When your life revolves around whispers with the past, it’s a surreal moment to see them echo back at you on national television. Being featured on My Ghost Story with Paranormal Xpeditions was just that—an experience that blurred the line between the haunted and the human.
In Season 5, two of our investigations, the infamous Storyville in Boston and the enigmatic Middleboro Town Hall, were showcased. Each brought its own energy, its own story, and, frankly, its own brand of terrifying charm.
Storyville: A Jazz Legend and a Sisterly Pact
Storyville was one of those investigations that grabbed us by the throat and refused to let go. The historic Boston nightclub, famously connected to Billie Holiday, was undergoing renovations to restore its once-glorious jazz era charm. It’s the kind of place that breathes history—and, as we discovered, maybe a little more.
We knew Storyville had a reputation, but we weren’t prepared for what we’d find. Paper towel dispensers that seemed to have a mind of their own. Humming that could only be described as the ghostly voice of Billie herself. And, in the ultimate jaw-dropper, what appeared to be Billie’s apparition captured on video. It’s not every day you get to (virtually) share a room with a legend.
Adding to the intrigue was a Boston Herald article, "Spirit of Billie Holiday haunts Storyville hotspot", which highlighted Paranormal Xpeditions’ involvement. The article painted a vivid picture of the venue’s storied past, including its transformation into a high-energy nightclub. It also mentioned the ghost of Edith Ban, a former owner known to appear in a flowy white dress and high heels. Our investigation only deepened the mystique surrounding this legendary space.
Of course, the eeriness was only heightened by the tragic history of the venue’s previous owners—two Holocaust survivor sisters, one of whom met a violent end. The place carried a sadness so thick you could almost smell it—like old wood and forgotten promises. When our equipment caught the unmistakable “yes” of one sister’s spirit responding to a question about Auschwitz, it was a gut punch that transcended the paranormal. These weren’t just ghosts; they were lives interrupted, unfinished stories replaying in an endless loop.
For me, the crowning moment was seeing how our evidence resonated with the audience. Ghost stories are often dismissed, but when the footage is undeniable, even skeptics have to pause. Storyville validated not just our methods, but our mission: giving voices to the voiceless.
Middleboro Town Hall: A Soldier’s Duty and an Angry Land
Where Storyville sang with jazz and sorrow, the Middleboro Town Hall growled with menace. Built on a Native American burial ground, the place was practically vibrating with unresolved energy. Add in its history as a morgue and jail, and you’ve got a recipe for a paranormal pressure cooker.
From the moment we arrived, it was clear this would be no ordinary investigation. The thermal camera caught the figure of a soldier—a guardian, perhaps, still patrolling after all these years. And then there was the basement. Oh, the basement. Hearing the word box’s guttural “basement” was unnerving enough, but descending into that jail-turned-morgue was like walking into the mouth of something alive. Shadows darted, footsteps echoed, and an orb seemed to toy with us, running away only to double back.
The hostility of the place was palpable. At one point, the word box spit out a derogatory term—a bitter reminder of the building’s long history of male dominance. It was as though the very walls were trying to intimidate us. But intimidation only fuels curiosity, and by the end of the night, we had uncovered some of the most compelling evidence of my career.
Reflections on Recognition
A year prior, Paranormal Xpeditions had its first brush with television on Paranormal Challenge with Zak Bagans. That experience was an initiation by fire, a whirlwind of pressure and validation. But My Ghost Story was different. It wasn’t about competing; it was about showcasing the raw, unfiltered reality of paranormal investigation. Seeing our evidence on screen, presented without embellishment, was a milestone for our team and for the field itself.
What struck me most was the reaction. For every skeptic scoffing behind a keyboard, there were countless others who reached out to say, “I believe you.” Paranormal work is often thankless—a labor of love (and sometimes terror). But moments like these remind me why we do it. It’s not about proving anything; it’s about connecting—with history, with energy, with each other.
The Unfinished Symphony
Storyville and Middleboro are more than haunted places. They’re chapters in an ongoing dialogue between the living and the dead. Investigating them—and seeing those investigations validated on TV—was both humbling and exhilarating. These locations remind us that history isn’t static. It moves, it breathes, and sometimes, it whispers back.
As I reflect on these experiences, I’m left with one lingering thought: Ghosts, much like jazz, are improvisational. They’re unpredictable, unpolished, and, if you’re lucky enough to hear them, unforgettable.
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