Dead and Grounded
I never did like to fly. There’s just something about it that causes my palms to sweat, my blood pressure to elevate, and my heartbeat to quicken. I get a physical reaction just thinking about it. I start thinking about scenarios that perhaps I shouldn’t. Like escape routes. I really shouldn’t concern myself with them; after all, where are you gonna go once you exit from the airplane?
Am I sitting at the window? Always. Every time I fly, I get the window seat, it’s become a given. The Delta flight from Atlanta to Tulsa on January 27 would be no different.
What would be a change of pace, however, would start with the plane catching fire. That was a first. The night before, Stephen and I were engaged in a full-blown investigation of Norman the haunted doll. Nothing was planned, but after unboxing Norman from his vintage suitcase, we all treaded toward macabre events.
Two days following our session with Norman delivered sad news concerning a friend of mine. He had committed suicide. Norman the doll had mentioned his name in the hotel room during our communication session. “Die” was heard coming through a spirit box along with a few other names. A relative contacted me immediately after hearing the news. David had died the same night his name was mentioned by Norman.
I won’t go into too much more detail about our session, as I am certain Stephen has already covered it. The investigation ran until nearly four in the morning, and we were able to record some incredible interaction between us and Norman.
We all had to get up early for filming with producers the following morning. Then we had to get back home. So things were a bit hectic when I landed in Atlanta for a two-hour layover.
Those two hours preceded a ten-hour nightmare.
During the layover, my cell phone kept displaying a photo I had taken of Norman. Somehow it had become my android screen saver. At first, I thought it looked kind of cool, but it wasn’t something I really wanted to look at getting aboard the Boeing 737 aircraft, which was scheduled to depart at four fifteen in the afternoon for Tulsa.
We crawled onto the tarmac and made a wide turn to position for takeoff. Engines engaged seconds before accelerating. Then without warning, we heard a loud popping sound, and all lights on the plane went out.
Outside the plane behind my seat over the right wing, I saw a plume of smoke. I looked down at my seat to grab my phone for a light, and I once again saw Norman’s face on the screen saver.
A wave of fear passed through me instantly.
The lights in the cabin came back on for about ten seconds when another electric popping noise once again was heard. Again, all of the lights went out, and this time no air was circulating in our cabin. The fans had shut down as well.
I was amazed how quickly the air became stuffy and how the temperature rose, making it hard to breathe. Passengers were now speaking out loud, and I wasn’t the only one left unnerved.
To my left was an older man who I later found out was a parts engineer for a large corporation who flies twice a week. He commented that he’d never experienced anything like this.
Scenes from the investigation filled my thoughts. Perhaps I shouldn’t have held that lighter’s flames so close to Norman’s already partially melted face. Why did the words “die” and “fear me” repeat so many times during the investigation?
My thoughts were interrupted by a big maintenance vehicle pulling up to the aircraft. He hooked up and began towing the now-lifeless plane back to our gate. The whole process took about an hour.
Power to the cabin was restored after about fifteen minutes, much to our satisfaction, as it really was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. I kept wondering what would have happened if this electrical failure had occurred in flight? Isn’t that what controls the hydraulics that sustain flight?
I began searching internet search engines for aircraft crashes due to electronic failure. That didn’t make me feel much better about my situation. I honestly believe that at this point, had I had Norman with me, I would have demanded to be let off the plane. But Norman was with Stephen.
I found myself resetting the screen saver repeatedly to avoid the icy stare from Norman. Yet, each and every time it would return. The captain wired through the intercom that the plane needed repairs and there would be more delays.
People were upset and angry. Everyone was on their phones calling family members. I called my fiancée, Danae, and disclosed the events unfolding. As I was talking to her, I heard her whisper, “Darren, what the fuck,” with intensity.
She knew something wasn’t right, and after seeing for herself what we accomplished with Norman the night before, she was more than concerned that maybe this was because of him. While all of this was going on, I kept seeing myself using the cigarette lighter to trigger responses from the haunted doll. Every time I did, the doll would utter something like, “no,” “die,” “fear me,” or something else to be viewed in a negative light. I was literally trembling from the whole ordeal.
As a paranormal researcher who has conducted hundreds of Ouija sessions and investigated dozens of haunted locations all over the United States, I had yet to become truly terrified for my life. But now I was, and it was all thanks to that haunted doll. I was becoming sick from anxiety as nausea set in. The next two hours passed by very slowly.
Finally, the captain chimed in that the aircraft had been repaired and cleared for takeoff. That wasn’t exactly comforting as we were escorted out to the same runway. I would be lying to you if I said I wasn’t praying for safety moments before we were to take off into the dark skies above Atlanta, Georgia.
The prayer was seemingly answered almost immediately. Though not in any way I would have imagined. In an uncanny turn of events, the plane’s electrical circuit failed again. This time, no loud popping sound and no ominous grin from Norman peeking through my phone screen.
Just lights out with, once again, no air flow to the cabin.
Passengers had lost patience. I heard an elderly person sobbing. I saw people bowing their heads in quiet prayer. This time it was me exclaiming, “What the fuck?” Fear had turned into anger.
The flight attendants were even showing signs of stress. It was hot and stifling, and I grew very sick of the situation. Within moments, the reserve power kicked in, restoring our lights and temperature control.
I positioned the overhead vent onto my sweaty brow. We were now being told that the plane had been grounded and we would have to board another aircraft with even more delays. I just wanted to go home.
I even said to myself that I couldn’t seriously think the doll had anything to do with that incident. Two hours later, we were boarding a different aircraft, and I was once again seated at the window
Every movement, sound, and vibration was quickly analyzed and processed with error expected at every turn in my mind.
Considering what had happened earlier, I was more than paranoid. My brain was on overload, little sleep and maximum weirdness had invaded my world. My fear of flying magnified tenfold.
We crept out onto the runway. As soon as the nose of the aircraft made the final wide turn, we suddenly were thrust back into our seats and into the air in seconds. I honestly expected to crash.
The rest of the flight was fine, other than the recurring haunted thoughts of Norman. Upon arriving in Tulsa, I walked down the aisle to see a red-faced captain standing outside the cockpit. I made it a point to ask him what would have happened if that electrical failure was in mid-flight.
The pilot looked around nervously to see if anyone had heard me. He said it was against policy to speculate. But he did offer to me that in thirty years of military and commercial service, he had never experienced such a loss of power twice in a row like that. The look on his face told me what I needed to know. Strangely, his dark brown eyes reminded me of Norman.
I strolled to the restroom and splashed cold water onto my face. I felt like hell. As I was walking toward baggage pickup, I saw the captain and a flight attendant sitting at a small bar at Tulsa International Airport. I saw three empty shot glasses on their table. I figured the captain was in dire need of a drink. I wanted to join them but my ride was waiting.
But the strangeness with Norman did not stop there. A string of tragic events followed. I woke up the following day to the news that my friend David was discovered dead. I was in shock. He was found dead in his closet. Emergency responders described a horrific scene where he had hanged himself.
A few weeks later, my brother was found nonresponsive and dead at my parents’ house.
Within days of my brother’s passing, one of my closest friends mysteriously fell from a bridge over Highway 75 in Tulsa. He was pronounced dead on the scene.
It had become beyond weird and head-turning that all of these people just up and died within days of one another. All of these people were tied to me, and I was tied to Norman. I could have never imagined that outcome in a trillion years, but it happened. I became rather lethargic and withdrawn in the days ahead. I had never seen such a series of tragedies unfolding, and I didn’t take it well.
A few months passed by, and once again death came knocking. The paranormal world was shocked at the an-
nouncement that author Rosemary Ellen Guiley had passed away.
Stephen had shared with Rosemary and me the case file on Norman, and we all communicated back and forth about this crazy doll.
Rosemary was scheduled to assist Stephen and me in the filming of A Haunting, but ultimately, she was unable to attend due to illness.
Rosemary was no stranger to haunted dolls and objects, as she documented many cases over the years concerning haunted possessions. Her career spanned five decades, and she held many prestigious honors and active memberships in numerous organizations and specialized fields of paranormal research. As I understand it, her last writings appear in this book.
It’s difficult for me to put into words how I feel about all of this. I know Stephen shares with me the sadness of losing a friend, and I know Stephen also salutes Rosemary beside me as we say so long to a paranormal icon. We both agree that whatever Norman touches turns to somberness.
The last time I spoke with Rosemary, she sounded distant and distracted. She told me after thinking about it that she made the decision to step away from the dark side of the paranormal. She had seen all she needed to see with Norman the doll. I told Rosemary in that final conversation that I admired her decision to step away from the darkness. I told her I hope I’m in the position to do the same thing someday.
A fascination with haunted dolls and toys will always be an interest of mine. Perhaps it’s the energy we project onto these dolls that determines if they harbor some of the darkness we all have as human beings. I think it’s obvious that they are extensions of who we are.
From time immemorial, we have believed that spirits can reside in people, places, and objects. From primitive ghost worship to early voodoo and other extensions that formed the basis for organized religion, spirits are attracted to dolls for the same reason we are.
They can give us comfort and warmth. Dolls bring security to children’s insecurities. Or they can inspire fear and terror by attracting energies dark and dangerous.
On one shoulder, there’s a voice that says, “No way abhorrent entities can inhabit a doll.” The other shoulder whispers, “Oh yes I can, and sometimes I do.”
I want to thank phenomenologist Stephen Lancaster for being a great friend and wisely resourceful associate through the years. The Norman case is one for the books, and the material I have seen and witnessed firsthand is not only eye opening but terrific. This is certainly one of the most important paranormal cases currently being researched. It has left an impact on the community and will continue to do so.