Laura's strange tale.....

Hi! I'm Laura! I live in Wales and I have a few stories to share with you which are definitely true!

My most recent happening was when Iwas awoken by something (or someone!) at the foot of my bed tapping my feet (which were under the quilt!) Naturally, this kind of freaked me at first!
I looked towards the bottom of my bed and saw a transparent figure just staring at me. I then began to see images of a child being born, surrounded by doctors and nurses. The woman giving birth happened to be my nanna and the child was my dad! I recognised this straight away because on the child's arm there was a birth mark in exactly the right spot, and which was exactly the right shape and size. I couldn't believe what I was seeing!
When the images disappeared I looked at the foot of my bed and now the figure had more of a detailed face than when I first saw it. He appeared to be wearing a uniform as if he were in the army.


Something clicked in my head and I realised it was my great grandad! After a minute or two the image faded away and, looking back down towards the foot of my bed, I saw that the man was smiling at me! I experienced a warm feeling around me and knew that he had come to visit me to reassure me that everything was going to be fine and that I should know that he would always be looking over me...

A baffling story from a new correspondent!

Greetings guys......
I'd like to tell you about a weird experience I had about three years ago. It happened at an old, derelict and rambling school some 3 - 4 miles from the village of Alton (famous for its Towers!)
On this partiucular sunny day, I was sitting on my motorcycle in the school's carpark (an area so vast it even boasts a helipad!) enjoying a cigarette and quite alone. After glancing down at my reflection in the top of the bike's petrol tank for no more than a few seconds, I looked up again to see standing not 20 yards ahead, a young woman and a brown pony. She seemed as perturbed as I, and bent down to the pony's left front hoof, staring at me from under her eyebrows as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.....
I had no wish to alarm her further and so donned my helmet and rode away.


The oddness of it only struck me later: to reach the spot they occupied from any cover at the edge of the carpark, the woman and horse would had to have covered a distance of 30 - 40 yards in the time I was looking downwards (as I said, no more than a few seconds) Even if this were possible, I'd heard absolutely no noise: certainly not that of a horse's hooves on a hard,tarmac surface...

But the strangest thing of all was this: this woman could SEE me, as would a living person. Had she appeared in my part of time/space...or had I in hers...? This was not the only strange experience I had in this particular place but that's another story!!!

A phantom horseman!

Just a quick memoire of my late father, a gentleman of extremely prosaic temperament who you have encountered elsewhere in these pages…..
Long ago, my father worked on the south-east fringes of London. He was young, and, like most people in those far off days, relied on a bicycle for transport. His journey to and from work took my father across a somewhat forbidding and desolate region called D*genham Ch*se: this was reputed to be haunted by a phantom highwayman: to see his face was said to result in a premature demise!
One evening, having been working a night shift, my father was cycling across the Ch*se when,  from behind there suddenly came the sound of a horse's hooves on the metalled surface of the path. Our hero felt a sudden, unaccountable prick of fear: leaning on the pedals, my father accelerated towards a distant street light…..The hooves began to pound ever-closer: Dad could almost imagine he felt hot and foetid breath on his neck. Just when it seemed he would be overtaken, he reached the lamp-post. Unwillingly, Father turned to look back the way he had ridden: you have guessed it:! The path was still and empty………...
Kay's house-proud Spirit!
This account came via e-mail from an American correspondent, Kay:

A long time friend of mine, recently deceased, used to tell this story: I cannot verify it from personal experience, but it makes interesting reading....

Betty, the friend in question relates that she lived in San Francisco, California during the "hippy 60' s". She and a number of other like-minded free-thinkers inhabited an old house, one of the few that remained after the earthquake and fire of 1906.

Betty came from a long line of people with paranormal abilities and she was no exception. As is often the case, Betty took her occasional contacts with the 'other world' in her stride, and used to tell me about her experiences. Soon after moving in, my friend realised the little commune was sharing the house with the spirit of an elderly woman. This house-proud spirit would fold and neatly stack any laundry left in baskets when her living guests went to bed at night! Betty reported that, once the initial surprise wore off, this was a most welcome 'valet service'!

However the ghost hated cigarettes and if full ashtrays were left standing around, Betty would find them dumped on the carpets the next morning!
Elaine's Tale!
Elaine is a young friend of the Webmaster who has just begun her teaching career! This is her fascinating story:

I have never really had any experiences with paranormal phenomenon, but this strange happening suggests that maybe we all see ghosts without realising it!

Late one evening I was driving home to my house in Norwich, after visiting my parents in north-east Norfolk. The journey took me through the sleepy broadland community of Fleggburgh: charming name, eh?
In the centre of the village is an old pub on a steep left-hand bend. As I approached this, I noticed a young boy about eight years of age: he was plainly visible in the puddle of light under the street lamp beneath which he was standing.
The tightness of the curve had forced me to slow down, and I reduced my speed still further in case the child ran across in front of my car: he seemed upset about something. Having negotiated the bend, I looked in my rear-view mirror: I was considering stopping to ask if he needed help. As you may already have guessed, the boy seemed to have vanished. Perhaps, I mused, he had gone into the pub.

I completed my journey and thought no more about the little boy, until a chance conversation at a party some years later. I was chatting to an acquaintance of my partner's: I barely knew him and wasn't taking much notice, until he started talking about narrowly avoiding an accident at Fleggburgh some nights earlier. I asked him for the details:

"I was driving round the bend by the pub when a little lad ran out from the shadows right in front of the car! How I missed him, I'll never know! But I stopped and looked, and there was no sign of him, so I guess he must've got lucky!"


As you can imagine, I generally avoid that route these days!