Since I was young, I've had a fascination with everything eerie: ghost tales, photos of spectres in old texts, scary movies, and, most of all, Halloween. I always saw it as mere folklore, legends, and narratives. However, everything shifted when I turned 13. My close friend Billy hesitantly confided in me about his belief that his home was haunted. In my youthful naivety, I thought life was straightforward - surely ghosts weren't real... or were they?
I dismissed the tales as mere spooky stories meant to frighten me for fun. One afternoon, we went to Billy's place to play some pool after school. It was there that I met his older sister, who was acquainted with the previous occupants of the house. She, too, shared with me the belief that the house was haunted. She recounted an incident where the mother of the previous family, while alone at home, was pushed from behind as she leaned out of the back bedroom window to close it, almost causing her to fall out. Following this eerie encounter, the previous family swiftly sold the property, passing it on to Billy's family. Initially, I had assumed the ghost stories were exaggerated fabrications, as any typical teenager might. Now, with Billy's sister also participating in the attempt to frighten me, I began to wonder if there was some truth to the tales. After that evening of playing pool, the subject of the haunting was not brought up for some time.
Months later, I was invited to spend a Friday night at Billy's house after school. In his bedroom, there were wind chimes hanging from the ceiling. Before going to bed, he mentioned to me, "Listen for the chimes." Without expecting anything unusual, I fell asleep. In the middle of the night, I was awakened by the soft sound of the chimes. Looking back now with a rational perspective, it could have been caused by various things like a draft or a door closing elsewhere in the house. However, at that moment, my 13-year-old self scanned the room, confirming that the window and bedroom door were closed. I checked on Billy, who was fast asleep in his bed, too far away from the chimes to have made them ring without me noticing. After a few minutes of fear and confusion, I eventually fell back asleep. The next morning, I mentioned the chimes to Billy, and he casually responded, "Oh, that was the ghost."
After several more months of uneventful visits to Billy's family home, a significant occurrence took place on a late November evening. Before delving into the incident, it is essential to provide a description of the layout of Billy's house, accompanied by a visual diagram for better comprehension. Upon entering through the front door, a lengthy hallway stretches ahead, with the staircase to the left and the living room as the first door on the right. Continuing through the hallway leads to the kitchen, which then opens up into a spacious living room where the family typically gathers to unwind, watch TV, and engage in conversations.
On the particular night in question, Billy, his parents, and two sisters were all seated in the rear living room watching television. After a couple of hours, I needed to use the upstairs bathroom. Familiar with the house layout, I ascended the stairs without turning on any lights. As I descended back down, a peculiar sight unfolded. Peering into the living room, I noticed the door wide open, revealing a dimly lit room illuminated by a distant lamppost. In the centre stood a dark figure, its features obscured by the low light, only the outline of a head and shoulders visible.
As I continued down the stairs, the figure shifted to the left, disappearing behind the door. Assuming it was Billy preparing to startle me with a prank, I decided to surprise him instead. Peeking through the narrow gap between the door and the frame, I anticipated seeing Billy lurking in the darkness. However, to my surprise, there was nothing there - no sign of Billy or the mysterious silhouette, just faint light filtering through the window into an empty room. Confused, I cautiously entered and checked behind the door, half-expecting Billy to jump out at any moment, but the room remained vacant.
Bewildered by the experience, I left the room only to encounter Billy emerging from the kitchen. Startled, I recounted the strange encounter, assuming it was a prank orchestrated by him. Calmly, he remarked, "You've just seen the ghost." Together, we returned to the living room, where the rest of the family was gathered, as I was processing the eerie event.
It is inconceivable that someone from their family could have left that room, walked through the hallway, passed by the kitchen, and entered the back room without my noticing.
Even now, I doubt my memory, wondering if I have altered and twisted the truth over time. Could the ghost stories surrounding the house have influenced my perception of what I witnessed in that room? The unsettling reality is that our memories deceive us; we only recall the actual event once. Subsequently, we remember the memory of the memory, with each recollection susceptible to slight alterations that can accumulate over time, resulting in a completely different recollection. As I recount this tale, I can affirm that I witnessed something in that room that defied explanation.
At the age of 13, wide awake, I descended the stairs in my friend's house at 6 pm on a winter evening. That singular moment marked the beginning of my quest—a journey beyond the mundane, into the realm of the paranormal, the reason why I'm fascinated so deeply by the paranormal. I need answers to the question that has burned In me for 30 years, did I see something that night? Can I find enough legitimate evidence to prove to myself my memory hasn’t twisted my reality for so many years? The birth of South Coast Paranormal UK is my opportunity to address this mystery, study the phenomenon and hopefully help find closure for not just me, but all those out there who have an experience they can't explain.
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