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Noah, Sam, Paul, Monique and I got lost in what might have been Marshalltown last night. We were ghost hunting.

After reading up on some local stories on this website, we decided to head to Nevada, in search of the old Story County Home, an abandoned insane asylum. This place showed some real promise, so we headed out early, thinking we could talk to some of the colorful townspeople and find out from them the exact whereabouts of what was sure to be a frighteningly good time.

We tried the Citgo, just off of highway 30. No luck. Same at McDonald's. We finally found someone in town who all but drove us right to the site, which, as it turns out, is now owned by the county and is home to a highly-surveilled training site for recruits to the Sherriff's office, and a '93 Pontiac Grand Am, which didn't look too ominous. Needless to say, we didn't stick around too long. Our first hunt was a bust.

On the way back, we decided to check out Marshalltown, where, in the late 1960's, a fifth grader was killed. Apparently, his spirit haunts the Quarry forest. Now, we didn't know if this actually happened in Marshalltown, or in Quarry itself, a neighboring hamlet only one mile away. This led to us driving down an unmarked, backwoods country road and finding what was most likely not the forest, but a forest, somewhere between the two towns and wandering aimlessly for about thirty minutes. Then we couldn't find the highway. We were lost, but none of us really cared, so we just kept driving what Noah's car was telling us was southeast. I guess it was, because we got back. Lord knows where we would have ended up, had it not been for Noah's Pathfinder's built-in compass.

It was fun, but in that really, really lame way, where you don't know if you're having fun or if you're just not bored yet.

Peace.
-Todd