The Spirit's of America's Ghost Tours

Paranormal Insights

Connect with spirits and uncover hidden stories together.

Historic Locations

Experience the eerie past in forgotten mining towns.

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They deserve some recognition. The spirits do. After meeting so many spirits that are still on this earth, I decided to pay tribute to them.

I think they are screaming for a little extra attention.

Explore these haunted locations with a supernatural twist with trusted psychic Laura Summers Davis, America's Medium.

Witness paranormal activity and understand its significance.

Eerie Experiences

Join America's Medium in exploring America's most haunted places.

Supernatural Journey

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Delve into the tales that have shaped America’s ghostly narrative.
Explore the folklore and legends behind the hauntings that persist in American culture and why they are haunted.

Step into the unknown and share your own paranormal experiences. Engage with fellow enthusiasts to recount encounters that blur the line between reality and the supernatural..

Ghostly Encounters

Legends and Lore

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The Haunting of Ouray: A Night of Terror

The crisp mountain air cut through the empty streets of Ouray as Jared and his girlfriend, Savannah, stepped out of their truck. The tiny town, known for its breathtaking beauty, was eerily quiet after dark. They had come to explore the haunted history, yet neither of them truly believed in ghosts.

That was about to change.

The Curse of the Beaumont Hotel

Their first stop was the Beaumont Hotel. A shadowy figure flickered in the upstairs window as they approached. "Probably a guest," Jared muttered. And as they stepped inside, the air grew dense, thick with something unseen.

At the front desk, the clerk was absent, yet a dusty, open guestbook lay before them. Scrawled in blood-red ink was a single name: Eller Day. A cold gust of wind whipped through the lobby, and the chandelier above them flickered wildly. Then, a whisper—soft and chilling—"He’s still here."

Savannah gasped and grabbed Jared’s arm. "Who’s still here?" she whispered.

The room was silent.

Voices from the St. Elmo Hotel

Shaken, they hurried down the road to the St. Elmo Hotel. A Victorian relic, the hotel loomed over them, its windows black voids.

The moment they stepped inside, they were greeted by an overpowering scent of lilacs—Kitty O'Brien Heit’s perfume. Savannah pulled out her phone to take a picture, yet the screen flickered, then died. The air hummed with static electricity.

Then, a loud bang was heard from upstairs.

Jared took a cautious step toward the staircase. A chair toppled over in the dining area, though no one was there. The sound of furniture dragging against the wooden floor filled the room. Savannah turned to run, and the front door slammed shut.

A low voice echoed from the stairs: "Get. Out."

They didn’t hesitate.

A Visitor in the Museum

Attempting to shake their growing unease, they made their way to the Ouray County Historical Museum. The old miner’s hospital stood ominously, its windows reflecting nothing.

Inside, the silence was suffocating. Glass cases filled with antique medical tools lined the walls. A rusty scalpel gleamed under the dim light.

Savannah moved toward an old hospital bed when a metallic clink echoed through the empty room. The scalpel had fallen to the floor.

Jared bent down to pick it up—and froze.

In the reflection of the glass case beside him, a pale figure lay on the hospital bed. His sunken eyes locked onto Jared’s, mouth moving as if whispering. Then—a skeletal hand grabbed Jared’s ankle.

Jared shrieked and staggered back. The bed was empty.

They ran.

The Trial That Never Ended

Their last stop was the Ouray County Courthouse. The courtroom was abandoned, yet the scent of old books and decay lingered in the air.

Jared felt a chill slither down his spine as they stepped inside. The wooden benches groaned under unseen weight. A gavel sat on the judge’s desk, untouched for years.

Then—it slammed down on its own.

Savannah screamed.

Behind the judge’s podium, a noose swayed from the ceiling. A figure formed—a woman in a torn dress, her eyes filled with rage. "They hanged me for a crime I didn’t commit!" she wailed.

The room went black.

The Dead Keep the Ledger

Terrified beyond words, they ran to their final stop—the Historic Western Hotel. The dimly lit lobby held an unsettling stillness, and a single guestbook sat on the counter.

Jared flipped through the pages.

All the names belonged to the dead.

Then, the last entry appeared before their eyes, forming as if written earlier by an invisible hand:

Jared & Savannah – Feb 12, 2025.

They bolted for the door.

It wouldn’t open.

A whisper brushed against Jared’s ear: "You checked in. You don’t get to check out."

Then, darkness swallowed them whole.

No one ever saw them again.