Creepy Cute Morgan

Dear Readers, Morgan here. I’ve taken back my blog (for now at least). Melinda, my coworker and ghost hunting buddy, has more lore she wants to share with you later. She’s kept all the local stories in her **grimoire. Today though, I’m writing to catch you up on our PPS sighting from a few weeks ago. PPS is the code Melinda, Kyle, and I use to let each other know when we suspect a “Potential Paranormal Sighting.” Kyle, my former boss and the fry man at our current employer Bad Carl’s, insisted we use “paranormal” and not “ghost.” Kyle still doesn’t believe in ghosts- despite the fact that he saw one- we all saw one, 2 weeks ago. As it so happens, the day after Melinda, Kyle, and I helped a spirit find peace, Melinda’s great great aunt died. It was expected- she was 103, but still shocking considering we’d just been talking to a ghost the day before (at least I had been). I’m an Empath and can feel people’s emotions (all of them, all the time). I’m also a ghost wh

One of Morgan's artsy photos. Hey Losers, Melinda here. What? Did you think Morgan was going to write all of our stories? No fucking way! She was dumb enough to leave her phone at my house, so I get to post on our blog- OUR BLOG. Morgan said we were a team, so this blog is 34% mine. Kyle gets 33% and so does Morgan. I get the extra 1% because I have the balls and without me there would be no ghost hunting team. BTW,  I've named our ghost hunting team The Undead Society. Wicked, right? Anyway, I'm a true OGS (Orange Groves Springs) girl. I've never lived anywhere else. And lucky for you, I'm all about the lore. Morgan may love old places and old things, but I love the things that go bump in the night (growl).  Here's one of my favorite OGS stories, as told by my dad: Elton John & Fungus Man Okay this story isn't really about Elton John (the old singer guy), but my dad loves him and always looked for any excuse to talk about him

Hello Friends of OGS, When last I wrote, I was at Fred’s where I’d just guided a lost little ghost girl. If you’re a new reader, go back and read about Fred. He’s my first story. My last adventure, which I decided to call “Donuts & Tombstones” because I like my spookiness covered in sprinkles, detailed my personal outing as a ghost guide. It’s shocking, I know. I would have preferred to learn of my new abilities privately, but as you already read, that’s not what happened. My coworkers, Melinda and Kyle, witnessed in full horror (Melinda) / fascination (Kyle) as I talked a ghost out of a crumbled tombstone and helped her find peace. The next day, I met Melinda and Kyle at Camille’s Café, the downtown bakery and espresso shop that provides Bad Carl’s (the greasy joint where Kyle, Melinda and I work) with all its novelty pastries. Over 2 hours, 2 pots of coffee, and a dozen donuts, I was able to convince Mel and Kyle that 1. I’m not crazy, 2. I didn’t