I love a good ghost story. There’s nothing better than being cemented to the spot in a cold sweat, unable to move a muscle, hyper aware of all of my senses, turning page after page of a scary book. Or watching paranormal experience youtube videos. Or ghost watch documentaries. Anything that’s going to fill me with terror.
I know a lot of people are going to think this is nonsense, “there’s no such thing as ghosts”, “there’s a reasonable explanation for everything”… And I agree with that last statement to a certain extent; some things can be explained…
So, this is my story.
It was New Years Eve, and I was 14. I hadn’t been drinking – my 14 year old self couldn’t even finish the can of Strongbow I had siphoned from my parents fridge and tried to drink at around 9pm. We had started to party in my friends house, and by 12:30am one of us decided to go home, we all walked her back to her house and somehow or another the party ended up continuing inside. I say party, I mean watching terrible music channels and eating crisps until the wee hours. Around 6.15am I had decided to call it a night and gathered my things to make my way back home.
Home was about a 30 minute walk away. I laced up my Converse low tops, layered up my shirt and blazer over whichever particular band t-shirt had been selected that day, pulled on my black beanie, stripey scarf, and fingerless gloves and set off into the dark and frosy January morning air. To get home, half of the journey was just through lit suburban streets, then at about the midway point I walked a long street which had a row of houses to the left of me, and a playing field to the right.
At the end of this street there was a little stream, there was a graveyard to the left, and just off to the right a little bridge. I crossed the bridge and continued to walk in a straight line. This involved walking underneath the motorway, through a lot of pillars. I elected to walk through the first and second row of pillars. Directly ahead of me I could see the local Working Men’s Club, and in front of it an streetlight, illumining everything in an orange glow.
In front of the streetlight there was a girl. She was standing there, looking back up the road – waiting for a lift I assumed, directly underneath the streetlight. I distinctly remember wondering what she was wearing. As I got a bit closer I could make out it was similar to something I’d consider to be a nanna nighty, or a dress from the early 1900’s and I remember thinking “that’s a bizarre idea for fancy dress”. I couldn’t make out the colour because everything looked orange.
I focused on the girl right up until I was ready to cross the road in front of her. She didn’t move an inch the entire 2 minutes I watched her. I looked to the right, and left before crossing the road, and when I looked forward again she was gone. No trace of her. No cars had come by to pick her up, no houses close enough for her to have gone to in those 3 or so seconds I looked away, nowhere she could have even walked to that wouldn’t have been bathed in the glow of a streetlight.
Luckily, this Working Man’s Club is at the end of my street, and let me tell you my friends, I have never run so fast in my life.
Have you had any experiences you have had a hard time explaining?