I had goose bumps all over my body. I had never been on a “ghost hunt” before; I didn’t know what to do or expect. I was armed with my father’s digital camera, prepped to take hundreds of pictures of orbs (circular and sometimes colored shapes associated with spirits), ectoplasm (a fog-like substance), or any other ghost related phenomena.

I followed behind as the four experienced ghost hunters made their way into the cemetery. Our leader, Erica, had been there once before in the daytime to scout out the land and look for anything we might want to focus on. Some of the headstones were over a hundred years old, the newest one being a child from 1948. There were a lot of children buried there.

The cemetery, on the north shore of Long Island, NY, was built upwards on a hill. Some headstones were grouped together and then surrounded by low-lying bars, keeping visitors at a close distance. Some markers were so old you couldn’t read them anymore. The first hour or so we walked around, taking in the layout of the land, taking photos of random things and talking to one another and making jokes.

While walking around the lower level of the cemetery, Joe, the guy who brought me to the group, claimed to hear music. We all gathered near him and held our breaths, listening carefully. We heard it too! Could it be a sign from beyond? We got so excited; Joe turned on his EVP recorder and held it out in the direction of the music. A few minutes later, Erica confessed that there was a bar across the street- in the direction the recorder was aimed. Our hearts broken, we continued to search for ghosts.

Around midnight, we gathered again to stick around or find another place to look for ghosts. We agreed to stick it out a bit longer and explore a little section to the left of the entrance we had somehow missed before.

Just as we made our way into that section, I paused, heart frozen. I wasn’t the only one who had heard it though. Ellen, one of the sisters with us, also froze and heard the wolf-like howl. Because the cemetery was hidden off a main road, it was surrounded by wild life and thick trees. I’m not sure anyone could guess what animals really live in there. But that was a sound we couldn’t imagine. And I didn’t want to stick around to find out if the wolf was real- or dead.

I had been snapping pictures left and right at nothing in particular- the secret to catching spirits is to act like you’re not looking for them. There is a better chance of catching a spirit on camera if you randomly aim and snap the shot than you would if you kept looking through the viewfinder searching for signs of afterlife. I snapped photos of headstones, trees, the legs of my companions, and even the side wall and fence of a building next to the cemetery. I didn’t see it at the time, but a few of my pictures had orbs.

We wound our way up the hill into the darkest part of the cemetery. By this time, I was having an internal battle with myself. Half of me was freaking out that I could be here, doing this, with no knowledge or experience. The other half felt like it was flying! Soaring high, finally free. That half was thrilled, excited; it was like a dream come true to be out there searching for answers and contact with the dead.

At a certain point, I couldn’t go any higher. Something inside me said, “Enough.” So I stopped, but my friends kept going. I was pretty disappointed in myself that I couldn't go further but after spending a few hours in the dark with dead people, you start to question your sanity. Why am I out here doing this? What exactly am I looking for?

I stood at the bottom of the hill to watch and listen as my new friends explored the land looking for signs from the dead. When we were pretty sure nothing was going on, we called it a night and headed back to the car for a late night (or early morning) picnic.

Everytime I pass the entrance to the cemetery, I still get goosebumps. Just because we didn't catch anything that night, doesn't mean they're not there, waiting for the right person and time to make themselves known.