What really scares me? Well, apart from mundane worries about growing old, having enough money to live on and what the future holds for the next generations, I have to say it is ‘the dark’ and horrors from my own imagination.
I remember feeling very scared of the darkness at the top of the stairs in my great-grandmother’s house, and waking up into pitch black when we stayed overnight there. My mother soothed me, put a light on and settled down beside me. My great-grandmother passed away sixty years ago but the memory remains and so does my fear of the dark.
There was the time when I got locked in at work. It was a cold, wet, winter tea time, a long time ago, decades before mobile phones. I was upstairs in the office of a small department store, just gathering my things and getting ready to go when the low buzzing of fluorescent strips ceased and I was plunged into silent darkness. The last person to leave would turn off the lights with the main power switch, situated next to the door. No chance to shout, not that I would have been heard on the ground floor anyway, but I was literally frozen to the spot with fear. I had keys, but I couldn’t bring myself to try to negotiate my way out of the office and through racks and rails of clothing and merchandise that filled the top floor. As my eyes adjusted to a small glow of street-light coming through the tiny window, I could see the telephone. Luckily, I knew the home number of the person who had locked me in. With a trembling finger I managed to feel my way round the dial and sob my dilemma to his wife, who knew me well and kept me company on the phone until her husband got home then set off straight back to release me. No harm done, but it was very scary at the time.
Then there was the last ghost hunt my friend and I went on, and oh my, I was so scared that we haven’t been on any others, up to now. This was at the Spanish Hall in the Winter Gardens, something we had looked forward to for ages, after the fun we’d had at the Grand Theatre. It was semi-dark, but we had torches and we were in a group, though everyone had spread out into different rooms and areas. I was coping with the dark and with the odd things we kept hearing. We had a medium with us a lot of the time, though I confess, I don’t believe everything I’m told, I like to work things out for myself. My friend and I went into a dressing room somewhere back-stage in the Spanish Hall theater.We sat down, my friend on my right. I felt something at my left, but no one was there. The presence became strong, so strong that I was too scared to look, but many times since, I wish I had.
I’m used to staying at the lodge we go to in Dumfries & Galloway, but the first time we went, the darkness, or rather, my imagination outside late at night, scared the life out of me. I was taking our dog out on my own for his last little walk before bed. I had my torch, a dim outside light on the lodge veranda and a sky full of stars. I was shining the torch on my dog and the path immediately in front of me when my mind started giving me horrors. I was sure I’d see the feet of someone facing me. I didn’t dare to shine it on the trees, terrified by what might be hanging there. I worked myself into a blind panic rushed back to the safety of the lodge, only a few steps away, before anyone could grab me. These days, confident that our dog won’t venture any further than the first tree, we watch from the veranda and let him go by himself. Maybe seeing ‘The Abominable Snowman’ when I was eleven has affected me for life.
This is my own poem,
A Ghost Tour in the Spanish Hall An evening in the Spanish Hall Fun-time promised for one and all. Exciting times for you and me, Paranormal activity! Hopes and desires, all are risen, Someone’s speaking, we must listen. “Enter the rooms with open mind, And be prepared for what you find.” The semi-darkness of torch-light, Anticipation of the night; Wondering what there might be here To chill us with delight or fear. We heard a strange and weird sound, Quiet growling from underground. Distant laughter, joyful patter, Ghostly party fun and chatter. Chink of glasses, bell-like tinkle, Passing orb gives us a twinkle. We crept across the ballroom floor To where we hadn’t been before. A woman beckoned from her chair. As we approached, she wasn’t there, Just vanished, like she’d never been But we both knew what we had seen. And later, on the wide stair case I froze as something touched my face. I couldn’t scream, I couldn’t shout; Someone was with me, there’s no doubt. When we sat in the back-stage room We both smelt dated perfume Like musky lavender and rose Stagnant, lingering in repose. And that mirror! I dared not see The presence sitting next to me. I felt their breath upon my cheek And could not move, too scared to speak! I must now be most explicit, Show respect to restless spirits. Never ridicule, tease or taunt. It might be you they’ll come to haunt. PMW 2012
Happy Hallowe'en, everyone. Thanks for reading, Pam x Email ThisBlogThis!Share to TwitterShare to Facebook
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