Chapter One

Shoving a heavy fleece hoodie into the metal framed hiking backpack, its the last item to go in. I'm wearing a dark evergreen colored button-down flannel shirt with a plain black cotton t-shirt underneath, a black canvas insulated vest, indigo blue skinny jeans, and dark brown suede leather hiking boots.

The weather today, as of five minutes ago when I checked at least, is supposed to have a high in the low to mid-sixties, which is unseasonably mild for October in Maine. I tend to get cold easily, being rather lean and petite, barely reaching five feet and three inches. As a former semi-professional ballet dancer, I have a long, lithe body shape.

I run through my mental checklist of supplies one last time for a long overdue hike in Acadia National Park on Mt. Desert Island, I’m leaving for today.

Camera, check.

Cellphone, check.

Go pro camera and wireless portable cameras, check.

Tripod and hiking poles, check

Infrared, thermal and night vision lenses and scopes, check.

Wireless microphones, check.

Ghost and spirit sensing instruments, check.

Extra camera batteries, check.

Full water bladder and hydration tube, check.

Loaded pistol, extra clip plus bullets, and tactical knife with clip sheath, check.

Granola bars, freeze-dried food packets and protein powder, check.

Emergency wireless cellphone charger, check.

Flashlight, sanitary supplies, first aid kit and solar-powered lantern, check.

Metal Canteen, mess kit, lighter, matches and fire starters, check.

Vinyl Rain Poncho, packable sleeping bag, and microthermal rainproof blanket, check.

Roll up single person tent, tent footprint, and inflatable sleeping pad with pillow, check.

Heaving the large backpack that’s as big as my entire torso onto my back with a grunt and second guess the number of items I’ve packed, feeling the weight prying down on my shoulders. Thankfully, the metal framed backpack is fitted with padded torso and chest straps, relieving the bulk of the weight off of my shoulders. I’m not planning for an overnight hike, but it’s already after nine in the morning, and I’ll be lucky to arrive at the trailheads by 11 am. Better to be safe than sorry. Initially I wanted to start my hike between nine and ten a.m. at the latest, but I stayed up too late last night finishing the final edits for my most recent video for my YouTube channel, Hunting for Midnight.

Hunting for Midnight is a dream come true for me. The channel focuses on traveling the country where I document, interview people, search for, and record paranormal experiences and events. I investigate whether there is real paranormal activity occurring or if the disturbances are actually caused by natural events and circumstances. As of to date, I have yet to uncover single true evidence-based paranormal event. For the last four years I’ve spent investigating and documenting suspected paranormal events, there’s always logical and scientific evidence discovered to explain the unexplainable.

Even with that said, I’m not fully convinced that ghosts or spirits really exist. Are there really thousands of lost souls wandering the Earth? Those who supposedly remain trapped or held back for a variety of reasons. Perhaps they remain here in an unseen realm because they believe their death was unjust, possibly from being murdered or dying from a freak accident. There’s hundreds and hundreds of years of lore regarding people’s personal accounts and experiences claiming to see or hear their deceased loved ones. Maybe and hopefully, in the very near future, I’ll finally stumble on undeniable evidence that ghosts or spirits remain among us.

At twenty-three years of age, having a successful YouTube channel with over three million followers and growing, that earns me more than enough income to support myself, has only been possible through literal blood, sweat and tears. At several points during this journey there were torrents of tears shed. No pain, no gain, right? Right.

The plan for today isn’t to search for potential paranormal locations to investigate and document, though. I’m in desperate need of spending a day outdoors in the state of Maines' woodland for fresh air instead of spending hours engrossed in my computer screen. I’ve never hiked at the particular location I’m on my way to, however, and don’t want to be unprepared if I come across anything interesting to explore. A large portion of my videos are from accidentally discovering abandoned buildings and locations.

Removing the dog carrier from the living room closet, I spied Draco, my jet-black two-year-old pug slinking off of his spot on the couch, sneaking away to go hide under my bed, catching sight of the carrier. He absolutely hates going into the carrier and desperately tries to hide whenever he sees it. Even though he gets a handful of treats every time he goes into it. Since I’m not exactly sure how long I will be away for a hike in the woods today, my best girlfriend since the third grade, Kyra, offered to watch Draco overnight at her place.

“Draco, come on bud. There’s no need to act like such a drama llama.” I called after him, rolling my eyes and stalking after him. Although Draco is a male, he’s honestly the prissiest princess I have ever met. To be honest though, I’m the only one to blame for the majority of his bratty behavior, because I spoiled him rotten. I’m the problem, it’s me.

Peeking under my bed, I was not at all surprised to see two dark, glossy, and comically buggy eyes staring out from the farthest corner of my bed. Draco’s adorable wrinkly face is tucked between his front paws, as he huddles down flat on his belly. Never missing out on an opportunity for over-the-top dramatic behavior, he’s also shivering. This dog is so lucky he’s cute because at times he can be a real pain in my ass.

Holding out and waggling a dog treat that looks and smells like a bacon strip, I tempt my absurd little dog from under the bed with a sweet voice. “Draco, mama has a treat for you. Come here like a good boy. If we don’t leave soon, I’m going to miss the bus.”

His wet little nose wiggles and sniffs curiously at the sight and smell of the treat in my hand. “You’re going to stay the night with Kyra, you’re your second favorite person in the whole wide world.”

Unable to resist the mouthwatering aroma of bacon, Draco army crawls his way from underneath my bed. As soon as he’s within reach, I hook my finger under his collar so he can’t escape and offer him his treat. Which, of course, he gobbles down like he hasn’t eaten in days. Silly little pug.

Securing the wire door to the plastic dog carrier, Draco pushes out a pitiful whine, staring up at me with his glistening, round, heartbroken eyes through the wire bars.

My pups' depressing behavior tugs painfully at my heartstrings. “I’m sorry Draco. I know you hate going into the carrier. I’ll only be gone for one night though. You’ll be so happy when you see where I’m taking you. I promise.”

Before walking out the door, I take a quick peak at myself in the mirror hung above a small foyer table. After taking a shower this morning, I styled my long cinnamon colored hair into a tight French braid. My hair is long, nearly down to the middle of my back and rather thick, so braiding it helps keep it under control and out of the way. I didn't bother with any make-up other than a bit of mascara on my upper eyelashes, tinted BB Cream and dusty rose-tinted lip balm. There's still a light dusting of freckles visible on my fair, ivory skin over my nose and cheeks from being outdoors so much this summer.

Leaning into the mirror for a closer look at myself, noticing the dark tint of my skin under my yellow hazel-colored eyes from not getting enough sleep. Lack of sleep is a reoccurring theme for the last two years, unfortunately.

Exiting the nearly one hundred- and fifty-year-old apartment building I live in, walking to the nearest Ferry pier five blocks away, I turned around and smiled, admiring its historical atheists and details in the golden afternoon autumn sunlight.

Additionally, my smile is because I’m so thankful that I can afford to live in such a fabulous space here in Bar Harbor, a town located on Mt. Desert Island, which is just off of the coast of Maine. The three-story red brick building was originally a small shoe and leather factory and storefront, established in 1871. Blackwood Fine Leather & Footwear operated for over a decade as a shoe and leather goods factory before it was suddenly abandoned and passed through several different owners on and off for over one hundred and twenty years before finally being left to ruin. Almost every person who bought and utilized the factory building claimed it was haunted.

The building was first abandoned when the shoe companies‘ owner, along with his wife, disappeared without a trace while under police investigation due to several mysterious disappearances of factory employees. At first, the factory owner, R. W. Blackwood, claimed the missing employees, who were all females in their early twenties, had simply stopped showing up for work. After the third female in under a year went missing, along with growing outrage from the community, finally prompted an investigation to be opened. The mysterious disappearances of Robert, his wife, and the missing female employees remains unsolved to this day.

After learning about the building’s creepy history while on the hunt for an apartment, I knew I had to live here. I made a video covering the building’s disturbing history and unexplainable phenomena of sudden and extreme temperature drops, wailing and crying sounds, sightings of eerie figures wandering around, and claims of distressed women’s faces peering out of windows occurring on all levels of the building.

The investigative video of the apartment building and its history is still one of the most popular uploads on my channel. It even gained the interest of the local police department and a private detective, who I quickly realized was a complete jerk, who is trying to solve the mysterious circumstances of the factory’s shaky history.

Around ten years ago, a development firm bought the empty facility and rehabbed it into modern urban apartments. Due to the apartment’s plethora of amenities and downtown location, the units are in high demand. I was on a wait list for almost a year before a unit became available to rent.

Initially, I was only interested in a one-bedroom unit, but after waiting for so long, I immediately accepted the two-bedroom unit that became available. Although the rent for a two-bedroom unit was significantly higher than a one-bedroom, having an extra room has been a lifesaver.

The additional room has become my video editing and voice-over recording space, as well as a spare bedroom for guests. Not that I have a lot of guests staying over besides Kyra when we drink too much together on the weekends. She’s actually the only guest I’ve ever had to use the spare bed.

Well, that’s not entirely true either. My ex-boyfriend, Randy Turner, who I dated for years, lived in the spare bedroom on and off for exactly thirty days while I was in the process of legally evicting him because he refused to leave after I broke up with the loser. He helped me pick out the apartment, and we moved in together as soon as I received the keys. We lived together for barely six months before breaking up.

Strolling along the quaint coastal towns' sidewalk to the bus stop while reminiscing, I take in the coastal island scenery of busy docks, seagulls calling to one another, and other people out and about enjoying the last bit of decent weather before winter. The late morning sun is bright, and a fresh brine scented sea breeze teases a few loose strands of hair around my face that have pulled away from my French braid.