The bloody mosquito made a sharp exit as soon as it spotted my lapse in concentration, so I sighed and made my way over to the laptop to see what was going on.
And what I found was really bloody interesting. It was an email from a young chap who wanted to discuss a blog post that I wrote, what ....... two years ago?
So, below is my original post, and then below that, is the email that I received ................. it's all very weird .... nay, spooky.
[This is the original post] Halloween Edition: My spooky encounter
It's a little bit late given that Halloween was last weekend, but here is my ghoulish offering.......
Here's an interesting fact about Halloween. Did you know that it is only celebrated in Canada, US, Ireland and UK? That means that the rest of the world is probably wondering why we all dress up like prats on 31st October.
And luckily for me this year, I spent Halloween night at my cousin's house in Loughborough, which meant that I got to avoid the gangs of marauding trick-or-treating youths knocking on my front door and demanding cash in return for not pushing dog plop through my letterbox.
So I got thinking about Halloween and the ghosts and ghouls that characterise it, and then I thought that I would tell you about a true story that happened to me.
Many years ago when I was 16 or so, I lived with my parents in an old house in an ancient village called Barrowford, situated at the base of a large hill called Pendle Hill. And, although it is not directly relevant to this story, Pendle Hill was famous for it witches and witch trials, and every Halloween night the hill would be swarmed with ghost hunters.
The house that we lived in had been built in the 19th Century and as such had quite a history to it. In particular, right from the time we moved in, we all noticed that one of the bedrooms had a rather peculiar 'atmosphere', in that if you were in there alone, it felt uncomfortable, almost as though you weren't actually alone. So, despite the fact that it was one of the largest bedrooms in the house, and boasted a balcony overlooking the garden, no one wanted it, so it ended up being my room because I don't really believe in that stuff. *Note: I DID regret having that room, because it had a REALLY weird atmosphere. It is the only bedroom that I ever slept in with the light on*.
Pic.No.1. This is the house in Barrowford that I lived in when I was growing up (the window of the spooky bedroom is on the top left)
We had been living in the house for a number of years, when one evening, myself and the rest of the family were in the downstairs lounge watching TV. Suddenly, at about 10pm we heard the most god almighty CRASH coming from upstairs.
Everyone leapt to their feet, simultaneously shouting "Sacre Bleu!"
"What the blazes was that?" asked Father suspiciously.
"Dunno," I replied, "everyone's downstairs in this room."
"I'm going to investigate," said Father.
"We're coming!" we shouted after him. Bloody hell, we were like the Famous Five solving a mystery. All we needed to complete the scene was lashings of Ginger Beer and a dog called Timmy.
We turned on the light and ventured upstairs. Silently we walked down the corridor, listening for signs of movement, but heard nothing. The tension was palpable.
As we crept up outside the door of the bedroom with the odd atmosphere, the source of the noise became immediately apparent.
Father sighed in relief, "it's only a picture that has fallen off the wall." To be factual, it wasn't actually a picture, it was an old sepia photograph of a Victorian woman that had always hung on the wall next to the door.
We didn't know who she was, or even where we had got the picture (and I don't have any photographs of it, because digital cameras weren't invented then. Even mobile phones didn't exist, let alone ones with cameras in them. Shit how old am I?).
We surveyed the scene.
"There is something really weird about this," I said, staring at the broken picture.
"What?" asked Father.
"The picture is face-up. Surely if it had fallen off the wall, it would have fallen face down?" I said, "And that's not all. Not a single shard of glass is outside of the frame. Given the enormous crashing noise it made when it fell, don't you consider that odd?"
"Ummm, it is a bit strange," mused Father, "and I wonder how it fell down in the first place given that the wall hook is still in situ."
"The string on the back of the frame has probably broken," I said, gently lifting up the picture to check the string.
"Jeez, this is properly weird, " I said, "the string isn't broken."
We looked at one another in a perplexed manner (which means raising the top corner of your eyebrows and cocking your head slightly).
"There has got to be a logical explanation," said Father. He was a medical Doctor and believed everything could be explained scientifically. Even though I wasn't yet an Aerospace Engineer, I wholeheartedly agreed with him.
"So what is the logical explanation?" I asked in anticipation.
"Let me work on it," he said, and to this day neither of us could come up with a logical explanation for what happened.
And in case you were wondering if this is a true story..... it is. DAH DUH DAAAAAHHH (that was a drum roll in case you thought I'd lost the plot). So, have you got any spooky stories to rival mine?
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So, it's all pretty weirdy to date ....... but now read the email that I received today ........
Hi
I'm 15 and i have just read the story about your old house in Barrowford. As a matter of fact i live next door. We have been at your old house a few times as we were friends with the owners. My friend, who is 11, had the bedroom you spoke about, and from what i can remember (they have now left), is that he always spoke about weird happenings in his room too.
The strange things also happened in the room at the end of the hall to the left, and the one straight ahead.
I live in the house next door, you may remember it and i wondered if you knew anything about that house. Anyway i would like to hear back from you and hear if you have some other stories about what happened.
From, Aneurin
AAAH! How freaky is that? His friend experienced the same weird stuff in my old bedroom. But even more convincing was that he also mentioned another room (the one at the end of the hall to the left)which had a 'strange atmosphere' - which was totally true but wasn't included in my original blog post.
I am just going to run around the kitchen in a panicked fashion, stopping only momentarily for a sip of wine.
So dahlink, what are your thoughts on supernatural milarkies?
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