Personal Narrative Essay

Most of my hobbies are fairly normal. In the small amount of spare time I have I like to go to the movies or read. I also love to travel. Really, nothing I do can be considered far from ordinary. Well, maybe one thing. I'm a ghost hunter. Now this doesn’t mean I walk around with a bow and arrow, ready to strike out against some invisible target. Nor does it mean I dress up like a Ghost Buster and toast ninety-foot tall marshmallows with a proton gun. What this hobby usually entails is standing in a graveyard late at night with a camera, flashlight, and tape recorder. Certainly not the makings of a typical Saturday evening, but it gives me a rush of excitement I’ve found unattainable anywhere else.

My fascination with ghosts goes back as far as I remember. Scooby-Doo and his mystery solving pals was my favorite cartoon. I loved hearing my dad tell ghost stories around the campfire during summer trips. I read every scary children’s book I could get my hands on at the library. When I made it through all of those, I moved on to more adult stuff. I read Stephen King’s Pet Sematary when I was ten. Anything and everything that dealt with ghosts was number one on my priority list. My fascination with spirits was insatiable. My curiosity abounded. It never seemed like something strange or scary

A voice said hello. I stopped what I was doing and stared at the tape recorder. I quickly rewound the tape and listened again. Shortly after hearing myself say hello, a faint voice was heard saying hello back. I played it over and over again to make sure it was no one in the group talking. My partners voice came on a few seconds later, completely different from the voice repeating my greeting. I leaped out of my chair and began jumping up and down. I had done it! I had made contact with a