Lahat ng Kabanata ng Field Team 42: Paranormal Responders: Kabanata 101 - Kabanata 110

Then, once again, Grandfather and I stood in Victor’s living room. The calendar on the wall said it was December 1991, the Christmas season before the church would be burned down. The house looked like it had suffered from the passage of time and neglect. It was worse now than I had imagined it could be. Dirty dishes and trash were strewn across the floor, some old coffee cups, and forgotten plates sitting untouched for far too long. The tangy smell of unwashed dishes and spoiled food filled the air, mixing with the faint scent of old wood and dust. It was a place that had been abandoned not just by its owner but by any real sense of care or upkeep. It felt like something dead, a tomb of a life that once held so much promise.The dark spirit, Victor’s constant companion, had grown. It was no longer the faint shadow lurking behind Victor’s wife’s chair. Now, it was large, filling the space with its menacing presence. The thing was as large as a St. Bernard, its dark form taking up the c

The church, usually filled with life, stood silent, empty, its doors open wide but offering no welcome. The hauntingly still air of the building weighed heavily on me as I stood there beside Grandfather, watching the scene unfold. Through my Sight, the sacred space felt more than just abandoned. It felt as though it had been emptied for a purpose, as if the very walls of the church were holding their breath, waiting for something that had already been set in motion.Victor entered through the wide, arched doors, his boots heavy on the worn wooden floor. His eyes scanned the empty pews, the rows of seats that should have been filled with congregants. Instead, the space was cold, devoid of any warmth, of any life. I could almost hear the echo of his frustration as he muttered to himself, walking up the center aisle, his gaze never leaving the bare pews.He was talking to himself, but I knew he wasn’t alone. The Dark Spirit, that malevolent presence that had been twisting Victor’s mind f

I have to thank Mitch for being yet another guest writer in this journal. I don’t think you’d have a complete picture of things, dear reader, if he hadn’t recounted his Spirit Journey and if X hadn’t written earlier about his escape from Phoenix and his last encounter with Mr. Y.Mitch might have returned to the physical world, but his journey was obviously weighing on his mind, and I could see the weight of everything Mitch had learned in the somber way he carried himself. The truth about Victor and the way the darkness had taken hold of him, it weighed on all of us, and yet, there was no time for grief. We had to act. And for now, we needed to keep moving forward.The next step in the process brought us to the Dust Bowl Native American Cultural Center. With Mitch by my side and J tagging along, we made our way through the streets of town, still layered with the dust of the land, but now with a sense of urgency. J hadn’t spent much time out of the Grimbsy house, and his life before ha

The cold night air seemed to sharpen as we moved into the clearing, the land stretching out around us like a canvas, ready for whatever would come next. The skinwalker, Victor, was waiting. His form loomed in the distance, a twisted shadow standing in stark contrast to the flickering light of our torches. Even from this far away, I could feel the weight of his presence, dark, oppressive, and charged with a palpable menace.I could hear my heart beating in my ears as we advanced, the ground beneath our feet soft with dew, the earth itself seeming to pull us toward something inevitable. This was it, the moment we’d all been preparing for, and I could feel it deep in my bones. No more hiding, no more running. The time for confrontation had arrived.X moved forward first, his tech weapons ready. He’d taken the lead in the past, blasting away threats with his advanced technology. But tonight, it wasn’t the Hitchhiker he was dealing with. This was something entirely different, something old

As I stood at the back of the Grimsby house, the place that had become more than just a home in these past few weeks, I couldn’t help but reflect on how far I’d come. It felt surreal, almost like someone else had lived the life I was now looking back on. It hadn’t been easy, nothing worth having ever is, but I had grown in ways I never could have imagined back in those first chaotic moments of my life as an agent.Back in Chapter 1 of this memoir, dear reader, I was just a professor, a man in the right place at the wrong time. I didn’t want to be part of this world of supernatural threats, this world of danger, conspiracy, and unimaginable creatures. I wanted nothing more than to live a quiet life, teaching my classes, maintaining my distance from the dark, twisted things lurking beneath the surface of our world.But life doesn’t work like that, does it?I had been thrust into this world and, slowly, reluctantly, I had adapted. The journey I had taken since then had shaped me into some