A Victorian survivor with a Second Empire silhouette, a town shaped by fire, and a midnight voice that wasn’t on any of our devices—Bruce Mansion gave us more than a story. We went in to listen, not to perform, and the house met us halfway with layered responses, names in the static, and a heavy hush near the old outhouse that felt like grief pressing up from the ground.
We start by grounding the legend: how a funeral parlor past, apartment years, and a rumored cupola suicide built the mansion’s haunted reputation. From there, the gear is simple and the approach slower than usual—partly because late pregnancy made every stair count, partly because old houses reward patience. You’ll hear us juggle EVP prompts with respect for place, debate a request for “beer pudding,” and confront a real-time “We’re here” that lands both through an app and as a disembodied whisper. In an upstairs space some call a quarantine room, the name “Emily” surfaces. Out back, a small bone and a string of terms—“I’m close,” “daughter,” “iron”—spark a careful hypothesis about injury and infection in a world without tetanus shots.
We pull apart the evidence like engineers: how echoes behave in tall stairwells, why we discount most “orbs,” and what motion patterns actually make us pay attention. We also talk preservation and access, because the path to better investigations runs through good neighbors, working bathrooms, and roofs that don’t leak. Tours keep the lights on and the history living; kindness from the gas station next door kept us focused and fed. If you’re curious about the line where folklore meets fieldwork, or you just want a clear-eyed walkthrough of a famously haunted Michigan landmark, this one’s for you.
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