From a young age, Coral Springs resident Bill Slevin knew he was destined to work with the paranormal. Now, 36 years into a calling that most would have run from, Slevin is a
world-famous paranormal investigator, researcher, demonologist, parapsychologist, educator, and author.
In his new memoir, “Living Life Haunted,” Slevin documents his lifelong work within the paranormal field, which includes heading up the Paranormal Existence Research Society, a professional nonprofit paranormal research group with teams across the country and the world; serving as chief operating officer of the Warren Society for Paranormal Research and Education, named after renowned paranormal investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren, whose real-life cases inspired the “Conjuring”movies; and investigating more than 1,000 residential haunting cases and seven demonic cases.
The book is far more than a collection of ghost stories. It’s the harrowing journey of a man finding purpose in a dangerous, taboo field before it became mainstream. “It’s not just a book about cases,” affirms Slevin. “It’s also about my journey, how I started. I wanted to get out there what it’s like living in the shoes of somebody who does this for real, not on TV.”
As an educator, part of Slevin’s mission has always been to explain the difference between how demons and paranormal cases are portrayed for entertainment vs. what they look like in real life. And while there are many bone-chilling accounts of real hauntings, not all the cases in the book are paranormal.
“It’s not always demons; it’s not always ghosts. Sometimes it’s natural things,” says Slevin, who also wanted to depict the reality of his job. “We deal with people’s lives. If we don’t know things like mental health and addiction, we can mess people up way worse than they already are, because it may not be paranormal.”
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An excerpt from “Living Life Haunted”
The case that started it all—June 4, 1989: My first residential investigation
“We opened the door and stepped inside. Immediately, something hit us hard.
It was like walking into a wall of nausea. Within seconds, all three of us stumbled back, gagging uncontrollably. My stomach churned violently. I’ve never felt anything like it, and I still haven’t.
We bolted out the front door, collapsing onto the lawn, gasping for air. For a moment, we said nothing; each of us trying to make sense of what just happened.
I considered the logical explanations. Gas leak? Carbon monoxide? But Mary had just walked out of the house looking perfectly fine. That couldn’t be it.
After a few minutes, we composed ourselves and cautiously reentered. Nothing.
No smell. No nausea. The house was still and silent, as if mocking us. We exchanged glances. Did that really happen?
We moved forward into the living room. John, to my right, carried a large video camera mounted on his shoulder; at that time, they were heavy and clunky. Mike held an old cassette audio recorder. I stood between them, absorbing every sound, every flicker of movement.
The air in the room was heavy, oppressive. I felt uncomfortable, but more than that, I felt anger. An irrational, simmering rage was bubbling up from nowhere. I didn’t understand it, but I knew something was building.
And then it happened.
A growl, deep, guttural, inhuman, rumbled through the room like thunder from the pit of the Earth; John let out a blood-curdling scream and hurled the camera to the ground, lens-first, without a second thought.
We snapped on the lights.
John was clawing at his back, yanking at his shirt. Mike and I rushed over as he pulled it off, and we froze. I will never forget what we saw.”
To learn more or read on, visit www.billslevin.com.