Jenny’s Monday night ghost banishing
Date: 2025-08-04 00:17
(Jenny’s Monday night ghost banishing)
[Mon Aug 4 2025]
Independence Mill/span>/span60F(15C) degrees. The mist is heaviest At Mayflower and Washington/span>/spanThe heavy wooden doors of Independence Mill creak open as Jenny, Kaelyn, and Eloa step inside, their flashlight beams cutting through the dusty darkness. The abandoned textile factory stretches before them, filled with the skeletal remains of industrial looms and spinning machines draped in cobwebs. The air smells of rust, old cotton fibers, and something else – something metallic and sharp.
A rhythmic clanking echoes from deeper in the mill, metal striking metal in an irregular pattern that shouldn’t exist in a building that’s been without power for decades. The sound stops abruptly as their footsteps disturb the silence, leaving only the whistle of wind through broken windows high above.
Near the entrance, an old cork bulletin board still hangs on the wall, scattered with yellowed safety notices and work schedules from 1994. One corner displays a faded employee photo – workers in hard hats standing proudly beside their machines. The nameplate beneath one woman’s photo reads “M. Chen – Night Shift Engineer.“
As Kaelyn’s flashlight sweeps across the main floor, it catches something glinting near the base of a massive loom marked “#7.” The beam wavers slightly, and for just a moment, the shadows seem to move independently of the light.
“Mainly some spirit is causin’ a ruckus. And it’ll look good if we help it find peace. Or beat it up..” Jenny says taking a sip of the Espresso taking al ook around “Y’all see anything weird?”
“Amica didn’t follow unfortunately.” Eloa sighs and shrugs, “The spirit won’t wait this long – speaking of..” Eloa sighs as they look around, “Why does everything have to be so old? Can’t there be zoomer spirits?” Eloa grumbles as she lights up like the moon, her body glowing to illuminate the dark space better than torchlight.
Kaelyn lifts her nose slightly as if scenting the air, taking a few more timid steps into the room. “I, uh, have never done anything like this.” She pads through the dusty room still scenting the air, creeping closer to the cork board. “What exactly are we looking for? Or is it a thing of know it when we see it?”
Eloa’s supernatural glow illuminates the mill’s interior in stark detail, casting long shadows between the industrial machinery. The light reveals more than the flashlights could – scuff marks on the concrete floor leading toward Loom #7, and what appears to be old bloodstains near its base, darkened with age.
As Kaelyn approaches the bulletin board, her enhanced senses pick up something beneath the rust and decay – a faint scent of jasmine tea and machine oil, as if someone had been working here recently. The employee photo of M. Chen seems clearer in Eloa’s light, showing a woman with intelligent eyes and calloused hands, standing confidently beside the very loom that now draws their attention.
Jenny’s casual mention of spirits causes an immediate response. The rhythmic clanking resumes, louder now, emanating from Loom #7. The massive machine’s drive shaft begins to turn slowly on its own, ancient gears grinding against each other with a sound like grinding teeth. Dust motes dance in Eloa’s glow as they’re stirred by the impossible movement.
A piece of paper flutters down from somewhere high in the rafters, landing near Kaelyn’s feet. It appears to be a handwritten maintenance log, dated July 1994, with meticulous notes about “dangerous vibrations in drive assembly” and “management refuses replacement parts.“
The temperature drops noticeably, and their breath begins to mist in the suddenly frigid air.
Jenny shivers moving over to look more closely at the loom that has just started moving “Well.. usually its obvious. Like this thing here…”
“Yup you’ll know it when you see.” Eloa comments as she looks at the loom. “Guess someone died here… ” Eloa comments with a shiver, hugging her arms as she looks about. “We usually need to find some way to placate the spirit or ghost.. help them move on.”
Kaelyn leaps a little as the thing starts to move on it own. Half of her wanted to stay away and so she chose to bend down to scoop up the paper, reading it a little more carefully. Shivering slightly in the chill she turned to the other two, “Have either of you drunk any tea recently?”
“Drive bearing #3 showing stress fractures. Recommended immediate shutdown. Request denied – J.Morrison, Night Supervisor. Workers at risk.” The date is August 3rd, 1994.
As Eloa mentions helping spirits move on, a new sound joins the mechanical grinding – a woman’s voice, barely audible over the machinery, speaking in frustrated tones. The words are unclear, but the emotion is unmistakable: urgent warning mixed with deep anger.
More papers begin falling from the rafters like snow – dozens of maintenance reports, all in the same meticulous handwriting, all documenting safety violations and ignored repair requests. One lands directly in front of Jenny, its header reading “CRITICAL SAFETY VIOLATION – LOOM #7 DRIVE ASSEMBLY.“
The jasmine tea scent grows stronger, and in the dancing shadows cast by Eloa’s light, a figure seems to move between the machines – tall, wearing work clothes, carrying what looks like a clipboard.
“Eloa going to guess this poor woman died on this loom.. Because of these problems the supervisor refused to fix.” Eloa frowns as she looks at the loom, sniffing a bit, “No.. but can smell jasmine .. at least is nice smell not like blood..”
“No, but some shroom tea sounds awesome.” Jenny admits as she picks up some of the papers “I feel like I wanna beat the shit out of this J Morrison. But he probably doesn’t exist on this plan of existence.” Jenny looks closely at the loom “Okay Ms. Chen. What do you need help with here?”
Kaelyn shivers again, looking at the paper in her hand. “Would you like us to fix this part?” She squints at the paper, “Drive bearing #3? Stop this from happening again?” Nervously her eyes watch the spirit as she bobs her head toward the haunted loom. “It’s that one, right?”
The moment Jenny addresses Margaret Chen directly, the grinding machinery falls silent. The temperature drops further, and frost begins forming on the metal surfaces of the loom. In the sudden quiet, Margaret’s voice becomes clearer – not quite audible words, but the cadence of someone trying desperately to explain something important.
The shadowy figure solidifies slightly near Loom #7, revealing a woman in work coveralls with her hair pulled back, pointing urgently at something beneath the machine. Her form flickers like a bad television signal, but her gestures are insistent.
More papers cascade down, but these are different – photocopies of official documents, memos, and what appears to be a partially completed whistleblower report. One sheet lands at Kaelyn’s feet with “EVIDENCE OF DELIBERATE NEGLIGENCE” written across the top in Margaret’s careful handwriting.
The figure of Margaret moves toward a section of the mill floor near the loom’s base, where several loose floorboards are visible. She points downward repeatedly, her form becoming more agitated. The scent of jasmine intensifies, mixed now with the metallic smell of old blood.
A new sound emerges – not mechanical this time, but the rustle of hidden papers.
Jenny stares at the floorboards “I don’t think I am liking where this is goin’.” as she takes out a crowbar starting to get to work on the floorboards
“Well maybe we should take a look…” Eloa comments as she makes her way towards Jenny just as Jenny goes to go crowbar the floorboards. She waves at Amica and then peers anxiously over Jenny’s shoulder to see what lays underneath.
Kaelyn picks up the newest paper, reading it carefully. “Someone tapered with it?” As the spirit seemed more inclined to communicate then do ‘mean’ things she padded closer to watch Jenny.
Amica puffs a breath, watching carefully. As careful as she can, she looks exhausted already.
Jenny’s crowbar makes quick work of the rotted floorboards, which splinter and crack with surprising ease. Beneath the planks lies a metal toolbox, its surface corroded but intact. Inside, wrapped in oiled cloth, are dozens of documents – maintenance reports, photographs of damaged equipment, and a thick folder marked “OSHA COMPLAINT – DRAFT.“
Margaret’s spirit becomes more solid as the hidden evidence is revealed, her form gaining clarity and color. She nods approvingly, then points to a specific photograph in the stack – it shows the exact drive bearing that killed her, with visible stress fractures that should have shut down the entire operation.
At the bottom of the box lies a tape recorder, its plastic case cracked but functional. A handwritten label reads “Morrison – August 4th confession.” Margaret’s spirit gestures urgently toward the device, her mouth moving in what appears to be the word “listen.“
The mill’s atmosphere shifts noticeably. The oppressive cold begins to lift slightly, and the mechanical sounds fade to whispers. Margaret’s form wavers between solid and translucent, as if she’s caught between staying and leaving.
The jasmine scent grows stronger, almost overwhelming now, mixed with something else – the smell of justice long delayed.
“Uhhhh..” Eloa looks around to see if there is a tape player given well… no one has tape recorders anymore. “We could take this to the police Margaret… So you get justice..”
Jenny looks around in the box for a tape recorder as well. Setting the box in the middle of the mill room floor with a wave over to Amica “Not sure what you want us to do.. this city didn’t even exist on this plane of existence until like 3 months ago apparently. This guy probably doesn’t exist here.”
There seemed to be a little confusion on Kaelyn’s face about the old tech, her fingers reaching over to brush against the dusty surface. Lightly she tapped on a few buttons before pressing a little more firmly on the one that looked like it would make the player, well, play. “Sometimes, you just need someone to know. To hear.”
Amica looks more confused about Jenny’s statement than the presence of the ghost they arrived to. “We- Ok this is what we’re doing then.” She says, with non commital shrug.
take it with you. Make sure the truth survives.
The jasmine scent fades to a gentle whisper, and the mill falls into natural, peaceful silence.
“Yes there is a disturbance. I guess we take it with us. Show it to the authorities.” Eloa promises softly towards the air even as the jasmine scent fades.
Jenny nods in agrement with Eloa and Kaelyn giving a frown as she looks down at the tape “Yeah.. lets make sure her story is heard.”
Amica looks blankly at the recorder. “Can’t we play it out loud, recod it to our phone? Throw it on youtube, and facebook?”
Jenny says “I mean, yeah. I got a youtube channel I could put it on…“
“Probably take some photos of everything too… All the papers.. They help.” Eloa offers with a sigh, rubbing the back of her neck.
Kaelyn hums softly, “That’s a good idea.” She leans over collecting the rest of the evidence. “If its a video then we can show some of these as well.” She rests it next to the tape recorder before padding back to the board, taking the photo as well and adding it to the pile.
As the group methodically documents Margaret’s evidence with their phones, photographing each maintenance report and safety violation, the mill seems to exhale with relief. The oppressive atmosphere that had weighed on the building for thirty years finally lifts.
Amica’s phone picks up the tape recorder’s audio clearly as they play it back, Morrison’s panicked voice confessing to covering up the accident and destroying evidence. The recording quality is surprisingly good for something hidden for decades.
When Kaelyn adds Margaret’s employee photo to their collection, a final gentle breeze stirs through the mill, carrying the last traces of jasmine. The machinery stands silent now – not the ominous quiet of before, but the peaceful rest of a job finally completed.
Outside, the first hints of dawn begin to lighten the eastern sky. The mill’s windows, which had seemed so dark and foreboding, now simply look like the openings of an old building ready for whatever comes next.
The evidence box sits empty except for the oiled cloth wrapping, as if Margaret had been waiting thirty years for someone to finally listen to her story and carry it forward into the light.