A couple of days ago I woke up at around 4.00 am and couldn’t get back to sleep. I decided to read a post I’d been saving from blogger Smacked Pentax. Smacked Pentax is an excellent storyteller and great amateur photographer, so I knew I was in for a good read.
When things go bump in the night, Eddy the Ghost comes out to play
The post was about his step-daughter, her house and Eddy the Ghost. The hair stood up on the back of my neck – reading a ghost story at 4 o’clock in the morning is not the best way to go back to sleep.
I remembered my own ghost story and decided to share it with Smacked Pentax. And today I am sharing it with you.
At the tender age of eleven, I was sent to boarding school in the UK. The school was housed in an old abbey which was founded on a historical site. During my 2nd year I saw a ghost.
After lights out we were always strictly monitored – no talking, no getting out of bed, no wandering around. If we wanted to go to the loo, we had to ask permission from the night matron. Since I’ve always been a night pee’er from a tender age, this was a bit of a problem. The matron didn’t take kindly to my constant requests, and there was many a night that I would sneak out of bed, past her room, and along the corridor on tippy toes to the bathroom. My biggest fear getting caught. Ghosts were the farthest thing from my mind.
That particular night, as I crept back up the corridor to my dorm, I felt someone behind me. And I thought ‘I’ve been caught’. So I turned around resignedly, awaiting a reprimand & a punishment.
Exactly opposite me, at arms length, there was a soldier standing on guard. He had chain mail armour, a helmet with a nose piece and a very large sword that was almost his height. I couldn’t see his eyes because they were covered by the helmet. He wasn’t looking AT me, he was staring straight ahead. He was 3 dimensional, pale, glowing, and transparent. I could see through him to the wood paneling on the wall. I remember that I froze on the spot, my feet glued to the floor, I was terrified and yet completely calm at the same time. And I kept thinking “Why is he the same height as me? I’m only 12″. As I grew older this made sense since people in the ‘olden days’ were shorter.
I had no idea how much time passed – seconds? minutes? Suddenly I became unstuck and ran. I bolted into the dorm, my hair standing on end, my teeth chattering so loudly I thought my jaw would break. The girls I was rooming with asked what was wrong. I never said a word about what happened – I knew they wouldn’t believe me.
On Sundays we used to have visitors day. A friend in my class went with her family to explore the ruins of the original abbey. When they developed the photo of her and her sister standing next to a huge column, they discovered they had company – a peasant woman holding a basket of fruit and a man, possibly a knight. They took it to an expert in case of double exposure etc. – he verified that there was no corruption of any kind. I’ve seen the photo.
A Few Year Later in Athens.
I had some time to kill and I wandered into a bookshop. As I was browsing I noticed a book about haunted houses, stately manors and castles of England. So I checked for my ghost soldier. Apparently other people had seen him after I did.
One Day in Venice.
A few more years passed and I went to Venice. The Venetian friend I was staying with bought some good quality Italian magazines to read over breakfast. As we sipped our coffee and flipped the pages, him translating and me looking at the glossy pictures, we arrived at a full page spread with a building that seemed very familiar to me. I had already told him about my ghost some days before. As I was about to ask him if the article mentioned the location of the building, he turned to me and said “Didn’t you say the name of your school was so and so? The article is about your school and some ghost hunters who went there. They recorded several sightings of your knight and other apparitions”.