For $2 you can tour Middletown’s ‘haunted’ school: What you might experience

Last year, Paula Dykto, of Paula’s Paranormal Project (P3), took me on my first paranormal investigation at Dayton’s allegedly haunted locale, the Spaghetti Warehouse.

Traversing the dark halls and debris inside the five-story building, above the main floor that deals in garlic butter, Paula offered factual context for the spiritual activity happening inside. A medium tapped into residual energy of the rooms with her claircognizance, and an audiophile recorded Electronic Voice Phenomena that he’d later review and send over group text in the subsequent weeks.

The investigation was holistic and well-rounded, in a sense, with their respective skills offering scientific, historical and psychic viewpoints. But what was most appealing is how their respect for the buildings, and thus respect for the spirits, transcends that of what we’re primed to believe via sensationalist pop culture examples of paranormal experiences.

P3s want to communicate peacefully, to not antagonize the spirits but to foster connections via conversations and offerings, is the reason I willingly entered a spiritually active space for a second time. The group brings comfort to those who may be uncomfortable.

But this year, instead of perusing the Spaghetti Warehouse, we went to Poasttown Elementary School in Middletown, a former Madison Twp. school building, where the motto is: “When you leave… you believe!”

Taking a right onto Trenton Franklin Road, Poasttown’s facade revealed itself just beyond the quiet tree line. As I drove up to the school — palo santo and amethyst in my pocket for good measure — it’s clear I was more frightened than I was at my last paranormal rodeo. Anxiety sat in my legs, though I knew I had no choice but to proceed with my yearly spooky mission.

I met with Paula, psychic medium Bronwyn Blanc, and Poasttown caretaker Darrell Whisman as they sat around a concrete picnic table. Darrell went to school at Poasttown in 1963. He and his wife, Brenda, bought the building in 2004, and have made their home out of its classrooms.

All things considered, I asked Darrell if it scares him to live there. He said no, that he’ll die there. He smoked his first cigarette in the boiler room, and he plans to smoke his last in there, too. But he also said this:

“I’ve been attacked in here four times, and I don’t know why I didn’t want to leave. Once, I had four holes in my head, bleeding like crazy. The other time, it just beat me up, threw me out of bed. It got so bad that we put a video camera to film us sleeping at night.”

Paula assured me that the school is much different from the Spaghetti Warehouse, meaning there is heightened activity. According to Darrell, the most active areas shift nightly, but key hot spots include the nurse’s station, the dry goods storage, the boiler room, Ms. Johnson’s room, and the gymnasium.

Some historical context: Poasttown Elementary School was dedicated in 1937 and closed in 2000. In the late 1800s and into the 1900s, multiple train wrecks with casualties happened within a mile of the property. The flood of 1913 caused mass destruction in Butler County, which also may have left some residual energy behind.

“Spirits want to be where other people are,” Bronwyn said. “They like being in restaurants, bars, wherever people are having fun, things they missed in their lifetime. Maybe they miss their youth. They enjoy seeing kids play. Even though the school is no longer active, some of the spirits and residuals are still here.”

Paula said she once had an incident, a miscommunication with a spirit in the basement cafeteria. Something had rushed and attached to her. She spun around and fainted. The two have since made amends, but Paula brought a cigar, to sprinkle tobacco on the ground as a peace offering, to score more karmic points. In the ghosting world, a right frame of mind — one both fortified and open — is essential to having a positive experience.

In every room, there’s a sign that reads “please refrain from any craft while in the school.” That means no summoning, no rituals, and no open flames. The subtext: people do live here.

Armed with only our flashlights, we went down the steps.

The basement’s brick walls were painted with bright murals. Immediately, perhaps primed for a fright due to Paula’s story of getting jumped, I felt I’d lost my ability to speak. There was just an overwhelming sense of dread walking through the cafeteria. I was seeing shadows, the darkness was moving, as if someone was perpetually standing right behind me. All I could do in those moments was put my legs on autopilot, and listen.

Bronwyn sat at a table. She took out a hardbound notebook and set a pen on the paper. She does automatic writing, or psychography, a spiritual practice where a person produces written words or drawings without conscious thought, either by channeling external forces or the unconscious mind. It should be noted Bronwyn can draw on her own, too. A face popped through the line work. It didn’t appear malicious, but we filed into the next room anyway.

The gym was far more naturally lit than the cafeteria. I felt relieved. I was so comfortable, in fact, that I proposed I could possibly hang out in the gym for a while. It was at that moment of clarity that Bronwyn started dancing on stage, at the behest of some incorporeal children. I stand corrected on the hanging out comment.

“Is it bad to admit nervousness?” I asked Paula.

“It depends on the location,” she said. “In here, I think you’re okay. Back there, in the cafeteria, I would tell people you need to be like, I’m cool. This is great. I’ve got this all together, even if it’s inwardly terrifying.”

No wonder I kept my mouth shut.

In the “Creepy Doll Room,” as it were, creepy dolls lined the perimeter. Porcelain faces and Raggedy Ann eyes seemed to follow us wherever we went, but the kitschiness of the room outweighed its inherent creepiness. Above the doorframe, a side read “why are you here?” Paula turned on Necrophonic, an app that simulates traditional spirit boxes by sweeping through radio frequencies to potentially capture EVPs.

Words like “sick,” “duck,” “tummy” and “butt” were all coming through. Some people never leave elementary school.

In the nurses’ station, there are no windows. There is a specific despair one can only feel with having your eyes wide open and it still being so totally dark.

“If you want me to come out in the hallway by myself,” Paula said, “make a noise for me.”

So often in those moments of silence, listening for a sign of a presence, the only light being the soft red glow of an exit sign down the hallway, I want nothing more than to run back the way I came and out through the double doors, never to return to the windowless room.

Instead, I maintain, even when the room responds.

A noise. She asked again, to ensure it wasn’t the foundation settling. Another noise, a little hastier than the last.

In the room, I sat behind a desk, unconsciously straightened my back (my normal resting position is a hunch), and clasped my hands like a good little student. If the rumors of the room were true, that it’s occupied by a strict teacher, who I envisioned to be dressed conservatively with horn-rimmed glasses on a strap, I wanted to be on my best behavior.

As Bronwyn looked around, Paula read “Hi, Pizza Man!” out loud to the class. A few pages into the tale of anthropomorphic delivery drivers, I felt a chill on the back of my neck. I shot up out of my desk and went to sit in the time-out chair. Upon further investigation, there was an open window. But I cannot deny the hair-raising feeling.

Before investigating the final location of the night, the principal’s office, we took a breather in the safe room.

Bronwyn said she’s been a medium for her entire life, though she lived in denial for several years. She’s since helped people clear their homes and deal with other spiritual matters.

“I’ve been doing it for a really long time,” she said. “Finally, I’m just like, can everywhere I go be haunted?”

I often ask the same question, but the opposite.

One current challenge for ghost hunters is avoiding AI contamination. To keep things authentic, Paula says they’ve turned to running older programs on outdated laptops to verify evidence.

In the principal’s office, Paula powered up a clunky Windows laptop and ran Phasmabox, a spirit box program that filters noise and transmits signals through a Bluetooth speaker.

I never really went to the principal’s office as a student, and that good boy charm seemed to vibe with the paranormal situation. Also, the principal, allegedly handsy in life and in the afterlife, doesn’t, as they say, care for men all that much. So I was safe in that regard.

As was the case last year at the Warehouse, Paula placed flashlights in the doorway. They were off, but just barely. The idea is that anything passing over them may turn them on. It’s another communication tool. As the Phasmabox spouted words and non-words, the spirits taking on the voice of several radio personalities to get their points across to our world, it’s clear the power of suggestion is strong. If one person interprets a sound one way, it’s highly likely the rest of the room will agree.

“If you turn the light on,” Paula proposed, “one of us will go in there.”

Several times, the flashlights turned on. Bronwyn went into the office and something brushed against her hip. When things start to touch you, it’s time to get out.

The original plan was to tag along with a larger group, but I felt that a smaller team would yield better results.

“I’ve had people come in and say, ‘This place ain’t haunted. Ain’t gonna be a ghost. I ain’t gonna see nothing.’ And it totally flatlines the entire building,” Paula said. “But our core group, we have really good energy. I’m all about positivity, and fill it with laughter.”

This is Bronwyn’s second trip to Poasttown. She had the same spirits talk to her. She describes it like getting to know somebody: the more you hang out, the more likely they’ll share their personality with you.

For this writer, though, Poasttown Elementary School may be the first and only date.

As we left the building, Bronwyn offered to cleanse me with sage. I took her up on the offer. I told her about the amethyst and palo santo in my pocket, and asked if she thought they protected me.

“It only works if you think it does.”

I suppose the same could be said about hunting ghosts.

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