I grew up in an old farm house off the coast of Maine, in a small town called Harpswell. The town has always creeped out its visitors, it even creeped out some of the locals. Especially the Richardson farmhouse, my childhood home that my parents bought when I was six. My dad was given a job offer in Maine and at the time we needed the money, so my dad packed us up and moved us from our welcoming home in McKinley, Pensilvania to the little town in Maine. The move was hard for my Mom and I, having to leave our best friends, Kyle and his mom behind, even though we knew we were going to see them next summer. Needless to say my childhood home had other inhabitants besides my family, I guess that would explain my unusual liking for the supernatural. When I was about fourteen I started researching about the creatures that roamed in the night, poltergeist, demons, ghosts, vampires, you name it I researched it. When my interest in the unknown began to peak my parents, I guess you could say "abandoned" me from the family, saying I was going against my religion so on and so forth. I'll never forget the night they found a pentagram necklace in my room, man did hell raise that night. Anyways I'm going off track. Once my teen years hit I was all about rock and roll. It was always me my guitar and any ghost or demon who decided to cross my path. I played in a few bands here and there, playing some local gigs. I guess you could say I never really fit in with my classmates. I mean I had some close friends, but I didn't socialize much out of that small group. Constantly being picked on for being unique... at least I was a one of a kind. When I finally turned eighteen, I left that house as fast as my little black neon would take me. I moved to Boston, I attended a local college graduating with high honors, ok so I was a bit of an over achiever.