underneath.
My great-uncle had been a glass-blower there for 50 years. ‘Some of the tunnels have been closed for over 400 years,’ I marvelled to Andy, reading up
about the history of the space. It had been home to a crystal factory before being used as a bunker in the Second World War.
We were the first people to go down there in years.
On the day, we loaded up our EMF detector and REM pod, as well as camera and apps.
We took our first steps in the tunnel, as lightning flashed outside, then our REM pod lit up like crazy.
Our electromagnetic reader swayed violently.
‘There’s something down here,’ Andy whispered.
‘Is anyone there?’ I called. No response.
In the silence, I pulled up an app on my phone that can translate spirit activity into words.
Sand, glass, heat, the app said.
An oppressive sense closed in — we’d definitely found activity.
We’ve
