What Lingers Below
Part 1: We See You Too
(Paranormal case. Echoes of “Residue.”)
You were told this was a simple residual haunting.
You know what they say - there are no “experts” in this field. And if you’re being honest with yourself, you’d say that’s true. After years of research and hundreds of hours spent investigating hauntings around the world… yeah, it checks out.
The more you learn, the more you realize you don’t know anything at all.
It’s a proverb for a reason.
But here’s what you DO know:
Simple hauntings don’t bend EM fields.
They don’t pulse in harmonic intervals.
And they don’t leave growths behind.
The incident happened inside a condemned community center just outside Sugar Grove, West Virginia near the old NSA listening post they swore was shut down in 2017. The place has been untouched for years.
At least, that’s what they thought.
Three surveyors entered the building two weeks ago. Only one came out without injury.
Arthur Cain.
He reported nausea, confusion, and a high-pitched tone he described as “musical, almost melodic.” He said it got into his head.
And then something moved in the dark.
He couldn’t say what.
He could only say this.
“It noticed me.”
Inside the structure, you find signs of structural collapse with melted flashlight casings, scorched wiring, and a powdery, iridescent residue coating part of the floor near what used to be a generator room.
You approach slowly, scanning with your EMF rig.
That’s when your ITC device clicks on.
It was off.
You didn’t touch it.
And yet, a voice booms through the speaker catching you off guard.
“We see you too.”
You freeze.
Because you’ve heard those words before.
Months ago, in a redacted report about a sealed laboratory something about strange growth patterns, increased resonance under observation, and a sample that responded to being watched.
The word “probe” had been scribbled into the margins of the report.
It was dismissed. Labeled anomalous.
You heard through the grapevine, though, that a woman had been taken for testing.
Later, the whole thing was classified as a non-paranormal phenomenon.
But you’re not so sure.
Because what you’re standing in now?
Doesn’t feel like a haunting.
It feels like something watching back.
There is something intelligent here.
***
Part 2: 315 Hz
(You chose: Stay and scan the residue.)
The glow from the residue isn’t just iridescent… it’s reactive.
You kneel beside it, careful not to touch the surface, and lower your hybrid rig to the floor - EMF, infrasound, thermal, ITC sweep and around 10 different atmospheric sensors that you’ve classified as experimental at this point… all running through a custom signal monitor.
As soon as you power it up, the device surges.
Not just a spike, but a sustained pattern.
First: harmonic interference at 315 Hz.
Then: localized magnetic anomalies.
Then… a distinct cold pocket. Sharp and sudden.
It holds.
You’ve seen this before, but only at sites with verified Class-4 manifestations.
And always following reports of physical residue left behind.
The last time, that you know of, was in that sealed lab… the one they later reclassified as non-paranormal.
You mutter: “Is this… ecto?”
The moment the word leaves your mouth, the residue shivers.
A ripple, subtle but deliberate.
Like it heard you.
Then the device emits a static pop.
On screen, a thermal signature flashes, but not from the residue.
From the far side of the room.
Human-shaped.
Still.
Then gone.
You scan again. Nothing.
But the rig’s screen glitches one last time and displays a phrase in green text you’ve never programmed:
“You brought it with you.”
You take a step back.
Because this isn’t just ambient energy.
And it’s not reacting like a residual imprint.
This is ectoplasm.
Active. Conscious.
You’ve only seen one other sample like it… extracted from the basement of a decommissioned radar facility in Montana, buried after a surge of poltergeist activity and electrical fires.
You’re finding that these places… the decommissioned posts, abandoned intel sites, Cold War leftovers - they resonate with a different kind of energy. Places where thought, fear, and memory linger.
You were told those reports were exaggerated.
You were told ectoplasm was rare.
You were told it wasn’t alive.
But here it is.
Moving. Communicating.
And it knows you’re here, too.
***
Part 3: Try to Communicate
(You chose: Try to communicate.)
You steady your breath and crouch beside the residue again. This time not to analyze, but to engage.
You’ve done this before.
Not with this, but with entities that respond to intention.
Sometimes it takes a word or a trigger.
Sometimes it takes permission.
You reach into your field bag and pull out the one tool you rarely use: a vintage spirit trumpet mic rigged with a directional speaker. Old spiritualist tech, modified with EMF resonance input.
You speak into it quietly.
“Hello. My name is… I acknowledge your presence.
I’m not here to harm or trap you.
But I need to understand what you are…
and what you want.”
Nothing happens for several seconds.
Then your rig vibrates. Not violently, just a pulse.
The residue ripples again.
And in the low hum of your speaker, a soft voice crackles through. Barely audible.
“…leave…”
You hesitate. Then ask:
“Did I bring you here?”
The voice cuts in, louder this time.
Layered. Not just one voice.
“We were always here.”
Your device begins to overheat. A red LED blinks.
You ask one last question:
“What are you?”
The room responds with a sudden pressure drop.
You grip the wall to keep steady.
And then, through the speaker, not words but a sound:
Three tones.
One.
Five.
315.
Again.
The same frequency logged at the sealed lab. Something found after they contained the “non-paranormal” event.
You shake your head.
This isn’t just intelligence.
It appears to be a network.
Or worse, a presence bleeding through locations tied to power, secrecy, and abandonment.
You hear a metal clatter behind you.
You turn. No one’s there.
But the residue is spreading, tracing a line toward the doorway…
as if it’s trying to lead you somewhere.
Then, just at the edge of your vision, you catch it.
A form.
Vague.
Human-like.
Not fully there.
Like something trying to hold shape but only managing it for a second before fading back into static.
You whip your head around. Nothing.
But your skin prickles with the sense that you’re not alone anymore.
Not in the spiritual sense. In the occupied sense.
And that’s when the theory clicks.
The ectoplasm isn’t hostile.
It’s not even the source.
It’s a medium. A carrier.
It holds impressions, amplifies energy, opens doors.
If it’s connected to something benevolent, it’s harmless.
But if it’s linked to something darker…
You look back toward the residue.
It’s still pulsing. Still leading.
And you have a choice to make.
***
Part 4: The Cocoon
(You chose: Follow where the residue is leading.)
The residue stretches like a trail, pulsing faintly as it winds toward a half-collapsed doorway at the back of the room.
It’s not spreading randomly.
It’s drawing you in.
You follow, step by step, deeper into the heart of the building.
The hallway narrows.
The air thickens.
Your gear begins to glitch again. Not violently. Just resisting.
Up ahead, the trail vanishes into an old maintenance stairwell.
You descend slowly, every creak underfoot magnified by the silence.
You pass rusted pipes.
Discolored walls.
Etched into the concrete, barely visible in the glow of your flashlight, is that same three-line symbol.
You reach the basement landing.
And stop.
In the center of the room sits an old comms console, half-sunken into the floor.
A mess of cables surrounds it, and above it?
A strange growth. Crystallized. Delicate. Glowing faint green.
Almost like a cocoon.
The residue pulses up from beneath it.
Feeding it.
Preserving it.
Your device crackles.
Then a tone.
315 Hz.
Sustained.
You raise your rig to record.
Then feel it.
You’re not alone.
You look ahead of you and in the reflection of a shattered glass panel, something stands behind you.
Human-shaped.
Still.
Facing away.
You spin. Nothing.
Then the residue surges. Not toward you this time, but up the walls, spiraling into patterns.
Letters.
No. A word.
STAY
You freeze.
This isn’t an invitation.
It’s a demand.
The question is… from who?
The ectoplasm?
The entity trying to form?
Or whatever left this all behind?
And if this is a nest, or a vessel, what is it waiting for?
Does the nest mean there are more entities?
Is this some kind of portal?
***
Part 5: A Thread, Not a Door
(You chose: Activate your real-time audio device and ask a direct question.)
You kneel slowly.
The cocoon pulses above you, casting its sickly green glow across the ruined floor.
You power up your ITC device, your modified audio rig humming as it calibrates to the baseline frequency.
315 Hz. Still there. Still watching.
You press record.
“Who are you?”
Nothing.
But the residue on the walls flickers again, this time forming arcs and slashes that echo the same three-line symbol.
You try again.
“Are you trapped here?”
Static. A low pop. Then…
“…Not trapped…”
The voice is layered. Male and female. Human but fractured.
You press forward.
“Is this a portal?”
There’s a long pause. Then a whisper, almost inside your skull. How is this telepathy possible?!
“…More like a thread…”
Suddenly the cocoon convulses, not violently but in rhythm… like breathing.
The walls ripple.
Your flashlight dims.
And your rig begins feeding back in broken bursts of speech:
“They left us…”
“Too many came through…”
“Not all went back…”
You stand.
You feel it now. The pressure of presence behind the veil.
Not one. Not many. Just… others.
Curious. Watching. Waiting.
The word on the wall fades.
Not erased. Replaced.
GO
You back toward the stairs, your recorder still rolling.
As you move, the residue draws itself back toward the cocoon.
Retracting. Folding inward. Like the interaction is over.
But as you reach the landing, your rig crackles once more.
“Another will find us…”
And then silence.
You see a flickered outline of a being in front of you.
Then another.
And then another.
They don’t move. They don’t speak.
But a soft, golden glow surrounds them.
You don’t feel fear. Only presence.
You lift a hand, offer a small wave, and thank them.
They remain still, shimmering like light through water.
You exit into the night, lungs full of cold air, unsure if you just witnessed something ancient… or something new.
But one thing is certain.
This wasn’t a haunting.
This was a conversation.
A start of something
End of Story 6.
