Mike Salvia at the top of the Fire Island Lighthouse during a P.A.S.T. Investigation in 2007
EVPs by Mike Salvia
Spirit says: "It's always
been cold."
been cold."
Spirit says: "Let me help
you.
you.
Spirit says: "Let me help
you.
you.
Spirit says: "We must
leave."
leave."
A Note from Joseph Flammer
Mike Salvia of Bethpage was with us on the famous "Night of the Cops." That’s the chilly December night
in 2006 when three Nassau County Police cars sped into the dead end road in front of Pine Hollow Cemetery
on Route 106 in Oyster Bay and the four of us took to laying low against the cold ground, hiding in the
darkness for forty-five minutes up the cemetery hill where the cops couldn't see us. We didn't know if the
they had been called by someone who saw our camera flashes illuminating the grave sites in the cemetery or
not. As it turned out, the officers were not there for us. They were apparently on break.
We did this hiding not because we did anything wrong in the cemetery, mind you. We were not trespassing.
There were no signs in front of the graveyard saying STAY OUT. There were no posted hours for when the
cemetery was open and when it closed. We hid only because we didn’t want to scare the police officers.
Complicating the matter was the fact that the police cars were blocking our only exit from the grounds. We
didn’t want to walk out of the dark graveyard like characters from THE NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD,
scaring the officers into coronaries while they were on dinner break. They had guns. They might want to
shoot the midnight gouls - and that would be bad for us.
Beside Mike Salvia, Diane Hill and I, Erica Guerne was also present the night of the cops. Erica heads up
the Paranormal Activity Study Team (P.A.S.T.) on Long Island.
Whenever I remember that night I smile. One reason it was so much fun was because Mike Salvia was
with us, and he’s a good and brave ghost hunter and he's a friend.
Get ready for Mike’s story. It’s the real thing. And there ain't no cops keeping him quiet now.
Joseph Flammer 2007
Outside Raynham Hall
In East Hills Cemetery
By Mike Salvia
When I was young I felt destined. I was attached to religion very early on.
I asked a lot of people if they had ever seen aliens or U.F.O.s. Unexpectedly, a lot of them reported
they had seen stuff and these people had entire stories to share with me.
This got me more curious. So when I met new people, mostly through work, I eventually got around to
asking them if they had any experiences to speak of. A majority did have experiences to share, stories
about U.F.O.s or alien probes flying around. Some people talked of ghosts, dead relatives, orbs (spirit balls
of light). I made friends with people who were talking to ghosts! And all this wildly piqued my interest. But
sadly, I had never seen anything extraordinary myself.
Then everything suddenly changed. I was thirty-two years old.
It was the year my sister needed help. She was renting the top part of a big house. The Huntington
Station Historical Society claimed the house was one of the oldest houses standing in those parts. The
Society said the house belonged to the original caretakers of the Huntington Railroad Station. Can you
believe that? The railroad station had caretakers at one time?
I moved in and the weird stuff started happening right away.
On my first night I was paralyzed in my bed. Paralyzed! I felt as if a spirit had overtaken my body. I
was pinned down. I believed the spirit did this just so it could read my thoughts, or to find out who I was,
what I wanted, what I was all about. They - if it was a they doing this to me - were trying to find out my
intentions. They wanted to know if I would be of any trouble to them while I was in their house.
I’ve since come to know that spirits don’t like renovations. Maybe the spirits that held me down just
wanted to find out if I was going to be changing things around while I was there - checking our my mind set,
sort to speak.
I lay there wide awake, unable to move, frightened to near death.
I went to my sister the next morning, “Hey, what’s up with this house?” I asked.
My nephew was nineteen at the time. The landlord’s kids downstairs were eighteen and thirteen.
I once talked to the eighteen-year-old and she admitted to using a Ouija Board in the attic to contact the
spirit of a friend who had been killed in a car accident. Something happened when they used the board, she
said. They heard a noise of something and ran out of the attic. My sister told me that she heard noises in
the attic occasionally. She said she heard a little girl crying or sighing, and that the landlady had heard it
with her when they were having coffee together one day.
While eating at the dinner table several days later I saw a teenager suddenly standing next to my
nephew’s bedroom door. The door was down the hall. The boy was about fifteen. He appeared to be
Hispanic. He was wearing a jacket with the hood up. He stared directly at me. His hands were crossed
down in front of him in a relaxed position. I thought it was a friend of my nephew’s. I thought he was
waiting outside the door for my nephew to come out.
` I was bothered by the boy watching me. I felt my privacy invaded. He seemed indifferent to my
discomfort.
But as I looked back at him, I noticed his clothing had no color to it. It was all gray.
` My eyes scanned the boy. I noticed he wore jeans with wrinkles in them. They were baggy jeans. I
had never seen gray jeans like those gray jeans the boy was wearing. My eyes focused on his chest. I
could see the windows on the door behind him clearly – right though his chest!
He slid sideways suddenly into the wall next to him without ever moving his feet. And he disappeared.
Two days later the exact same thing happened. Same kid. Same place. Same exact way.
In my bedroom I saw a woman running in Eighteenth Century clothes. She strode forward in a long
dress that waved out behind her. I looked at the bottom of the dress as it was waving outwards as I
watched her run. Then, when I looked up at her face, she turned to me and smiled. Then, in an instant she
looked forward again and continued running straight through my front door.
The soul isn’t left behind but the place can remember someone. Take for example when it happened in
England three-hundred-years-ago. This woman walks into a hall wearing a red dress and dies. Her ghost is
seen for a hundred years. The ghost wears a red dress. Then for the next hundred years the dress is pink.
Then it eventually fades to white and eventually not even the ghost is there any more.
The question irks: if ghosts have free will, then why do they repeat so much?
Okay, so, once, in the middle of the night I awoke to find a woman spirit and a child seated next to my
bed. The woman did something and caused me to leave my body. I floated straight up. I experienced a lot of
electrical charges surging within my limbs, and the next thing I knew I was floating above myself looking
down at myself on the bed. I distinctly remember looking at my nose and watching it, saying, “That’s my
nose!” I floated to the center of the room. I saw out my bedroom window fields of grass where houses
actually reside. It was as if I had traveled back to a time long ago and this ghostly woman was showing a
history long past.
Living with us also was a cat named Cali who saw orbs floating around the house. Every morning she
would be led by the spirit of a young boy into my bedroom when I was about to go to sleep after a long
sleepless night of being scared stiff with fear of nightly encounters with ghosts. Without fail, every
morning Cali would come into my room looking straight upwards at the ghost, whom I called Casper.
Casper showed himself as an orb. I imagined Casper was a young playful child who played with Cali every
morning in my room
There was one particular morning when Cali looked my way as I sat on my bed. Then she ran to me and
jumped onto my bed to the spot directly in front of me where she had been staring from the floor moments
earlier. The she watched something to the left of my shoulder. As I slowly turned my head – a bit spooked,
I might add – I saw an orb materializing next to me from the bottom up. I knew the thing I was about to
encounter would be the most intriguing, most fantastical thing that could happen to a living soul. I was
about to have a real communication with a spirit. But I wasn’t ready for that. I turned my head away and
said, “I’m not ready to see you yet.” I was just too scared.
I always thought there would be other opportunities to communicate with spirits after that encounter. I
always thought I would be much more readied mentally to take on the challenge of speaking directly with a
spirit. But it just hasn’t happened yet. Maybe it never will.
Meanwhile, I need no further proof that the afterlife exists.
- 30 -
When I was young I felt destined. I was attached to religion very early on.
I asked a lot of people if they had ever seen aliens or U.F.O.s. Unexpectedly, a lot of them reported
they had seen stuff and these people had entire stories to share with me.
This got me more curious. So when I met new people, mostly through work, I eventually got around to
asking them if they had any experiences to speak of. A majority did have experiences to share, stories
about U.F.O.s or alien probes flying around. Some people talked of ghosts, dead relatives, orbs (spirit balls
of light). I made friends with people who were talking to ghosts! And all this wildly piqued my interest. But
sadly, I had never seen anything extraordinary myself.
Then everything suddenly changed. I was thirty-two years old.
It was the year my sister needed help. She was renting the top part of a big house. The Huntington
Station Historical Society claimed the house was one of the oldest houses standing in those parts. The
Society said the house belonged to the original caretakers of the Huntington Railroad Station. Can you
believe that? The railroad station had caretakers at one time?
I moved in and the weird stuff started happening right away.
On my first night I was paralyzed in my bed. Paralyzed! I felt as if a spirit had overtaken my body. I
was pinned down. I believed the spirit did this just so it could read my thoughts, or to find out who I was,
what I wanted, what I was all about. They - if it was a they doing this to me - were trying to find out my
intentions. They wanted to know if I would be of any trouble to them while I was in their house.
I’ve since come to know that spirits don’t like renovations. Maybe the spirits that held me down just
wanted to find out if I was going to be changing things around while I was there - checking our my mind set,
sort to speak.
I lay there wide awake, unable to move, frightened to near death.
I went to my sister the next morning, “Hey, what’s up with this house?” I asked.
My nephew was nineteen at the time. The landlord’s kids downstairs were eighteen and thirteen.
I once talked to the eighteen-year-old and she admitted to using a Ouija Board in the attic to contact the
spirit of a friend who had been killed in a car accident. Something happened when they used the board, she
said. They heard a noise of something and ran out of the attic. My sister told me that she heard noises in
the attic occasionally. She said she heard a little girl crying or sighing, and that the landlady had heard it
with her when they were having coffee together one day.
While eating at the dinner table several days later I saw a teenager suddenly standing next to my
nephew’s bedroom door. The door was down the hall. The boy was about fifteen. He appeared to be
Hispanic. He was wearing a jacket with the hood up. He stared directly at me. His hands were crossed
down in front of him in a relaxed position. I thought it was a friend of my nephew’s. I thought he was
waiting outside the door for my nephew to come out.
` I was bothered by the boy watching me. I felt my privacy invaded. He seemed indifferent to my
discomfort.
But as I looked back at him, I noticed his clothing had no color to it. It was all gray.
` My eyes scanned the boy. I noticed he wore jeans with wrinkles in them. They were baggy jeans. I
had never seen gray jeans like those gray jeans the boy was wearing. My eyes focused on his chest. I
could see the windows on the door behind him clearly – right though his chest!
He slid sideways suddenly into the wall next to him without ever moving his feet. And he disappeared.
Two days later the exact same thing happened. Same kid. Same place. Same exact way.
In my bedroom I saw a woman running in Eighteenth Century clothes. She strode forward in a long
dress that waved out behind her. I looked at the bottom of the dress as it was waving outwards as I
watched her run. Then, when I looked up at her face, she turned to me and smiled. Then, in an instant she
looked forward again and continued running straight through my front door.
The soul isn’t left behind but the place can remember someone. Take for example when it happened in
England three-hundred-years-ago. This woman walks into a hall wearing a red dress and dies. Her ghost is
seen for a hundred years. The ghost wears a red dress. Then for the next hundred years the dress is pink.
Then it eventually fades to white and eventually not even the ghost is there any more.
The question irks: if ghosts have free will, then why do they repeat so much?
Okay, so, once, in the middle of the night I awoke to find a woman spirit and a child seated next to my
bed. The woman did something and caused me to leave my body. I floated straight up. I experienced a lot of
electrical charges surging within my limbs, and the next thing I knew I was floating above myself looking
down at myself on the bed. I distinctly remember looking at my nose and watching it, saying, “That’s my
nose!” I floated to the center of the room. I saw out my bedroom window fields of grass where houses
actually reside. It was as if I had traveled back to a time long ago and this ghostly woman was showing a
history long past.
Living with us also was a cat named Cali who saw orbs floating around the house. Every morning she
would be led by the spirit of a young boy into my bedroom when I was about to go to sleep after a long
sleepless night of being scared stiff with fear of nightly encounters with ghosts. Without fail, every
morning Cali would come into my room looking straight upwards at the ghost, whom I called Casper.
Casper showed himself as an orb. I imagined Casper was a young playful child who played with Cali every
morning in my room
There was one particular morning when Cali looked my way as I sat on my bed. Then she ran to me and
jumped onto my bed to the spot directly in front of me where she had been staring from the floor moments
earlier. The she watched something to the left of my shoulder. As I slowly turned my head – a bit spooked,
I might add – I saw an orb materializing next to me from the bottom up. I knew the thing I was about to
encounter would be the most intriguing, most fantastical thing that could happen to a living soul. I was
about to have a real communication with a spirit. But I wasn’t ready for that. I turned my head away and
said, “I’m not ready to see you yet.” I was just too scared.
I always thought there would be other opportunities to communicate with spirits after that encounter. I
always thought I would be much more readied mentally to take on the challenge of speaking directly with a
spirit. But it just hasn’t happened yet. Maybe it never will.
Meanwhile, I need no further proof that the afterlife exists.
- 30 -
A Long Island
Videographer
Mike Salvia Seeker of the Paranormal
P.A.S.T. Investigator
P.A.S.T. Investigator
“I moved in and the weird stuff started happening right away.”
Ghost Hunter
A Man With a Passion
Mike's Tools
* Sony video camera with "Nightshot"
* IR illuminator on video camera
* Voice recorder
* Sony digital still camera
* Sony video camera with "Nightshot"
* IR illuminator on video camera
* Voice recorder
* Sony digital still camera
Mike Salvia at Pine Hollow Cemetery
E.V.P. Detective
Featured Paranormal Investigator