Ghostfacers

You know what's amazing, when you creep around forums dedicated to Supernatural and find out that there's a thread dedicated to hauntings around the world. Whenever one is found it's posted. That's how we found our next hunt. After Simon's failed attempt at finding an actual website for a haunting he came up with this brilliant idea. It's amazing that there's enough room in my brother's head for brilliance among all the stupidity.

"So what exactly is the story behind this house?" Spencer asked as she cleaned her camera equipment that she was set on bringing to the house with us.

"On the weekend of Friday the thirteenth--" Simon started.

"At a nice place called Camp Crystal Lake." Sammy started cutting off Simon.

"Where their mascot is a freaky hockey mask-wearing murderer..." I added smiling but trailed off because of the look I was receiving from my brother. If looks could kill, I'd be dead but then I'd come back and haunt his ass. Making sure that my bones were hidden first so he couldn't salt and burn them. I cleared my throat and went back to messing around with the air soft gun that was in my hands.

The paintball gun shooting salt didn't quite work out. My beloved AC/DC shirt was now paint splattered in vain. I guess we all have to make sacrifices for the good of the team. Spencer spent the majority of her college fund on camera equipment along with other high-tech gadgets which wasn't exactly a life or death thing because she was planning on going to film school anyways. This was just skipping the school part and going right on to filming.

Colby, Colby is probably going to die of a heart attack at a young age if she keeps overreacting over non-ghostie things. Like say, cats or Halloween decorations. Of course the cat one is excused because Dean Winchester screamed like a little girl when one jumped out of a locker. It's quite humorous because we're all pretty sure Colby, even though she's a girl, screamed less like one than Dean did.

Sammy lost her driver's license due to top secret Ghostfacer business; Simon was surrounded by girls all day, ones that weren't even the slightest bit interested in him in anyway and I had my ruined AC/DC shirt. We all had to sacrifice something but it was totally worth it. "As I was saying," Simon said.

"Blah, blah, blah weekend of the thirteenth." Colby prompted making sure all of the flashlights had brand new batteries, though it wouldn't be much help if an actual ghost came along.

"Right, this house--"

"It's our Morton House." I said interrupting him again just to spite him. Most of the things I do to Simon are out of love and spite. It's pretty great.

"Our Grand Canyon." Spencer piped up from her spot on the carpet surrounded by her equipment completely usurping Sammy's line who, in turn, threw a pillow from the couch at Spencer's head.

"This house," Simon started again putting emphasis on his words, his own little way to tell us to shut our gobs or we'll never know the lore without looking it up ourselves. We didn't want to look it up ourselves, not if we could get someone to tell us. We're a bit lazy when it comes to researching which is probably why we've been sent to so many houses with cats or old Halloween decorations instead of actual hauntings. "Is supposedly haunted by a serious bad ass. As the lore goes, every weekend of the thirteenth it becomes like the epicenter for all things supernatural and ghost-like. Teenagers mostly have gone into the house over the weekend and never came back out, a few have only because they split and ran before twelve midnight of the thirteenth.

"It actually dates back to the twenties when all this started, tons of people all mysteriously vanishing. It definitely is our Morton House." Simon concluded with a smirk on his lips. He was enjoying story time a little too much, in my opinion. The four of us were quiet as we sat in our respective spots letting what Simon told us sink in.

"So you're basically saying that this spirit gets hopped up on some uber supernatural juice on this very weekend and there's been deaths dating back to the twenties?" Colby asked trying to clarify what Simon just said but using cooler words like "hopped up," "uber" and "juice." Simon nodded his head and I bobbed mine a slightly.

"Sweet, prohibition." I commented. "I bet this loon had a speakeasy under the floor boards and a secret room for making some sweet ass moonshine." I couldn't stop smiling as the air soft gun, which was completely useless for hunting ghosts, fidgeted in my hands. This was going to be our best hunt ever! I only wished that Friday the thirteenth came sooner.