Part 4 -
For one of my first sessions I had settled down to fish on a grassy area near a small bridge which separated the top and bottom ponds, it was an arch bridge with a stream in between with a trickle of water to the lower pond which was slightly bigger at perhaps 3/4 of an acre and fringed with reeds.
The house was in the background with the long brick wall surrounding the inner garden. It was barely light when I snuck up to the pond with a float rod - determined to catch one of these wily carp in a manner that suited their environment. This area seemed sadder than the main lake to me, kind of forlorn and forgotten... perhaps it was the damp spring that struggled to get into gear but the moss on the impressive brick bridge and the overgrown pond made it feel like it was being lost to time and being reclaimed by nature.
As the day broke the swan was even polite enough to glide on by and leave me to fish in peace... later around 11am I noticed there was something going on behind the wall and could hear banging around and voices. I knew the mansion was intended to be renovated so wondered if that was going on but in a short while there was nothing short of a rabble going on behind the wall - it sounded like a fete or something like a garden party with faint music carried occasionally on the air.
The day turned into brighter sunshine and after not even a nibble on the bait I decided to move over the bridge and round the side of the lake where the wall was, to see if there was any better fishing there. The bridge was covered in grass which had recently been cut but only as far as you could see from the side I approached from. Thinking it was ‘just because' I carried on walking through and into the longer grass. It was then that all hell broke loose, something in the bushes was snorting and snarling - it sounded like a formidable beast! I knew it didn't sound like a dog but it was too short to see through the grass and bushes so I dropped everything, let out a girly squeal and then ran as fast as I could back over the bridge
For one of my first sessions I had settled down to fish on a grassy area near a small bridge which separated the top and bottom ponds, it was an arch bridge with a stream in between with a trickle of water to the lower pond which was slightly bigger at perhaps 3/4 of an acre and fringed with reeds.
The house was in the background with the long brick wall surrounding the inner garden. It was barely light when I snuck up to the pond with a float rod - determined to catch one of these wily carp in a manner that suited their environment. This area seemed sadder than the main lake to me, kind of forlorn and forgotten... perhaps it was the damp spring that struggled to get into gear but the moss on the impressive brick bridge and the overgrown pond made it feel like it was being lost to time and being reclaimed by nature.
As the day broke the swan was even polite enough to glide on by and leave me to fish in peace... later around 11am I noticed there was something going on behind the wall and could hear banging around and voices. I knew the mansion was intended to be renovated so wondered if that was going on but in a short while there was nothing short of a rabble going on behind the wall - it sounded like a fete or something like a garden party with faint music carried occasionally on the air.
The day turned into brighter sunshine and after not even a nibble on the bait I decided to move over the bridge and round the side of the lake where the wall was, to see if there was any better fishing there. The bridge was covered in grass which had recently been cut but only as far as you could see from the side I approached from. Thinking it was ‘just because' I carried on walking through and into the longer grass. It was then that all hell broke loose, something in the bushes was snorting and snarling - it sounded like a formidable beast! I knew it didn't sound like a dog but it was too short to see through the grass and bushes so I dropped everything, let out a girly squeal and then ran as fast as I could back over the bridge
Part 5 -
The beast was in pursuit as I was half trying to see what it was and half trying to scramble up the nearest tree... It was fast and seemed to have a snout, did it have a tusk? I thought... yes it did! Did we even have those in England, I thought to myself! As I was clinging to the tree this thing wasn't happy at all... making running passes at the tree and the trail of kit I had abandoned along the way.
I scrambled up to a higher branch, I could almost see over the top of the wall to find out what was going on... as I went to climb higher two shotgun blasts pierced the by now insanely loud squealing from the mad killer pig below... as birds scattered from the trees a man walked briskly out from behind a bush holding his shotgun squarely at the bridge.
“Come down now, quickly!” he said, not taking his eye off the bridge to look up at me as I asked what that was. “It's only a wild boar and you went a little too close to its hide in that long grass over there. Quick now, the noise only scares it away for so long, he's a troublemaker this one!”
As I jumped down from the tree the man laughed “did you think he was coming up there after you, or did you just jump that high?!” He quipped as we grabbed my things and moved them further away. I said I've never seen a wild boar until it started chasing me and he laughed... well there's a few more round here on the estate so don't ignore the uncut grass again, they use that to make their lairs he explained back.
I never did find out what happened that day in the gardens, I later explained about the wild boar to the security guard who manned the gate and he said there were no events because the house was essentially derelict and he didn't know of anyone going inside the inner gardens and he had the only keys. He said “if you think the house is haunted in the day then you're going to be in for a ride when you find the chapel” and went back to his hut with a smirk.... Little did I know when I found the chapel I would be scrambling back to his hut faster than when the boar was in pursuit!
The beast was in pursuit as I was half trying to see what it was and half trying to scramble up the nearest tree... It was fast and seemed to have a snout, did it have a tusk? I thought... yes it did! Did we even have those in England, I thought to myself! As I was clinging to the tree this thing wasn't happy at all... making running passes at the tree and the trail of kit I had abandoned along the way.
I scrambled up to a higher branch, I could almost see over the top of the wall to find out what was going on... as I went to climb higher two shotgun blasts pierced the by now insanely loud squealing from the mad killer pig below... as birds scattered from the trees a man walked briskly out from behind a bush holding his shotgun squarely at the bridge.
“Come down now, quickly!” he said, not taking his eye off the bridge to look up at me as I asked what that was. “It's only a wild boar and you went a little too close to its hide in that long grass over there. Quick now, the noise only scares it away for so long, he's a troublemaker this one!”
As I jumped down from the tree the man laughed “did you think he was coming up there after you, or did you just jump that high?!” He quipped as we grabbed my things and moved them further away. I said I've never seen a wild boar until it started chasing me and he laughed... well there's a few more round here on the estate so don't ignore the uncut grass again, they use that to make their lairs he explained back.
I never did find out what happened that day in the gardens, I later explained about the wild boar to the security guard who manned the gate and he said there were no events because the house was essentially derelict and he didn't know of anyone going inside the inner gardens and he had the only keys. He said “if you think the house is haunted in the day then you're going to be in for a ride when you find the chapel” and went back to his hut with a smirk.... Little did I know when I found the chapel I would be scrambling back to his hut faster than when the boar was in pursuit!
In reply to Post #1579
Brilliant carry on about the chapel please
Brilliant carry on about the chapel please
In reply to Post #1579
Absolutely gripping! Love this, thanks for sharing. All very Edgar Allen Poe'esque...
Absolutely gripping! Love this, thanks for sharing. All very Edgar Allen Poe'esque...
In reply to Post #1579
more, more, more 
more, more, more
In reply to Post #1569
"For some reason at this point i got angry, grabbed my bank stick from under my bed and got out and shout some gibberish that I can't really remember"
I think I would have done something like that also.
Then I'd probably get back into my bag & quietly poop myself.
Great story & well done for getting through it!
"For some reason at this point i got angry, grabbed my bank stick from under my bed and got out and shout some gibberish that I can't really remember"
I think I would have done something like that also.
Then I'd probably get back into my bag & quietly poop myself.
Great story & well done for getting through it!
In reply to Post #1579
Excellent stuff.
You should write a book!
If you would be so kind as to share more it would be very much appreciated.
Excellent stuff.
You should write a book!
If you would be so kind as to share more it would be very much appreciated.
In reply to Post #1579
Brilliant ! Many thanks for posting !
Brilliant ! Many thanks for posting !
In reply to Post #1553
Love this - great story! Are you sure you didn't partake back in the day? I've experienced 'ego death' on Silbury Hill circa 1991 . . . buts its got nothing to do with fishing lol
Love this - great story! Are you sure you didn't partake back in the day? I've experienced 'ego death' on Silbury Hill circa 1991 . . . buts its got nothing to do with fishing lol
In reply to Post #1586
Not completely fishing related but I did fish on the trip
Last year I went to Scotland to spend some time in the hills while my daughter was on an ice climbing course, my father died the day before leaving and while not relevant in May provide some context.
I spent a couple of days mooching around lure fishing in the Lochs and rivers and climbing.
I had always planned to walk to Ben Alder bothy (Google it) walked in found it empty this is February so gets dark early, collected firewood on the way and previous residents had left some coal.
I got a fire going, ate and got my head down. Woke maybe an hour later to noises I still can't describe, not wildlife and not wind. Now part of the bothy is closed off without internal or external doors just dead space ( if you look at the photos anything left or right of the chimneys) I have it as out 2mins thought, packed up and got the hell out, not the smartest move as the 1st few miles out is deep bog, but there was no way I was staying any longer!
Not completely fishing related but I did fish on the trip
Last year I went to Scotland to spend some time in the hills while my daughter was on an ice climbing course, my father died the day before leaving and while not relevant in May provide some context.
I spent a couple of days mooching around lure fishing in the Lochs and rivers and climbing.
I had always planned to walk to Ben Alder bothy (Google it) walked in found it empty this is February so gets dark early, collected firewood on the way and previous residents had left some coal.
I got a fire going, ate and got my head down. Woke maybe an hour later to noises I still can't describe, not wildlife and not wind. Now part of the bothy is closed off without internal or external doors just dead space ( if you look at the photos anything left or right of the chimneys) I have it as out 2mins thought, packed up and got the hell out, not the smartest move as the 1st few miles out is deep bog, but there was no way I was staying any longer!
In reply to Post #1
Ok I'll submit the only spooky occurrence I've had while fishing! I still can't explain it..
A few years back my brother in law at the time and I went fishing for his birthday weekend down at Linch Hill, we fished Willow lake, had a walk around and settled on the end, near what looked like an old cabin or shed of some sort was derelict in the long overgrown wooded area.
We were sat in his swim having a couple of beers, nothing too heavy, just a few. After a while, it had gotten dark and I decided to pop back to my swim just to check everything was as I left it. As I left his swim and began walking towards my swim, this thing, came thundering towards me and at the time it sort of sounded like a horse or something, big and heavy! I stopped and sort of braced for it to clatter into me as that's how close it sounded and felt, yet nothing happened, I saw absolutely nothing!
Feeling quite confused, I checked everything at mine and quickly went back to my mates swim, and before I could even get to sit down he goes to me “wtf were you doing running about like that back there!?” ... I didn't run or do anything but walk to my swim, so whatever it was he heard it too! We got up and decided to have a look around, didn't see anything, no hoof marks or anything, we did find an old discarded bedchair in the wooded area, looked like it had been there a while.
I then went to bed, I felt weird, like all of a sudden I felt awful, dreadful, tried to sleep it off yet I was hallucinating and sweating out, nothing felt right, and to top it off in all of this one of my rods went off and I had to land a tench while feeling like death. I think I managed to get some sort of sleep among the fever and hallucinations. Come morning I just wanted to go, anyone that knows Linch Hill knows there's a massive barrow run to get back!
On our way back though some lads stopped us for a chat, and one of them said “you boys are mad, I'd never fish up that end again... and said did you hear the runner....” I wasn't fit to chat much but my mate told them what happened. And tbh I don't remember much about what happened after this. Anyone else had any like this at Linch Hill? Would be fascinating to see if the runner was actually a thing, as we mentioned it to someone of the staff and they didn't have a clue what we were on about!
That's my story!
Thanks
Ok I'll submit the only spooky occurrence I've had while fishing! I still can't explain it..
A few years back my brother in law at the time and I went fishing for his birthday weekend down at Linch Hill, we fished Willow lake, had a walk around and settled on the end, near what looked like an old cabin or shed of some sort was derelict in the long overgrown wooded area.
We were sat in his swim having a couple of beers, nothing too heavy, just a few. After a while, it had gotten dark and I decided to pop back to my swim just to check everything was as I left it. As I left his swim and began walking towards my swim, this thing, came thundering towards me and at the time it sort of sounded like a horse or something, big and heavy! I stopped and sort of braced for it to clatter into me as that's how close it sounded and felt, yet nothing happened, I saw absolutely nothing!
Feeling quite confused, I checked everything at mine and quickly went back to my mates swim, and before I could even get to sit down he goes to me “wtf were you doing running about like that back there!?” ... I didn't run or do anything but walk to my swim, so whatever it was he heard it too! We got up and decided to have a look around, didn't see anything, no hoof marks or anything, we did find an old discarded bedchair in the wooded area, looked like it had been there a while.
I then went to bed, I felt weird, like all of a sudden I felt awful, dreadful, tried to sleep it off yet I was hallucinating and sweating out, nothing felt right, and to top it off in all of this one of my rods went off and I had to land a tench while feeling like death. I think I managed to get some sort of sleep among the fever and hallucinations. Come morning I just wanted to go, anyone that knows Linch Hill knows there's a massive barrow run to get back!
On our way back though some lads stopped us for a chat, and one of them said “you boys are mad, I'd never fish up that end again... and said did you hear the runner....” I wasn't fit to chat much but my mate told them what happened. And tbh I don't remember much about what happened after this. Anyone else had any like this at Linch Hill? Would be fascinating to see if the runner was actually a thing, as we mentioned it to someone of the staff and they didn't have a clue what we were on about!
That's my story!
Thanks
In reply to Post #1588
Nick the bailiff knows,me and my nephew fished the bank on your right as you walk to Christchurch.We had a bloke come around to us on the Saturday morning,he was pale and come move in the swim next to me.He was telling us about weird goings on around there and how his bivvy went freezing cold on a hot summers night.I chose never to fish around there after that,when I mentioned it to Nick he seemed to know a bit about it
Nick the bailiff knows,me and my nephew fished the bank on your right as you walk to Christchurch.We had a bloke come around to us on the Saturday morning,he was pale and come move in the swim next to me.He was telling us about weird goings on around there and how his bivvy went freezing cold on a hot summers night.I chose never to fish around there after that,when I mentioned it to Nick he seemed to know a bit about it
Bramshill House - Part 6
Almost a year had passed since I had moved into the Bramshill Estate, and since the first fishing session on the main lake we had several uneventful repeat attempts night fishing around the five lakes within the grounds which were dotted around the 260 acre estate.
By now, the first fishing trip had been analysed to death by our wider group of friends, with some saying it was an elaborate prank that I had orchestrated with my friend's wife to call him home, and that I had doubled back behind Mark to surprise him and make it look like I had circled the lake! The simplicity of explaining things away in the pub glossed over the fact that there were no call records to show my friend did speak to his wife, and the friend who stayed with our bivvies corroborated my version events - since he saw me go past the bivvies and back round the 18 acre lake to Mark.
As time passed and I grew used to the strangeness of the place, it seemed there were some events that could be explained away and nothing felt as concrete as what happened on that first trip. Having heard the tales of the importance of Christmas ghost stories within the mansion I thought that might be the time of year for something more to happen. I was mildly surprised when the festivities passed uneventfully, but it certainly was a special time to enjoy the grounds and I was happy to spend time there with friends and family.
“So, do you believe in ghosts now then?” one of my visitors has asked at dinner. I don't remember how I answered but it set a train of thoughts going.... Lots of the things that I had experienced were easily explainable in the cold light of day... A lot of the time it was just how the place made you feel...
In December I had found a lake in the woods that was down a long driveway with very tall pine trees, which created a canopy overhead making it pitch black at night. I did some days fishing in January and used to walk home about 6.30pm for my tea, although I had gotten lost trying to find my way through the woods back to the driveway several times before. This time I found the road first time, good job really because the gear I was carrying now felt as heavy as lead with the straps cutting into my chest and neck. I became so intensely aware of how vulnerable I was at this point, when I noticed some red eyes in the trees. Those weren't unusual, there was a herd of white fallow deer that used to stalk the forest and those, being albino I think, had piercing red eyes in torchlight - combined with their white coats they either looked majestic or spooky depending on how well they sneaked up on you.
I never did get a good photo of the deer!
This time the piercing red eyes seemed different, much bigger, and I felt a spiritual fear with a sense of impending harm. “It's just a deer, it's all in your head so just keep going” I thought as I chuckled to myself that if a beast did attack I would hold up my trusty unhooking mat as protection! It didn't feel like a deer though, and as I ambled down the lane it followed... and with every time I spotted its red eyes it was getting closer as if it was going to cross my path just as I reached the security barrier.
Needless to say, I made it home unscathed and I filed this story away as just another show of how things can seem menacing but end up OK in the end. I started to think that perhaps it was possible that I was just highly a strung due to the many stories of the Bramshill dogs... which some believed were real wild dogs and some said were spirit dogs roaming the woods. Whichever they were they could clearly be heard around the estate, especially at night.
I looked it up on google when I got back, dogs can have red eye reflections but still I was no closer to knowing the answer to the question of whether I really felt I believed in spirits beyond any doubt what so ever.... It was as much help as the mysterious broken chair that appeared ‘out of nowhere' at my thinking spot in the summer, only to be fixed as if it had never been broken by the time winter came.... Perhaps it was a different chair?
Almost a year had passed since I had moved into the Bramshill Estate, and since the first fishing session on the main lake we had several uneventful repeat attempts night fishing around the five lakes within the grounds which were dotted around the 260 acre estate.
By now, the first fishing trip had been analysed to death by our wider group of friends, with some saying it was an elaborate prank that I had orchestrated with my friend's wife to call him home, and that I had doubled back behind Mark to surprise him and make it look like I had circled the lake! The simplicity of explaining things away in the pub glossed over the fact that there were no call records to show my friend did speak to his wife, and the friend who stayed with our bivvies corroborated my version events - since he saw me go past the bivvies and back round the 18 acre lake to Mark.
As time passed and I grew used to the strangeness of the place, it seemed there were some events that could be explained away and nothing felt as concrete as what happened on that first trip. Having heard the tales of the importance of Christmas ghost stories within the mansion I thought that might be the time of year for something more to happen. I was mildly surprised when the festivities passed uneventfully, but it certainly was a special time to enjoy the grounds and I was happy to spend time there with friends and family.
“So, do you believe in ghosts now then?” one of my visitors has asked at dinner. I don't remember how I answered but it set a train of thoughts going.... Lots of the things that I had experienced were easily explainable in the cold light of day... A lot of the time it was just how the place made you feel...
In December I had found a lake in the woods that was down a long driveway with very tall pine trees, which created a canopy overhead making it pitch black at night. I did some days fishing in January and used to walk home about 6.30pm for my tea, although I had gotten lost trying to find my way through the woods back to the driveway several times before. This time I found the road first time, good job really because the gear I was carrying now felt as heavy as lead with the straps cutting into my chest and neck. I became so intensely aware of how vulnerable I was at this point, when I noticed some red eyes in the trees. Those weren't unusual, there was a herd of white fallow deer that used to stalk the forest and those, being albino I think, had piercing red eyes in torchlight - combined with their white coats they either looked majestic or spooky depending on how well they sneaked up on you.
I never did get a good photo of the deer!
This time the piercing red eyes seemed different, much bigger, and I felt a spiritual fear with a sense of impending harm. “It's just a deer, it's all in your head so just keep going” I thought as I chuckled to myself that if a beast did attack I would hold up my trusty unhooking mat as protection! It didn't feel like a deer though, and as I ambled down the lane it followed... and with every time I spotted its red eyes it was getting closer as if it was going to cross my path just as I reached the security barrier.
Needless to say, I made it home unscathed and I filed this story away as just another show of how things can seem menacing but end up OK in the end. I started to think that perhaps it was possible that I was just highly a strung due to the many stories of the Bramshill dogs... which some believed were real wild dogs and some said were spirit dogs roaming the woods. Whichever they were they could clearly be heard around the estate, especially at night.
I looked it up on google when I got back, dogs can have red eye reflections but still I was no closer to knowing the answer to the question of whether I really felt I believed in spirits beyond any doubt what so ever.... It was as much help as the mysterious broken chair that appeared ‘out of nowhere' at my thinking spot in the summer, only to be fixed as if it had never been broken by the time winter came.... Perhaps it was a different chair?
In reply to Post #1590
Bramshill House - part 7 - The final chapter!
Having had some success with the winter carping on the shallow lake, when the lakes froze over I headed to the other side of the mansion house to the river which held clonking great chub under a stone bridge.
This was at the rear entrance of the estate, and from this side the house looked even more spooky to me.
I hadn't really ventured much further than the bridge so far, since it was such a long walk down to the river I really hadn't had the energy to walk past some good fishing.
It was eerily lonely down there, I had first ventured there when I was a bit sad and that feeling never went away, I'm not sure if it was just me or how lonely it felt in general. The front gate was locked up completely and braced by impressive gatehouses that I just admired from a distance with them being maybe another half mile from the bridge.
This one day I wandered down to the bridge and took a lunch with me, and so I had the energy to continue exploring further down the river after fishing the bridge and then lunch.
There were several follies on the site, I didn't know what they were before seeing these ones - I learned they are decorative buildings that are just to enhance the estate with no real purpose and were popular in the 18th and 19th centuries.
The willow tree was just as far as could be seen from the bridge, and as I turned it's corner there was a folly in a prime position on the bend of the river - I had finally found the chapel that the guard had mentioned to me months before.
It was smaller than I had imagined, but mightily impressive with it's stained glass windows and ornate roof, certainly in keeping with the Jacobean architecture of the main house which some of the other follies were not.
The thick wooden door was chained and padlocked but had been pushed in enough to squeeze through... As I peered in I saw that the wooden floor had collapsed but there was one part that remained intact, a metal hatch type door.
I mulled it over outside as I walked around the chapel, was it an escape tunnel from the house or something? I decided I had to investigate further.
As I entered the chapel again I investigated the hatch, half imagining zombies trapped inside that I would unleash if I opened the door. As I pushed the door a little it swung open with a creak to reveal.... A bomb shelter!? It looked untouched in there, I was just thinking how much dust and cobwebs there were and checking out what littered the room such as old oil lamps when I felt a hand slip itself in to mine!
Clearly a child's hand, it felt soft but icy cold and the chill went straight through my body making me shiver in fear. I froze in that room not knowing how to quickly get out, then I just turned and ran as fast as I could but it was no use - I was still miles away from anyone or anything.
I made it back to the chub bridge again and looked back down the river to make sure I couldn't see the chapel. I was sweating buckets by now so I left my tackle where it lay and headed back up the long driveway to the front of the main house.
Nothing really happened along the way, I didn't feel pursued or anything but I knew I wanted to get back to civilisation as it felt so lost down there and I admit, I was scared out of my mind in broad daylight.
I neared the old police apartment blocks which were set around a central square, these ones were completely deserted and only the block I lived in was inhabited.
As I entered the square, every window had a reflection of me that I could see... Even when the angle shouldnt have let me see a reflection. Everything pointed at me and I was viciously aware of eyes on me through the many windows. I legged it through there thinking I would make it to the safety of my own apartment block.
As I rounded the corner to my block, I could see the large windows at the bottom of the stairwell. This was just before my entrance and several families lived there.
Bramshill House - part 7 - The final chapter!
Having had some success with the winter carping on the shallow lake, when the lakes froze over I headed to the other side of the mansion house to the river which held clonking great chub under a stone bridge.
This was at the rear entrance of the estate, and from this side the house looked even more spooky to me.
I hadn't really ventured much further than the bridge so far, since it was such a long walk down to the river I really hadn't had the energy to walk past some good fishing.
It was eerily lonely down there, I had first ventured there when I was a bit sad and that feeling never went away, I'm not sure if it was just me or how lonely it felt in general. The front gate was locked up completely and braced by impressive gatehouses that I just admired from a distance with them being maybe another half mile from the bridge.
This one day I wandered down to the bridge and took a lunch with me, and so I had the energy to continue exploring further down the river after fishing the bridge and then lunch.
There were several follies on the site, I didn't know what they were before seeing these ones - I learned they are decorative buildings that are just to enhance the estate with no real purpose and were popular in the 18th and 19th centuries.
The willow tree was just as far as could be seen from the bridge, and as I turned it's corner there was a folly in a prime position on the bend of the river - I had finally found the chapel that the guard had mentioned to me months before.
It was smaller than I had imagined, but mightily impressive with it's stained glass windows and ornate roof, certainly in keeping with the Jacobean architecture of the main house which some of the other follies were not.
The thick wooden door was chained and padlocked but had been pushed in enough to squeeze through... As I peered in I saw that the wooden floor had collapsed but there was one part that remained intact, a metal hatch type door.
I mulled it over outside as I walked around the chapel, was it an escape tunnel from the house or something? I decided I had to investigate further.
As I entered the chapel again I investigated the hatch, half imagining zombies trapped inside that I would unleash if I opened the door. As I pushed the door a little it swung open with a creak to reveal.... A bomb shelter!? It looked untouched in there, I was just thinking how much dust and cobwebs there were and checking out what littered the room such as old oil lamps when I felt a hand slip itself in to mine!
Clearly a child's hand, it felt soft but icy cold and the chill went straight through my body making me shiver in fear. I froze in that room not knowing how to quickly get out, then I just turned and ran as fast as I could but it was no use - I was still miles away from anyone or anything.
I made it back to the chub bridge again and looked back down the river to make sure I couldn't see the chapel. I was sweating buckets by now so I left my tackle where it lay and headed back up the long driveway to the front of the main house.
Nothing really happened along the way, I didn't feel pursued or anything but I knew I wanted to get back to civilisation as it felt so lost down there and I admit, I was scared out of my mind in broad daylight.
I neared the old police apartment blocks which were set around a central square, these ones were completely deserted and only the block I lived in was inhabited.
As I entered the square, every window had a reflection of me that I could see... Even when the angle shouldnt have let me see a reflection. Everything pointed at me and I was viciously aware of eyes on me through the many windows. I legged it through there thinking I would make it to the safety of my own apartment block.
As I rounded the corner to my block, I could see the large windows at the bottom of the stairwell. This was just before my entrance and several families lived there.
In reply to Post #1591
Part 7 - continued
I was so happy to see someone in that stairwell window, it was a young child. As I neared the window I could see their face, but it was blank! Just skin with no features, no eyes and no mouth! I closed my eyes in disbelief, when they opened a second later the child was gone.
Absolutely raging with fear by now, I scrambled the few hundred yards further until I reached the safely of the guards hut.
That was to be the piece of proof that gave me my answer as to whether to believe, and having racked my brains I am 100% certain I did not just freak out in that chapel, although I think and have come to accept that the windows thing and child's face was me freaking out to the max. I can still feel the icy cold yet seemingly innocent feel of the child's hand. If there was a debate in my mind I would say, but there is none.
The security guard explained that the chapel was home to a bomb shelter but it had earlier been an escape route from the main house in case it was under siege or attack. There was reportedly a tunnel directly from the main house to the chapel and one of the known ghosts in the house can be seen on Wikipedia -
"The ghost of a young child allegedly haunts the library and the Fleur de Lys room; the child has supposedly been heard crying, and attempts to hold visitors' hands. Folklore holds that the Grey Lady was the child's mother."
Soon after this I left Bramshill Estate and moved in to a house with my girlfriend at the time. That was a mixed blessing because the stories that give me nightmares are from that relationship - and not the 14 ghosts of the Bramshill Estate!
Part 7 - continued
I was so happy to see someone in that stairwell window, it was a young child. As I neared the window I could see their face, but it was blank! Just skin with no features, no eyes and no mouth! I closed my eyes in disbelief, when they opened a second later the child was gone.
Absolutely raging with fear by now, I scrambled the few hundred yards further until I reached the safely of the guards hut.
That was to be the piece of proof that gave me my answer as to whether to believe, and having racked my brains I am 100% certain I did not just freak out in that chapel, although I think and have come to accept that the windows thing and child's face was me freaking out to the max. I can still feel the icy cold yet seemingly innocent feel of the child's hand. If there was a debate in my mind I would say, but there is none.
The security guard explained that the chapel was home to a bomb shelter but it had earlier been an escape route from the main house in case it was under siege or attack. There was reportedly a tunnel directly from the main house to the chapel and one of the known ghosts in the house can be seen on Wikipedia -
"The ghost of a young child allegedly haunts the library and the Fleur de Lys room; the child has supposedly been heard crying, and attempts to hold visitors' hands. Folklore holds that the Grey Lady was the child's mother."
Soon after this I left Bramshill Estate and moved in to a house with my girlfriend at the time. That was a mixed blessing because the stories that give me nightmares are from that relationship - and not the 14 ghosts of the Bramshill Estate!