Ghost tours and mothers don't seem like a match, but here at Providence Ghost Tour, they go together like moonlit nights and black cats. My mother is my dearest friend. She was the first paranormal investigator, combing through the tiny historical society in our rural Vermont town to uncover the…
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“Edge.” The hiss of a small word, four little letters, crackled over the box. We looked at each other. My eyes were wide, hers were smiling. Edge. My last name. Spoken through a spirit box as we reached out to the dearly-departed outside the Providence Athenaeum. Spoken by a male voice in response…
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Ghosts and summer go together like . . . Hmm . . . like what exactly? Yes, we do see some furrowed…
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