An essay by Logan Kelly
July 2013. A hot summer packed with blockbuster films from all the major studios, each hoping to take the season’s top box office draws. There were the obvious winners from Marvel Studios, such as Iron Man 3, Monsters University from Disney/Pixar and yet another installment in the Fast & Furious franchise from Universal. However, a winner amongst the season that came as a shock to the industry was a horror movie from New Line Cinema, distributed by Warner Brothers. Early reviews raved about the film’s scare quality, while praising its use of practical effects, its intriguing and intense script, its top tier cast, and its visionary director. But there was something more about the film that captured the minds of movie goers. This movie was “based on a true story.” Taken from the case files of renowned and controversial demonologists Ed and Lorraine Warren, The Conjuring would bring in $319.5 million against its humble budget of $20 million. It tells the story of the Warren’s, as they embark on an investigation to help the Perron’s, a Rhode Island based family, living in a farmhouse inhabited by demonic and human entities.
I had always been fascinated by Ed and Lorraine Warren, and after seeing The Conjuring, I was even more enamored with their work. From the infamous Amityville Horror to the terrifying Annabelle doll, if you do any sort of reading on the paranormal, it’s nearly impossible for their names not to come up at some point. As both a paranormal and Warren fanatic, I’ve been lucky enough to visit a number of incredible haunted locations. I’ve been to the Amityville house multiple times, have posed with the real Annabelle (case and all), but, for me, visiting the Farm on Round Top Hill, otherwise known as the Conjuring House, has always been my haunted mecca. For years, the 18th century farmhouse (perhaps the most infamous home in Rhode Island) was unvisitable… until 2019. It would still be a number of years before I would finally get the opportunity to visit. On September 24, 2023, I finally got my chance. This is the story of the day I stepped into the Conjuring House. And, in this case, the truth is stranger than fiction…
As I mentioned, the Old Arnold Farm, also known as the Farm on Round Top Hill, and more commonly referred to as the Conjuring House, was unvisitable. The reasons were valid, and for time’s sake, I will not be covering them in this essay, but I encourage all to research it, as it is a part of the farmhouse’s history. However, our story begins in 2019, when Cory and Jennifer Heinzen bought the house and its property from Norma Sutcliff (the previous owner who had the home restored to its 1700s glory). The Heinzen’s are, in many ways, reminiscent of the legendary Warrens. A married couple with an interest in paranormal research, they began offering tours of the home, as well as investigations to fellow investigators. When I heard this practice had begun, I was keen to finally visit the farm. However, my work and location at the time always made it impossible.
In 2022, Cory and Jennifer sold the property to Jacquiline Nunez, owner of WonderGroup LLC. Miss Nunez immediately made it clear that it was her mission to continue the work that the Heinzen’s started, soon offering even more options for tours and overnight investigations. Determined to finally make my pilgrimage to the house, my dear friend Paula Virion and I made it our mission to attend a tour in 2023. On September 24th of that year, at Eleven AM, we finally had our chance.
I made my way from my home in Springfield to Paula’s in Boston (her home a shorter distance to the farm than mine) the evening before. It was a cold, rainy Saturday when I boarded the train, the atmosphere reminiscent of a Conjuring Universe set film. When I arrived that evening, we wasted no time catching up over wine, while watching The Conjuring. We would begin our journey to Rhode Island early the next morning.
That Sunday proved just as rainy as the day before, our nerves enhancing the eeriness of the day. It was a peaceful fifty-three-minute drive to the house… until we grew closer. When one is but fifteen minutes away from the Old Arnold Estate, one begins to realize just how dense the land and its forests are. The roads are narrow and bumpy, the sky nearly invisible, blocked by the thick trees that one must assume are centuries old. It was at this final distance that I began to pray. I spoke with each of my grandparents, all of whom are sadly passed on now. I asked my Mema (my Mother’s mother) for her loving and fierce protection, my Pop Pop (her husband) for his bravery. I asked my Grandma (Dad’s mother) for her smarts and love to guide me, and my Grandpa (my Father’s dad who I sadly never met) to protect me with his integrity. I then asked each of them to enter the house with me, provided it was safe for their immortal souls to do so. I then prayed to God, Jesus and the Blessed Mother, Mary. My final act of protection was a piece of advice I heard from Lorraine Warren herself. The clairvoyant often said that, before entering a potential case, she would envision herself surrounded by white light, and that the belief offered her protection, a belief referenced in The Conjuring 2.
If all this seems a little over the top religious, I should note that I have a great relationship with my faith, but that I would never try to thrust it on anyone. I’m only recounting the details of the day.
It was Ten-Thirty when we arrived at the farm. The first in our tour group, it was eerie to see the old house wrapped in a haze of fog, washed by the light rain falling from the thick clouds above. The house is much smaller than that used in the film but sits on an unimaginable amount of green land surrounded by forest. As we approached, Paula noted how silent it was. For a land so dense with trees, there were no birds or sounds of nature that one commonly encounters on such a land. We made our way from the gravel lot, passed the barn that is currently being restored, up the long path to the house.
A friendly man greeted us from the staff quarters and served as a witness as we signed our safety waivers. Around my neck, I wore the Celtic Cross necklace that my father gifted me several Christmases ago. The man looked at my necklace and informed me that the Saturday before, a woman had come in wearing jewelry that also had a cross on it. During the tour, he alleged that the cross floated upward and was torn from the wearer by an invisible force. Following this harrowing story, he informed us that we had free range to explore the property until the tour started. We wasted no time taking this opportunity. We visited the area where a forensic investigation the year before had revealed seven dead soldiers buried, and the haunting campground that made both of us uneasy. As we ventured deeper, we soon found ourselves at a bridge over a brook.
I’d heard many stories about this bridge and the infamous waters that ran beneath it; how it leads to a private cemetery where vandals spray painted satanic markings on the headstones, and where, centuries ago, a young boy had drowned. The film made this a dock over a river. Whilst on the bridge, a heavy feeling began to overcome me, then Paula. We decided to head back toward the house, as it was nearing time for the tour. If we had time after, we would return, though, I think largely out of fear, we never did.
The kind gentleman, named Brian, who had witnessed our waiver signing was to be our tour guide. As he gathered the group, we made our way up the old, cobbled stairs that led to the front door. Once inside the house’s entryway, Brian issued a warning “The house never disappoints.”
Small, and creaky, with little more than a few wall ornaments, one would be forgiven for not thinking much of it other than being an old passage in an old house. However, directly behind us was a fireplace, one that played a significant role in the history of the Perron family haunting. Brian gave us a history of the home before the Perron’s, one that dated back to the 1600s, before Rhode Island was even a state.
After learning of the home’s interesting origins, Brian led us to the next room. In a normal house, we’d call it a living room or parlor, but this was the Conjuring House, after all, and here, it’s known as the Seance Room. In 2013’s The Conjuring, the film builds to an epic climax in which Ed and Lorraine must perform an exorcism on Carolyn Perron to save her immortal soul, not to mention her children, whom mother is currently trying to kill at the behest of a demonic witch. However, in reality, no such exorcism ever took place. Lorraine herself mentioned this several times over the years, explaining “Ed never would have performed an exorcism,” as he was not authorized. Ed was indeed, at the time, the only religious demonologist in the country who was not a member of the clergy. Despite this, only a priest with the proper training can perform the rite of exorcism, a policy that wisely remains in place today. A dramatic and terrifying event did occur in the very room where we now stood however, one that inspired the film’s ending, but with far more horrifying consequences.
At the height of their investigation, Ed and Lorraine arrived with a priest and a medium to document a séance. Lorraine, determined to help the Perron’s, hoped to make contact with whatever it was tormenting the family of seven. During the séance, things went terribly wrong. Carolyn did become possessed, speaking in foreign tongues she did not know, her chair levitating and being thrown from the room. Carolyn’s head bashed against the fireplace in the entryway, and the séance came to an end. A harrowing tale from the past, but one that was told when Paula and I experienced our first interaction with the spirits in the home. As Brian recounted that fateful night from more than forty years before, four loud knocks came from the front room from which we’d only previously exited. Paula and I both looked at one another, before turning our attention back to Brian.
A unique tongue and cheek gift now resides in the séance room, a replica of the Annabelle doll and case, previously gifted to the Heinzen’s. I previously met the real Annabelle, so I appreciated the effort in setting the mood for the rest of the tour.
We next moved to the kitchen, a strange sort of room filled with period décor and vegetation. The windows face out onto the backyard where two young pear trees are currently growing. While in the kitchen, Brian began to talk about the previous owners from centuries before. The kitchen was the first room completed in the house; thus, its history was among the most rich. He told us of séances that he and his fellow Conjuring House colleagues have conducted, during which they have spoken with one Abigail Arnold. As he spoke of her love of pear trees in life, Paula, myself and a few of the other tour members heard a disembodied woman’s voice, as though she were clearing her throat. It seemed to come from right between us, yet no one was in that very space. Our tour guide stopped and acknowledged the spirit as potentially Abigail. Footsteps soon came from around us, causing me some alarm, our tour guide taking notice and telling me that it will be something we hear constantly.
We next moved upstairs, warned to always have three points of contact, less we be knocked down. We explored the former bedrooms, closets, and the attic birthing room (a creepy dwelling from the 1700s where pregnant women would be put to give birth). While there, a previously opened door slammed shut as we made our way through. Then came the moment we all feared: It was time to visit the basement.
The basement of the Conjuring House is probably the space that most resembles the movie. Narrow stairs and stone built walls create the underground space. But there’s something more to it: It’s the place where the staff believes a malevolent spirit dwells. Mysterious and frightening, it is said that the other spirits of the house will warn those visiting to leave the basement when the malevolent spirit is around. We went into a room where the tour guide claimed that the spirit is most fond of dwelling. I stayed in a corner, the only thing behind me was a folding chair. As Brian began to tell of the entity, I heard scratching on the stone wall behind me. Then, around my close together feet, phantom scuffling as though something else was moving its feet around mine. I jumped at the loud and unexpected shuffle. Brian waived me over and asked what I heard. When I told him, he did not seem surprised, saying that the entity tends to feed on startled energy. He then showed us a video of a ball being thrown around the room… from the very same spot in which I had been standing.
Following our time in the basement, our tour was over, and we were given twenty minutes to explore the house and the property. We took photos upstairs, and down, before we were finally brave enough to return to the basement. When down there, we went right back to the room where I’d been startled. Paula took a few photos of me whilst standing in that spot herself, but more on that later. Finally, it came time for us to bid farewell to the Farm on Round Top Hill, but not before taking viles of water from the well in the basement.
As we drove away, we decided to visit the grave of Bathsheba Sherman, the woman apparently accused of being a witch, and who was made into the main antagonist of The Conjuring. While there is much nuance and mystery surrounding the real Bathsheba, it should be noted that her grave has sadly been destroyed a number of times, so much so that it seems it may not be repaired. I urge anyone who knows The Conjuring to be respectful and to please let Bathsheba rest in peace, no matter what one may think of her.
On the way home, I began to dig through our pictures. We were advised by Brian to always take three photos of whatever our subject was in the house. According to him, you never know what you’ll get with multiple photos. We got some wonderful pictures of the property, the house, and various rooms. But when I came to the photos I mentioned in the basement, I was shocked. When Paula stood in the same spot I was when I heard scratching and scuffling, I noticed a blue orb in each of my photos directly over me. A reflection of light? Perhaps. But upon further examination, the aura around the orb did not match the patterns around the lightbulb above me. I have further since read that blue orbs are supposed to be angel spirits, attempting to heal and protect. Obviously, such theological studies are beyond anything we can prove, thus I don’t want to speak anything as fact in case there was something dark in its appearance, but I like to believe that there was someone watching out for us during our visit.
There were so many more experiences and insights I could have spoken on, but I believe this essay is long enough, so I’ll leave you with this: No matter what we believe, no matter how much we think we know, no matter how stories and films may scare, or intrigue us, the truth is stranger than fiction…
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