18/02/2026
Case 3: The Wooden Maiden (Unsolved)
There are some cases that you simply have to walk away from cases where the danger is so profound that only divine intervention can help. This was one of those cases.
In February 2009, just after Valentine’s Day, I received a frantic group message from Crystal, our team’s psychic medium. She had taken a solo consultation that had gone sideways and was requesting immediate backup. I didn't even ask for the background details; I just got the location—a house in the upscale suburbs of North Seattle and drove straight there.
When I arrived, I found Crystal standing by a roadside coffee stand across from the client’s house. She was on the phone with Dom, looking visibly shaken. This was a massive red flag. Crystal was usually the anchor of our group calm, collected, and unfazed by the supernatural. Seeing her pace nervously made my stomach drop.
The case involved a heavy wooden statue that had allegedly been moving on its own. The owner claimed it had slid across the floor right in front of him. Crystal told me that when she first touched it, she was hit by a vision so violent it physically repelled her.
As we crossed the threshold of the house together, I was hit by a wave of intense vertigo. My balance snapped, and it felt as though someone had slammed their entire body weight onto my shoulders. I had to grab the doorframe just to stay upright. Crystal gave me a knowing look; she had felt the exact same thing.
We met the owner in the living room. Crystal gestured toward the statue a hand-carved wooden figure and asked me to try and read its energy. The moment my skin touched the wood, I recoiled. It was burning hot to the touch, and then the vision hit me like a freight train.
After that first encounter, it became an all hands on deck investigation. On Crystal's advice, we told the owner to cover the statue in a white cloth and move it out of the main display area.
That evening, we gathered to compare what we had seen.
Crystal’s Vision She described being pulled into a void of blood. She heard the screams of a crowd and a terrifying, guttural laughter echoing from the bottom of a deep well. Right before she broke contact, a hand reached out from the darkness and grabbed her.
My Vision Mine was strikingly similar, but instead of blood, I saw embers—glowing, white-hot coals like the bottom of a furnace. I heard the same screams and that horrific, non-human laughter. I felt the hands, too; cold, gripping fingers tightening around my forearms.
The statue was radiating heat, despite being kept in a cool, shaded corner of the room. Crystal’s assessment was grim: whatever was inside that wood wasn't just a spirit she could ask to leave.
We returned to the site with the full team. Dom began interviewing the owner and the staff. We discovered the statue hadn't been commissioned; the owner had bought it from a roadside folk-art shop in the mountains. Shortly after bringing it home, the maids began hearing disembodied voices. Most of them had already quit out of pure terror.
The owner had tried to return to the shop, but the stall was gone, and no one knew the artist. He admitted the statue was restless. He would place it in the corner of the living room, only to find it had shifted several feet toward his private study by morning.
While Dom was inside, Jace and I sat in the van. I was too unsettled to do a Tarot reading inside that house. I felt like opening any doorway with my cards would be an invitation for whatever was in that statue to crawl inside me.
In the safety of the van, I laid out the cards. The spread was chilling: 4 of Swords (Reversed), 5 of Swords (Reversed), King of Swords (Reversed),and The Tower (Reversed). I shuffled and drew three more times. Every single time, the cards came up reversed—a sign of total chaos, unresolved malice, and a lack of any spiritual protection.
When we walked back inside, the atmosphere had changed. The living room smelled of stagnant, rotting air, despite the windows being wide open.
Look,Dom whispered, pointing at the monitor.
On the live feed, we watched the heavy statue—covered in its white cloth—lurch and slide several inches toward the study. It moved with a heavy, grinding sound. Dom stepped forward and poured Holy Water over the top of the cloth.
The foul smell vanished instantly, but something worse happened. Where the Holy Water touched the wood, the cloth began to turn pitch black, as if the water were acid charring the material from the inside out.
Dom turned to the owner, his voice uncharacteristically grim. Forget the money you spent. You need to get this out of your house immediately. This isn't a haunting, and this isn't a conduit. This is an offering
Dom explained that the statue was likely used in a dark ritual—a physical vessel for a bargain. It wasn't moving it was being pulled toward its destination. The voices weren't whispers; they were a summons.
We officially withdrew from the case. We couldn't fix this. We helped the owner surrender the statue to a specialized unit within the Church, handing over all our footage and findings.
The Church took the figure, and we never heard what happened to it. The most terrifying part? The statue wasn't some demonic gargoyle. It was a beautifully carved Angel with wide wings, cradling a small infant in its arms.
But it had been defiled. And whatever was inside it was no longer heavenly.
゚viralシ
