On Sunday July 21, 2013, I went to the Lizzie Borden House with over a dozen other people. I do believe the final count was thirteen. It usually is.
Most of us spend from Thursday to Sunday at Necon, a horror writers conference in Rhode Island, and then go to Lizzie's. Some people only go to Lizzie's and the combos are different every year.
This year, I finally got to go at the same time as Heather Graham. I'd finally talked her into going and then I didn't get there for a few years. So this time, we were there together.
Once Necon was wrapped up and our little group said our good-byes to the last con stragglers and off we went to hunt down Lovecraft's Grave. Being brain dead from four sleepless days of yakity yaking, it was like herding cats but we eventually arrived at H.P.'s marker.
We posed for pictures and then went on our way to the Lizzie Borden Bed and Breakfast.
Once at Lizzie's, we went out for dinner which was followed by a tour for some and a radio show for others. Almost everyone had a chance to share his or her key past experience on the radio show.
Supernatural Radio Show Live from Lizzie Borden archive
I needed to take a break from all the frantic energy for a while so we all went outside for a breath of air and smokes for those who partake.
It was a lovely night, possibly too muggy for some people but I've experienced much more oppressive heat here in Toronto so it didn't disturb me.
After clearing my head for a bit, we all gathered in the living room or the dying room, I guess. We placed a candle in the center of the room and I turned on my K2 meter.
We all held hands, lights off, only the candle flickering.
Right away, before I even began the ritual, they were there. I don't exactly know who "they" are but they were in the room. I've been with them before in that room in a séance.
In some ways, it's easier for me to lead a séance because I only have to think about summoning and being certain everyone is okay. I feed from everyone's energy but it's hard to have full concentration after four days of conventioning and sitting in a room where a man was brutally killed with an axe. When I'm a participant in a séance, I experience far too much weirdness and get totally creeped out. When I'm leading, I always have one foot in reality.
Waves of dark unrest washed through me. The ripples and pulses were the omnipotent presence of Andrew. He was merely nudging me, he hadn't left my side since I arrived at the house. He had even followed me to dinner, urging me back to the house, furious that I had left.
Abby came through as did Lizzie herself.
I've never experienced Lizzie before that night. She came through on the radio show and she came through in the séance. I felt her and the candle responded to the questions.
Lizzie was upset with me for saying that in my own opinion, she murdered her parents, on the live radio broadcast. Although she's secretly proud of her deed, even in the afterlife, her angry denials come through as crashing waves. I told her I was sorry she was upset but it's the truth and it's done.
Corrine de Winter wanted me to cross Lizzie over but it's not up to me to do that. Lizzie has likely crossed over many times and people, like us, keep calling her back. She enjoys the infamy so of course she'll show up now and again. In the end, Lizzie herself determined that no one was going to cross over that night.
After another break, we passed a key around. Each person took turns holding the key and describing what they felt. Lisa Mannetti had a wild experience. When she first received the key, she felt nothing. She's very good with psycometry so it was puzzling to her. Then, whoosh, a full frontal impact smacked her in the cranium and she had a whole story to tell.
Kelli Jones also had an experience. A blackness attached itself to her back. It's happened to a few of us at the Borden home. It likely hopped off once she left the house. There are many types of shadow people and creatures at the bed and breakfast. I didn't feel any of the ghost cats this time around although the first time I ever stayed overnight, there was a cat encounter every few minutes, just as in real life.
Lisa and I performed joint tarot readings for those left behind. The vibes in the house were rocking and the cards were easy to see in most cases.
I actually quite enjoy reading cards at Lizzie's house and if I lived closer, I'd try to work there.
While we were reading tarot cards, the K2 meters became very active. We'd ended up using Dennis Cummins K2 meter as well and watching them together was doubly creepy. It appeared to me that the meters jumped when I'd answer the question. For me, sometimes when I answer, I get goose bumps, and that way I know I'm on to something. As goose bumps rippled along my arms, the K2 meters flashed, up to three and sometimes past.
We moved the K2 meters around a bit. A couple of the braver people went down to the basement to see if the air conditioner was underneath or if there was any other wiring. We kept in touch by knocking to each other. There was nothing under the area we sat that would set off the K2s.
If it was cell phones, why didn't they go off for the previous hour of séances and so on? Cell phones were going off and pictures were being taken but those suckers didn't budge.
Not until the cards came out.
The night wound down. I did the last tarot reading and everyone else was in bed. Corrine and I got set up in Andrew Borden's room. I crawled under the covers, bone tired from the séances, tarot cards, radio shows, three days of seeing the sun come up, and somehow, magically, I dropped into the blackness of sleep.
There was no peace in my sleep. I fell and fell as ripples of images flashed like images in Clockwork Orange or Jacob's Ladder. Images of people and sitautions I knew, and the Borden murders, Fall River way back, and Andrew's face flicking in and out. It was so creepy. It was like being on a train or a roller coaster going through a slatted tunnel where only slashes of light hit your face but the light is a disturbing image.
I launched into a dream within a dream kind of thing, not so unusual for me. One dream I remembered very slightly and is a recurring dream theme for me. However, that night there were great tones of darkness and angry omnipotence colouring the dream, accelerating the horror to a new level of dread. The dream itself was an anxiety nightmare, searching for someone endlessly, finding and losing and stupid mistakes. Then shoes are lost wading through sludge and clothes are off and on and off and soiled and tattered while people chatter loud nonsense in the background but the show must go on. But what is the show? If you can't figure it out, the blackness will be angry.
You get the idea.
I think we all have anxiety dreams at some point.
What better place than Andrew Borden's bedroom?
I woke, dreams sliding off me as if I'd been sleeping underneath a nest of scorpions and snakes. Andrew's stern face was the last image to fade as there was a knock on the door. It was the breakfast call.
Bleary-eyed, I crawled out of bed and joined the others, who looked about as well-rested as myself, to the dreaded breakfast that was supposed to replicate the murder morning with the exception of rotten mutton.
Some people chattered energetically. I'm not a morning person at all anymore, so it took a while for me to balance myself. I'm always wiped out after doing tarot readings for other people, it doesn't matter how many I do. You have to tap into another realm and the battery needs to be recharged with a good night's sleep.
We went for real food after we loaded the cars. It's always amazing to me how ungodly slow the service is in Fall River no matter where we go. You should be able to serve a dozen people and have them out within sixty minutes. But no...not there. They're all on New England time. I'm a big city girl. The food was fantastic though, I'll give them that. I had Boston Clam Chowder, my favourite New England treat.
You never know what will happen at the Lizzie Borden Bed and Breakfast. I've had years where I experienced more but perhaps it was the same since now I know what that initial rush feels like. I hadn't had the rush the last two times I went. Yet I had it this trip.
The rush happens the minute I step through the threshold for the very first time. I've never come in the side door first before and was surprised I experienced the rush the minute my foot hit the threshold. In fact, I wasn't expecting the rush at all since I hadn't felt it the previous times. It's a frightening feeling yet the fact it had happened made me smile.
The energy is part of the house. Whatever it is. It likes to play with you. Moving t hings around, creeping you out, hanging off your back, twitching along your calves like a cat. Even though there is the residual energy of sadness and terror, much of that is likely now part of the parade of clients who have stayed at the house over the decades. Their own fears become mirrored and mired into the vibrations at the house.
The best way to experience the Lizzie Borden house is to book the entire house with a group of friends. That way you have full control of all the rooms until people go to bed and you can keep track of where people are to debunk noises. If you don't have anyone among you to run a séance or read tarot cards or work with evps, K2 meters, and other equipment, there are locals you can hire. Just let Lee-Ann know if you want to hire a psychic for the night and she'll hook you up.
In the meantime, I'm available every day and night for your own personalized tarot reading.
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