Readers Stories Ghostly Recollections When I was young we used to live in a big Victorian house in London, the house was dark and old and I always remember getting the feeling that a child had died in the upper rooms of the house. In my bedroom at night I would hear heavy breathing, I remember holding my breath to make sure that it wasn't me and as there were no bedrooms near mine, (everyone else was across the landing), it was not my parents or my brother. I also used to see strange shapes on my bedroom walls, wake up to see a shape vanishing beside my bed and at night something used to poke me with long sharp fingernails. I never saw anything until one day I was sitting in front of my mirror when as if she where sitting on my knee, a small child appeared reflected back at me. What I am trying to say that it was like I was sitting facing the mirror with someone on my knee and we were both looking at our reflections. I felt no sensation but the room behind me seemed to go very quiet and the atmosphere became surreal. The child wore a white bonnet and had a very pale face, she had big blue eyes which she looked up at me with - her appearance was almost doll like and I got the feeling that she had mousy brown wispy hair under her bonnet. She looked up at me and melted away. I felt as if I had seen her in the mirror once before. I had also used to see a figure dressed entirely in black with something like beads hanging from its head following me down the stairs. This was later seen by one of my friend's years later when we had moved house and were living in a completely different town - except with her perception it had horns or something sticking up on its head. Years later I was visiting my Grandparents in Devon. It was round about Easter time and we where getting ready to take the dog for a walk on the moor. The only people in the house were my Aunt my Grandmother and me - my Grandfather had left earlier in the day to visit my cousins and wasn't even in the county. My Aunt called up the stairs to tell me that she, the dog and my Grandmother were in the car and they would wait for me there. The screen door slammed and the house was silent. As I sat on my bed tying my laces I heard the sound of someone coming up the stairs. The sound was slow and shuffling, I had a mental image of an old person, frail and out of breath climbing the stairs wearing slippers and heavy clothing, gripping the banisters for support. I called out my Aunts name and then my Grandmothers - no one replied. I even called the dog - he didn't come running, besides he was in the car right? The sound came closer and I looked at the strip of landing at the top of the stairs that I could see from the door, I thought perhaps that my Aunt or Grandmother would ask me what I wanted when they got to the top of the stairs. I kept my eyes on the landing as the sound stopped, the house was still and there was no sound from inside or outside. Then something dressed entirely in white, looking like it was hunched over and wearing a hood glided into the room, passed right by where I was sitting on my bed and vanished into the attic door behind me. I didn't see any face, but from what I could make out its arms were neither folded across its chest, nor did it have any feet - it glided. I wasn't scared when I saw it because its presence wasn't threatening and I haven't seen it since Easter 1999. There have been other unexplained occurrences in that house - the doorbell has rung in full view of us when no one could have rung it without our seeing, the lights in the garage have turned on in the middle of the night inside it - not out of it. The radio has flickered on and off and something likes to bang on the downstairs window during the night. During my stay at my Grandparents house that Easter - I was woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of a storm. Normally when it storms up there you can hear it all around the house, but this one seemed to be located entirely outside of my bedroom window on the north wall. The storm had moaning wind and made a rushing growling noise. I could also hear rain there as well - it moved like a train heading down tracks down the wall before vanishing off to the field opposite, where I heard the sheep cry in terror, the whole incident lasted fifteen minutes or so. The next day as a belated birthday present my Aunt bought be a book of Ghosts & Spirits, in the book was the legend of the Whist Hounds. The Whist Hounds are a spectral pack of dogs who run from a place on the moor called Whistmans Wood. They run in a pack and vary from being jet black with red eyes to white with brown ears. The legend as much as the myth varies - they are said either to run alone or accompanied by Herne the Hunter, King Arthur or even the Devil himself. They run across the moor accompanied by their own storm and end by plunging down a cliff. I asked my Grandmother if you could see Whistmans Wood from the house, she took me to the big downstairs window and said, "Yes - there it is."
Charlotte.
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