I’m back at it again in good old Cassadaga, Florida at the Spiritualist Camp—this time during their fall festival setup—before we head right where the real weirdness lives: the Devil’s Chair and the Fairy Trail. I’ve got Miranda with me (and the puppy), and we roll into the cemetery with a spirit box, pendulum, and some extra tools like a singing bowl and Palo Santo. Between the spirit box sweeping fast and still pulling through clear phrases, and that pendulum moving like it’s got a mind of its own, things got intense quick. At the Devil’s Chair, we start getting specific—yes/no patterns changing, numbers like “3212,” and a heavy, sad energy that felt like somebody didn’t want to be there and might be trapped. We talk about “going to the light,” and it honestly felt like something was pushing back, like it didn’t want to let go. We also move over to the other Devil’s Chair area (where the wife and daughter are buried) and get even more activity—names like Albert and Richard, talk about “heaven,” and the feeling that there are multiple energies trying to come through at once. Then we finish out on the Fairy Trail and the labyrinth, and it turns into communication through nature—thumps in the woods, leaves falling, a butterfly, and even a squirrel showing up right on cue. The wild part? That cherry blossom smell that kept coming and going like an old Bath & Body Works lotion from the 90s/early 2000s. Whatever was out there, it was chatty—and it definitely didn’t want to “go to the light” easy.