by Kacey Stapleton

Created on: May 22, 2008   Last Updated: July 29, 2009

Usually my husband is the one out looking for ghosts. He began the hobby before we were married and continued especially after finding more and more people wanting to take such trips with him. The pursuit has become extremely popular in the last few years. These days he keeps a list of hopeful volunteers all clamoring to go on an investigation which is a far cry from the strange looks or snide remarks, he once got when the subject of his unusual past time came up.

I usually hold down the fort while he goes, but one early summer morning as he left to visit a historical cemetery I decided to go along. There was a new camera I wanted to try out and almost as an afterthought, I grabbed a pocket sized recorder as well. We weren't hoping for paranormal activity at ten o'clock on a Saturday morning. My husband who routinely visits genealogical websites was going to search for the gravestone of a long lost relative of a friend. Personally, I was hoping for some good mood shots for another website I was working on at the time.

It was a quick trip, and soon we were walking in the bright sunshine in one of the oldest places in Austin. A few of the graves go back to the 1700's. The markers read like a who's who of Texas history. Tall gnarled oaks and ramrod straight cedar trees grow here and there rending a few spaces shadowy even on the sunniest day. The cemetery simply grew up over time and takes up several city blocks with older and newer sections relatively close together.

In some areas, the lighting was fantastic and after taking several photos I started wandering around while my husband continued his search. Taking the recorder out of my pocket I considered it a few seconds before pushing the tiny red 'on' button with my thumbnail. This seemed an almost cowardly time to try to get my first EVP. The time was now dragging closer to noon. The sunny pathways I occasionally shared with very living dog walkers and joggers was the last place any self respecting spirit would manifest a message from beyond.

Feeling a bit self conscious I cupped the little silver device in one hand and began reading off the various names and epitaphs until I was sure I was totally alone. Then I'd ask if there was anyone around who wanted to talk. I explained all they needed to do was speak into the apparatus I was holding.

In one heavily shaded section I looked down and noticed I was standing in a space rimmed by a low concrete square with inscriptions craved along all four sides. Here

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